#I need to be a strange middle aged man woman thing

[c0llisiion]

NEED TO KNOW — j.jk

★Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

★genre: smut

★: older!jk, dads bestfriend!jk , oral (giving and receiving ) , unprotected sex , reader has a crush on jk, bachelor!jk, big dick jk, size kink kinda, hair pulling, gagging, slapping, pervert jk , dry humping , anal play , degradation, name calling, nicknames - lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 4,395

A/N: remember that time I mentioned a jk fic that i was writing? This is that fic. Literally put this on hold for 2 months and finished writing it last night 😭 anyways enjoy!!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

“But i dont wannnnaaaaa goooooo!..” you whined as you declined your dad’s offer to go to his big company party. “Sweetheart this is a huge deal for me …” your dad countered. “… more over, mr.jeon is going to be there ..!” Your ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Jeon. The tall, tatted bachelor with his piercings and built body, who has been your dad’s best friend since his college days.

Since you were a teenager, you have had the biggest crush on him. He was perfect in every way. He was older. More wiser. Handsome. Just your type. The initial infatuation was small, but as you grew into your adult years, it grew stronger.

You were starting to dream about him. Not even the usual kind. Wet dreams.

He grew older like fine wine. Body covered in beautiful art. Built like an actual Greek god.

Surprisingly, he was not yet married, even though he was well off in his late 40s. He used to say 'no woman has ever caught my attention' when someone mentioned him still being single at his age—from what you've heard.

Your dad and him, being business partners, frequently bring him to your home. Always hanging out at the bar or in your dad’s study. You capitalized on these small visits and began attempting to attract his attention. Whenever he came over, you started hanging out at the bar. Offering to make him special drinks. Talking about his interests , which you found out through intense stalking just to impress him. wearing revealing clothes, buying him his favorite food and snacks whenever you visit his office to pick up something for your father. You got very close to him. Your obsession with him became stronger because he seemed so nonchalant about your little tactics. The worst thing you have ever done was hire someone to break off one of his relationships. Only you were meant for him. No one else.

Hearing your father say that he would be there was another opportunity to impress him. You shot up. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS BEFORE???” You say as you rummage into your closet for the perfect dress. Your father believed that your attraction to Jungkook was innocent and similar to that of a child. You had always said you hated the smell of alcohol, so he thought it was strange for you to start hanging out at the bar. Despite noticing many changes, he dismissed them as 'innocence', so he expected you to join him if he mentioned Jungkook. He left your room with a satisfied smile on his lips. You finally found the dress. A satin spaghetti strap dress in black, his favorite color, with a dangerously low open back. The dress was revealing when you put it on; the side of your boob was peeking out, but it hugged your curves perfectly. As the time got closer, you finished up spraying on your most expensive perfume, taking a final look at yourself before leaving.

The party was classy. A huge venue with what appeared to be millions of waiters with champagne. Upon entering the venue with your family, your eyes immediately searched for Jungkook. It wasn't long before you spotted him in the middle of a small group. He seemed to notice your family and hurried towards all of you without delay. As he got closer, your heart was beating fast. “Hey hey! My man!” He said taking your dad into a tight hug. “You could have come a bit more later!” He said sarcastically, taking a jab at your dad’s late-coming habit. “Don't blame me! This one took too long!” Your dad exclaimed, hugging you by your side. Jungkook’s eyes landed on you. He stared you down. Taking in each and every curve, his eyes eventually landed on your chest before he looked at your face and smiled. “So glad you came! You look gorgeous tonight.” He said, taking in your hand and kissing the back of your palm slowly, in a sensual way, while deeply staring into your eyes. He pulled away and rubbed the skin with his thumb before giving you a smirk. You felt your insides melt and your brain malfunction at his simple gesture. You were frozen in place and didn’t know what to do. You shyly backed away and looked down , trying to hide your wide smile with your bangs, which Jungkook took notes on.

Time flew by as you watched Jungkook speak in front of the huge crowd with charisma and confidence. One of his best traits. He always caught everyone’s attention with his choice of words and tone. It was embarrassing for you to admit that, but it turned you on. Your legs were crossed, rubbing your thighs together from time to time, and no one seemed to notice, except for Jungkook, of course. He eyed you every time you made a small movement.

All the speeches and boring talks concluded, which made you run out onto the balcony for some fresh air. You stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jungkook had done to you earlier. Was it platonic? Was he just being nice? Does he have feeli- “did all those old men bore you out?” Jungkook was behind you. His voice husky. His lip and eyebrow piercing, shining under the moonlight. You were caught off guard and turned around to see ‘your man', “mr.jeon! Ugh you scared me!” You said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. He gets closer with a charming smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you!” He let out a soft chuckle. “How is your night going?” He asked you. “Hm? Oh good i guess, it’s kinda boring, but i would do anything for my father..” He chuckled and gave you a side eye. “For your father? Really?” it seemed like he knew the real reason why you were here in the first place. “Wdym really? I love my dad!” You said in a playful, offended tone.  He chuckled once again. “Fine fine! I know how much you adore him.” You sighed softly and smiled.

“I like that dress on you. It suits you a lot.”  He said while eyeing you. You blushed at his compliment, looking down and fiddling with your acrylic nails. “Thank you..” you mumbled under your breath. You feel him getting closer to you. “Sorry? I didn’t hear you,  sweetheart.” His hands were on your hips, squeezing them softly. You froze in place. Heart beating faster. Your legs threatening to fall. His hands creeped towards your ass. Groping it softly, not wanting to seem too pushy. “Mr.jeon…-“ you let out a shaky whimper at his touch. “It’s jungkook for you, doll.” He said leaning in closer to your ears. He took a huge sniff of your neck and hair. “Thierry mugler alien eau de parfum? You have good taste.” He said while softly chuckling in your ears before pulling away. He lifted your chin so you can look at him. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you stared into his intoxicating eyes. “What did you want to say earlier?” You gulped before speaking up. “Thank you… jungkook.” He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. His hands went under your ears, caressing the soft skin gently. Your eyes widened, and you just stood there. “I’ll see you around okay?” He said smiling before he left. You were standing put, like a statue, your limbs refusing to move. 

A few days went by, and you were still processing whatever happened with jungkook that night. His kiss. The way his hands caressed your body. His little nicknames. It was just too much to process. You didn’t see or hear much from jungkook since that day. There were small interactions, but he seemed to ignore you each time. You were starting to get worried. What happened? What did you do wrong? Did you fuck up? Does he hate you?. You never stopped overthinking.

One morning, you heard the familiar voice of Jungkook from the kitchen, laughing and giggling with your father. You quickly put on your clothes and dolled up, still hoping to impress him, before you went downstairs. “Ah! She’s finally awake! We were just talking about you!” Your father exclaimed. You observed jungkook as he sat on the kitchen island and ate what appeared to be lucky charms. His favorite cereal. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. You felt your heart shatter. After all that he did? Is this the way he treats you? . You walked past him and got yourself a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleepwell princess?” Your father inquired. Jungkook was still not looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the newspaper in front of him. “Yeah yeah i did.” You said putting on a fake smile. “Oh!” Your father exclaimed as he heard his phone ring. “Excuse me.” He said before rushing out of the kitchen.

You glared at jungkook and gulped down your orange juice before dropping the glass onto the table. Jungkook noticed your action, which made him put his newspaper aside and walk towards you. “What’s wrong?” He inquired, leaning onto the island. “Hmph!” You huffed, turning around. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Come onnn! Tell me.” He said while hugging your waist from the back. You let out a heavy sigh before turning back around. “What did I do wrong? Why do you keep doing this to me?” You asked. “Doing what?” “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know?” You said folding your arms. Jungkook had a confused look on his face. “You are ignoring me damn it!” “Ohhhhh! About that! I just didn’t have anything to say.” He said shrugging. You rolled your eyes at him. “Admit it, Jungkook, you just want to play with my feelings. You don’t care about me. You never did.” You let it all out. It was weird for you to act like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jungkooks eyes darkened, and he stared at you. You gulp.  “You think I don’t care about you? Me? Not caring about you? You think i come to your house almost every other day for your father?” He said while pushing you down onto the island. He turned you around and hugged you close to his body; you could feel his clothed hard dick on your pussy. You shudder when he slowly grinds his hips into your behind. “Ya feel that doll? Thats how you got me everyday..” he said whispering into your ears. His free hand found your right tit before he gave it a squeeze. Tugging the thin white fabric of your crop top down to expose your hardened nipple. You hear him darkly chuckle in your ear before giving the sensitive bud a squeeze. His hips never seemed to stop as he continued dry-humping you. You felt yourself involuntarily lowering yourself on the island, pushing your ass back into him for more stimulation. He immediately pulls away, leaving you weak and clenching around absolutely nothing. You whined, turning around to face him with pleading eyes. “What?” He scoffed at how desperate you were. He got closer and fixed your shirt. He didn’t say anything and just rubbed your shoulders down before walking away. 

A while later, you were napping in your bedroom. It was not uncommon for you to take naps in between the day since you were basically unemployed and didn’t have much to do, and you also needed one after what happened with jungkook.

All the blinds were shut, leaving the room completely dark. It was silent; the only sound that was heard was the faint noise of the air conditioner. You were in deep sleep and didn’t notice or hear Jungkook entering your room. You felt the bed sink next to you before you felt a cold hand on your hip. His hands, kneading the soft flesh of your ass before it grazed around your desperate cunt. You whine when you feel his fingers touch and draw circles on your sensitive part. “Shh..” he shushed you before pressing onto your pussy. He chuckles at how quickly you got wet. Your mouth was agape, soft grunts escaping every second. He slowly pushed you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you before pulling your pink panties to the side.

It was dark, and he couldn’t see much, but he could feel how soaked you were. He spread your cheeks and lowered his mouth down onto your cunt, sucking on it. Your eyes shot open, heavy breathing as you turned around to see the man of your dreams eat you out from behind. “Ju-jungkook..?” He shut you up by lapping his tongue over your dripping cunt. You let out a loud moan, your head falling sideways, already drooling even though he barely started. He lifted your ass up using his strong hands, making you arch your back. He dropped his head lower and started sucking on your clit, his big nose pressing into your soaking pussy. You grabbed a handful of his hair from behind and pushed him closer. He hummed into your pussy, making you gasp for air. Loud slurping and squelching sounds, along with his groans and your moans, echoed throughout the room. You were seeing stars. The way his mouth ate you out and the feeling of his cold lip ring on your pussy were beyond comprehensible. Your heart started beating faster as you felt your body warm up, and a knot formed in your abdomen. Jungkook took notes on your body language and pulled away. You cried out when you lost contact.

He leaned in and switched on one of your bed lights, finally giving the room some light. He observed your body. Your ass was still up, your pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal. It was clenching and unclenching around nothing. He let out a scoff before turning you around. Your face already looked fucked out. Tears painted your cheeks, and drool was all over your mouth. He hovered over you, placing a hand on the headboard. He used his other hand to wipe your face clean. “We have gotten ourselves a good hour; better make this quick, alright?” You nodded softly and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him into a soft and tender kiss. He kissed you back and hugged you closely to his body. His hands went under your tee, squeezing your tit. You whined into the kiss. “You are so sensitive, sweetheart…” he mumbled. You break off the kiss and cup his face. “Jungkook… want more..” He tilted his head to the side and stared at you. He put on a smirk before standing at the foot of the bed.

He took off his pullover, revealing his tatted arms and toned abs and pecs. The soft bed light that was illuminating the room was able to capture every detail of his body. You stare. Hand in between your legs, squeezed shut. You bit your lip softly before your eyes met his. He gestured for you to come closer, which made you crawl to him. Your face was now right in front of his hard dick. You could see the bulge growing. His hand went behind your head, grasping your hair gently. You looked up at him with your doe eyes, which instantly made him fold, but he kept his composure. He gave you a nod, pushing your head closer to his crotch. Your nose nudged the bulge before your greedy fingers hastily unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. He was big. Girthy. The tip was red, and you could see his precum peaking from the slit. Without wasting time, you took a stripe from the base of his dick until the tip before you sucked on it. He hissed at the feeling of your plump lips sucking on his sensitive tip. He was starting to get impatient and pushed your head down, filling your mouth even though he was only half way in. You looked at him with teary eyes as you choked around his girth. He almost lost it when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours. His other hand caressed your cheek, pushing himself further down your throat. You could feel him. Your jaws were hurting, and you grabbed onto his hips for stability. Your throat spasmed around his cock. He noticed how you were kinda struggling. “Better make me feel good, okay? I want that throat to show me what it got.” With that, he started thrusting into your mouth. You started choking and gagging around his length, which just turned him on even more.

He yanked your head off of his cock. A string of pre cum and saliva connected your lips and his cock head. You looked up at him and whined, wanting his dick to stuff your mouth again. He bent down to your level before licking your chin clean, swallowing the mixture before speaking to you. “On your knees and hands, baby girl." You obliged immediately, taking off your flimsy tee before throwing your ass in the air and arching your back for him. You felt the bed dip behind you, and jungkooks long dick landed on your ass, slowly grinding through the sheer panties.His wet cock making it translucent. You whimpered, already feeling yourself getting hotter. “You are such a dumbslut.” He lowly chuckled.

“You think it wasn’t obvious?” He removed your skirt and ripped your panties. You gasp at his sudden action. “All these skimpy skirts and tops.. and just when I'm around? Were you that desperate, princess ?” He said while pushing his cockhead into your sopping hole.

You let out a loud moan; his tip was enough to stretch you out. “Not gonna lie… i was very flattered” gripping your ass cheeks as he slowly pushed further, letting you adjust to his size. He continued. “I only kept my cool because you were my best friend's daughter, but—holy shit-“ he gets cut off as you clench around his length, tears already dripping down your face. Your mind fogging up. You were constantly letting out soft moans and whimpers as he slowly bottomed down into you. “Woah there-“ he chuckled. “im not even half way in sweetheart” he said while grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. You looked at him with teary eyes. Lips quivering. He smirked before kissing your cheek. He let go of your hair and pushed your head down into the pillow using his hand. The other hand was on your hip as he finally pushed all the way in. “Since you are begging for it— ” you let out a loud scream as he filled you to the brim.

Although it was painful, the pleasure made you forget about the pain. you felt warm spit fall on your pussy as he starts moving. “Gon’ fuck you silly, alright? Isn’t that what you wanted? Getting dicked down by your father's friend? What a whore…” You nodded incoherently. A loud cry left your lips as his hips thrust into you harshly. His pace was slow, but the way he thrust in was so... Your body was moving forward with every thrust. Sounds of wet skin slapping echoed through your room. You were not able to focus on anything. His pace increased, and so did the harshness of his thrust. You clenched around him, making him fall forward. He caged your tiny body under his larger one. “Fuck babygirl.. you are gonna rip my dick off..” he chuckled. “Jungk-kook… feels too good…” you managed to blabber out as he fucked into you like a madman. “Yeah? you like that? You liked getting fucked by older men, dont you sweatheart?” You whined as his large hands gripped your hair.

This was wrong. Very wrong. This man has seen you grow up. He has been there since you were a baby.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds…” he said while landing a tight slap on your ass, reddening the area almost immediately. You gasped and whimpered, letting out a loud pornographic moan as Jungkook hit a specific spot. His other hand found your swollen clit and started drawing rough circles on it. Pinching and tugging the abused nub. Your legs trembled, and your moans got louder. “F-fuck! Jungkook…don’t s-stop! Feels so good!” You babbled. Jungkooks eyes were focused on your pussy. The way you took in his length. Your milky white cream coated his entire length, collecting at the base of his cock.

He stopped thrusting in you for a moment. You whined as you felt him suddenly stop. Jungkook smirked before leaning over and whispering in your ears. “Fuck yourself on me, doll.” You cried in defeat. Jungkook placed his hands on his hips, waiting for you to start moving. You gulped before slowly rocking your body forward and backward. You could feel his every inch penetrating the insides of your gummy walls. His large tip hitting your cervix over and over again. “Thats all you can do? Wow.. so pathetic..” he scoffed. You shook your head furiously and started going faster. Jungkook let out a satisfied groan as he watched your ass ripple. “Play with that little clit of yours.” He commanded. You reached down in between your legs, finding the sensitive nub almost immediately. You slowly rubbed your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned out as the stimulation of your pussy and clit was getting overwhelming. You fucked yourself faster on his cock. Mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape and eyes crossed as his cock hit your gspot every time you moved in and out. Jungkook was in a different world. His eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat dripped down his neck. He was close to cumming just by seeing you fuck yourself on him.

His hands spread your ass cheeks, before a glob of spit landed on your asshole. You shuddered and panicked, stopping for a moment. “J-jungko-?” “Just focus on fucking yourself; everything is going to be alright…” he reassured you. You nodded before going back. His long fingers toyed with your rim. You grunt when you feel his fingers prod into your asshole. “Shh- shh.. youre safe .. jus’ wan’ try something new..” You gulped and shut your eyes tightly as his fingers ventured further into your asshole. He shoved three of his fingers into you, making you moan out loud. “Fuckkkkk- so tight…” he whispered. You melt and crumble when you feel his fingers move inside of you. You buried your head in your pillow, muffling out any unholy noise.

Your pussy and asshole clenched around his fingers and dick, making him groan. “So damn sensitive… has any guy fucked you, this good princess?” You shake your head. “N-no sir …” Jungkook shot up at the name. His fingers increasing in speed. You let out choked-out moans and cries as his fingers curled inside your asshole. “Say that again, will ya?” His other hand found your hips and started stretching your pussy out again. “Please.. f-fuck me harder… sir.” That was all it took to make Jungkook go feral. His cock left your pussy and was immediately shoved inside your sensitive ass. Your eyes shot out, and you couldn’t make any noise as you looked back at jungkook with tears rolling down your cheeks. He pinned your wrists behind your back before moving in and out. He struggled, initially. curse him for not stretching you out more, but his cream-coated cock provided enough lube for him to start pounding into you smoothly. “Shits so fucking tight- gah-“ your lips quivered and legs trembled as Jungkook fucked into you with great strength.

You screamed out, finally getting your voice back after he fully plunged his cock into you. Your cunt was leaking arousal, dripping down your thighs. Jungkook didnt seem to stop. His heavy, cum-filled balls were slapping against your pussy. “Jungkoook…- its too- too much!” You cried out. “Take it. You are a big girl. Take it like a big girl. I know you fucking can. Look at your little ass sucking me in. So good. So fucking good.” He pulled your body back and pounded into you. Your face was a mess. You cried and moaned like a bitch in heat every time he filled you to the brim. You felt your orgasm approaching as the feeling of the familiar knot in your stomach began growing. “Jung-jungkook- gon’ cum…” you whined. “Go on princess… be a good girl and cum all over me..” you nodded weakly, focusing on reaching your high. Jungkook flipped you over, laying you down on your back. His hands pushed your legs up against your chest. You were in ecstasy as the new position had you seeing stars. You observed Jungkook's sweaty body and fucked-out face.

A slap was landed on your glistening, sopping pussy before two fingers were shoved inside them. His thumb stimulating your clit. “Ngh- oh fuck- jungkook m’ so close…!” Your eyebrows were knit together, and sweat dripped down your face. The overstimulation getting too intense. Both his hips and hands increased their pace, determined to help you reach your high. You saw white as Jungkook pressed down on your sensitive bud. Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy and landed on his abdomen. You screamed as he continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Yeah.. just like that.. so dirty.. you are such a dirty little girl..” Jungkook's movements got sloppier. Your orgasm turned him on by a mile, and he was close to cumming himself. You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, not noticing that he had slipped out of you and was furiously jerking himself off. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out all over your body. Coating your stomach and your boobs. You moan as you feel his hot cum land on your body, taking the mixture in your shaky fingers and licking it off while staring into his eyes. Jungkook smirked at you with half-lidded eyes.

“My dirty little girl."

A/N: HEHE THANK YEWWW 4 READINGGG! how was it tho? This would have been a stepcest fic but i changed my mind in the middle 🙁💔 im currently writing fics from my inbox! You can send in your rqs <3

[waywardxrhea]

My Consequence - a Sam Winchester one shot

pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!hunter!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 5.7k

"when you spill your guts they don't go back in...if I bleed too much it's my consequence..." - hey violet, my consequence

One thing leads to another after a hunt and you end up spilling your guts to the man you've been pining after for years.

content: 18+ minors DNI! sleep deprivation, show accurate violence on a hunt, blood, language, humor, fluff, light angst, smut (PWP but it's a lot more plot whoops, making out, grinding, unprotected sex)

(not my gif)

You sat at the desk in the Men of Letters bunker one morning, your tired eyes trying to focus on the board that could show a litany of cases that need to be worked, and boy had you and the boys been working on them. You had barely gotten but four hours of sleep over the past week, maybe, because you couldn’t sleep at night knowing how many people out there could be suffering without your help. Sam and Dean didn’t know it, but you had been sneaking out at night to work the nearby cases by yourself and then getting a nap in before getting woken up to do it all over again. Needless to say, you were exhausted. 

“You find anything?” Sam asked as he made his way into the room, a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Hey you didn’t get me any?” you asked teasingly when you saw the cup in his hand. Sam was about to offer to go make you a cup when your eyes flickered to a part of the screen as you found a case about an hour away. “Hey I found something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wandering over in your direction. 

“It’s sounding like a ghoul. There’s a report of this family seeing someone who looks uncannily like their long time neighbor who passed away a few weeks ago. I’m not seeing any suspicious activity in the town so far but I think it’s worth looking into.” 

“Good eye, I’ll get Dean,” he told you. 

While he said this, Dean came into the room and said, “No can do, I’ve been asked to get rid of a vengeful ghost for a friend of a friend. I’m about to head out. You kids are on your own.” 

“Okay, yeah, it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Sam said with a nod, sure of your abilities as a team, not knowing that you were operating on maybe a ten minute nap this morning. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, getting up from your chair and starting to make your way to your room to get changed and gather some supplies you had stored away there. 

After an hour's drive consisting of you consulting your parents’ old hunting journal for tips of how to take down ghouls, the pair of you arrived in the small neighborhood that had popped up on the map in the bunker. You straightened out your blouse as you got out of the car, trying to make it look perfect before the pair of you walked up to the reporting neighbor’s door. Sam noticed and chuckled as he told you, “You look great, don’t worry about it.” 

This compliment ignited a slight blush on your cheeks that you hid as you leaned down into the trunk to grab your FBI badges. When you regained your composure you stood up straight and told him, “Thank you, you look great too. Very professional.” 

Sam smiled at the compliment before straightening his tie and heading up the sidewalk in front of you. When you reached the front door, Sam knocked gently and waited for an answer. After a few seconds the inner door swung open to reveal a disheveled middle aged woman with a child on her hip. The two of you flashed your badges before Sam started with, “Ma’am, we’re with the FBI and heard about some strange occurrences going on around here. I was just wondering if we could come in.” 

A sense of relief seemed to flood the woman’s body and she quickly ushered the two of you in, checking the coast behind you before closing the door. When you all sat down in the kitchen, the child playing quietly on the floor, the woman paced as she said, “Oh thank God you two are here. I’ve been telling the sheriffs office about Dan for a few days but they keep calling me crazy! They’re telling me that I’m just so used to seeing him that my brain is playing tricks on me, but I know that I’ve seen him!” 

“Can you tell me more about this Dan person?” you asked. 

“What do you want to know? I’ve known the man almost my whole life. He’s been my neighbor since my family moved here when I was five. A bit reclusive, but sweet nonetheless. He collected old war regalia, I swear his house was like a museum, it was so fun to explore growing up. He died about a month back, but I swear I saw him coming in and out of the back woods last weekend. I think I saw him again last night but… I haven’t been sleeping ever since that first time I saw him so maybe my mind is playing tricks on me…” 

“I see,” you said while writing the details down in your own notebook. “Do you mind if I ask what kind of burial Dan had?” 

The question shocked the woman as well as Sam so he quickly interjected with, “Sometimes reliving the experience can help with unpacking the mind if you’ve been overwhelmed. Maybe we can talk through it so we can address what’s possibly going on mentally.” Sam shot you a confused and concerned look out of the corner of his eye as the woman closed hers and massaged her temples. You were usually so sharp and cunning when it came to questioning witnesses, so with a slip-up like that Sam was starting to wonder what was going on with you…

When the woman finished rubbing her head, she opened her eyes and said, “Oh okay… well he had an open casket funeral in the park where he got married to his wife who passed away a few years ago. Not many people showed up except family and a few of us from the neighborhood.” 

“Have you talked with anyone else in the neighborhood about these sightings? Perhaps anyone else who was at the funeral?” you asked. 

“No, I haven’t left the house and a lot of them I don’t have their numbers to contact,” she replied. “The neighborhood isn’t as close as it used to be back in the day.”

“Do you mind if we talk with them to see if they’ve seen anything?” Sam asked. 

“Be my guest,” she replied with a nod. 

So you and Sam split up to talk with the other neighbors, keeping an eye on your surroundings for the man who was supposed to be dead. After about an hour, you and Sam met back up at the car to go over what you both knew. 

“So two of the neighbors say that they don’t really pay attention to the woods but thought they might have heard something rustling around in them the other night,” you told him. 

Sam rubbed the stubble on his chin as he said, “One I talked with told me that her son swears that he saw Dan heading toward the woods last night but she also said that she smelled weed and liquor on him when he told her so she didn’t believe him.”

“Well all clues say that if this is a ghoul he’s hiding in the woods so I guess we gear up and head into the belly of the beast,” you suggested as you opened the trunk and started grabbing weapons that could be useful: a couple of machetes as well as a shotgun just in case. If it was a ghoul you would need to destroy its head or decapitate it to kill it. Sam debated on asking you if you were feeling okay or if you needed to sit this one out but before he could you were already marching toward the woods, weapon on your hip. 

As you headed into the woods, you lagged behind, your shorter legs unable to keep up with Sam as per usual. “Hold on, I’ve got little legs!” you said with a laugh as you jogged to catch up. 

“Right, right. I forget how vertically challenged you are,” Sam said with a smirk. 

“Or you’re just ridiculously tall,” you teased with a nudge to his ribs. 

Teasing aside, Sam seemed to notice something so he put his hand up to signal for you to be quiet and you obliged, knowing that if Sam noticed something it was serious. As he inspected something hanging from the tree limb above, you heard a crack of branches in the nearby grove. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice, your hand went to the handle of your machete in case you needed to start swinging.

The next few seconds happened in a blur and you acted on instinct alone when you saw a figure barreling toward the pair of you, more specifically toward Sam’s turned back, brandishing an old Civil War type dagger. “Sam!” you shouted before jumping between the two men, swinging your machete at the ghoul, only to miss and drop your weapon as you doubled over onto the ground. 

Sam reacted quickly once he heard you call out his name, grabbing the ghoul’s arm before he could get a hit in on him and quickly swinging his own machete at the monster, decapitating it with ease. When he started to fully take in the scene though, things began to move in slow motion. As he turned around to the last place he heard your voice he saw you clutching your abdomen and falling to the ground. His eyes went wide as he shouted your name in worry. 

Once you hit the ground Sam was right there, holding you in his arms and listening to you say, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” as you attempted to get up. 

Sam went to move the hair out of his eyes when he noticed that his hand that was previously on your abdomen was covered in blood. “I need to get you to the hospital,” he told you, trying to remain calm as he forced his voice to stay steady. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, nothing a few stitches back at the bunker can’t fix,” you said, the adrenaline pumping through your veins not letting you feel the pain fully just yet. You took the moment to try and stand again but couldn’t, so you looked down at your shirt that was starting to slowly soak through with dark red blood. “Oh…” you said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I need to get you outta here…” Sam said again, taking off his jacket and wrapping it tightly around you before picking you up and starting to sprint back toward the car. As he reached the car, he shouted to a neighbor, “Where’s the nearest hospital?!” 

“It’s about half an hour away, head east and you’ll see it as you’re heading into the city,” the man told him. He saw the blood on Sam’s hands and asked with wide eyes, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?” 

Sam didn’t respond as he placed you in the passenger seat before sprinting to his side of the car and speeding off, trying to keep pressure on the wound as he drove. After a few minutes, he looked over and saw your eyes starting to flutter shut so he took his hand off the wound to squeeze your hand and told you, “Stay with me…” 

“I’m here, I’m here,” you replied quietly, your voice starting to get weak as your breathing began to grow shallow. “I’m just really tired…”

“No, no, no, no,” he said quickly, “you stay with me. You stay awake okay? We’re almost there.” he told you while putting more pressure on the gas pedal, hoping to cut the trip in half at least. 

“I’ll try,” you replied weakly. 

“Here, let’s talk. Let’s talk about that band you like, what is it, Party at the Disco?”

You laughed wearily before correcting him, “Panic! At the Disco, Sammy.” 

“And how’s that one song go that you’re always singing? The one about the doors?” 

“I really need you to pay attention to my music from now on because those were horrible guesses,” you told him with a weak laugh once again. You paused for a moment before adding, “Sam?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you for always looking out for me,” you told him. “I know things haven’t always been the best between us but... You make my days brighter.” 

“What- why are you talking like that?” he asked, his eyes momentarily leaving the road to glance at you. 

“I’m losing a lot of blood Sammy, life isn’t guaranteed and you know it. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you,” you told him quietly. He could feel your hands and skin beginning to grow cold against his own as he held your hand. 

“Don’t talk like that, don’t act like you’re saying goodbye. We’re almost to the hospital, you’re gonna make it through this,” he told you, his voice almost breaking at the thought of losing you. He saw the hospital in the distance and sped up impossibly faster, spotting the emergency room and heading in that direction. 

Once he pulled in front of the building, he slammed the brakes of the car and sprinted over to your side, pulling you out of the seat and starting to carry you into the building. As he carried you in, you started to fade in and out of consciousness, whispering weakly, “I’m scared Sammy…” 

“I know, but you’ll make it. I know you will,” he told you as he got you inside. The second you were inside, he shouted, “Help! She needs help!” 

“Oh my God,” the nurse at the desk gasped with wide eyes, seeing the amount of blood that had soaked your shirt and bled onto Sam’s. 

The nurse shouted for help and a group of people came sprinting over with a stretcher to get you back into a room. As Sam placed you on the stretcher, you looked up at him and felt like this could be your last shot to confess your feelings, so you whispered, “Thank you Sam. I love you…” before getting wheeled off to be worked on. 

“Wait…!” he shouted after you as you were taken away. Did you just say what he thought you did? 

He tried to follow the workers, but was held back by a couple of male nurses who told him, “They need room to work, please calm down sir!” 

“But… I just… Shit…” he whispered, his body deflating as your words hitting him right in the heart. 

“Can you tell us what happened?” one of the nurses asked. 

Sam hesitated for a moment, shock taking over his body, but he eventually replied, “Occupational hazard. A perp went after her. Big gash on her abdomen. I got her here as fast as I could…” Did she just say she loved me? he thought to himself as he was escorted to a chair by the nurses. 

“We’re going to do what we can to help her, I’ll keep you updated as we know more,” he told Sam before heading back to the floor to see your status. 

Sam sat for a minute with his head in his hands before going out to move his car and call Dean. “Hey Sammy, what’s up? Did you get that ghoul taken care of?” came Dean’s voice through the phone. Sam couldn’t find the words he wanted to say and the silence bugged Dean so he asked, “Sam are you okay?” 

“She got hurt. Badly, Dean,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. 

“Well how bad is badly?” he asked, concern in his voice. 

“God there was so much blood…” Sam whispered, looking down at one of his blood stained hands while shaking his head. 

“Well, is she alive?! I need something more than things are bad!” Dean nearly shouted into the phone.

“Barely. By the time we got to the hospital she had almost passed out, she was pale, and I think she felt like she was gonna die…”

“Oh wow…” Dean replied quietly. “Where are you?”

“It’s fine Dean, take care of that ghost,” Sam told him, not really wanting company because he was still trying to process everything. 

“The damn ghost can wait, I already trapped it. I can tell them to try and look for his possessions while I’m gone. I’m already getting in Baby,” Dean said and Sam could hear the impala roar to life. Once the noise level was suitable to hear over the phone again, he asked, “Have you tried contacting Cas?” 

“I didn’t think about it,” Sam admitted quietly. 

“Sam, we have an angel at our disposal who can heal with one touch and you didn’t think to call him when there’s a life-threatening injury on our hands?” Dean asked, a bit of frustration seeping into his voice. 

“Everything happened so fast I just didn’t think about it,” Sam replied defensively. He let out a sigh before adding, “I’m at Woodcrest General on the outskirts of Hoover.” 

“I’m on my way. You start praying to Cas and I’ll try his cell. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Sam replied before hanging up the phone and heading back inside. 

When he emerged back into the building, the nurse at the desk told him, “If you want a pair of scrubs and to clean off I can get you access to the shower room, Agent.” 

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Sam told her, really not wanting to be in his blood soaked clothes anymore. As the nurse took him to the shower room, he asked, “Are there any updates on her?“ 

“She was rushed down to the OR just now. The doctor said it doesn’t look like there’s too much internal damage, she just lost a lot of blood. She… she did lose consciousness right as transport was taking her down to the OR though.”

“Damnit…” Sam whispered, closing his eyes and sighing. 

“It’ll be a little while before we have answers, I’m sorry. Maybe the shower will help calm you down a bit,” she told him as she let him into the room and showed him the cabinet with scrubs in it. 

“Thanks,” he told her before she headed back out. Sam took his time with the shower, washing all the blood out from his skin and hair and taking a few minutes to just cry. How could he have let this happen? It’s always been his and Dean’s unspoken job to watch out for you and he failed… He should have stopped you from heading into those damn woods…

After he dried off and put some scrubs from the cabinet on, Sam closed his eyes and folded his hands as he began to pray. “Castiel. I know you’re probably busy, but I really need you." His voice broke as he whispered your name, telling the angel, "We were on a hunt and…and she was hurt badly and I’m not sure if this hospital has the ability to heal her. I know it’s a long shot and we shouldn’t use your grace so willy nilly, but… I can’t lose her… Amen.” 

Freshened up, Sam made his way to the waiting area where he sat alone with his thoughts, occasionally praying to Cas again in hope that he would hear his call. 

The time crawled by and felt like forever even though it was only a few hours before Sam heard, “Agent Williams?” coming from the same nurse from earlier. 

Sam looked up with hope in his eyes and asked, “Yes ma’am?” 

“She’s out of surgery now. I can take you to her room,” she said with a small smile. 

“Thank you,” he told her, relief flooding his body. 

While they walked together to the nearby elevators, she told him, “I don’t want to give you false hope, she isn’t out of the woods yet. The surgeon closed her up, but there may be complications. This hospital doesn’t usually see cases like Agent Hanna’s.”

“Oh…” Sam said, desperately hoping that Cas heard his prayers now. 

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great surgeon, but he just doesn’t deal with severe injuries like hers on the regular. I don’t say that to scare you, but we just have to be realistic here. If she gets any worse we may have to transport her out to a bigger hospital.” 

“Got it,” he replied as they reached the floor that you were on. 

“Here’s her room. She’s still out of it and receiving blood right now,” the nurse told him as she opened the door to let him in. 

“Thank you,” he told her with a nod before heading into the room. He took out his phone and texted Dean the floor and room number before pulling up a chair beside your bed. He took a moment to look at your still pale skin and grabbed your hand as he whispered, “I’m so sorry…” 

After a few minutes, Sam closed his eyes and sent one last prayer Castiel’s way before he jumped when he heard a sharp knock on the door as it opened up. He looked up to see Dean and Cas coming into the room, looks of concern on their faces. “How is she?” Dean asked. 

“I mean she’s alive… The nurse told me that there may be complications though and if she doesn’t get better soon they may have to ship her off to a bigger facility,” Sam replied quietly, looking at the monitor to watch your heart rate. After a few moments of silence, he told them, “She sacrificed herself to save me. That ghoul was coming at us quick and my back was turned so she jumped in. She barely got a swing in on it before it got her with a dagger.” 

“Did you get the ghoul?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah. But then I saw how much she was bleeding… God there was so much blood…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat before adding, “She seemed like she thought she was gonna die because before they took her back she told me that she loved me…” 

Dean scoffed before muttering, “About damn time…” 

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. 

“Sam, you’re about as oblivious as a brick wall. That girl has loved you for years. She never told you because, well, you know how she is. She doesn’t like stepping on toes and would rather others be happy before she is so she let you get into all these relationships and faked being happy for you while she not so secretly drank away her pain.” 

“I… I had no idea…” Sam whispered. All the times you had shown him what he thought was sisterly affection, the moments where you tried to make him laugh in his darkest moments, how you’ve stuck by his side through everything, all came flooding to him and he realized that even if it wasn’t obvious, he had started to develop feelings for you too. 

“Well now you do and once she’s healed up you better make the most of it,” Dean told him. 

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Sam asked, feeling horrible that he’s led you to so much pain throughout the years. 

“It wasn’t my place,” Dean replied simply. 

Interrupting their conversation, Cas cleared his throat and said, “I don’t mean to interrupt this conversation about feelings, but if I could maybe look at her wound to see if I can heal her…”

“Right,” Sam said, standing up and getting out of the way so Cas could lift up your gown to see the damage. 

When the gown was pulled away, it was revealed that the dressing the surgeon had put on was soaked through with blood already. Seeing this, Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he began to pace the room. “Sam calm down,” Dean told him sternly. 

“She’s still bleeding!” Sam said back sharply. 

“And he’s an angel!” Dean snapped back, not wanting to show that he was worried too. 

“I should be able to heal her,” Cas told Sam reassuringly as he laid his hand over the dressing. He closed his eyes and channeled his grace to heal the wound, sealing it up and repairing the bits of undetected internal damage as well. Once the angel grace’s light left his body, he nodded and said, “She’s healed,” before replacing your gown and covering you back up. 

Sam sighed in relief and smiled before whispering, “Thank you.” 

A few moments later, your eyes began to flutter open and you looked around before weakly whispering, “Sam?”

“Yeah? I’m here, I’m here, you’re safe,” he told you as he made his way back over to your side. He took your hand before nodding to Cas and telling you, “Cas healed you.” 

“Oh, thank you Cas,” you said with a small smile.

“No problem,” he replied with a nod. 

There was a moment of silence while you looked down at your hand that was being held by Sam’s, so Dean said, “I think there’s something you two need to talk about. We’ll be in the waiting area. Come on Cas.”

Once it was just the two of you in the room, Sam cleared his throat before he said, “So about what you said right before you were taken away…”

Remembering that you told him that you loved him, you quickly looked away and said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make things weird… I know you want a normal girl with a normal life and I… I can’t give that to you…”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Sam said softly. You shyly turned back toward him and he told you, “I was just shocked. I think I've accepted that normal just isn’t gonna work out for me. Dean told me that you’ve been feeling that way for a while now and… I guess I’m just wondering if you would want to give us a shot?”

A smile made its way onto your face and you nodded, a happy tear slipping from your eye. Sam leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him, saying with a laugh, “No, no. I don’t want our first kiss to be in this damn hospital room.” 

“Fair enough,” Sam said with a quiet laugh, redirecting and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. After a few seconds, Sam told you, “Thank you. For saving me from that ghoul. I should've been looking out for you though.” 

“Any time,” you replied with a small laugh. 

Later that day when the doctor came to assess your wound, he was a bit taken back by the healing of it, saying, “It’s a miracle…” 

“It really is, isn’t it?” Cas asked, trying to hide his smirk. 

“So when’s she clear to go home, Doc?” Dean asked. 

“I mean we would like to hold her overnight for observation, but if all goes well she should be able to discharge tomorrow,” he replied, still staring at the scar on your abdomen. 

Sam took a step away and bit his knuckle, trying not to laugh as the surgeon stepped out of the room, a flabbergasted look on his face. When he left the room, Dean was the first to speak, saying, “Okay let’s all admit, that man had no confidence in himself.” 

“Nope,” Sam said with a laugh. 

“I’m glad Cas showed up if that’s the dude who operated on me, damn…” you said with a roll of your eyes. 

“I’m glad I could be of service,” Cas told you with a smile. 

“Well if you’re stable now, I think Cas and I can head back to that ghost case I abandoned to come check on you. I’ll see you later kid,” Dean said to you before squeezing your shoulder and heading out of the room with Cas in tow. 

The next morning you were discharged so you and Sam made your way back to the bunker together. The ride back was filled with you playing your favorite songs to educate Sam as well as stopping at a restaurant for your first official date. 

When you got back to the bunker, Sam closed the door to the garage behind you and you wrapped your arms around him before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. Sam smiled into the kiss and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. This prompted you to deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, wanting more. Sam obliged and your kisses quickly turned desperate, wanting something more than a simple kiss now that you were in each other’s arms. 

Before he even thought about it, Sam lifted you into his strong arms and began kissing your neck as he took you to his room, leaving the beginnings of a hickey behind. As he did this, little whimpers began to slip from your lips as pleasure sparked through your body. When he got to his room, Sam pinned you against the door as he began to kiss you once again. Being in such a vulnerable position made you weak in the knees and you moaned Sam’s name as you continued to lose yourselves in one another's lips. 

“Yeah?” he asked as he moved back to your neck, sucking and making the hickey darker, evoking another whimper from your lips that just fueled him more. 

“God I need you so bad,” you whispered, grinding your hips against him in hopes of some sort of relief for the growing tension between your thighs. 

“How about I make that wish come true?” he asked as he took you to his bed, gently putting you down before slipping out of his flannel and undershirt. You followed suit, slipping off your shirt and earning a smile from Sam as he told you, “You’re beautiful.” 

“You’re so sweet,” you said with a giggle as Sam got onto the bed, placing you on his lap as he continued to kiss you. Now it was your turn to tease him. As you kissed, you slowly ground down on Sam’s lap, feeling him grow harder beneath you as you did. 

“Shit,” Sam breathed as he leaned his head back against the wall, bucking his hips up against you. 

You kissed his neck before whispering in his ear, “I want you to rock me Sammy.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a chuckle, unbuckling his belt while you hopped off the bed momentarily. You turned your back to him as you took off your bra and then sweats and panties, teasing him by shaking your ass at him with a laugh. “Oh you’re gonna get it for that,” he said with a laugh as he slipped off his jeans and underwear, standing up to pull you into his arms once more. 

Sam pushed against you, teasing you with the tip of his hard cock, the sparks of pleasure making him desperate for more. He lifted you up once more and placed you on the bed, running his fingers along your thigh and up to your clit, making you gasp in pleasure. “Don’t be a tease,” you whispered. 

“I’m just seeing how wet you are,” he said with a smirk before kissing your neck as he slipped a couple fingers in with ease. 

“God Sam I just want you to fuck me,” you said with desperation in your voice, grinding against his fingers, wanting - no, needing - more. 

“As you wish,” he said, his voice impossibly deep as he pulled his fingers out and rubbed the slick on his cock. “I see patience isn’t your strong suit, huh?” he asked teasingly as he lined up with your entrance. Without much of a warning, he thrusted in with a deep moan. 

“Fuck you’re amazing,” you whispered, your head falling back on the pillow as Sam slowly began to kick up his pace, the pleasure overcoming his body as restraint started to leave his muscles. 

“So are you,” he told you, his face falling into the crook of your neck as he let out a soft groan of pleasure. 

“Can I try something?“ he asked after a few minutes of slow and sweet love-making, feeling his release starting to build and wanting to make this as good as possible for you. 

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod. With your permission, Sam lifted your legs up and hooked them around his broad shoulders, the new angle hitting all the right spots, the pleasure for both of you becoming insurmountable. The moan alone that you let out was almost enough to make Sam come, and your near pornographic whimpering of his name upped the ante even more.

Sam brought one of his hands to your clit and began rubbing, desperate to make you feel as good as possible and it seemed to work because your moans and whimpers just kept coming and it was almost enough to make him burst. “Fuck I’m close,” Sam whispered, speeding up his pace as his thrusts started to become erratic. 

“Me too,” you breathed, your hands grasping at the sheets on either side of you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head momentarily. 

“Fuck…” Sam grunted as he felt his orgasm building impossibly fast, not wanting this feeling to end. 

“Oh my God, Sam, Sam!” you moaned as you felt herself coming undone around him. The pulsing of your sweet cunt around him drove Sam over the edge and he pulled out at the last second, moaning your name in a deep gravelly voice. Before he came, Sam quickly grabbed his shirt off the side of the bed and put it around himself so he wouldn't make a mess as he came undone, his muscles twitching as he did so. 

Out of breath, Sam tossed the shirt aside and laid down beside you on the bed wrapping an arm around you, completely relaxed. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his racing heartbeat begin to slow down as you ran your fingers along his abs. “That was amazing,” Sam whispered, kissing the top of your head. 

“Well worth the wait,” you replied with a giggle. 

Not even a few seconds later you began to drift off to sleep on Sam’s chest which made him smile. Feeling completely relaxed and safe for the first time in a while, you drifted off to sleep and finally got the rest you’d been needing for weeks. 

a/n: and here we are at the end of my second one shot! since i started writing these one shots i've started to feel more confident in writing reader fics so we'll see if i end up getting out more one shots for various fandoms! here is a link to my (minimal at the moment) masterlist where you can find my Steve Rogers long fic as well as a Bucky Barnes one shot. soon to join those will be a Daredevil x OC fic i have written, so be on the lookout for that if that's one of your fandoms! anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this sweet, angsty, fluffy, smutty piece!

[juneknight]

Pleased to Please

The sequel (AKA Jake's Revenge) to Making Trouble.

About this: MK System/fem!reader, use of 'slut' as a term of endearment. An unnecessary amount of gloves. Jake Lockley.

*

You wake up to Marc pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You hum in pleasure, burrowing deeper into the covers, sleepy enough to miss what he says the first time he says it. His voice rumbles over you again, warm with mirth. His hands work the blanket away from your face, and he repeats himself again: 

“I know it’s Sunday, but I have errands to run. Want to come with or stay in?” 

You crack one eye open. 

*

The two of you stand at the bus stop leaning against each other to make room for the others who crowd around for the same purpose. Someone jostles into you, and the look Marc gives them is cold—it makes strange butterflies unfold their wings in your belly. You lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, turning his focus back to you. 

“What errands do you need to run?” you ask in his ear to make sure you are heard over the rumble of traffic. 

“Swapping out supplies,” he says, explaining the duffle bag he has over one shoulder. “Boring stuff, but I’ll buy you coffee after.” 

“Now you’re talking.”

The two of you shuffle your way onto the bus. He crowds you protectively, looping an arm around your waist to keep you close while his hand grips the bar to keep you both steady. You’ve gotten used to taking the bus after meeting Steven. Before him, you had walked or taken the tube, not the biggest fan of London drivers. Occasionally, you and Marc would go in on a cab together; you had never felt safe doing such a thing alone. And with Jake…

Your face flames. Leaning in to whisper in Marc’s ear again, you says: “It’s a shame we don’t have Jake’s car, isn’t it?” 

Marc’s eyes go heavy-lidded, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth. He remembers as well as you do your activities in Jake’s car only days before. He glances towards the window of the bus—likely hearing some colorful commentary from the man in question—before turning his eyes back to yours. 

“We’d just end up making more trouble in it, wouldn’t we?” he says back, letting his voice dip low under the guise of privacy, as if he doesn’t know what the timber of it does to you. 

“You’re probably right,” you breathe back. “How much further ‘til our stop?” 

“Not much. You’re already thinking about going back home aren’t you? Crawling back into bed?” 

“As long as you join me.” 

“My god, you two are better than television,” says the woman behind you both who has been clearly standing close enough to hear. You jump, startled by her sudden intrusion into your private conversation, embarrassment making your face burn hot. Thank god she had said something before the two of you really got going—

“Mind your business,” Marc says, uncharacteristically cold as he glares at the woman. 

Middle-aged, clutching a recyclable tote in her arms, the woman looks like her first instinct is to argue back—perhaps something about how the two of you were making your business right there on a public bus—but the look on Marc’s face stops her words in her throat. She shuts her mouth with a click and nods, awkwardly trying to shuffle to a different spot on the bus to stand. 

You frown up at Marc, but he smiles down at you like nothing is wrong. Reaching up, you lay the back of your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You’re acting strange.” 

It’s Marc’s turn to frown, his head tilting to one side, warm brown eyes roaming over your face. 

“What do you mean?” he wonders But before you can answer, Marc glances forward and says: “Shit, this is us.” 

He helps you press your way to the front and guides you two back out onto the dreary London street. You glance up at the building, frowning in thought. 

“Storage units? Do you have a unit here?” 

Marc just grins in answer, holding up a  keyfob with the business’s logo on it. 

*

The building is cool and quiet, sounds oddly muffled as you walk through the halls lined on either side with storage units. Occasionally you pass one with the door open, lock hanging loosely on the outside. You shiver. Places like this always make you feel odd, knowing how much history is here, each unit a snapshot of someone’s life. You cheer yourself with the thought that you’re about to see a snapshot of Marc’s. 

When you arrive at unit #43, you bounce a little on your toes as Marc unlocks it and opens the door, a gentleman allowing you entrance first. But whatever you were expecting inside, you cannot help but be disappointed. 

The unit is mostly empty, perhaps ten-by-ten. It is very utilitarian, with walls of alloyed metal shiny enough to see yourself in, even if your figure was a fraction distorted. A lightbulb hangs in the corner casting an unflattering fluorescent glow over the room. There are a series of storage totes, opaque to conceal their contents. A cot is in the corner, with a poor excuse for a pillow and a blanket folded with military precision. 

“Do you sleep here sometimes?” you ask, baffled at the thought. 

“I used to,” says Marc, going to the corner and setting his backpack down. He kneels, the zipper loud in the quiet of the unit. “It was a safe place, a place of my own, before Steven and I—reconciled.” 

That makes you inexplicably sad, imagining Marc spending any length of time here, stretched out on a cot too short for him and listening to the hum of lights all night. 

“That’s terrible,” you murmur.

Marc makes a sound in the back of his throat, derisive, clearly not feeling so maudlin about it. He says something, but you are too entranced by testing the cot, sitting heavily on its coarse fabric. It barely gives under your weight, unyielding and uncomfortable. At last you become aware of his gaze on you. You glance over to see him kneeling at his duffel bag, eyes glittering with some foreign emotion as he watches you. 

“Sorry, what’d you say?” you ask. 

“I said, Take your clothes off.” 

You blink, unsure if you heard him properly. “What?”

“Do it slow,” he adds, his chin tipping down and the look in his eyes simmering into something condensed, something so heated that you can feel it from across the room the way you feel the heat of flames when standing too close to a fire. Shifting, he sits with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched. “I want a show.” 

“I don’t—oh my god,” you whisper. “Jake? Has it been you this whole time?”

He runs a hand through his curls, pressing them back. The grin that settles on his mouth is so unlike Marc. At the beginning of your relationship, you had been so insecure that you would mix the boys up and potentially offend them, but you had quickly learned that such a thing was very unlikely. Each of their personalities was so unique, so distinct from the other: the way they stood (or slouched) the way they walked, the way they smiled and laughed—each of them had a million little tells, characteristics that set them apart. 

“Don’t feel bad,” he says. His voice is a little flatter than Marc’s—less likely to fluctuate with emotion. It is softly accented; you know that he mostly prefers to speak Spanish. “I am very good at what I do.” 

“You even took the bus—oh, Jake you hate the bus—” 

He hums. “We’re walking home.” 

“I just—why? I would have come with you anywhere.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” 

“How can you say that?”

Jake looks up at you, brow cocked. From within the duffle bag, he removes his leather gloves and begins tugging them on. Those fucking gloves. Something about them makes your heart pound. The buttery softness of them, the scent of well-maintained authentic leather, the methodical,calculated way that he puts them on and takes them off. Or maybe it’s just the connotation that comes with them: that Jake is about to get his hands very, very dirty. 

“Because you’re a good girl,” he croons. “If you had known Marc was taking you to my car, you wouldn’t have gone with him—just the same way you wouldn’t have come with me if you knew I was bringing you here for my revenge.” 

“So this is Marc’s storage unit?” you breathe. 

Jake nods slowly. He says: “You know what else I know?” 

“What?” 

“You’re such a good girl,” he says, voice soft, needing nearly no volume for the sound to carry to you just feet away, “You’re going to take your punishment without complaining. Because you know you deserve it, don’t you?” 

“Jake,” you sigh shakily. 

“Undress,” he says softly. 

You stand up. Your knees are knocking together, you’re so full of adrenalin, hands shaking as you slip clothing item after item off. You fold them the way you know Jake likes you to, sitting them neatly on top of the stack of storage totes. As you turn, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the walls and it makes your face burn. Fuck, you hope that the helpful guy behind the desk out front doesn’t come to see what’s taking you both so long. 

When your eyes find Jake again, you suck in a gasp. All the things you might have suspected he would have—the tripod wasn’t one. Sleek, it is simple but effective. He whistles a little beneath his breath as he fits Marc’s phone into it. When he realizes that you have stopped undressing, his whistling stops, lips puckered softly, dark eyes finding your own. Whatever expression you wear must delight him.

“Problem?”

“Come on, J,” you whisper, shifting on your socked feet. “Marc is going to be pissed enough, isn’t he? What do you plan to make him do, watch it in 3D?” 

Jake points to the tripod, a look of near-comical innocence on his face. Some might not guess that Jake has the silliest humor of the three of them, sometimes bordering on cheesy or even slapstick. Demasiadas telenovelas, as he might say. “What, this? You think—? Oh, darling girl. This isn’t for Marc. 

“The walls? Those are for Marc. Let him see the way I fuck you in every angle, I don’t care. But this? This is for me. I intend to remember this for a very long time,” he says, his words ending distractedly as he plays with Marc’s phone, getting the settings just right. He eyes your socks pointedly.

“It’s cold in here,” you gripe.

Jake snorts softly, but he doesn’t object. He stands and goes to you, gripping your bare shoulder gently and moving you a fraction this way—a hair that way. Into the best view of the camera, you realize. Being treated like some doll, stop-motion, only made to be bent and twisted into whatever shape pleases him has a surprising effect on you. Even as your thighs clench together tightly, you find yourself…bashful. Crossing your arms over your breasts, you shrink in on yourself. 

“Qué es eso?” Jake wonders. He abandons the camera and comes to you. His presence is more comforting than intimidating the way some might imagine it to be. You lean your head against his chest and let his hands encircle your wrists, drawing them away from your chest. “Who is this shy woman? I remember the way you let Marc strip you naked with nothing but my tinted windows to protect your modesty.” 

“You know how he gets,” you whine. “He uses that voice, that tone, and then I’m naked.” 

“This voice?” he asks, mimicking Marc’s Chicagoan accent flawlessly. He slips into it the way you might slip into a comfortable shirt, familiar and well-worn. He leans back away from you a little to grip your chin firmly, to lift it up for his inspection. “This tone?” 

It is. It really is. And as much as it makes your thighs clench, it drives you even wilder how easy it is for him. Jake is so fucking good at it, at pretending, at impersonating—his skill makes you swoon. It makes your heart pound. It makes your pussy wet. 

Jake must sense this. Maybe he senses the ripple that seems to pass through you, or maybe he feels the goosebumps that rise on your arms. Either way, he laughs, soft and teasing, rumbling against where your bury your face in his chest. 

He clicks his tongue at you until you look at him once more. 

“I’ll play Marc for you another day,” he says, eyes growing steelier than the walls. “But right now—it’s me fucking you. I’m going to fuck my cock so deeply inside you that there won’t be any room for him. ¿Me entiendes? 

“Now, lay on the cot. I’m hungry.” 

Jake eats pussy masterfully, but true to character, he is a mess of contradictions. First he spreads your thighs wide, leather-clad thumbs finding your slippery outer folds to part you to his gaze. He lets go and leans in to suck and kiss at every part of you that isn’t your clit: sucking at your folds, tonguing your hole, kissing your thighs. He is clean shaven (like to keep up the charade of Marc), not a hint of painful stubble to chafe your sensitive pussy. 

Jake leads with his tongue and lips, knowing how sensitive you are. For many long moments, he eats you without purpose, like he is giving you head just for the sake of it, no goalpost ahead to punt your orgasm through. 

But then he becomes frantic, pressing his tongue as deeply into you as he can, sucking on your clit, dragging the flat of his teeth against your folds. He is lackadaisical and then frenzied, patient and then desperate.

The whole time, you have both hands over your mouth, nothing but the aborted gasps in your throat, the frantic breaths through your nose, and the wet, lurid sounds of Jake eating your pussy to fill up the quiet room. 

When you get close, your heels dig into his back. He finally either gets bored with you or decides that he’s warmed you up enough. Your loud groan of protest has his eyes sharpening in a warning that makes you flush. He’s right, though. You have to be quiet. 

Jake guides you into the next position he wants, and it’s almost unbearable: on your hands and knees, face towards the camera of Marc’s phone. Jake leaves you like that, on your hands and knees while he undresses slow and methodical, only the slightly warped imagine of him on the metal walls your visual.. 

Sometimes he says something, low and light and Spanish, before chuckling at whatever Marc’s response is. 

“Is he mad?” You wonder, unsure what you want the answer to be. 

“No,” Jake croons, kneeling behind you. He draws you up til you kneel, back pressed flush against his bare chest, cock hard between your thighs. In your ear, he says: “He is livid.”

“Jake,” you whine. 

He clicks his tongue again. He holds up his hand in front of you, leather gloves still in place.

“Open your mouth.” 

You open. Carefully, he has you tug the glove off with your teeth. He holds it while you do the same with the other. Then he makes you open your mouth so he can tuck the palms of his gloves between your teeth for you to hold. 

“Drop those, and you’ll be punished,” Jake says, bare hands smoothing along your back, down your hips, finding your ass. He spanks you, once, hard. A warning that you feel all the way to your toes. “Leave a single mark from your teeth on my leather, and you’ll also be punished.” 

You whine in dismay at this twist, trying to find the perfect balance between keeping the gloves in your mouth but not biting with enough force to leave a mark. Distracted by this, you miss whatever Jake says to his reflection, though his bright laugh at whatever its response is makes you shiver. 

Gently, he urges you back onto your hands and knees. His cock nudges against the wetness between your legs. You make a desperate little sound, shifting, arching your back to offer his cock more contact with your pussy. The fire Jake had lit inside you with his mouth flares to life again, unsatisfied and aching.

“Can you take it?” Jake wonders, slipping and sliding along the seam of you, soaking his cock in your own arousal. “Or do you need my fingers to open you up?”

You try to answer him with the gloves, but the words are nothing but muted sounds. His cockhead, thick enough alone to be a pleasing stretch, presses at your entrance. 

“What was that?” Jake wonders, cupping a hand to his ear. 

No use in trying to tell him twice. Instead you press back, welcoming him into your body. Your eyes shut, and you nearly drop the gloves when your mouth craves to fall open and release a groan. It is by the skin of your teeth (pun intended) that you manage to keep the gloves in your mouth. You seethe with jealousy at the quiet but robust moan that Jake gives out, his fingers dimpling the skin of your hips with force as he grips you and pulls you back further and further on his cock. 

“Impaciente,” he reprimands breathily. “Who is fucking who? Are you fucking me? Go ahead then. Fuck me.” 

Jake lets go of your hips, crossing his arms contemplatively across his chest. You whine, leaning forward and then sinking back onto his cock. The throaty hum that Jake gives makes you shiver, pleased to be pleasing him. You begin an unsure rhythm, rocking on and off his cock.

For a while, it is enough for Jake. But then he takes your hips in his broad hands again. 

“Do you need help? Here.” He gives a series of near-brutal thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping your cunt loud in the enclosed room. You choke on a groan, head falling forward and eyes screwing shut with pleasure—and then a burst of pain across your scalp has your eyes opening as Jake tugs your head up. Back to face the camera. “Head up. I want to see your pretty face. I want to watch you wreck yourself on my cock.” 

He makes you go on like that for an endless amount of time. Eventually you find a rhythm, making sure not to turn your face away from the camera as you rock back against his thighs, taking his cock to the root again and again. 

“Why do you look so sour?” You make a confused sound. Jake’s hand smooths across your flank. His other hand points. “Not you. Him. You’re putting on an amazing show for him, and he isn’t even appreciating it.” 

All of the sudden, there is a distant bang. You freeze, Jake’s cock halfway buried inside you. Distantly–so distantly, you can hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Behind you, Jake’s body begins to shake with quiet laughs even as your own seems to seize with terror at the thought of being caught. The lock for the unit only hangs loosely, offering the two of you no privacy should someone decide to investigate the noise and open the door. 

Jake draws you up, lowering himself onto his haunches as he tugs you back against his chest. In your ear, he murmurs: “Perhaps Marc is the only person we should give a show to. Oh—oh no? You’re shaking your head, but your cunt can’t lie to me. Not when I know her so well. If you don’t want anyone to see what a beautiful little slut you are, then you had best keep quiet.” 

Keep quiet—simple, except that he reaches down between your legs, fingers tracing along your stretched entrance, and then dragging up over your sensitive, otherwise-ignored clit. Your body jerks, desperate to get away from the sudden stimulus and desperate to get closer all at once. You whine, the sound echoing off the walls and back to you. It takes all of your fortitude to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and try to stifle any further noises. 

Jake takes your clit between his fingers and rubs softly, purring into the nape of your neck at the way your pussy spasms around his cock. In the distance, the footsteps draw closer, the quiet murmur of voices heard. Can they hear you as well as you can hear them? Fuck, you imagine they can. Your orgasm, so far denied of you, swells low and sweet in your belly, and you dread it just as much as you ache for it—

All at once, a warmth fills you, Jake’s cock twitching where it is buried deep inside you. He groans so quietly against your skin, trailing off into a little breathless laugh. The feel of his spend filling you has your cunt clenching, approaching that edge. But before you can let yourself trip over the ledge and down into pleasure’s abyss, Jake’s fingers freeze. 

Did you hear that? a voice asks. Your heart pounds, entire body flashing hot and then cold with panic. Jake’s hand reaches up and wraps around you throat, fingers flexing gently in warning. As if you need one!

Rats, probably. City’s got ones bigger than your cock—not that that’s saying much. 

You make too many jokes about my cock for a bloke who's straight. 

The voices begin to fade away. Jake’s fingers relax, stroking the line of your throat softly. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs in your ear. “Very good girl, keeping quiet, fucking me so good. Did you cum?” 

As if he doesn’t already know. You shake your head, slow and emphatic, gloves flapping softly against your cheeks. 

“Do you want to cum?” 

A nod. 

“Roll over. On your back. Shh, shh—I know it’s cold.” 

You lay there shivering, looking up at him, the taste of leather on your tongue. You’re nearly shaking with need, thighs spread so he can kneel between them. He’s cum, but his cock hardly looks softened, flush and dark between his legs. Jake grips his cock and strokes himself a few times, the muscles in his belly tensing. He is so fucking hot, you feel like if you laid here long enough looking up at him, you would cum. 

With his other hand, Jake reaches for Marc’s phone. He works it softly off of the tripod and turns the screen to face you, lets you look at yourself in the front facing camera. Your hands cover your eyes at the brief glimpse you catch of yourself looking so fucked-out, thighs splattered with pearly seed, cunt swollen, nipples hard, those fucking gloves held between your teeth.

Jake laughs softly as he takes the camera and turns it the proper direction so that he can film you. “Hands down, what did I say? I said I want to see your pretty face.” 

Two of his fingers, thick and strong, slip inside you. Your hands fall away from your eyes, mouth going slack enough that the gloves slip dangerously and you have to tighten your lips to keep from dropping them altogether. Jake’s grin behind the phone is downright sinful as he takes obvious, obscene pleasure in your struggle. His fingers squelch as he begins a moderate pace of fucking you with them. 

“All you have to do is ask me, and I’ll make you cum.” He pauses to slip his fingers from you and drag the mess of yourself up over your sensitive clit, delighting in your whine and writhe. “So go ahead and ask real pretty. I’m all ears.” 

You ask, words severely muffled around the gloves. 

“I can’t understand,” he says, pointing the phone towards your pussy in a move that has tears filling your eyes with how tightly your cunt grips at his fingers. You didn’t know you liked being filmed so much—wouldn’t have imagined such a thing in a thousand years. “Keep asking. I like to hear you struggle. Say, ‘Please make me cum, Jake’.”

You’re desperate enough to keep trying, feeling the muscles in your belly tighten, though you desperately wish he would stroke your clit. You would cum nearly straight away, you are so close to the precipice. You repeat his words. 

“Who? Did you say—Marc?”

Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking furiously. You repeat his name again and again, though he puckers his lips to look doubtful. He slips his fingers out of you again and you nearly wail, desperate for the release you have worked so hard to earn. But instead of taking his hands away, Jake takes your slippery clit between his fingers again, working the little pleasurable knot with dextrous, merciless skill. 

You cum before you know you are cumming, back arching against the chilly floor, barely aware of Jake tugging the gloves from between your teeth to hear the way your voice grits out his name. He rubs and softly pinches your most sensitive flesh until you are whining and shaking and whispering for him to stop, it is too much, you are too sensitive. 

He adjusts the camera to take in your entire expression: dilated, heavy-lidded eyes, mouth swollen and parted, tears clinging to your lashes. 

“Good girl,” he says again, soundly absurdly pleased. He sets the phone down, using the free hand to smooth softly across your trembling belly as you are riddled with spasms and shivers in the aftermath of your release. 

Then, a sound you dread, one you dread more than even footsteps or voices: 

Jake clicks his tongue in displeasure. 

Eyes wet and wide, voice raspy from your whines and cries, you ask, “What is it?” 

His eyes flash up to you, smile spreading slow and dangerous across his face. It makes you shiver, makes your pussy clench. He holds up his glove, pointing. “What is that? Hm? There, denting the leather.” 

A toothmark. 

“Looks like you are due for that punishment after all.”

Gripping both gloves loosely in one hand, Jake brings them down to spank your clit.

*

I'm currently raising money to afford the emergency care provided to my perpetual-pup who passed away on 8/25. Please consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed this; every penny goes to him. Reblogs are invaluable. And come leave a request in my inbox, if you'd like.

[sunsetsimon]

i’ve been lurking through your page for the past few days and i’m screaming, crying, kicking my feet at simon. ANYWAYS— i’ve had a scary interaction yesterday evening when i parked my car and a guy opened my door when i was gathering my things from the passenger seat.

i screamed, which made him flinch and i was able to close the door and lock myself in. he banged my window and kept on trying to talk to me until he finally left.

i had a full blown panic attack and it took my 20 minutes to gather enough courage to get out and run home.

what’s scarier is that i am four months along w/ my bsf’s baby (USE PROTECTION KIDS, ONE SILLY MISTAKE AND YOU LOSE YOUR BSF AND FEEL LIKE A WHALE) and i don’t have anyone to call/reach so…… now… i can only think of reader experiencing this, but being able to call simon and him just comforting her afterwards and coming to save her <3 ugh i need a simon in my life hahahah

anyways—— sorry if this was weird and a strange word vomit too, feel free to ignore!! stay safe 🫶🏼

— momanon 🧞‍♀️

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. i'm so glad you're okay ugh that's terrifying!!! and i hope you have the happiest and healthiest pregnancy ever <333 mwah!

simon is fucking fuming, he can't think of the last time he was this riled up, ready to split this guy down the middle. your hands are shaking as you call him, struggling to hold your phone up to your ear, voice trembling as you speak. the line goes silent, all you hear is quick shuffling of what you can only assume is simon grabbing his keys to come to you.

“what does he look like? which direction is he walking to? what is he wearing?” firing off question after question, picturing all the ways he can send this man to his maker. of course you’re shaken, thoughts twisted from pure shock and adrenaline.

“don’t fucking move,” he orders you, and you can hear the loud acceleration of his car, driving way over the speed limit, running stop signs, tunnel visioned on getting to you.

he’s there faster than you can really process, his energy completely different. simon’s demeanor is dark, intimidating, enough to pull you out of your shock. his eyes are scanning the parking lot, searching for anyone who fits the description of the man.

“are you okay?” he asks, opening your door to pull you into his arms.

he holds you against his chest, taking deep breaths to coax you into calming down, his chest rising and falling in tempo with yours. his warm hand rests on your tummy, rubbing lightly as if he was soothing the baby.

“yeah that was just… scary,” you say, observing the cars around you once more. it's you and simon, and a woman about your age walking down the rows of cars. keys and purse in hand, she quickly passes you and gets in a blue car parked a few spaces down. though she didn't give you a second glance, simon watched her like a hawk, brown eyes scanning for the man lurking around.

"m'never letting you go anywhere alone again. especially while carryin' my kid with you," he huffs as the woman shuts her car door, quickly backing out and leaving. you're gathering your things, filling your bag with everything that had spilled in your fright, flinging things around while locking the door.

simon guides you out of your car by your hand, holding his other arm out to help stabilize you if you need it. grabbing the bag from you, he kisses your forehead and walks on your heels the entire way. from then on, he keeps his promise of not allowing you to go anywhere alone, always by your side to protect you.

[fairysluna]

SINNERS — Chapter 4

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.

SUMMARY – A year has passed, Maegor's lies are exposed as Aenelys overheard a conversation and they both found themselves in a discussion that was interrupted by an unexpected visit and terrible news..

TW/TAGS – targcest (uncle/niece), age gap, angst, smut (humping, praising), cursing, maegor being his own warning, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, manipulation. if something is missing let me know!!

NOTE – finally i managed to sit and write for this, I'm sorry if it's not perfect, but I'm still struggling with my writer's block.😫 hopefully you'll like this!! pls enjoy🤍✨

WORD COUNT – 5.0k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Maegor was unable to take his eyes out of her. His hand found its way to her back, caressing the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. His little princess was exhausted after last night, which finished with her limbs shaking and her beautiful doe eyes covered by tears. 

Aenelys had been behaving these past year, and Maegor was pleased with it. As long as he made her believe he was hers, nothing could go wrong. He was smarter this time; hiding his mistresses in brothels while her princess remained oblivious of his acts, waiting for his return and opening her soft legs to him because she was getting obsessed with the pleasure he could provide to her.

He was no fool, not at all. He knew there was no way he could be inside her without getting her with child, and that was no good for his plans… he needed her a maiden, he could not allow her to breed a bastard, not when her title and prestige were at risk. Those were two things he needed from her, her title and her legitimate child, but for that he must be patient, wait for the right moment. 

But that does not mean he could not have fun with her in the meantime.

Maegor found himself searching for new methods of pleasure that would work for both, one of his favorites will forever be having her plump lips around him. The first time she learned how to please him with her mouth, she was acting shy and flustered, nervously touching him until he decided to control her movements. Aenelys turned out to be strangely good at this, pleasing him like no other.

"Not even the most expensive whore can suck my cock like you do, my sweet dove," he had told her as he wiped the tears off her flushed face. Aenelys smiled widely, feeling proud after realizing that she was better than anyone. She thought that he would only seek release in her after that… but how wrong she was.

There is no secret that Maegor had some carnal need that needed to be fulfilled, and his wish to be inside some tight, wet walls were too overwhelming to be ignored. This is why, after those times where he could not get satisfied by her touch, he would leave once he made sure she was sleeping, and seek that much needed release with someone else; his dear friend and favorite mistress, Tyanna. 

Ser Draqos knew about his dirty little secret, for he would guard the princess door each night, seeing how her beloved uncle and lover would leave her alone for some common whore. It was hard for him to understand how Maegor, a man who had in his power a woman as sweet and beautiful as the princess, decided to sneak out like a rat in the middle of the night and lock himself in brothels with other women. It was nonsense that only a fool could understand. 

But now Maegor was laying beside her, his big hand on her back as she started to move, her eyes slowly opening as she turned around with a small, sleepy smile. Maegor put his hand around her neck, not squeezing it but leaving it there as a sign of some kind of dominance over her, something that the princess loved to feel. 

"How beautiful you look in the mornings," he whispered, brushing his nose against hers in a strangely soft touch. "Did you sleep well?" 

"I always sleep well with you by my side," she murmurs in response. Maegor smirked, almost hearing the devotion in her voice.

Without saying a word, he pressed his lips against hers in a hungry kiss. Aenelys moaned; the sudden act made her heart flutter, still not getting used to these heated touches that made her limbs go numb. The butterflies on her belly blurred her thoughts as he possesively devoured her lips with a fervor that left her breathless. She squirmed beneath him, so easy to arouse. Maegor knew exactly the effect he had on her, and he knew that if he dared to touch between her legs he would find nothing but her sweet slick running down her thighs. Her flesh begging to be touched.

She sighed as he leaned back, a small string of saliva joining their swollen lips as Maegor's darkened eyes stared at hers with a hunger that made her legs shake. He had woken up with the intention of devouring her in every way, not satisfied with the action that took place the night before. Aenelys felt his hand roaming down her body, a small squeeze on her left breast before he positioned himself between her legs, spreading them open for him to see all of her. 

She blushed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes that screamed innocence - or at least what was left of it. Maegor growled, his fingers involuntarily touching her soaked folds as she mewled beneath him, her hips moving upwards as she searched for more of his touch. 

"Look how wet you are for me, my sweet doe," he mumbled, towering her body as he leaned forward, a shadow casting over her petite frame and hiding her from the sunlight. "And all of this is for me, right?" He asked using that husky tone that sent her into a submissive and pleading state. She nodded as a response muttering a small 'yes' that could be easily mistaken with soft gasps. 

Maegor, discontent with that answer, put his hand back around her neck and squeezed it. Aenelys purred under his touch and a smug grin appeared on her uncle's lips. 

"I made you a question, princess," he murmured as he brushed his nose against her cheek. "Answer me." His low voice caused chills down her spine, making her pearl throb with excitement.

"It's- it's all for you," she replied in a sigh, her voice thin and weak as he pressed himself against her. His length felt the warmth of her folds and a groan left his lips as she moved her hips, starting to hump on him. 

"Good girl…" he sighed.

Maegor then started to move as well, his hips meeting hers in slow but hard movements that made her whine. His hardness rubbing against her swollen bud almost made her eyes roll, her hands holding onto his shoulders at the same time he kissed her. The muffled noises of their passion were echoing in the room.��

"I can't wait to be inside you, my dear," he whispered against her lips, "I bet you would feel so good around my cock, squeezing me with that tight cunny of yours." 

His words did nothing but to increase her arousal, her cheeks turning red as her mind flooded with images of him claiming her as his. Her mouth dropped open with a whine, her clit throbbing as he used his free hand to press himself further into her soaked flesh. Aenelys closed her eyes, her back arching as his grip around her neck tightened even more. 

"Does it feel good, byka mēre?" Little one. That bloody nickname sent waves of heat all over her trembling body as she whimpered a response. "Are you going to cum? I can hear how wet you are, love… So needy for me." 

She felt the knot of her lower belly starting to form, searching for that needed release as his name fell from her lips like a sacred prayer. After he let go of her neck, his lips wrapped around one of her sensitive nipples, licking and sucking the delicate bud as she frowned in pleasure and her whole body shook. The stimulation between her legs, plus his hungry mouth roughly working on her breasts, made her see stars behind her eyelids, her limbs shaking as her cries of pleasure became louder. 

Aenelys fell apart beneath his thick frame, crying his name as she reached her overwhelming climax. Her breathing was fast, ragged. Her eyes closed as he kept moving trying to find his release - which was far to come. 

After a few seconds, Maegor kept going in an useless attempt to feel that knot in his gut. The stimulation was not enough for him, and the frustration was growing inside him, losing his patience. Aenelys started to cry even louder, the overstimulation being too much that it became a bit painful. Maegor groaned.

He let go, trying to use his hand but it was still not enough. Aenelys saw his struggle and she tried to make things better as she noticed how his patience was hanging from a thin thread. 

"I can… I can use my mouth-" 

"Be quiet," he snapped at her as he stood up, lurking for his clothes around her chambers. 

Aenelys covered her nudity with the thin sheets of her bed, staring at Maegor as a tiny feeling of inefficiency filled her chest, almost making her cry. It was not the first time this would happen, and even when she would offer to please him in other ways, he would grab his things and leave her room… just like he did this time. 

The princess felt a slight pain in her heart as she was left alone, trying to convince herself that the next time will be different. Trying to convince herself that he went to the training yard instead of a brothel. 

Though she was not very sure of that. 

A few minutes later passed before one of her loyal maids entered her room, preparing a warm bath for her. Aenelys found herself relaxing in the water while Henela washed her hair. The princess had been unable to focus on anything besides what happened with Maegor, she wondered what she could do to be better for him, to please him and leave him satisfied. 

"Are you still a maiden, Henela?" The princess suddenly asked, the lady almost blushed at the question. 

"Uh… no, princess, I'm not," she hid her nervousness behind an awkward giggle. 

"So you know how to properly please a man, right?" Aenelys asked again without shame. She turned around looking up at the flustered maid, the curiosity shining through her eyes. 

"Well, there's many ways to please a man," Henela explained, going to search for the princess' robe. "You can use your hands, or your mouth-"

"I have done those things-"

"Have you?" She interrupted with surprise. 

"I have," Aenelys nodded, standing from the tub and wrapping the robe around her body. "But it seems as if they are not enough… Is there anything else I could do to please him?"

The shock on Henela's face was undisguisable. 

"I'm not quite sure what else you can do, those things usually work," she murmured, now feeling a bit embarrassed. "Has he ever… been inside you?" 

Aenelys shook her head, "he does not want to," she sadly said. "He says a princess shall always wait for marriage."

"Is he planning to wed you?" Henela curiously asked. 

"Yes," she nodded excitedly, "Though I'm not quite sure when, but I know we will get married someday…" Henela felt a tingle of pity on her chest after seeing her dreamy eyes and knowing the truth about Maegor. "He gave me this necklace when I was sixteen," Aenelys said as she grabbed the pendant hanging around her neck, "I think he gave it to me as a promise…" 

"Pardon me for my intrusion, my princess, but is he not already married?" Henela asked. 

Aenelys smile trembled a little and she shook her head, as if she was trying to downplay the situation she was in. 

"Oh, yes, but here we're free, and we can get married even if he's married in Westeros, can we not?" she shrugged, still with a soft smile on her face that was so hard to watch for her maid. "Besides, Ceryse does not love him, not like I do. He deserves a good wife, someone who can give him what he wants."

"What does he want?" 

"A child!" Aenelys excitedly said. 

"Oh…" she simply said.

"How lovely would it be to be carrying his child," Aenelys murmured, standing in front of the mirror and placing her hand on her belly. "But firstly, I need to know how to properly please him. Is there any advice?"

Henela sighed, "Men usually like it when women take control or seem to be confident in the marital bed," she explained, "for that you need to be on top, riding him."

"Like a horse?" 

Her maid giggled softly, "not quite, but the movements are rather the same. Moving your hips in circles or back and forth, it drives them crazy." 

"Does it?"

Henela nodded.

"Please, also remember that men like to hear your pleasure, so you have to be loud, but try not to be too obvious about it or they will know you are lying." 

"That is a bit confusing," Aenelys giggled. Henela laughed too.

"Men are complicated, my princess, but if there is something that can keep them interested is a good sexual companion… I'm sure Prince Maegor would be rather infatuated once he gets to bed you." 

"You think?" Aenelys blushed. 

"Definitely, my princess," she nodded. "Sometimes we can get them to do as we please by just opening our legs, they always think with their cocks."

"Henela!" She gasped, laughing at the word she used and slightly blushing. It was not very common for her to hear a lady using that term.

"It is the truth!" Henela giggled, making her sit in a chair in order to brush her hair. 

"I think the fact he's waiting for me is the purest act of love," Aenelys murmured, her silly smile and dreamy eyes coming back to enlighten her face. "The fact that he stopped seeing his whores is proof that he actually loves me, right?"

The way the princess smiled made her feel pity again; she could only ask for the truth to be out. She simply nodded, hiding the guilt behind a soft look in her eyes. Henela had a special spot for the princess, and she was not going to be the one telling Maegor's little secret and eventually breaking her heart. 

A few hours later she was walking towards the dining room to break her fast. A freshened look on her face as she had taken a hot bath and had her braids done by Henela, leaving any trace of sadness behind after what had happened inside her room. She kindly smiled at everyone who crossed her path; the princess had known how to win every servant's heart, which is why they would always give her pity glances as she walked - they knew what her beloved uncle did behind her back. No one dared to say a word, everyone was too afraid of the Prince to even think about confessing his lie. 

Everyone but Draqos, who was standing in the hall being threatened by a very angry Maegor. Aenelys found them, slowing her pace and quietly approaching the corner to spy. She was able to see her uncle's back and Draqos' face under the sunlight. She frowned, noticing how her loyal guard was visibly mad, his eyes throwing daggers at the man in front of him as they seemed to have a not so friendly conversation. 

She was not able to hear clearly, but her heart ached when she heard his last words before he left: "Consider yourself dead if you dare to tell her about this."

Aenelys frowned, her confused expression being plastered in her face as she leaned back in the wall trying to make sense of what Maegor had just said. That is when a hand was pressed on her shoulder, a touch so gently and caring. Draqos looked down at her lilac eyes, and with a single glance he knew that he had heard part of the conversation.

"What did he mean?" she asked softly, trying not to jump into conclusions. 

"Princess, you shouldn't have heard that," Draqos sighed, almost looking ashamed.

"But I did," she firmly replied, "what did he mean?" she repeated, her eyes never leaving his as she was forcing him to answer her. "I demand you to tell me what is going on."

The inner struggle was obvious in his eyes as he immediately looked away, unable to resist the temptation to tell her the truth if he was staring at her. Aenelys silently pleaded for an answer. 

"He will not hurt you if you decide to speak to me," she told him, softly speaking in an attempt to make him talk. "I will make sure you are safe, I promise."

With that, Draqos was easily convinced. His sweet princess was begging for an answer and he was not going to be the one to deny her of it. He would never deny her anything.

"I'm afraid the prince has been seen occasionally escaping during the nights, and sometimes during the days," he started, his voice somewhat soft as if he was trying to make everything less painful. "He visits the brothels almost every week, seeking companionship in the arms of a courtesan named Tyanna." 

Aenelys pressed her lips into a thin line as she took in the heartbreaking news of the not so unexpected treason. Draqos got a bit worried when he did not see sadness in her eyes; he saw anger. Her soft, doe eyes turned into flames as she imagined that woman touching what belonged to her. 

"How long has this been going on?" she asked. 

Draqos took a deep breath, "it has never stopped, my princess." 

She sighed, a shaky sigh that almost broke his heart. 

"I need you to promise me something, Ser Draqos," Aenelys softly spoke as she took a step closer and looked up at him. Their closeness would not be well seen if someone walked in, but he was not going to be the one to push her away. 

"Anything," he whispered, his deep brown eyes looking at her lilac ones with a devotion she wished to see in Maegor. 

"You are my protector, you sworn yourself to me when we first arrived here," she said as she grabbed his hand. "I do not want just your protection. I want your loyalty and sincerity. Do not lie or hide things from me again." 

"Princess-"

"Promise me," she demanded. 

"I promise you," he answered without missing a beat, not even doubting himself. "My princess, I will always be loyal to you… Until my last breath." 

Aenelys nodded, taking in his words and closing her eyes when he leaned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there longer than they should have; it brought some sense of peace and calmness. The princess muttered a small 'thank you', before she took a step back and looked at the floor, as if she was avoiding his stare. She excused herself before her expression hardened again and she walked away from him.

With a single glance to her determined steps, he knew where she was walking to, so he walked behind her just to make sure she would be safe. 

Aenelys reached for the door and pushed it open, hard enough to disrupt the calm environment that had been established in the dining room. Maegor frowned as he looked at her, the sign of dried tears in her rosy cheeks immediately worked as a warning that something was not right, and the realization hit when Draqos stood behind her.

"Leave," she ordered to all the servants that were staring at her with curious eyes. Everyone left, except for Draqos. "You too," she told him.

"Princess-"

"Go," she interrupted him. Draqos doubted for a second, staying still while giving quick glances to Maegor; he did not trust him. However, he eventually turned around, reluctantly leaving the room.

Aenelys saw Maegor leaning back in the chair; his legs spreaded, his jaw moving as he was eating while a small grin appeared on his face. She knew he was going to tease her, a daring provocation in order to make her explode; she tried not to get caught up in that, but her feelings were all over the place, her heart was beating too fast and the ache in her chest did not seem to cease. 

"You lied to me," she murmured, trying to make her voice not break. 

"Did I?" 

"You did!"

"Ah…" he scoffed, drinking from his tea as if she was not falling apart in front of him. "When did I lie to you, darling?" 

"You are fucking a whore, Maegor," she mumbled, wiping a rebel tear as she looked to the floor. A small tsk was heard from his side.

"Well, that's the thing, little one." He stood up, and he slowly started to approach her. "I do not remember telling you I'd stopped fucking whores. It is not a lie if I never said it, is it? You just assumed it." 

There was a silence where Maegor reached for her face, cupping her cheek with his hand as his thumb wiped the tears away. It was a gesture so delicate and soft that it almost made her sigh; her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. It brought some calmness to the turmoil of feelings inside her chest. His softness, that was hardly ever shown, made her almost melt into his touch once again, but then his own voice made her wake up from the trance he had put her in.

"Who told you?" 

That mere question brought her back to reality. She thought about how many people knew about it for him to ask such thing. She thought about how ridiculous she must have been seen by the servants that already knew about it, for she would never hide her undying loyalty and devotion to him. 

She pushed his hand away from her, taking a step back as the anger consumed her once again.

"No one did!" she replied, raising her voice. "You really think I was never going to find out about this?" 

"My sweet doe," he softly spoke, trying to calm her down. "You need to understand that a man has needs-"

"I'm the one who should be satisfying your needs!" She yelled. "I'll be your wife, I will marry you, not her!" She spat the last words with utter disgust.

He took a deep breath, slowly starting to lose his patience. 

"I know that very well," he whispered, taking a step closer. "But there are different kinds of pleasure that you cannot provide me with. You know that." 

"I do not care!" She yelled again, this time pushing him away. Maegor was taken by surprise, and he almost lost his balance. Pure shock on his eyes as he saw her unexpected outburst. "I can be all that for you if you only give me the chance!" She whined. "I'm right here, uncle! I'm yours, and I will always be yours. Why can you not understand?!"

His anger was immediately shown as he unexpectedly wrapped his hand around her jaw, digging his fingers into her flesh - strong enough to make her stay still. Her eyes widened in surprise, a slight panic running through her eyes as she saw the rage written all over his face. She whined, now out of pain. 

"You cannot understand simple things, can you?" He muttered so close to her face that she was able to feel his hot breath against her lips. "Is your brain so small that it cannot comprehend anything? You think I haven't fucked you because I do not wish for it?" He scoffed. "Oh, you silly little thing. I could spread your legs and bury my cock on that needy cunt of yours right here if that is what I want, but I won't; because I'm smart, and I'm patient, you know why? Because I could easily fuck a bastard into you." Those last words were spat with rage, the kind of feeling he had never felt with her up to this point.

He was wondering how she could not understand what he had been explaining to her for months. Her obliviousness to certain things made him furious.

"Is that what you want?" He continued, tightening his grip. "A bastard is a weapon against maidens as you, something they can use to steal your rightful position in the throne, is that what you want? People calling you the whore princess because you opened your legs to someone who's not your husband? Don't act stupid, I know you are more clever than that."

He let her go, and she stumbled backwards as she touched her jaw trying to soothe the tingling pain that was left there. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he stared at her teary eyes. Maegor then approached her again, two of his fingers lifting her chin forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me, my love," his tone changed, returning to be the soft and gentle one he would always use with her. "You want to feel me inside that tight cunny of yours? You want me to breed you until your womb is filled with my seed? That is fine, and you'll have all of that…" he made a pause, appreciating the red on her cheeks produced by his words. "But for that you'll have to wait until we marry. Is that clear for you?"

She nodded, reluctantly.

"Answer me," he demanded. 

"Yes…" she replied in a thin voice, and he smiled pleasantly.

"That's a good girl," he muttered before he leaned and left a soft kiss on her forehead. A chill ran down her back, a sense of uneasiness settled in her chest. She remembered Draqos giving her the same gesture, and causing the complete opposite emotion. "Now… this is the last time I will bear one of these tantrums, do you hear me? I will not forgive you again."

She was about to answer, but the door was suddenly open and Draqos walked in. He noticed the marks on her jawline, he saw the tears in her eyes and the way she looked away from him, avoiding any eye contact. He clenched his jaw as he bowed in front of them, wanting nothing to scream at Maegor for hurting such a delicate maiden like her.

He hid his rage towards the prince as a serious semblance was drawn in his face, clearing his throat before he made his announcement.

"Prince, Princess… The Dowager Queen is here," he informed. 

Aenelys looked up at Maegor, trying to find the same surprise on his face, but he remained nonchalant to the words of the knight, almost as if he was expecting his mother to arrive. 

Before Aenelys could express her confusion, Visenya entered the dining room, dressed with her riding attire and wearing an unreadable expression on her stern visage. The princess noticed how her eyes scanned her body, her expression slightly changing when she noticed the marks on her neck, but returning to be a hard look when she paid further attention to the marks that were left by her son's tight grip.

"Mother," Maegor greeted her, bowing before her and grabbing her hand to kiss the back of it. "What brings you here?"

"I'm afraid I've come all this way to inform you both of something not very pleasant," she started, her voice low and almost lacking any emotion. Visenya turned to look at Aenelys and she sighed as she grabbed her hands; it was at that moment that the princess felt her heart skip a beat. "Is your father, princess," Visenya sighed.

"My father?" She asked with slight confusion. 

Visenya looked at her son before looking back at the girl in front of her.

 "The King unexpectedly died last night in Dragonstone."

She felt the tears clouding her eyes, her nose itching and that agonizing feeling on her chest. She covered her lips with her hand as a sign of shock and disbelief, feeling as if the world had fallen on her shoulders and the weight of guilt was pressing against her chest, causing her to breathe rapidly and unevenly. Aenelys looked at Maegor, whose face was lacking any surprise - she was too shocked to recognize the mischievous glint on his devilish eyes. 

"How… How did it happen?" she managed to speak between deep breaths and sobs. 

"The war weakened him," she explained. Aenelys was taken aback by this new information. 

Information that Maegor already knew and decided to hide from her.

"What war?" Aenelys asked again.

"The war with the Faith Militant," she explained, "The High Septon took your disappearance as an offense, for his niece is Maegor's legitimate wife. People in King's Landing are accusing your father of promoting this relationship between you both, and they raised against his reign." 

Her dress suddenly felt tighter, the difficulty to breath making her gasp as the tears fell down her cheeks. Her eyes looked at Draqos, the despair and desperation was clearly visible in her face. He took a step forward, but Maegor grabbed her first. The princess buried her face on his chest while his hand went to her hair, cooing against her ear while she uncontrollably sobbed, soaking his shirt with her tears. 

Suddenly, the entire discussion with Maegor was easily forgotten, for the pain in her heart was bigger and almost unbearable. The guilt making it impossible for her to calm down.

"Your mother and siblings are waiting for you in Dragonstone for the funeral," Visenya informed her, "King's Landing and the Iron Throne are now empty…" 

Aenelys thought it was quite odd the way she pronounced those kasts words, but her mind was too blurry to even try to process them. Maegor, however, found himself understanding the message between the lines, and he held her close to his chest and gave a soft nod to his mother. Things had never been clearer.

It was time for him to take what was rightfully his, claim his position as King of the Seven Kingdoms, and make Aenelys his queen.

Everything went exactly how he wanted.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU.

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jamespotterismydaddy @padfooteyes

SINNERS TAG LIST — @hypocritic-trash-baby @misspendragonsworld @hangmanscoming @caramelcandescence @cold-v0dka @bellstwd @angeliod @uniquecroissant @winxschester @mrswhitethornbelikov @amygdtjhddzvb @vixemi @beebeechaos

[atinylittlepain]

Play - A Javi Gutierrez Story

javi g x f!reader

it's not that kind of play, honey.

warnings | 18+ smut and nothing but(t)

a/n | I'm back with another addition to the Peg that Middle Aged Man Campaign! If you don't know what I'm talking about, where the hell have you been? Just kidding, but fr, go check out the work of @beskarandblasters @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 and @serenaxpedro they've all got some awesome fics out for this campaign!

.................................

“This play, it is a very strange one, no? Oh! Is it one of those– what is it called– interactive performances?” Is this guy for real? It would be amusing if it wasn’t messing up her flow of clients, having to deal with this bright-eyed man with the softest hair she’s ever seen, who has clearly walked into Pandora’s with no clue of what the club is.

“Hon, I’m not sure where you got that idea. But this isn’t a play.” His brow furrows at that, perfect confusion at what she says.

“But the sign outside? I tell you, I enjoy a good pun. If this isn’t a play, what is it?” It clicks in her mind all at once. Pandora’s: Come in and play a while. She has to let out a laugh when she realizes exactly where the man got the idea from.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that kind of play. This is a BDSM club.”

“Oh, oh.” His whole face goes slack with realization, sun-kissed skin going a pretty shade of pink as he swallows harshly.

“I am so sorry. I am, ah, feeling a bit foolish, I have to admit. But I will get out of your hair now, I– my apologies.” So sweet, so polite, and so flustered, she can’t help herself when she brings a hand to his shoulder to keep him from turning and hurrying out the door.

“You could do that, or I could show you just what kind of play we offer here at Pandora’s.” The man opens and closes his mouth a few times, cheeks tinging from pink to a furious flush, and she knows right then that she’s got him for the night. 

“Why don’t you follow me, honey? I’ll show you the ropes, and then you can decide if you’d like to leave. Sound good?” He nods, a quick jerky thing that makes his lovely curls bounce.

“Is there– are there going to be actual ropes?” 

“There can be– if you ask nicely, of course.”

…

Tilting her head over his shoulder, she smiles, getting to see his name for the first time, signed on the dotted line of the club’s waiver.

“Hmm, it’s nice to officially meet you, Javi. You can call me Molly, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” She takes the paperwork from his hands, making a point of letting her hands brush his, reveling in the way his throat dips and bobs with the contact. So responsive, this is going to be fun. Setting the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, she gets to work collecting the tools she needs for the night, speaking to him over her shoulder as she does.

“Though I’ll be the one in power, you’re the client, honey, which means you have the real control. I’m gonna need you to use your words with me, tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, do you understand?” 

“Yes, miss, I understand.” She feels her brow quirk at his choice of words, now standing in front of him with her arms full of goods.

“Miss, I like that, honey. It’s cute. Now, will you get undressed for me, Javi? I’d love to see a bit more of you.” He nods, a lopsided smile on his face as he starts to work through the buttons of his shirt while she lays her toys out on the bed next to him. Quick and eager, he’s left in his briefs in no time flat, a bit breathless under her gaze. He’s pretty, golden skin, strong thighs, and an adorably soft belly that she’d like to sink her teeth into.

“Could I see more of you as well, please?” 

“Well since you asked so politely, why don’t you do it for me, darling?” She steps between his thighs, his eyes widening, lips parted as she guides his hands to her hips. Tentatively, he moves one hand up to her cleavage, where the zipper running down her dress lies, slowly tugging it down to reveal her body to him. 

“You are– a very beautiful woman.” He says it so solemnly, his eyes raking over her body once she’s slipped her dress entirely off, and she can’t help but laugh at the very serious look on his face, tucking her fingers under his chin to tilt his gaze up to hers.

“That’s sweet of you to say, darling, thank you. Are you ready to lay back for me so we can get started?” He’s very compliant, she’ll give him that, humming an mmhmm as he shifts back onto the sheets, laying out for her as she starts to unravel her set of silk ties. 

“Now remember, Javi. I need you speaking to me, telling me what you like and what you don’t. What you say goes, honey.” His eyes are trained on her hands as she holds the tie out between them, giving it a few snaps as she comes to kneel between his thighs on the bed.

“I will do my best to, as you say, tell you what I am liking and what I am not. Though if it is you who is doing it, I imagine I will like most things.” The flush in his cheeks has creeped down to bloom over his chest, a smile that could only be described as bashful crinkling his eyes as he looks at her, a vision that she can’t help but want to corrupt, just a little. She crawls further up the bed, shifting into a straddle at his hips, hovering over the very obvious bulge in his briefs as she leans over him, tie in hands.

“Do you still want this, Javi?” She trails the end of the silk tie over his chest, letting it drag against his nipples, his inhale catching at the sensation.

“Yes, miss, I– I would like what we discussed.” She grins, bringing the tie to settle flat over his eyes, quietly directing him to lift his head up so she can tie it in the back, smoothing her fingers over it once he settles back down, blindfolded and sighing.

“I saw this in a movie once. I thought it to be very intriguing. But I have not had a chance to try it myself until now.” There it is again, that sweet smile of his, and an amusing wag of his eyebrows as she sits back in his lap to take in the sight of him.

“Well in that case, honey, I expect a full report when I’m done with you.” She makes quick work with the other two ties, pressing a kiss to each of his wrists once she’s bound them to the posts of the bed, his pulse jumping against her lips. Moving again to kneel between his spread thighs, she has to pause for a moment, he’s such a vision, his arms framed overhead, black silk blinding his eyes, lips parted in silent puffs of breath. And then, she gets to work.

She starts light, a barely there graze of her fingernails down his chest, over the swell of his belly, grinning at the way his muscles clench and jump at the sensation, before letting her fingers hook under the waistband of his briefs.

“I’m going to take these off, darling. Is that ok?” Back and forth, back and forth, she lets her nails graze along the soft skin hidden beneath his briefs, waiting for his answer.

“Yes, miss– I would, um, like that very much.” She rewards him with a kiss, just below his navel and he responds in kind with a sharp inhale, biting his lip as she finally tugs his briefs down and off his legs. 

“Oh, honey, you’re pretty all over, aren’t you?” She likes the laugh that draws out of him, a nervous little thing that fizzles out in his throat when she skates her fingers over the underside of his flushed cock, the muscles in his thighs tensing. She rests her palm over his belly, drawing reassuring circles there as her other hand dips down to cup his balls.

“Just relax, Javi. I’m going to make you feel very, very good.” A broken sound cracks in his chest when she lets her breath fan over his cock, warbling into a groan when she darts her tongue out to lap at his leaking tip. She takes him into the heat of her mouth only once, slipping him down until the head of his cock grazes the back of her throat before promptly popping off of him and pulling away entirely, his wrists tugging petulantly at his restraints in response.

“Patience, darling, the waiting is what makes it so good.” She presses an open mouth kiss to the jut of his hip, lips dragging over his pelvis, just shy of his throbbing length as she lets her teeth nip at the soft pudge of his tummy, enjoying the breathy yelp he lets out when she bites down just a touch harder. He’s getting more impatient as she continues to tease him, her lips pressing everywhere except for where he really wants her, letting out little huffs with each new kiss, each new bite.

“You are a little bit evil, but I think I like it, patrona.” She finds herself smiling against the inside of his thigh where she had just laid another nip, taking in his words with pride.

“Patrona, what does that mean?” 

“It is like a boss. That is what you are, no? The boss of this establishment, and of men, I think.” 

“Mm, you got that right, honey.” Always a sucker for flattery, she decides that he’s had enough teasing, licking a hot stripe up his cock with little preamble, his thighs going rigid as he lets out a hiss between his teeth. 

“Oh, that is– hah– that is very good.” She finds an easy rhythm, bobbing up and down his length, pulling off in between to lick at the head of his cock, one hand cupping and rolling his balls, getting him nice and pliant under her touch. Pleased with the slackened state she’s worked him into, moans rolling through his chest, muscles loose and melting into the sheets, she pulls away to grab her bottle of lube, snickering at the way his head lifts off the pillow like he’s trying to see why she stopped.

“Don’t worry, honey, just gonna start getting you ready for me.” With a smear of lube warmed up in her palms, she gets her hands back on him, slicking down the length of his cock, over his balls, and letting her fingers slip lower as his hips buck up at the new sensation.

“Fuck, I like that– feels so different, so good, patrona.” She spreads him open on her finger, gently pumping in and out as he keens into her touch, a long sigh thrumming in his throat when she adds another finger.

“Look at you, pretty boy, doing so so good for me.” Oh, he likes that, his neck arching with a moan as she continues to fuck him on her fingers, her other hand sliding up and down his cock, thumb passing over his leaking slit each time.

“Aye, patrona, por favor. I– I want more, please.” He tugs limply at his restraints, the muscles in his arms flexing and bulging with the movement, his brow furrowed somewhere between pleasure and prayer.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that, darling?” She punctuates her question with another flick of her wrist over his cock and a thrust of her fingers, making him let out a whine that she’d like to hear more of.

“Sí, sí, patrona, I want it very badly. I’m ready, I swear.” She shushes his pleas with a kiss to his belly, his hips jolting when she removes both her hands from him, slipping off the bed to put on her strap.

“May I– I would like to see you for this part, patrona.” She has to smile at that, tightening the harness around her hips before crawling back onto the bed, happy to shrug Javi out of his blindfold, a shy smile on his lips when his eyes meet hers. He didn’t ask for it, but she undoes his wrists as well, and he sighs in relief, flexing his hands a few times as she settles between his thighs, coaxing his knees to bend around her.

“Need your hips up just a little bit, honey, there you go. Gonna give it to you nice and gentle.” She does just that, one hand planted in the sheets, the other guiding her strap forward as she presses into him, slow and smooth. 

“Fuck, you are wonderful, patrona. I–I feel so good.” She’s been called many things by her clients, but this might be a first for wonderful, the praise coaxing her hips into a faster, deeper rhythm that makes him writhe beneath her. His eyes don’t leave her body, trailing from the arc of her hips to the bounce of her breasts with each thrust, up to her face, surprising her with the delicate way he brings his hand to cup her cheek. It’s just a bit too tender for her taste, and she’s quick to throw him off his game, bringing her hand to stroke his cock as she starts to fuck him harder, rendering him speechless and slack beneath her.

“That’s it, Javi, just let it feel good. Are you gonna come for me, darling? Gonna let me have it?” 

“Sí, mami, por favor.” She doesn’t have to ask for a translation to know what that means. A few more fluid strokes of her hips is all it takes to unravel him, his come smearing over her fist as she strokes him through it. When he starts to whimper at the sensation, she finally pulls away, jumping into aftercare mode as she grabs him a towel and a bottle of water in one hand, and her handy credit-card reader in the other.

“Here you go, darling, take your time getting cleaned up.” She coaxes him to sit up, getting a few sips of water out of him as he catches his breath, though there’s a weird look in his eyes that she can’t quite place.

“You are an amazing woman.” Oh boy. She smiles, trying to laugh off the intensity of his compliment, though he does that same move again, cupping her cheek, his eyes painfully earnest when she looks at him.

“I would like to buy you an island.” The laugh she lets out at that is genuine, though it fizzles out when she realizes he is dead serious, eyes wide and seeking, his lips quirked in that little dopey smile of his.

“No islands necessary, hot stuff. Just the flat fee of three hundred for the hour will do.” She holds out the card reader between them to make her point, his eyes glancing at it, though he seems unconvinced.

“After the way you just made me feel, it would be an insult to repay you with mere money. Tell me what you want, patrona, and it is yours, I swear it.” She must have gotten him good and fucked out for him to be talking like this, his pupils still blown out as he speaks, cock softening against his thigh.

“Oh, honey, you’re sweet, really. But it’s all just in a night’s work. I want my clients satisfied and my sessions paid for, that’s all.” 

“Can I pay to have you for the rest of the night at least, por favor?” That’s more like it.

“Now that is something we could make work. Cash or credit, darling?” 

[michelleleewise]

this may be a strange request but i couldn’t get the idea out of my brain, this could totally be a multi part or just a one shot.

my idea was that the reader (female) was taken & sold from jotunheim at a very young age, in my head it was because of her magical abilities and so they could be used / warped for mass destruction, but you could make it whatever you’d like. Now how she’s ended up on earth is completely your decision but id love a little angst for it, the setting would be post nyc take over & rehabilitation by the avengers for loki.

the team is called out to raid an undocumented base for illegal experimental weapons & the last thing any of them expected to find was y/n. Young adult & Smaller than average for a female frost giant. how you wanna shape her personality is up to you she could either be shy, scared and they need to break through to her or she could be a confident & covertly trained weapon who’s worlds just been completely blown because this is the first time she seeing someone who looks like her. she didn’t know there were people out there who did.…

as for loki’s perspective, though he’s come to terms with being a frost giant by blood, he still has his insecurities & thinks blue is by far the least appealing color. so why is it when he sees this mysterious woman, he’s absolutely enraptured by this dark blue beauty???

if it’s dumb im sorry lol🤣

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took me so long to get to this!!!! I'm catching up on my requests!! And absolutely NOT a dumb idea!!! I love it!!!! I am gonna make it multi chapter.....I think one won't be enough. Hope you like it!!!! 💙❄️💙❄️

====================================

Blue Dhalia

Pairing: Avengers Loki x Female Jotun reader

Warnings: mentions of abduction, mentions of torture, forced imprisonment, experimentation, mentions of malnutrition, nothing too explicit.

Summary: for as long as you could remember you were imprisoned and sold to the highest bidder, until a green eyed man changed everything...

Part one-

**dividers by @firefly-graphics

"Hey, get up. Doctor is ready for you." The man said banging on your cell. You slowly opened your eyes, looking up as the door flipped open, the long pole that you were used to coming into view as it hooked to the collar around your neck. "Let's go, I don't have all day." The man said pulling you out. You squinted in the light, trying to get your bearings when you were drug down the long hallway to where the doctor was. You looked at your arms, seeing the experiments from the day before had healed, wondering what they were going to try today.....maybe the heat again....

You were brought into the same room you had spent so many hours in. It was colorless, all grey and white, only a few desks in the corner and a long silver table set up in the middle if the room, restraints hanging from it. They had to change them a few times trying to find ones that wouldn't break. You closed your eyes coming up to the table, trying to think of anywhere else. "On the table freak." The man said yanking the pole. You growled, trying to lunge at the man feeling a jolt run through your body making your muscles stiffen as you hit the floor.

"Are we feeling fiesty today?" The man asked standing over you, your muscles convulsing. "Get her on the table, and remember don't touch her." He called out. You saw two men come over wearing thick gloves, grabbing your wrists and ankles lifting you onto the table slipping the restraints on. "Ok doctor, she's ready" the man called out. You turned your head seeing the man in the white coat come in carrying some papers. "Well well, lovely to see you again." He said walking to the table. "But, I think for your little stunt no dinner tonight." He said setting the papers down. "Now, should we try the heat again today?" He asked making you whimper, you'd rather endure anything then the heat.

You watched him wave his arm, the two men rolling large lamps over, you remember them. You swallowed hard closing your eyes as they turned them on, feeling the heat radiating over you making you gasp. "Ok, keep those on her for a few hours and then I want to try a few things, test her healing." The doctor said walking out. You closed your eyes, trying to remember something, anything pleasant from your life, but all you could remember was pain and heat. Sometimes when you dreamt you would see hills of white, you feet sinking into them as you walked. The cold on your skin as the wind blew through your hair. And then....them.

You could see the ship landing, two people walking out covered head to toe. You looked around seeing you were alone. You still remember his voice "hello little one, want to come with us?" He had asked. You tried to run but they were bigger, faster. You remembered being carried through the ship, the metal box they put you in, the years spent there making you shiver. Your eyes shot open seeing the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. You looked over seeing the doctor come back in. "Is she ready?" He asks the man who brought you. "I think she was dreaming again." He said handing the doctor a knife "Please, she's an animal, they don't dream." He said walking over to the table. "Ok, let's see what you can do." He smiled pressing the knife to your skin. You closed your eyes hoping maybe you would pass out like before.

You laid down as best you could in your cramped space. You were flat on your back, knees bent trying to touch as much of the cold floor to your skin as you could, your arms pressed against the metal walls. You looked at your skin, the deep blue having turned almost grey. You closed your eyes sighing, it would be a few days before the color returned. You tried to get comfortable as to not jostle the cuts along your stomach and chest, healing took longer after the heat, and tried to find some sort of sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept when you were woken by a blaring alarm and flashing lights outside your cell. You crawled over trying to look but the small slot in the door made it hard to see. "Get the asset, we still need her!" You heard a man yell as the door to your cell swung open. "Come on, we have to go." He said as you pressed yourself to the back wall. "Do you understand, if they find you they will hurt you, I'll keep you safe." He said leaning down. You covered your ears shaking your head when he knelt down climbing towards you "I wont say it again, let's go!" He yelled when you heard a loud bang across the room.

"Where are the weapons?" You heard a man with a deep voice yell out, seeing the man in front of you shake his head before backing up "I do not know what your taking about, we are a research facility." He said to the new man. "We know the kind of research your doing, now answer me." The man bellowed again making you jump. You saw the man run off, a pair of black boots following behind him. You heard several loud noises and yelling. You curled into a ball, bringing your knees to your chest laying your head down hoping it would all stop soon.

After awhile the alarms stopped and everything went silent. You saw the door to your cell had been left open and thought about running, but flashes of what happened last time you tried kept you against the wall. Not long after you heard several footsteps come into the room. "I can't believe you let him get away goldilocks." You heard "I did not let him get away stark, he slipped past me." The louder one said. "Children, can we focus please?" You heard....a woman? You slowly moved towards the front of the cell, peeking out you saw the one with red hear, the one with black boots wearing a red sheet, and a man covered in metal. Two more sets of footsteps had you backing up a bit.

"Loki and I cleared the lower levels....it wasn't pretty." The man said, his arm wrapped in metal as well. "Roof is secure, what did you find in the lower areas?" Another asked, this one holding a shield with a star on it, and a smaller man with glasses. "Experiments, test subjects...all destroyed." The one with the long black hair said. You looked around, there was too many of them to get past, so you slid back towards the wall hoping they would leave and you could try to get out, but you backed up too fast kicking the wall making you freeze. "What was that?" You heard one ask.

You scurried to the back, huddling in the small corner when you saw the black boots again in front of the open door. He leaned down setting a large hammer down as be knelt down, his bright blue eyes meeting yours. He stayed there unmoving for a minute making you nervous "um..brother. could you come here?" He said not looking away from you. "What is it Thor?" Another pair of boots came into view when the other stood up "see for yourself." He said. Your eyes suddenly met bright green ones as the other man knelt down in front of the door. "How..." he trailed off staring at you. "What is it?" Another said as green eyes stood up.

You heard them talking but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. You slowly crept forward seeing them huddled together talking. You looked over seeing the door open, if you ran fast enough you might be able to make it. You looked back at them and took off when the man in glasses walked in front of you "Hey, it's ok. We're here to help." He said holding his hands up. You turned back to your cell, but the green eyed man blocked your way. You looked around trying to find another way. "Just calm down.." the man with glasses said. You saw another door and ran as fast as you could, when the man with the hammer stepped in front of you. You remembered what happens when you touch them....and the consequences....but if you could get through...

You gathered what strength you had left, feeling it surge through you you reached out to grab his bare forearm when someone grabbed your arm pulling you back. You looked down, seeing a large hand wrapped around your forearm. Trying to twist free you watched the hand begin to turn the same color as you. "No, that can't be right, they can't touch you" you thought, looking up seeing the green eyed man, the skin of his neck changing color. You tried to pry his fingers off you when you felt his hand on your forehead hearing him whisper something, your eyes met his seeing they werent green anymore as everything went dark.....

💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙

@vbecker10 @lokisgoodgirl @sinsandguilt @high-functioning-lokipath @mochie85 @slytherclaw1227 @jaidenhawke @budugu @xorpsbane @schizonephilim @lokidokieokie @holdmytesseract @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokixryss @asgardianprincess1050 @tallseaweed @aniar4wniak @sekaishell @lokispetblogs @loopsisloops @trojanaurora @lonadane @all-envy-suyu @yelkmelk @stupidthoughtsinwriting @123forgottherest @silverfire475 @goblingirlsarah @commanding-officer @glitterylokislut @kkdvkyya @cueloki @daggers-and-mischief @sititran @witchyblue @verycollectivecreator @nixymarvelkins @chantsdemarins @shinraski @usagishira @nightshadelm @filthyhiddles @dukes2581 @assemblingavenger @lulubelle814 @irishhappiness @wolfsmom1 @luvlady-writes @lovingchoices14

[saneijeijei]

Academy of Sword and Magiс

[1\?]

Penelope and Callisto's relationship begins six months before the young woman's debut. Eckhart is in love with the Crown Prince and believes that her feelings are mutual. They meet secretly, knowing that neither the duke nor the emperor will support their relationship due to political tension inside the capital. They do not show their feelings and what they know in public, for fear of being revealed.

But after Yvonne returns, everything changes. Callisto rejects Penelope and laughs if she talks about their relationship, saying that she allegedly made them up. Heartbroken Penelope barely remembers how the debut is going, how the terrible thing happens - the poisoning of Yvonne.

The whole family blames her for this, not wanting to listen to any excuses and evidence. Left completely alone under a house ban in her room, the young woman did not know what to do when an angry Callisto came to her, wanting to avenge his new lover.

Penelope, miraculously manages to survive this meeting and escape.

Thanks to the low-ranking magic she learned, after the events of the hunting competitions, she was able to leave the capital and go to the most remote part of the empire, where she wanted to settle down and start living again, hoping that the duchy, like the Crown Prince, would not search for her anymore. They enjoying happy life with the real daughter of the Eckhart family.

But she didn't know at all how she could make money here. The jewelry and the torn dress that she was wearing, she sold for good money on the first day. But money tended to run out, and it was a bad idea to think about work when they were completely gone. Climbing into her small travel bag, Penelope found a fragment of a Mirror.

"What a useless garbage," she snorted and wanted to throw it into the swamp, as the shard began to shine brightly in her hands, showing her and the fact that she put the shard of the mirror back in the bag and went somewhere. "What the hell?"

Thinking about it, she decided not to throw it away and watch. Maybe the thing wasn't as useless as she thought it was. In the evening of the same day, after a hearty snack and going into the room she rented in a tavern, she took out a fragment and tried to make it show at least something other than a reflection again. But nothing worked. Giving up, she muttered: "Maybe I was dreaming.."

The shard shone again. Penelope looked there and saw herself creating something out of boards and fabric. Finally, she understood how it worked and figured out how to make money.

"Wizards? You mean the charlatans?" the owner of the tavern was perplexed with the guest's question. "If you need useless freeloaders, then they live on the outskirts of the city, towards Aunt Dor's farm. One of them also has such a strange sign.. With a cat? Or something similar to it."

Thanking for the information, Penelope went to the local wizard. The middle-aged man was immensely pleased with her until he realized that she was rather not his client, but just a random passerby who was unlikely to give money.

"I need a room. For divination, I see the future of people and can help them find out the truth." Penelope explained.

"A fortune teller? I hardly believe it, but if you pay rent, I will be glad to consider you a fortune teller" the man happily rubbed his hands, hoping for a promising income in his pocket from another "charlatan".

What was his surprise when the number of customers in a small fortune-teller's room became more and more every month. At first, the young woman did not charge her clients who were residents of a small town. Satisfied and especially impressionable, they told their visit to Penelope to their neighbors, and those to other neighbors from the neighboring village, spreading the story further and further.

In addition to ordinary citizens, aristocrats began to visit it, although not of the upper class, but still. From earls to viscounts. Fearing that she might be recognized, Penelope decided to furnish the room with an entourage and wear a suit that hides her eyes and hair. In it, she looked like a mystical fortune teller whose gaze is hidden from the visitor.

The fee for services grew, Penelope paid the wizard money for rent and assistance in servicing clients. A simple room has turned into a real mystical corner with incense and magical objects, one view showing that a real member of the magical world works here.

But in addition to the man, a nanny settled in the house, who looked after little Judith, who required a lot of attention and time, which Penelope did not have because of constant work and a desire to feed and provide a comfortable future.

Until one day, a strange old man comes to her for a foresighted session, asking her to tell about him and his past. Of course, she had similar clients who, due to illness, forgot where they lived or something important that they needed to remember and she did not charge them, letting them go with a pure soul to their loved ones.

But this old man was definitely not that kind of person. His past was filled with horror and death. A shard of a mirror reflecting fragments of the past into a glass ball chilled the blood in her veins. The old man, with a certain weariness and sadness in his eyes, watched his past.

"Let the Mirror show what will happen when I leave the city," he asked. "How do you know--?.." asked Penelope, frightened. "I know a lot of things, child. And I know that very soon the knight's guard will arrive here and take you to the capital. Aren't you, as one of the last representatives of the ancient magicians, afraid to be on your knees again in court for something you didn't do?" "Wh-what?.." "Ask the Mirror to show you if you think I'm lying, child. My name is Uwe, I am an elder from a small town where ancient magicians and ordinary magicians who were expelled from their lands live. I've heard a lot about your abilities and I see that you can use a fragment of an ancient magical artifact - the Mirror of Truth. This is amazing and truly an innate talent that not everyone can possess. I've come to help you. There aren't many like you and me left, but there is a place where you and your daughter will be safe. I can offer my protection and help so that you can live in peace without hiding behind all this masquerade. But we don't have much time and we need to decide right now."

Penelope looked at the flashing Mirror of Truth and clenched her hands into a fist nodded to the man. She needed to escape anyway if the imperial knights were already heading here. There's no reason for her to stay in this city. And Judith, too.

Seven years later, the empire makes a truce with the ancient magicians after a fierce struggle against Leila. In order to consolidate the alliance, the emperor and the elders sign a trade agreement on the purchase and sale, as well as participation in the cutting of precious stones for magical weapons. The Empire also creates conditions for magicians so that they can receive education and not be infringed on their rights.

In order to strengthen the established relations, an academy is being built on the territory of the empire, where both people and wizards will study in the same building in order to create a new generation that will rely on each other. Duke Eckhart's (Derrick) adopted daughter, 7-year-old Nora, and other children from aristocratic families become one of the elementary school students. Nora was a reserved but very kind child who was bullied despite the authority of her family.

The girl was taken from a shelter sponsored by the Eckhart family. Nora, who had lost her parents and was left completely alone, appreciated the duchy for sheltering her and giving her the opportunity to get an education that her own father could not have dreamed of. She was a timid and kind girl who knew that if she rebuffed her abusers, she could be worse off because of it, and not them at all. She kept silent about it and endured, pretending that she was not upset at all by the words of her peers.

Fortunately, by the beginning of the year, her roommate did not come because of family problems, so the first months of study the whole room was in her harness and no one could tell classmates how she cried, remembering all the hurtful things that other children did to her.

On one of the everyday school days, the girls called her behind the building to talk about her being too smart during math lessons. But as soon as the main offender managed to open her mouth, dirty water poured on top of her, which was used to wash the floor in the classroom. Offended girls screamed promising to take revenge on prankster until she saw who did it.

"You shouted too loudly, it prevented me from calmly preparing for the lesson," said a golden-haired girl looking out of the window with a bucket in her hands. "Oh, I'm sorry, Judith!..We're leaving!" classmates immediately ran away with a bully, apparently not wanting to get involved with a stranger.

Nora wanted to thank the savior, but Judith quickly lost interest and went back to class closing the window without saying anything. Eckhart spent the rest of the day in peace and quiet. Tired of the amount of knowledge she had gained, Nora went into her room and realized with horror that the same girl was sitting on the next bed.

"Hi, I'm Judith and I'm your roommate."

[aurathian]

things that have stuck with me as a woc in (the zelda) fandom

Hey all. This post is mostly about the Gerudo and my own experiences in fandom as a Middle Eastern woman (will be using acronyms such as MENA and woc), because the longer I stay here the more insane I become. This post is mostly about a lot of horrible stereotyping, misogynistic, racist, etc. headcanons, and just downright horribly offensive comments I've witnessed that have stuck with me throughout my time here.

There are a lot of other problems in this fandom with a lot of other aspects of the games (the Zonai...) which I won't touch on, as the Gerudo resonate closest with me and I feel I have the authority to speak on these issues as I am MENA, and they are based on MENA stereotypes.

TW for racism, misogyny, xenophobia, abortion... it's just strange.

The most notable thing I've experienced during my time in this fandom is being spoken over, as a woc talking about woc issues, by white people. White people who were MY FRIENDS.

One instance that sticks out to me is when someone shared their art of Urbosa in a Zelda server. It was really sexualized, and her waist was EXTREMELY tiny. Below the art, the artist said, "her waist is snatched because she got an abortion." She didn't say this about the other characters she drew. Only the woc.

Do I need to elaborate on why that is a horrible, disgusting thing to say?

This really upset me. What upset me more, however, was that nobody spoke up. Nobody said hey, this is wrong, and what you said is gross. When I spoke about this with my friends, they continued to bash the art style or whatever and ignore the fact that what was said was disgustingly racist. Then, after repeating about 5 separate times the impact this had on me as a woc (because nobody was listening to me and the most action that was taken was hug emojis), I got asked: Are you MENA?

They chose to ignore the racism they were witnessing and then questioned my (already stated) credibility. To question my capacity to be upset, hurt, and angry. These were people I called friends.

This next instance was not me being spoken over, but it was... weird. In a Zelda server, someone shared their headcanons for their personal AU. One of these headcanons was:

The Gerudo stop aging until they meet their significant other.

The Gerudo stop aging until they meet their significant other.

This was to justify the person's pedophilic ship with Riju, which... yeah. Self explanatory. So not only that, but you are tying the life and worth of WOC to their partners which, in-game, are men. The Gerudo do not continue their lives until they met their partners. The woc do not continue their lives until they meet their partners.

Be real.

This person ended up getting called out (after MUCH convincing from me to do so...).

These are two specific instances that have stuck with me during my time in fandom, but now I'll touch on more general stuff.

The only way people speak about Urbosa or other Gerudo characters is sexually or violently. It seems we only have the capacity to say "yes mommy Urbosa step on me! Crush my bones!! Yes!!" which is actually extremely harmful. You can like the Gerudo. You can think they're sexy or hot. But you need to be more mindful about how you speak about them, because if the only way you can express your feelings about these woc is through acts of violence, that is a problem. Because you cannot see the Gerudo as characters beyond being man-hating lesbians to satisfy your own fetishes. By acting this way, you also contribute to the idea that Gerudo women cannot be feminine because they are brown-skinned. No other race in Zelda is spoken about this way.

The Gerudo are often attached to other characters, as mentioned previously. I think this is most commonly and easily seen with Urbosa. Whenever she is discussed, it is in relation to Zelda (mother-daughter relationship) or Zelda's mother (having an affair or whatever other headcanons there may be). It is rare that Urbosa is written on her own, outside of her relationships. Not like she has an entire society to run or anything.

Let's also not forget about the sexualization of Link in his Gerudo vai outfit. Yes, it's cute. Yes, it looks good on him. But so many of you borderline fetishize him wearing it. However, I don't think I know enough to speak on this specific issue, so I will stop there with that.

I will never forget the time I came across a post saying that the existence of Ashai, a pale Gerudo, is racist.

Here is Ashai. She teaches the dating lessons in Gerudo Town. As you can see, she is paler than a lot of the Gerudo.

However, contrary to the westernized belief that all Middle Eastern people are literally brown-skinned Muslims, the Middle East is extremely diverse. Middle Eastern people are pale, dark, brown, tall, short, Muslim, Christian, Jewish. We are not carbon copies of each other like this poster wanted the Gerudo to be. In fact, this same exact identical-ness is what made early versions of the Gerudo so racist. The one thing Nintendo did right was having a diverse range of skin tones for the Gerudo in BOTW, and by saying Ashai's existence as a pale Gerudo is racist, you erase all of that progress.

Race is not just in your skin tone. It's in your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your ears, your body. That is why, despite being pale, Ashai is Gerudo. Ashai is a WOC.

This post is not intended to stir up drama, because if you believe racism = drama, that is not on the poc calling it out.

If you are a white person who is friends with POC, this doesn't make you exempt from contributing to the harmful stereotypes or racism.

Sit down. Listen. And reflect.

[magpiepills]

Same Time Next Week

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f! Massage therapist reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Marcus is lonely and burnt out and visits a spa that offers more than the usual services to help him relax.

Warnings: smut. pegging, anal, tit job, hand job, pussy job, sumata, prostate stimulation, anal fingering, sex work, coming untouched, praise kink, slight sub/dom vibes, subspace kind of, erotic massage, writer knows nothing about massages, many liberties taken.

A word from the author: this is a repost! This was my contribution to the 2024 Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign! PLEASE check out the other fics from this project, they are magnificent. you can read them all here!

Marcus’s body is sore. A week of wielding his swords, running, jumping, and grappling with foes left him feeling tight and tense. His muscles burnt with every effort, his neck was stiff, his mind was heavy with the weight of the world’s expectations and his team’s reliance on him to lead them. It wore on him. It broke him down, it took everything he had both physically and mentally. That’s without considering the unique stress of being a single parent and a widow. It takes a toll being pulled in so many different directions.

Reaching for a bottle of Aleve, he knew it wasn’t enough to fix him. It would take off the edge and he would take up the yoke of being the leader of the Heroics again tomorrow. He sank back on his bed and swam in self pity. He needed to be touched, needed the gentle hand of someone who understood him, cared for him, loved him. He wanted to come home to a woman again. Wanted someone warm and soft in his bed at the end of a long day to rub his back and take his cock. He ached there, too. Never having the time to meet anyone. Relationships and connections take time and care and Marcus didn’t have that. He gave that up when his wife was taken from him. With her gone, he took the promotion at work and began his life of lonely servitude. His body was no more for love, he decided, just a utility. He reminded himself every time he was awake in his bed, fucking his fist to thoughts of a warm, wet someone.

He carried on, focused on his primary roles as father and hero, head held high, no crack in his strong exterior. Passionate, but opaque.

He must have let it slip, though. In the car, driving back to HQ in the dark, battered and exhausted from defeating yet another malevolent alien invader, he rubbed his palms into his eyes and loosened his tactical vest.

Miracle Guy nodded at him from the other side of the car.

“You look like you need to relax.”

Marcus huffed a dry laugh, “Yeah. Maybe one day.”

“Maybe you need some help. I know somebody really good at it.” His tone was light, but the implication was heavy, the glint in his eye saying plenty.

Opening his wallet, he held out a slip of creased paper between two fingers. Just an email address and the word ”spa” scribbled next to it. Marcus scowled, but tucked it into his wallet and looked out the window, watching the city lights, ignoring the flutter in his chest.

Two weeks passed before he had the nerve to send a note to the address. It took some convincing. He rolled it around in his mind while he made dinner for Missy, and later in the shower. Finally, that night as he held a heating pad to his back he made up his mind to stop thinking and just act. He felt forward and strange, unsure of what he was getting into. Miracle Guy got into some questionable things, but he was also always pretty content. Nothing to lose. Marcus reminded himself before typing out a message- “My friend says you can help me relax.”

•••••

Tucked in the back corner of a mostly empty parking lot, where the street lights glow yellow and reflect in the puddles left by late summer rain - if they work at all, sat a dilapidated strip mall. Once bustling, now it housed a peddler’s mall, a vape shop, a nail salon, a pawn shop, and your own little business. It was the kind of place people avoided and that was fine by you. You didn’t need to hang a shingle to attract your clientele. You weren’t listed in the phone book. Your scant social media presence was an Instagram account featuring pictures of the waiting room, the massage room, and some generic pictures of flowers and stacked stones. You listed no address or business hours. Fontaine Day Spa. Email for pricing. The right people would find you.

The only indication that your storefront was occupied was a flickering pink and red neon sign reading “SPA” between the plate glass and the thick curtains that offered privacy as well as sanctuary. You worked hard to create an oasis, a place of peace and rejuvenation, a place of relief, a place for minds and bodies to be centered under your guidance and touch. Massage, salt therapy, facials and guided stretching to help your clients feel present in their bodies.

“I’m ready for you, Mr. Moreno.”

One of your favorite regular clients sat placidly in your waiting room. Soft ambient sounds and a plush rug set the mood for your time together. Marcus has been a client for the last few months, coming in for help unwinding. Your services gave him what he couldn’t find on his own. Peace, relaxation, release. By now Marcus was familiar with the routine. He entered, removed his shoes and placed them on the shelf by the curtained alcove where he undressed, showered using your rosemary and mint soap, hen slipped on a soft cotton robe. His clothes took their place by his shoes, thick framed glasses perched on top, and he waited, breathing deep, cleansing breaths to begin his scheduled escape from duty.

Marcus first showed up a few months back, wide-eyed and skittish, handsome and familiar, like you’d seen him before. He was handsome. He stood in your lobby fidgeting with his keys, looking at the floor, looking for a quick escape. He didn’t ask for water, but he accepted the glass you brought him, sipping it gratefully, before setting it aside to fill out the form you’d given him.

He couldn’t deny the disappointment of finding that the spa really was just a spa, and the form asked about problem areas, services he wanted, and massage preferences. Of course this wasn’t that kind of spa. He felt guilty for even considering this could be anything like a seedy rub and tug happy ending massage parlor. Sure you were a beautiful woman in a tank top that skimmed your tits and stomach and leggings that he swore he could see the cleft of your pussy through, but you probably just do yoga here too and wear what is comfortable. He was ashamed of where he had let his mind wander. How flexible he thought you might be. He shook the thought from his head.

He finished the form and handed it back, feeling sheepish.

His polite and mild demeanor made you want to give him everything. So often your clients were brash and demanding, demeaning and crude. You handled them all with finesse and kept pepper spray handy just in case. Marcus didn’t strike you as the type, though. You had talked briefly over email, he got your contact from another frequent client, one you’d worked with a lot and enjoyed your time with. In the emails nothing of your secret menu was mentioned. You began to wonder if he knew what he was really paying for.

“Mister Moreno, did Miracle Guy- uh Lloyd- tell you about the services I offer here? How I help him?”

Marcus stared blankly for a moment before his brain was able to form a response. Your question made him feel nervous and he stumbled over his words. “He said you help him relax. And he- the paper he gave me said ‘spa,’ so I just thought he must get massages...” He trailed off, unsure if that was a sufficient answer.

You knew his friend well. A handsome blonde that liked things a little rougher. You’d have to remember to thank him for referring his gorgeous friend to you.

Endeared by his naivety, you smiled and placed the clipboard on the table next to his water. You settled on the little sofa next to him, tucking one leg under you and leaning closer.

“I’m here to help, Mr. Moreno. There are a lot of ways people can reclaim their bodies.” You kept your tone as soft and even as you could. You wanted him to understand you, wanted him to ask for what he really needed. It was as clear as day across his face, but he would need to ask. “There’s massage, meditation, yoga, breathing exercises, mindfulness. I can help with all of those.” Marcus nodded and you could see his mind racing to put together the puzzle you were handing him the pieces to. “But that’s not all. Some people need help connecting other ways. Your friend Lloyd, he needs a more personal service. I don’t advertise it, but I could help if your needs are more intimate. Do we understand each other, Marcus?”

He continued to nod, furrowing his brow. Marcus wasn’t sure that he understood what you were offering him. He blinked back the embarrassment that started to creep

Up his cheeks from his flushed chest. “I want what Lloyd gets. He recommended you so it must be working for him.” He smiled now, more confident now that he feels he’s maybe starting to understand the dance you’re doing. He still wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he was ready for whatever you had in store.

He liked your smile, how warm and disarming you were. The way you made him feel cared for, even after just talking for a few minutes. He gave himself to you, do what you must.

The first appointment was a little awkward. Marcus felt clumsy, unsure of himself, out of his depths, but you were there to facilitate it all, guiding him to the shower, showing him where to put his things, wrapping him in a warm robe, and telling him it was ok to let his body lead him, it was ok for him to touch you, to look at you, to ask for what he would like. Anything he would like. “Would it be ok

If I took off my shirt?” You asked, so concerned for his comfort. His cock twitched between his body and the soft pad of the table as he watched to toss your shirt into a chair in the corner, as you began rubbing him down. He closed his eyes when he realized he was staring at the way your breasts curved, the point of your nipples, the movement of your body as you worked. He loved how comfortable you were, how in control of your space.

You started with a massage, working gently across his broad back, you saw how his eyes followed you, how he shifted his hips on the table. You might be guilty of cutting his back massage a little short, but you needed to move to the rest of the service. He hesitated to roll onto his back. “I uh, I just need a minute.” You reassured him, told him getting hard was expected, that it was a compliment, that you just wanted to make him feel good. Reminded him he could tell you if there was anything he needed as you kneaded the firm muscles of his thighs. He was hard and weeping, beautiful thick cock desperate for attention. You teased up his hips, hands on either side of his length. His lips fell open, eyes trained on you, and he whimpered so softly. “Do you need me here, Marcus?” You purred to him and he swallowed thickly, “Yes. Please.”

From that first appointment together, you’d expertly stroked his cock to completion, showering him with praise. “So handsome, so good, letting me take care of you. Such a big cock, Marcus.” You always started with a massage, though they got shorter each time, the main event requiring more of your short time. You sucked his cock, gagging for him as he filled your throat, you squeezed him between your oiled tits, letting him come

on your chest and neck, generously allowing him to snap

a picture with his phone, something you never allowed with anyone else. You let him watch as you soaked your panties in warm oil, making the thin material cling to every fold. When you had gotten yourself off under his gaze, you climbed on top of him and rubbed your swollen, slick pussy lewdly over his cock, so careful to never let him slip inside even if you needed to feel him inside you. He came, hissing and spurting across his belly. Impulsively, you scooped up some of him cum on your finger and brought it to his lips, feeding it to him. The look

On his face gave you the confidence to push him further and further, trying new things often, but never letting him fuck you. Your own mouth, pussy, and ass we’re off limits. You couldn’t let yourself cross the line from service into intimacy. You made the rule yourself and had never been tempted to break it.

•••••

The room you led him to was warm and dim, lit only by a few pillar candles and the amber glow of a salt lamp on a shelf displaying various oils, lotions, smooth stones, and the other tools you’d use to let Marcus drop away from the stress and responsibilities of his life. The air was scented with the incense you’d lit just before Marcus’s arrival, earthy and warm, notes of spice that played together with the soothing ambience of your studio to lull the sometimes super hero into heavy, trance-like relaxation.

The leader of The Heroics didn’t wait for you to leave the room before he slipped the robe from his shoulders, laying it across the chair in the corner, and climbing onto your table and settling with a sigh. You stared at the width of his strong shoulders and the flexing muscles of his long legs, dark hair dusting from his thick thighs down this calves. He was a beautiful man. You straightened the small modesty towel covering his pelvis as he shifted his body, letting him settle and sink back into the padded surface of the wide massage table before arranging it over his half hard cock. You allowed yourself a half moment to admire the thick, dark, curling hair that led below the towel and up below his belly button, then stripped off your shirt, leaving you in only your soft leggings.

“Are you comfortable, Marcus?”

“Yes, thank you. I am.” He was always polite. He never leered or took advantage, just gave himself over to your expert touch. You could tell he wasn’t quite comfortable yet, usually just coming in the door lifted the invisible weight from his shoulders. Today he would need more help to get there, but soon he would be putty, pliant and submissive in your hands. Tonight you’d make it extra special, really take your time with him, pulling him apart bit by bit, then arranging him back together better than when he came in.

Just as before, you massaged him with warm, scented oil that you drizzled first across the expanse of his chest, using your palms, your knuckles, your forearms to work out the tension that settled there. You worked your way down his torso, slicking him up as you went, relishing in the soft grunts and sighs that your ministrations pulled from him. Before each movement, you explained what you would be doing next. There were never surprises. He knew exactly what was coming.

As you moved to his arms, rotating his shoulder, pulling gently, letting his forearm rest between your breasts as you kneaded down his bicep. His fingers flexed and his eyes opened just enough to see your soft smile, your pointed nipples, the shine of your chest where the oil has transferred from him to you. His empty brain stirred with images of other ways he would like to coat your chest. The thoughts floated away, and his eyes closed again, but his cock came alive, swelling as it always did under your masterful touch. The small movement didn’t escape your notice. Finishing his right arm, you gently guided it back to his side before moving to repeat the process on his left arm. This time, you raised his arm and let his palm rest against your clavicle as you smoothed your fingers along his tight muscles. His thumb swept softly across your skin, but the rest of him was still, his only movement the rise and fall of his diaphragm. He was nearly where you wanted him. You let his knuckles brush against your nipple as you arranged his arm, noting the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly at the contact. Perfect.

You moved to the bottom of the table and cupped more oil into your hand, smoothing it up his shins to his knees, focusing there for a few moments before adjusting his leg to bend his knee and plant his foot on the table. The angle allowed you to massage his calf and the back of his thigh. You enjoyed the way the soft flesh there slipped under your hands. While you kneaded at his legs, each in turn, the modesty towel slipped up, granting you a peek at his now turgid member. Of course you’ve seen it before in the course of your sessions together, but each time felt like the first. Marcus was thick, he had a tanned shaft with a smooth foreskin hugging a rosy head. It made your mouth water to see him hard, but this time together wasn’t about what you needed.

As you finished his legs, you gently returned them to the table, signaling the end of this portion of your service.

“Marcus?” You called to him softly, stroking his warm, oil slicked chest from his shoulder, down his side to just over his hip. His eyes were glassy, but his plush lips curled into a relaxed smile at the sound of your voice.

“I want you to turn over, Marcus.” He hummed, acknowledging your request but his brain was foggy and his body responded slowly. You kept your hand on him, grounding him, reassuring him with your presence and gentle touch. You made sure he was steady as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side.

“I’m going to set up for the rest of the session. It’ll only take a moment.” Your voice was soft and cool, reassuring Marcus as you handed him a glass of water to sip while you took a cushioned wedge from it’s spot below the table and positioned it just so, then left the room to slip into your equipment- a sturdy black harness with a ring to hold the purple dildo Marcus favored. It wasn’t the largest in your collection, but it was thick and gently curved. It hung between your legs as you wrapped yourself in your own robe and grabbed a couple plush towels, rejoining Marcus. His expression was tranquil, and it made you happy to see him so at ease. He had come a long way since his first appointment.

With the towels in place over the wedge, you helped Marcus get in position, on his knees, pert ass up and elbows on the table. He took a moment to settle as you climbed onto the table behind him, arranging your supplies on a tray nearby. You covered him once more, more out of courtesy than practicality. You could see his chest expanding and heard his breathing deepen as you dropped your robe. Marcus groaned softly when he felt your cock against the back of his thigh.

“Are you ready, Marcus? I’m going to begin now.”

He grunted and squirmed slightly, but remembered to give you a verbal response. “Yeah. Yes. Ready, please.”

Once more you dipped your fingers into the oil and let it drip down his spine, watching as it slid before following its path with one palm and then the other. He was so warm under your hands. His skin was so smooth, golden and freckled across his shoulders. “You’ve done really well tonight, Marcus.” You praised, leaning your weight into his shoulder blades, working out the knots, kneading at his neck. You plotted your way back up his spine and massaged his hips, and you felt him stir, tensing in anticipation.

“I want you to keep breathing now, Marcus. Deep, cleansing breaths.” You counted with him, four seconds in, seven seconds to hold, and eight seconds out. As you counted for him, you moved again to the back of his thighs, higher this time, removing his towel to massage and stroke his ass. His cock and balls hung between his spread thighs, leaking precum onto your towel, smearing the fluid as you manipulated his nearly limp body.

You couldn’t help your own arousal, feeling it seep from your aching pussy. Marcus was so beautiful and he surrendered so completely to you. He was strong, powerful, and deadly, but on your table he was yours to mold however you pleased. He was under you, taking whatever you gave him, waiting for you alone to decide what he needed, grateful for your attention and your discretion. You wondered if under other circumstances he might be the one bending you ever and covering your holes in lube.

Marcus often wondered the same, but he knew he couldn’t ask, couldn’t ruin this relationship, if you could call it that. He would never tell you how you became the someone he imagined alone in his bedroom or in the shower. Instead he just tried to enjoy what he had. A beautiful woman that would do nearly anything to make him come, make him forget about everything outside of this oasis. One he felt comfortable enough with to suggest the things he had always wanted to try, knowing you’d be enthusiastic.

“Are you ready, Marcus? I’m going to get you ready, gotta get you nice and relaxed so you can take my cock.

“Yes” He breathed, no other words necessary or possible now.

Your mind wandered and your cunt throbbed as you rubbed crescents with your thumbs around his tight ring of muscle, feeling him tense and relax, acclimating to the sensation and the pressure. You dripped more thick lube and spread it over and around his asshole with your thumbs, varying the speed and pressure, using your other fingers to hold his cheeks apart.

Monitoring for signs of discomfort or tightness in his muscles, you watched his beautiful face. His eyes were closed, lips parted slightly, sighing breathily, humming with pleasure. His mustache twitched, making you smile at the little tells he always displayed when he was entering the mental space that he paid you so handsomely to escort him to. He was ready.

With little resistance, you pressed your thumb into his ass. You were slow and gentle, taking your time before adding the other, fucking into him at an unhurried pace. When he began to push back into your hands, seeking more, you gently pulled away, silently reminding him of his role with soothing caresses over his cheeks and down his back. When he settled again, you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your fingers and spread it over him, this time entering him with your middle and index finger, reaching deeper, teasing at the tender little spot inside him until he moaned. “Please,” He murmured, “yes, yes…” and you could have made him come. A few more strokes and he may have come just like that. Neither of you were ready for this to be over so soon, though.

Once more you took your hand away and massaged his back, praising him for being so relaxed, for staying so still, for opening up for you like a good boy. He opened his eyes, glassy and soft, no trace of the hyper vigilance he was accustomed to to be found.

More lube, this time slicking down your thick purple cock. Marcus was ready. You pressed the smooth head against his asshole and eased it past that tight ring, slowly, steadily, you began to fuck his ass. He whimpered and stretched his arms, extending them in front of him, lengthening his spine like a cat. His muscles rippled, he sighed, and your pussy throbbed. You sped your thrusts, enjoying the sight of him taking you with ease now. No amount of practice or professionalism could stop the lust from dripping over your words as you encouraged him.

“You’re taking my cock so well, Marcus. You let me stretch you right out, did so good for me. Let me take care of you just how you need.” It all came out a velvety purr, eliciting soft groans from below you. You wished you could see his face tonight.

Marcus was warm, feeling brightened and whole when you were in control, he loved how you knew just what he needed, made him feel safe, a feeling he wasn’t used to as the man that everyone else relied on for protection. “Yes, oh fuck. Yes. Want your cock. Feels so good.” Marcus babbled as you pumped into his tight ass. He whimpered and groaned and his hips tilted, feeling his release rush at him as your cock hit that special spot inside him that no one had ever touched before you.

You prided yourself on keeping things interesting. You noticed that Marcus was finding most benefit from giving up control and letting you make the choices for him. Always a first class full body massage followed by a mind blowing orgasm once he had reached a state of deep and total relaxation. Sometimes you stood at the side of the table and fucked him slowly while he lay on his side and you stroked his cock, paying special attention to the spot behind his balls until he came hard across the table.

Sometimes you had him on his back, knees bent, ass full of that favorite toy as you pulsed your hips up and into him, giving him a slippery double fisted handy until he came, painting his own belly and chest with thick white cum.

Tonight though, this might be his new favorite. Face down, ass up while you drove into him at a steady pace, never taking your hands from his hips, his back, wherever you could reach while you spoke so tenderly to him. Your hands held him like he held his swords, firm and sure, practiced and precise. Marcus knew you didn’t care for him, but you fucked him like you did, and the way you reassured him, praised him, stretched and filed him made him bury his face in his arms as he moaned, “Fuck! Fuck, gonna come. Gonna come!” His breath caught in his throat as you filled him with one last deep thrust, pushing your thighs into the back of his. You wished you could feel the way he squeezed your purple cock as he came untouched with a muffled moan, cum staining the towels you had covered the cushion with. He really wanted to kiss you.

Another glass of water, another quick shower, and a complimentary envelope of lavender scented Epsom salts later and Marcus was standing at your door, redressed in his shirt and tie, thick rimmed glasses framing his big, sad eyes. “Thank you. I..” he started, but couldn’t find the words he wanted. “Thank you for everything.” You put your hand on his shoulder and guided him back out into the parking lot, “I’ll see you next week, Marcus.” Locking up behind him, switching off the neon light, you thought maybe you did care about him a little.

[denimbex1986]

'Before I saw the Barbie movie, I was resolutely against ever seeing the Barbie movie. Despite the fact that as a child I loved Barbie, who I interviewed regularly for important radio segments in her coral peach ball gown, I decided that the last thing I needed was 90 neon-coloured-Margot-Robbie-filled minutes of a film which would obviously have nothing new to offer me; a grown-up feminist woman who stopped idealising the problematic Barbie aesthetic decades ago.

But then the reviews from angry men started rolling in. You only had to be vaguely near the internet after Barbie’s release to hear the resounding roars of the mostly middle-aged; outraged that such an abomination against “all men” could even be allowed to exist. The reviews began to read like dreamy promotional soundbites: “An alienating, dangerous and perverse film”, “They won’t be happy until we are all gay”.

These men were really, really wound up about this film. They loathed it. They were spitting fury at Greta Gerwig for creating a piece of such obvious, glaring, “anti-men, feminist propaganda”.

And so, when I was asked by one of my teenage children if I would be up for a day of “Barbenheimer”, I said “yes”: newly salivating at the potential of a project that could cause this much delicious backlash.

I decided I would swallow my aversion towards sustained exposure to powder pink, get Barbie watched, then chase it all away with a good dose of brooding grey, historically accurate cinema. Despite the promise of those furious reviews, I still expected to enter and exit the cinema despising Barbie and in awe of Oppenheimer.

During the five hours of media and popcorn consumption that followed, a chain reaction set in motion that left me changed. It made the vitriolic reviews of Barbie, calling Greta Gerwig’s masterpiece “anti-men”, even more comical. The irony was bright and clear to me: Oppenheimer is anti-women.

And the thing is that Oppenheimer is not different to most films. Because most films are anti-women.

We just don’t take to the internet to rage about it because we’re used to it; desensitised by the decades of cinematic women who exist only to paint their lips red, bare their breasts and give the important male protagonists something to play with.

Is Barbie anti-men? Oh, I hope so (it isn’t, it’s anti-patriarchy), but also, frankly, I don’t care. Because if it is – after decades of movies made by male directors like Oppenheimer’s Christopher Nolan, it has good reason to be.

And it does what it so brilliantly does within the sparkly, imaginary bubble of an entirely fictional world where the male characters it side-lines are literally plastic dolls, all called Ken (except Alan); fake toys who simply can’t even breathe. Anti-women films like Oppenheimer on the other hand, sideline or completely erase very real, flesh-and-blood women who lived whole lives and made significant contributions to our world.

So, if you’re a man who has watched Barbie and felt angry or irritated or just plain strange while watching the depiction and treatment of the Kens – then welcome to cinema. That is what it feels like to be a woman watching Hollywood movies most of the time.

But here’s the thing – that poor Ken doll you’re lamenting over, is not Leona Woods; who at 23 was one of the youngest female scientists the Manhattan project employed. Ken, unlike Leona, was not present at the first nuclear chain reaction and Ken did not have to do what Leona did – which was to conceal her pregnancy until two days before her baby was born. Ken is also not Elizabeth Graves; a scientist entirely essential to the project’s success who was completing an experiment when she went into labour and did not stop the experiment until it was finished, timing her contractions with a stopwatch. Let’s see Christopher Nolan make a three-hour-long film about that.

Neither Woods nor Graves feature in Oppenheimer, which, like so many anti-women films, manages to assume such an air of authority that it can leave us assuming that its astounding lack of female representation must be down to its admirable commitment to historical accuracy. I’ve heard the cries – “It is called Oppenheimer after all. How much do you expect it to worry about its women?” And perhaps it’s true – you can’t very well expect a film about the very intelligent physicists who tackled the science behind creating the atomic bomb to change facts just for representation can you?

No. But you can and should expect such a film to accurately and fairly represent the female scientists who were, in fact, right there – alongside Oppenheimer and his men, ensuring the Manhattan Project’s success. Perhaps it might have been appropriate if viewers left the three-hour epic clear in the knowledge that Kitty Oppenheimer didn’t only drink herself to distraction while taking care of screaming children and dropping a hip flask out of her handbag at every possible moment; she was also a trained botanist who was employed at Los Alamos to take blood and test the levels of radiation exposure of her colleagues.

More than 600 women worked on the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos alone, yet the only female scientist given any recognition in Nolan’s world is Lilli Hornig, who speaks only briefly, mostly in opposition to the bomb’s use. And what about Charlotte Serber? Who Nolan depicts as Oppenheimer’s secretary, completely erasing her vital work as scientific librarian for the project’s “secret library” and who, with no formal training, became the only female group leader, overseeing a staff of 12 people while also risking her safety in counter-espionage efforts.

Oppenheimer doesn’t only fail the Bechdel test, it fails to represent the real women who contributed so significantly to that morally fraught turning point in history. Those women were physicists, engineers, chemists, mathematicians. They existed. And, as is so often the case, many of their achievements have been forgotten and remain unrecognised, by both history and cinema.

As I continue to emerge from my Barbenheimer experience, researching the lost women of the Manhattan project and occasionally still basking in the disgust of all those angry men who need to hate the work of art that is Barbie, it becomes ever clearer: anti-women is the benchmark of mainstream filmmaking and some people are simply unable to deal with the plastic Manolo Blahnik being on the other foot.'

[foreverindreamlandd]

Awake My Soul • 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 3.8k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of torture (in way more detail), scars, infection, blood, death. We get a better look into Readers past and hoooo boy. Time to meet some more of the squad! (Bucky still very angy)

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

Brookfield Boarding School for Girls.

You kept your gaze on the tattered concrete sign that stood at the entrance of the grounds, trying to ignore the many, many eyes that tracked you as you followed Sarah down the brick path.

Once the sign was out of view, you diverted your attention to the other landmarks that made up camp. There were three large brick buildings structured in a triangle formation, the center one standing front and center. 

To your left was a massive garden, a woman with strawberry blond hair and a young brunette gathering various food items. Well, they were collecting them, but once they saw you they stopped and joined the other sets of eyes in following your movements.

You turned away, focusing on the right side that had housed a group of pine trees. There were strange markings on each stump, positioned in a way that they almost looked intentional. 

They looked like carvings of different letters…

“We kept the trees as an extra form of cover,” Sarah remarked, noticing your questioning gaze. “It’s also our way to remember those we’ve lost. Didn’t do that at our last camp because it was too depressing, but when we got here we realized that no matter what happens to us next, their memory lives on when they can’t.”

Your eyes burned as you turned your head away from the already covered pines, looking up at the solar paneling on the roofs.

“Do those things still work?” you asked, pointing up at them.

Sarah nodded. “We took them off of a farm a few miles away and Bruce was able to reconfigure them. We don’t have internet or anything but we can make the place warm during the winter without lighting a fire and exposing our location along with some other things.”

Bucky stormed toward the left building just as the entrance door opened, nearly knocking over the middle-aged man wearing a green sweater, his dark hair peppered with greys and glasses resting on his face. Once he recovered from the near collision, he looked over and gave you a small smile as the two of you approached.

“Ah, your friend made it,” the man said. “And Buck seems grumpy as always, so I’m glad everyone is okay.”

Sarah nodded. “Have a little bit of an issue that needs mending. Y/n, this is Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is Y/n, the one who found the boys.”

He bobbed his head to greet you, noticing the way you held your wounded arm. “Nice to meet you, Y/n. Let’s get you checked out, okay?”

You offered a closed lip smile and he turned, leading you inside and down a hallway until you reached a science classroom. A young teenage boy was tinkering around with a long black metal object.

“Peter,” Bruce said and the boy stood up, eyes wide as he quickly covered up his project with a sheet as he finally noticed your arrival.

“Oh! Sorry Bruce, didn’t see ya there.” He smiled as he met your eye, extending a hand out. “Hello! I’m Peter, nice to meet you.”

You smiled, though it looked more like a grimace as you looked between him and his hand.

“Sorry bud, she’s got a bum arm. No handshakes just yet.” 

Sarah’s words caused him to focus on your body language and his jaw dropped, quickly pulling his hand back. “Shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize-”

“Why don’t you two go get things settled while I work on the arm,” Bruce interrupted, gesturing for you to sit on a stool by one of the long tables. “Sarah, we’ll meet up with you once she’s taken care of.”

Sarah rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder and escorted him out, giving you a reassuring nod as she left your side.

“You should find Bucky, Peter,” Sarah said as they walked out. “He got a gash to the side that needs patching.”

Peter nodded, quickly turning back to grab a nearby med kit before catching up with her.

Bruce went to one of the cabinets, pulling out a few medical supplies.

You sat on the stool, feet swaying in the air. “So, Bruce, I hear you’re the one who knows how to build super cool shit.”

One corner of his mouth curved up and he breathed out a small laugh. “I’m glad someone thinks it’s cool.” He gestured to one of the chairs. “And I hear you’re the one that everyone is extremely curious about.”

You grimaced, at both the pain in your shoulder and the dread of having to get grilled by a bunch of people you didn’t know, especially now that any semblance of trust you had earned with Bucky had been completely eviscerated.

Not that you could blame him after what happened.

“Boss misses ya-”

A shiver ran up your spine as the ghost of your attacker’s breath hit your neck. 

So much for thinking you were safe. That could never happen. 

And now your only chance at safety was compromised.

Bruce saw the panic flash in your eyes. “You okay?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Just nervous, I guess.”

He nodded, hands taking hold of your wrist and applying a small amount of pressure along your wounded arm. “You’ll be fine. I promise we’re harmless. Some are just a little more nervous after…..”

“After someone you thought you could trust betrayed you all and ruined your lives?” you finished.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just gave you a yes, exactly look and continued examining your arm. You flinched when he started lifting the sleeve of your shirt, instinctively pulling away.

His brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You bit your bottom lip, taking a deep breath before relaxing back into his hold and nodding.

Bruce stared at you a moment longer before going back to the sleeve. He only got a couple inches up before you heard the sharp intake of breath and you winced.

“Holy shit,” he said on the exhale.  

Your eyes stayed glued to the ground, tears welling in them as he looked at numerous scars that were already visible.

“Who the hell did this?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Instead of sounding accusatory, Bruce’s voice was filled with nothing but concern, sympathy.

Pity.

“I- it was, I’m not…I don’t-” you stammered and he shook his head.

“Sorry, we don’t have to talk about it.” He inspected the visible marks and lifted the sleeve up a bit, revealing more of your hideously scarred body. “Some of these haven’t healed all the way, Y/n. They look old, but infection is starting to set in. Have you been feeling off lately? Dizzy, nauseated, more tired than usual?”

You shrugged. “I mean, maybe, but when you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in five years nor a nutritious meal,” or been tortured for two years, “You kind of always feel that way.”  

His lips pressed into a thin line and he nodded. “I’m probably going to have to wrap this arm to help with the broken shoulder. Will you let me tend to some of these?”

A pause, and then you slowly nodded. It was all he needed to get to work. Once he was able to work out that the scars ran all the way up your arm and with your permission, Bruce grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the sleeve from the wrist all the way up to the collar. He moved with gentle precision, disinfecting the gashes and bandaging them. Once that was done, he examined the shoulder, and said that luckily it seemed that it should be able to heal normally without requiring any type of surgery so all he would need to do was wrap it up into a brace.

He worked mostly in silence until he was almost done creating a sling when he murmured, “Your other arm, is it the same?”

The silence he was met with was answer enough, and he pulled out the scissors once more to make the same cut on the other sleeve which revealed an almost mirror image of the scars he just worked on.

A figure in your periphery made you look to the door, and you bit back a gasp as you saw Bucky standing there.

His eyes were glued to your mutilated arm.

In the short time you had known Bucky, you quickly determined that he was a hard person to read. He kept his emotions guarded, features stoic, only allowing anger to show through.

But sometimes, you would notice these flashes of…something. A crack in his armor that you would allow you to see that there was so much more than anger and rage inside him. You just didn’t know what that was. In those moments, you wished that you could break open a whole and peek through that wall he had built, and see what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

When you saw the crack this time, you had no interest in knowing what horrible thoughts he must have had racing through his mind as he saw how broken you truly were.

Even though he still hadn’t even seen the half of it. Some scars that could never be seen.

Bucky only had that look of something on his face for less than a second when you saw the rage return, the armor intact once more.

“Are there any other scars?” Bruce asked, pulling your attention back to him as he bandaged the final gash. “Legs, back, or stomach?”

Yes- “No,” you said curtly, turning back to the door.

No one was there.

Bruce nodded. “Okay, well, I’d like to keep an eye on those if possible. And I should take some blood to check-”

“No.” You fully pulled away from him this time, hissing in pain at the rogue movement of your right shoulder.

He held his hands out, eyes wide with concern. “Woah, calm down! I just want to make sure the infection hasn’t totally affected your bloodstream-”

You shook your head vehemently, body beginning to shake. “No, you can’t. Please,” you begged.

His gaze turned skeptical, wondering why you were so against him taking samples of your blood and you knew you needed to get your shit together.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Once the shaking settled a bit, you responded. “I…I can’t have more needles in me, Bruce. Not now. Please.”

It was enough, and you watched his shoulders sag as he understood what you were saying. You were tired of being poked and prodded.

Which was technically true..

“Alright,” he said finally. “That just means we’ll just have to monitor them over time. If the redness doesn’t go away within the next week you let me know, okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks, doc,” you responded meekly.

He huffed at the nickname, gathering his supplies. “We should get going. I’m sure everyone is already waiting for us.” His eyes shifted to your sliced sleeves. “Do you want me to get you a new shirt? I feel bad forcing you to change after just adjusting the sling but if you need help I can grab someone-”

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “You can just cut the sleeves off. I’m sure Bucky is already telling the group how messed up I am.”

Bruce sighed, working on cutting the sleeves. “I promise he’s not all bad. He wasn’t always-”

“Like this,” you cut off. “I know, Sarah told me. I get it.” You used your free hand to pick at some loose frays on your pants. “It’s hard enough to trust anyone these days, and I’m definitely not making it any easier on him.”

“Just give it time. He’ll come around.” He reached out a hand to help you stand up. “Baby steps, okay?”

You groaned, following him out of the room.

“Baby steps, he says,” you mutter. “Going into a room full of strangers where they’re going to determine whether I’m a threat or not during a zombie apocalypse.”

Bruce snorted. “Well, when you put it that way….”

The two of you walked into the center building, your heart beating faster and faster with each step.

“What’s the setup for this place?” you asked Bruce, trying to distract yourself. “Like, is there a map to know how to get around?”

He snorted. “We kind of had to go along with what was already here. Where we just were serves as the the science lab and library, and we keep some things stored upstairs. The other building is the dorms, that’s where everyone’s rooms are as well as the kitchen and cafeteria. This….well this one we developed a bit more creative freedom for.”

Before you could ask, you passed a room filled with guns, knives, bows, hatchets, any type of weapon possible.

An arsenal.

“Right through here,” Bruce said, pointing up the stairs, but he didn’t need to provide any more directions. You knew where to go based on the yelling ahead.

“I’m telling you, we can’t trust her! She wasn’t even in camp and she already almost compromised it!” 

You walked into a large office-looking room where six people stood in a circle, which included Sarah and the two men who helped you during the attack, Sam and Clint.

The rest of the group looked at you as Bucky kept going, still unaware. “We either have to lock her up and never let her leave or drop her off somewhere far away that she can’t be a bother to us ever-”

He finally picked up on their discomfort and turned, mouth falling open when his blue eyes met yours as if instinctively gearing up to apologize.

But then it snapped shut and his jaw clenched, gaze hardening.

Bruce lifted a hand in greeting, smiling awkwardly. “We’re here…”

Sam stepped forward.

“Y/n,” he said and you nodded. “As you probably picked up during our less than ideal introduction, I’m Sam.” He pointed to the people along the line. “My sister, Sarah.” Sarah gave you a closed-mouth smile. “That’s Clint, his wife Laura, and that’s Pepper.”

The blond woman you saw before in the garden pressed her lips together and offered a tiny smile.

You mimicked her expression as your eyes swept across the room. “Hello.”

“How is your arm?” Laura asked.

“Hurts less like a bitch than before thanks to Bruce,” you said.

“Should be fully recovered in four to six weeks,” he added.

Sam nodded. “Where you from?”

“Boston,” you replied.

His eyebrows rose. “You’re quite a bit away from home.”

A shrug from your good shoulder. “Didn’t want to deal with shitty winters while fighting for my life-”

“Can we please stop fucking around with the bullshit smalltalk?” Bucky asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to know who the hell she is and why the fuck someone followed her all the way to camp.”

“Calm down, Buck,” Sam said sternly, then turned his attention back to you. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right, Y/n. Sarah told you about the shit we recently went through because we trusted the wrong person.” Bucky looked to the ground, fist clenched. “We gotta make sure you’re not putting the people we care about in danger.”

That was when Sam looked at your arms, and the scars and bandages that covered your skin.. 

Danger won’t seem to leave me alone.

You could lie to them, tell them that you didn’t know who that guy was. That there wouldn’t be more people looking for you. You could stay and be protected and maybe have a family again-

“He’s right,” you said, catching Bucky’s eyes as they flashed toward you. “I am a danger, as much as I hate to admit that.”

Sam’s chest rose as he took a deep breath. “Alright then. Talk to us.”

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to tell them the truth.

When you opened them, you stared into Bucky’s stormy blue irises, and began to speak.

“My parents and I were on our own the first two years. We moved from spot to spot, not making camp anywhere in order to avoid walkers, and honestly some humans. Eventually, we ran into a group who called themselves The Eternals.” Bucky rolled his eyes and you snorted. “I know, pompous right?” 

The right corner of his lips definitely didn’t twitch. That was definitely just in your head.

You continued. “They were nice, though, and willing to help. We traveled with them for about a year, their leader Ajak guiding us to some unknown destination. They taught us how to fight, how to defend ourselves against the dead and the living.”

“Months went by, and suddenly we sort of stopped running into other people. It was weird, like we had walked into some wasteland. Then, John Walker showed up.” You paused as rage poured through you, working to regain your composure. Bruce lightly nudged your good arm with his elbow. You turned to him with a closed lip smile then returned your focus to the group.

“John staggered into our temporary camp, appearing bloody and haggard, telling us that we were in danger and needed to leave. That he needed help. Some of us were cautious, not knowing if we could trust him. Things were moving so quickly, we didn’t have a chance to really read him. Ajak and Sersi said we couldn’t just leave him here to die. And that he might be able to lead us to safety. What he actually did was lead us straight into a lair of Hydra.”

All of the air had been sucked out of the room as the people around you gasped. 

Hydra. The group who developed the virus to create an army of undead, starting the apocalypse all those years ago, their greed and hunger for power outweighing anything and everything else.

“It was a total ambush,” you said, fighting the lump in your throat as the scene played within your mind. “We tried to fight, but there were so many of them, with weapons we’d never seen before. Walkers on leashes that they were controlling. The fight was over in minutes.” A tear fell down your cheeks. “My parents were killed, along with everyone else, save for Druig, Sersi, and Thea. We were taken in for ‘testing.’ That’s where I’ve been for the past two years. As you can tell,” you extended your left arm out to show off the visible scars, “They had their fun.”

“What kind of testing?” Bucky asked, his tone less accusatory.

Distant screams buzzed in your ear, your own included in the horrific symphony.

“Trying out different weapons, drugs. Mixing our blood with whatever serum they were playing around with. That’s how they created Runners. And I’m sure there are other horrible things coming our way thanks to those sickos.”

“How did you get out?” Sarah asked.

Because you needed to, not for your sake, but the sake of whatever was left of humankind.

“There was an uprising,” you responded instead. “Someone managed to free a horde of undead within Hydra’s living quarters, causing enough distraction. Many of us were still killed, but a few escaped. We scattered, every person for themself to create more tracks for them to follow.”

“And why are they dead set on getting you back?” Bucky asked.

You clenched your jaw, eyes on the floor. “I don’t know.”

It was annoying how good he was at reading through your- “Bullshit,” he snarled.

“I don’t know,” you snapped back, looking up to glare at him with such ferocity that his eye twitched.

“Bucky…” Pepper interjected. When he looked over at her, she shook her head and you watched his shoulder sag.

“I get that I’m a risk,” you said, looking at Sam. “They might come back for me, I really don’t know. If you want me to leave, I get it. You’ve all been through enough, and built something new here to try to move on. I’m a liability for that.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something but Sam spoke first.

“No,” was all he said, and both you and Bucky gave him the same confused expression. “All Hydra has done these past five years is break people apart, because they know that makes us weak. We need to stick together.”

“She also knows about their tech,” Clint added softly. “Maybe her and Bruce could work together to try and recreate some of the crazy shit they have.”

You looked to Bruce and his eyes seemed to light up ever so slightly, like he was excited to have a new project to work on.

“It’s up to you, Y/n,” Sam continued, slowly walking up to you. “If you go, we’ll let you go with the trust that you won’t share our location. But if you need help, you can still come and find us.” You bit your bottom lip to keep it from trembling at the kind notion. “If you stay, you’ll be expected to act as a member of camp. You’ll be one of us, put in an equal amount of work as the others. Obviously we’ll slowly ease into that as you heal, but we’ll need you to help with supply runs, camp upkeep, and taking watch shifts.”

Your eyes flickered to Bucky, feeling his piercing gaze. Instead of holding your stare as he usually had, he immediately looked to the ground, shifting uncomfortably as if there was a war waging inside him. Like he no longer knew if he wanted to fight to kick you out or beg you to stay. 

Sam’s voice brought your attention back to him as he continued, “It’s a lot of work, but you’ll be part of our pack. Forever. We will be there for you when you need us, just as we’ll expect you to be there for us.”

You looked across the room once more, searching for validation that you were wanted by these people, and were met with either gentle nods or small smiles.

When you focused back on Bucky, he seemed to feel your gaze and looked up to meet your eyes once more. 

There was no nod, nor smile from him. In fact, there almost seemed to be no expression on his face.

Almost.

But you caught the way his eyes softened, the rage gone from those crystalline irises, replaced with what appeared to be more like a resigned annoyance. When he pressed his lips together in a thin line, you knew that was the best answer you were going to get from the grumpy man.

Sam spoke again. “So, Y/n. What’ll it be?”

Bucky’s eyebrows jumped up for a split second, as if now challenging you. To silently ask if staying would be worth dealing with all of the shit you knew he was going to continue giving you.

Oh, it’s on.

When you turned back to Sam, you smiled.

Chapter 4

[runfreebirdrun]

got any funny weed stories?

Rissa, all I am is funny weed stories.

Let me give you the classic, though, the most well-known: the Build-A-Bear story.

My buddy's dad used to make these insane pot brownies that my buddy calls "sotweeds." Normally, to make pot brownies, you put some pot in the butter and mix a little of that with normal butter, bake, enjoy. His dad, being a middle-aged gnomish sort of man with a goatee, had insane tolerance: sotweeds were *100%* pot butter. They were cut into strange little asymmetrical pieces rather than squares for no good reason. His dad would make like 50 of these at a time and store them in his freezer.

So, once, when we were younger and not-too-much dumber, my buddy stole a bunch of the chunks and we took (too many) gleefully outside an aquarium. The fun thing about the Cubist approach his dad took to cutting the signature brownies meant that the THC content of whatever chunk you just took was between you and God. Any given chunk could be either mostly chocolate chip, or the type of shit to make you see the hat man. This time, we rolled the dice and got snake eyes.

The aquarium was great. The shark tunnel was beautiful, and I made eye contact with a sea bass. An anemone hugged my fingers in the petting pool and I felt connected to the world in a new sense. And then, I pulled the fire alarm in the elevator.

It was an accident — I just leaned on the side of the elevator for a second, but as it turned out, that's how you press the alarm button. My friends and I made frightened eye contact and decided instantly: we had to flee the scene. We were wanted criminals, now, and nothing would ever be the same.

So we hike our asses out through the gift shop and in the bright light of the afternoon we stand looking down the steep staircase from the aquarium and right then, the edible hits.

We'd spent an hour and a half in the aquarium. The average pot brownie hits about forty minutes in, and lasts for a couple of hours. My last un-fried brain cells did the math: if it was still hitting *now,* we were only going to get higher.

Have you ever played a multiplayer video game on a really, really, poor connection, Rissa? I was rubber-banding. My ping was low. As I walked carefully down these stairs, I could feel the frames drop.

We descend into the nightmarish tourist trap neighborhood around the aquarium, and the least high of us goes and buys some too-salty fries to take the edge off. I sit on a bench and wonder: will I ever think again?

The only way out is through. My buddy suggests that we need some child-like whimsy to set us right. We go to Build-A-Bear, for the first time in my life.

You have to understand: I'm clutching my debit card in my hands the whole time because I don't trust myself to operate a zipper when we get to the cash register. At one point, I think I actually teleported across the room. I can see through walls. I can see new colors.

The heart ceremony? I felt that shit. You try being that high and told by an over-enthusiastic Build-A-Bear employee that you're sewing the soul into this animal you've adopted. I reveled in the joy of divine creation.

We get to the bit where you name your Build-A-Bear, and I decide the funniest possible name for this stuffed dinosaur is, all caps, "SPECIES." My weed-addled fingers typo, and I decide not to fix it. We get to the register, and I am not kidding you: 137 fiscal US dollars.

I teleport home by a method unknown to me to this day. I pass out instantly, and wake up, $137 poorer, to a red dinosaur Build-A-Bear wearing a promotional "I <3 Crabs" shirt, a full brown wig for a woman, and a Build-A-Bear birth certificate. Name: SPRCIES.

Her birthday's coming up.

[magmahearts]

TIMING: recent PARTIES: @disinfernus & @magmahearts LOCATION: elysium hotel & casino SUMMARY: cass decides she works at the casino now. dīs has some objections. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Casinos were cool. Forget the flowers and the records and the dusty museum stuff — this was the best job Cass had picked up by far. There were bright lights and loud noises, people with cool chips that they all seemed really into. And all Cass had to do was hand people cards? Score. In all honesty, the job was, like, super easy. It was why she’d gotten annoyed at the big guy in the suit who kept coming over to look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed like he didn’t like how she was doing things. It was her job, she was pretty sure she knew how to do it.

So… She’d sent him home. After he’d dropped his pen and she’d picked it up for him, earning a thank you, of course. He’d repaid the thanks by taking the rest of the day off, and it was going great. Cass was pretty sure she was doing an awesome job, because everyone who’d come over to her table had won. There was a line to sit where she was dealing now! It must have been going well.

Except… The guy walking towards her, the big boss who she thought might own the casino, didn’t look, like, excited. They looked a little annoyed, actually. What was that about?

—

Dīs knew Tom. Dīs knew Tom very well, even if he did have quite a boring name. They knew his exemplary work ethic and how it would be quite unlike him to take a break in the middle of the shift, especially when it wasn’t even break time. Now, Dīs would have given the middle aged man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was feeling ill in some way or received devastating news? But after having caught who took his place, well — they couldn’t say they knew who that was exactly. They knew every face that bore a name badge and she was not one of them.

The towering figure made a beeline for that particular table; if they hadn’t noticed the strange woman seated at the dealer’s chair they would have noticed the commotion. There seemed to be a bit too much excitement coming off of them, which both confused and irritated Dīs. As they neared though, with lips parted and ready to chastise and question, a familiarity rolled over them like an ocean wave. Tom’s sudden disappearance from the table made a lot of sense now.

Fae could recognize other fae, but how would she react to them throwing a monkey wrench into their little bout of… fun? “What do you think you are doing?”

—

Oh. As the angry-looking big boss came closer, Cass felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach that came with being in the presence of another fae. There was something else familiar about them, too, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it might be. Perhaps they’d met before, when the other fae’s glamour had been down? She was sure she would have remembered their face if they’d met when they were wearing it. She was good with faces.

She leaned back in her seat, blinking up at the other fae. “Uh…” What had the pen guy called it again? Oh, right. “I’m dealing cards! It’s, like, really easy. You just have to hand them to people.” Some of the people at the other tables were doing tricks with theirs, making them dance from hand to hand, but Cass had no patience for that. Just hand them out, and that was that. What was the point in making them dance, anyway? It just felt stupid. “If you want to give me a raise, I’m totally here for it. I could use extra money.”

—

Either she was playing stupid or she really was that oblivious. In the long run, it didn’t really matter considering the ruckus she caused, but maybe they needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. At least, for now. There was the question of, what if she was new to human things, but the inkling of familiarity said otherwise. Then again, they weren’t exactly the picture of a social butterfly — they had a tendency to stick to the caves, to the darkness. Her naivety would make sense, then, had they met under the cloak of lived ignorance. 

Regardless of any of that, Dīs was curious and they couldn’t very well have her mucking about on the game floor. “Hmph. Perhaps,” they started, choosing to change their tone with the hope of luring her away from the table. Their frustrated expression softened, just slightly — a complete switch would be too much, too noticeable. “You have made these people… happy, I suppose.” The words were difficult to get out, as they wanted nothing more than to remove the problem immediately. They made a show of taking a deep breath, as if to ‘calm their anger’. “Fine. Come on, then. We’ll… talk about that raise. And you need a break, anyway.”

—

There was something so familiar about them, wasn’t there? It felt as if she’d met them before, but she didn’t recognize them. Without the glamour, maybe? There were so few fae she’d met in town with their glamour down, but it was a possibility. She wondered if they recognized her. Cass tended to keep her glamour up unless she either had to take it down or someone she trusted asked for her to. She liked looking human far more than she liked looking fae, liked to pretend she was one. That was what all this was about, too. It was fun. So much more fun than her very brief stint at the museum had been.

She grinned, preening under the praise. Other fae made her uneasy, but only because she worried they wouldn’t approve of her, and this one was. They were telling her she’d made people happy, they were asking her to talk to them about a raise. Cass was killing this whole employment thing, honestly. She flashed a smile to the people at her table, the ones waiting in line behind it. “Gotta go,” she said, offering the crowd a mock salute. There was a grumble of displeasure that made her feel warm. They wanted her to stay. Wasn’t that amazing? Pushing out from behind the table, she approached the big boss with a spring in her step. “All right,” she said, “lead the way!”

—

Her joy was palpable — they almost felt bad about potentially ruining it. But maybe it didn’t have to be ruined? If the cards were right and there was something of use there, then maybe they wouldn’t have to run her off. That was a big what if and not all fae liked to play nicely, or even cooperate at all, and given their experience, they didn’t have a lot of positive outcomes with their kin. Not even their own flesh and blood made nice, why would a stranger?

There were a few disappointed looks thrown in Dīs’ direction, the destroyer of their winning streak, but they could care less. Order would be wrought soon enough, whether they all liked it or not. Ignoring them all, they focused on leading the overtly excited fae away from the mass of people. Is that what they got for employing humans? They couldn’t ping whenever something inhuman waltzed through the door and they couldn’t exactly defend themselves very well, either. The only good they gave was their innate ability to walk into, what they would consider, obvious traps.

Oh well, the damage had been done, now it was time for some cleanup. The walk to Dīs’ office was fairly short in relation to the game floor. Despite their reluctance to deal with matters personally, they did prefer it and wanted to make sure they were close enough so issues didn’t sit for too long. The office door was closed softly behind them; they didn’t want to come across as too angry. “You may sit, if you’d like,” they started, keen to find some semblance of a reason as to why she was there in the first place before absolutely losing their cool. They could feel it just under the surface, the itch to question and push right out of the gate just bubbling and swirling with irritation.

They found their usual spot in front of their desk with their lanky frame pressed against it. They looked a bit too casual for the anger that nestled under their skin. “I know…” they breathed out, trying to steady themself, “... that you do not work here. So,” they shrugged and offered a smile, though it didn’t seem entirely too pleasant in the moment. “What are you doing here?”

—

The less the casino owner spoke, the more unease Cass felt. That flutter in her stomach that marked them as fae came with no small amount of anxiety, rejection feeling more and more inevitable with each step as she followed them back to what must have been their office. It was nice; she let herself look around for a moment, even if she didn’t let herself do so with her usual thief’s gaze. No focusing on how expensive those bookends probably were, no thinking about whether or not there was a safe behind that painting. She wasn’t here to steal anything. She wanted to be liked so much more than she wanted to be comfortable.

She took a seat in one of the big, comfortable chairs, folding her hands in her lap and keeping the smile firm on her face. Fake it till you make it was something she’d become good at, over the years. It wasn’t a verbal lie like the ones that made her stomach turn; it was so much more vague, so much easier for a fae’s tongue to swallow. She could pretend to be useful long enough for them to think it was true. She knew how to do that.

“But I do work here. The guy out on the floor said I could.” After she’d twisted him into a bind, sure, but what did that matter? She’d gotten the job more ‘fair and square’ than those rich guys who had their parents hire them on. “I’m just here to work. A casino seems like a fun place to work, and I like to have fun. And I’m good at it. Didn’t you see how happy everyone was?”

—

At this point, Dīs didn’t bother with trying to hide their exasperated expression, not when she was giving them pushback. There was a sliver of admiration for her being able to get in how she did, but again, the humans were generally too stupid to pass up on a ‘thank you’ or to freely give their name. The admiration would have continued if she hadn’t doubled down. It also wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world if it hadn’t been their establishment, their temporary home.

“He doesn’t have that kind of power here, regardless. He does not make hiring decisions — I do.” They pressed their lips together in a scowl. “I saw that, yes, but that’s not really the point of this casino. Or rather, any casino for that matter. They’re allowed to win every now and then, but not like that.” Dīs uttered out a sigh. She had to be young, either that or inexperienced — or, it was all a ruse. There were too many what ifs, too many variables that they didn’t like, that they couldn’t control.

But they could always use the help. “The point is to make them happy enough that they keep coming back, not to make them stupid rich.”

—

Just like that, the other shoe dropped. The fae scowled, looked angry, and Cass knew that she’d messed things up. She’d said the wrong thing, taken some misstep. She wished she were better at recognizing that she was making a mistake before she made it, wished she were capable of not upsetting people when it wasn’t her intention to do so.

“Well, he did. That’s not — It isn’t my fault that he did that.” Carefully chosen words to avoid the lie, because technically, he never would have done it if she hadn’t trapped him into it. Selfish choices made by a selfish person, and now this other fae was angry. Cass shifted in her seat. “But why? If they win, they’ll keep playing. If they lose, they’ll quit. Shouldn’t you be trying to make them stick around for as long as possible?” That was always her goal, in any situation — to make people stay. Money seemed far less important than all that.

—

“It’s not?” They asked, absolutely incredulous and disbelieving. “I know he’s not the most useful tool in my arsenal and he can be an idiot at times, but please don’t lie to me.” There was a taste of weariness in their tone, as if they would rather be anywhere else than having this conversation. And truthfully, they did want to be anywhere else. Sure, sating that curiosity was always preferred, but not when it felt like pulling teeth.

“Because then that will be too easy. They may grow bored having satisfied their cravings. If you keep it just out of reach, just enough for a taste, they’ll continue to chase it until they can take it. But you should never let them take it, not completely. That’s how you keep them coming back. Giving them what they want, whenever they want, makes them… overly excitable, expectant even, and then they get dangerous. We don’t want them dangerous, we...” We want them complacent, is what they wanted to say, but they stopped themself short with a press of their lips.

“We don’t want things to get out of hand.”

—

“I’m not lying!” Not directly, at least. There was a difference, Cass had learned, in lying and not telling the full truth. She was good at skirting the line, at avoiding all the negative effects that came with lying as a fae. But the guilt that came with it was there all the same. She didn’t want to lie to the other fae because she wanted them to like her. She had to lie to the other fae because she wanted them to like her. It was a lose-lose scenario, a question without an answer. How do I make myself into someone worth liking became what parts of myself do I have to avoid being in order for people to keep me around. 

She tried to understand what they were saying, but… the thing was, Cass wanted those people playing cards to like her, too. She wanted them to keep grinning and clapping and high-fiving her when they won. She didn’t want them to be upset with her when they lost, just like she didn’t want the fae across from her to be angry that she’d let too many of them win. Another no-win scenario, another unanswerable question. “But they were having fun,” she said, quietly confused. “How can it be bad when they were having fun?”

—

Dīs tapped the fingernails of their left hand against the top of their desk. It was a slow, rhythmic movement that sounded akin to a ticking clock. Not lying, not lying. No, technically not, they supposed. Not unless she was that good at not showing discomfort or pain — they didn’t know anyone like that, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. The lampade pursed their lips, their expression stern as they stared down at the other fae. “But you’re not taking responsibility for your actions, actions that have disrupted my game floor.”

“If you want fun like that, find a faun. I’m sure they’ll have some neverending party to attend to.” It was an honest suggestion, one they genuinely thought the other fae might benefit from — both to satiate her seemingly innate desire for fun and to get her out of their hair. “It’s bad because then they expect to win all the time. That’s part of the game… It’s more fun to lose sometimes, because then it makes winning that much more…” Dīs waved their free hand around, as if trying to draw the words out of thin air “... special. Believe me, their euphoria would have been short lived if they continued on that way.”

“Why do you want them to have fun so badly?”

—

“What was disrupted? It’s not like anyone got mad and went home.” Cass blinked; not feigning innocence, but genuinely not understanding what was wrong with the situation. She didn’t comprehend how a casino made its money, of course. The way she saw it, a casino was something akin to a water park or a fairground. People bought their chips and gambled with them the same way people bought tickets at a fair to spend on games and rides. None of the movies or television shows she’d watched to learn how humanity worked had ever told her anything that differed from this. 

She hummed, thinking of Conor. He certainly wouldn’t be seeing to fun times or neverending parties, would he? “But I like it here. Why do you run a casino if you don’t want people to have fun?” It was a genuine question. Everything about the conversation, at least from her end, was genuine. Cass wanted to understand almost as badly as she wanted to be understood. “None of the ones losing at the other tables looked like they were having fun, though. They all looked kind of pissed off. Isn’t it better for you if they’re not pissed off?”

She studied the casino owner, a little perplexed at the question. “People like to have fun. People like you more when they’re having fun. So why wouldn’t I want them to have fun?”

—

This conversation never should have happened. It never should have come to fruition. They should have just kicked her out to begin with instead of trying to have a conversation because she was fae. That was really the only reason they brought her back to the office — to try and determine what she was doing in the casino in the first place. It seemed they had their answer and on the surface, it seemed absolutely genuine. She did seem like she wanted to have fun. 

Dīs wondered if they could just… disappear. What would she do? Probably create another mess, that would be unwise. “They may not have left, but it was disrupting other tables. Everyone else in that room was trying to think and pay attention to their cards. That’s why the slot machines are separate from the game floor. There’s too much noise.” Counter argument after counter argument to try and reason with this apparently naive fae. Dīs may have literally crawled out of a hole in the ground, but they weren’t this stubborn, were they? 

 Why do you run a casino if you don’t want people to have fun? Because it wasn’t about fun, was what they wanted to tell her. This was just a blip, a hobby, something to take and rebuild everything they had lost. It was something to take up their time, to help their efforts in finding out what happened at the beginning of the year and why. They couldn’t tell her that, though, could they? She seemed too blinded by whatever propelled her towards this excitement, perhaps even a little one track minded but that was all surface level. They didn’t know her.

“Just — the business will lose money if everyone in there wins, alright? And then the business can’t buy any of the nice drinks that those people drink or pay for the laundry or the food that these people consume. There needs to be balance. Without balance, there is nothing. No games, no winning, no fun.” They closed their eyes for just a moment. People like you more when they’re having fun. So why wouldn’t I want them to have fun? Dīs stole a slow inhale this time. There was a ping of familiarity in her query, one that gave the nymph pause.

“Why does it matter if they like you? They don’t care about you. They just want to win.” Despite their irritation, there was a ghost of sadness in their expression, one that didn’t linger. They wouldn’t let it.

—

She still didn’t understand, still didn’t get it. The more they tried to explain, the less sense it seemed to make. If Cass knew the first thing about how a casino operated, maybe she would have been able to nod along, to agree, to understand where they were coming from. But as it was? It felt like they were arguing just to argue, like they just didn’t want to admit that she was right. Frustration began to bubble, and she was quick to shove it down. This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t why she was here.

“Don’t people pay for the drinks and the laundry and the food, too? Can’t you just make the money off that?” How much money did they need here? Cass got by on barely any at all, was fine with it. It was better, she thought, to have less, lest you find yourself turning into one of those billionaires who hoarded treasure like a dragon and refused to do anything good with the riches they’d built for themselves. She didn’t want to be like that, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting to be like that, either. It was better to be loved. She wanted to be loved.

Which was why their question perplexed her all the more, why the following statements stung. An expression of hurt flickered across her face, and that frustration that she’d tried so hard to push down rose up to the surface. “They like me more than they like you,” she snapped. “People like it when someone cares that they’re having a good time. People — People like me. Because of that, because I do. People like me.” It was a lie, and she knew it. She felt the way it burned in her chest, the way it turned her stomach. She stood, trying to hide the discomfort. “This is stupid. You’re mad that people are having fun? That’s stupid.” 

—

It wasn’t about the money. They liked the way it shone in the light and how old bills felt beneath their fingertips, but there were better and shinier things than money. It was for appearances. It was to keep the ship afloat. But she wasn’t allowed to know that. So she was angry. She didn’t understand why things couldn’t be fun and loose and a party all the time. So she was angry. And she turned it back onto Dīs, for ruining her fun and her little plan to get them all to like her. That’s what they surmised, anyway.

“They —” the nymph sighed through clenched teeth, “—they pay for some of that, not the laundry, but everything else. It’s not enough. Employees, electricity, internet, water, food… You wouldn’t understand. And I don’t think you even want to understand.” It could be said that Dīs didn’t have much of an open mind, instead choosing to live in their own version of the world, their own personal one — but they didn’t like it when someone else dished it out. That may have been a little hypocritical. Did that bother them? Not in the slightest.

They must have struck a nerve, because the young fae grew angry through her confusion and now stood from her previous relaxed, seated position. “I don’t want them to like me! I don’t care ! That’s not the point of all of this!” The room grew darker, as if someone started to lower the dimmer on the wall. Their throat felt tight. A lie. “I’m mad that you’re here. That you’re fucking with my—” They paused with index finger just unfurled and pointed at her, accusing and angry in their body language. This was familiar. Dīs took a step back. This was too familiar.

Their eyes darted over her human-like face, searching quickly, anxiously, as if they could make out what she looked like beneath the glamour. They could have ended it, told her to leave or be removed from the premises, but the knot in the pit of their stomach refused to keep the question off of their tongue.

“We’ve met before… Haven’t we?”

—

They were right — she didn’t want to understand. Cass, for all her obsession with what people thought of her, wasn’t often the best at seeing points of view outside her own. She was good at uncovering what would make people like her, was good at figuring out what they wanted her to be and becoming it, but beyond that? People perplexed her more often than not. Fae doubly so. She couldn’t look at the one in front of her now and puzzle out what they wanted her to be, couldn’t satisfy them without dissatisfying everyone on the casino floor below. It was give and take, it was choose your battles. Cass was bad at that. She didn’t want to be liked by most people — she needed to be liked by everyone. Her self worth was so tied into how others thought of her that she had no idea how to like herself if even one person didn’t. It was an impossible thing to strive for. She didn’t know how to abandon it.

“So just charge them more for that stuff. I don’t — Why does it matter? Why does any of it matter? They come here to have fun, and they were having fun. How can that be the wrong thing?” She was frustrated, unraveling. Someone was upset with her, and she was bad at dealing with that, bad at accepting it. 

She understood less and less as they went on. How could anyone not care whether or not people liked them? The very concept was unfathomable to Cass, who cared so much that it filled her with such an unquenchable ache. If a tree fell in the forest and there was no one there to hear it, it didn’t make a sound. If no one was looking at her, she didn’t exist. “Why? Why are you mad at me? I didn’t do anything. I was helping.” There was a desperation to her tone, a plea, almost. She didn’t want to understand, but she didn’t want to be disliked for that lack of understanding.

Their question caught her off guard. She’d been so distracted by the feeling of eruption building in her chest that she hadn’t noticed the dimming lights or the growing darkness. She searched their face, trying to pinpoint the familiarity she’d felt from the moment they’d approached her, but it was hard to do. Fae, with their glamours raised, were so hard to recognize by their true forms. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “I don’t know if we have. What do you really look like?”

—

She didn’t understand. How would she? How could she? She didn’t know them and they didn’t need her to. They didn’t want her to. Not when she was acting like this. They reminded her too much of their siblings, of their brothers and sisters who picked and prodded and argued over every little thing. But that was because they thought that Dīs was too different, too strange to be able to dodge their disgust. They had an oread father, but that shouldn’t have mattered. They were still a lampade. But it did — it mattered to the rest of them. And then they had the nerve to question why they spent their time alone or why they collected the garbage that they did.

Dīs had to take a slow, deep breath to steady themself. She was not their family. She was not responsible for their trauma — but she walked into their space as if it were okay, without invitation, without even a word to them. They didn’t like that. They had to deal with that too much and yet it still followed them.

“It matters because it’s mine.” They wanted to pull their antlers out. “Because I don’t have anyt–” Their voice cut short, their mouth incapable of moving any further with their feelings. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. That pent up energy balled into their hands, curling their fingers into fists and flexing them to anxiously release it. This was not on their agenda today. Nor was revealing any part of their true self, but it was the only way to get a definitive answer to their gut familiarity. Her question gave them pause despite them being the one to initiate the new thread of curiosity; it at least helped to dissuade a potential explosion.

Without a word, they lifted a darkening hand until it drew in light, absorbing it, leaving nothing but the absence of it. An eternal shadow, shaped into a forearm and hand, smaller than their true size, but that was what they looked like, more or less. “And what are you?”

—

There was something there. She could see it. In their anger, in the things they said, but more importantly, in the things they didn’t. They cut themself off mid-sentence, and Cass felt her brow furrow, felt the question forming on her forehead. I don’t have anything, it seemed they were going to say. Was there more that would have come after? They had this, this building filled with people who kept coming back. For Cass, it seemed a magical thing; all she had ever wanted, really, was a place where people were and would return to. Shouldn’t that make someone happy? How could anyone be upset when they had people all around them? It seemed an impossible thing to someone like Cass, who had only ever wanted to be something other than alone. 

She watched as the person in front of her lifted a hand, watched the light disappear around the limb. And she thought back to months ago, in the cave. She thought of the giant, massive fae, the one who made her feel small in more ways than one when they intruded on her territory, when they made her feel like something that was hers — the only thing that was hers — shouldn’t have been. Was this the same fae now? They felt so familiar that it seemed likely.

She held up a hand all her own, let her glamour fall. Skin gave way to stone, with magma bubbling beneath it. “You were in the cave,” she commented. “A little while ago. Weren’t you?” 

—

Now it made sense. Why she was so adamant about everyone having a good time, wanting them all to stay — she was that lone oread they had met before, the one they accused of encroaching on their space. And here she was doing it again. 

Dīs felt their chest grow tight. Why them? Did that cretin at the beginning of the year actually curse them? Was this some sort of comeuppance created by the abnormality? Or was she really just as alone as she seemed to be? It was difficult for them to believe in the words of other fae, even if they all were made to speak the truth, there was always some sort of trickery about. She seemed earnest, desperate even, and there was a small yearn to connect despite their growing gnaw of distrust and the innate desire to protect their property. 

Was she lonely like them?

They dropped their hand, letting the glamour flow back over them defensively. There was no use in playing coy, not when they both knew at this point. “I was - yes. What- why did you come here? Are you following me?” There was a bristle in their words, a wary tone, but their questions were largely curious. “Why here?” Though she stood by her words and her will obstinately and with great resolution, why did she choose the casino to mess about? Was she targeting them? Was this just a sense of familiarity? Part of them wanted to converse, at least, amicably. 

Part of them wanted to throw her out.

—

They seemed… unsteady, all of the sudden. Like the ground beneath their feet was wrong. Cass used to think she’d never be able to relate to something like that, because the ground was solid. The Earth was the only thing that had ever been reliable, the only thing she’d been able to count on all her life. But that had changed so starkly when Rhett sunk that knife into her shoulder, when his grip broke her arm and bruised her throat. The ground was solid but sometimes, the person standing on it wasn’t. Sometimes she wasn’t. And, maybe… Maybe sometimes they weren’t, either. 

Their hand dropped, the glamour coming back. She let her own glamour come back up in response, let tan skin replace the stony surface. “I didn’t follow you. I didn’t even know you worked here, I just –” Why had she come here? What was she after? Most of the time, even Cass herself had no idea. She wanted to fill the empty parts of her, but she had nothing that fit into the hollow spaces. Nothing was right, nothing was the way it should have been. She didn’t know how to fix it.

“It looked like fun,” she settled on, unsure if it was a lie or not. Her stomach churned like it was one, but what did her stomach know? “It looked like people were having fun, and I — I wanted that. I wanted to be here, where — where everyone else was. I wanted to be —” Wanted. That was what it all came down to, in the end, wasn’t it? She wanted to be desirable and, for a moment, she had been. 

But not now. Not here, in this office. Not with this other nymph looking at her the same way the ones back in Hawai’i always had — like she was a problem no one knew how to solve. She shrunk in on herself a little, looking away. “I’ll leave,” she said, “and I won’t come back again. I’m sorry I messed everything up.” Wasn’t that what she’d always done?

—

Certain memories clung to the mind like ink to cloth, staining it. Feelings from those memories also had a tendency to linger and arise at the most inconvenient of times. Dīs wanted to continue to be angry with her, but the turn in conversation and her astounding dejection struck a familiar, and painful, nerve in them. It was like staring back into a mirror, except she stood where they had once, where they still sort of still felt rooted in.

And this time, they were the one doing the shunning. Not their family. Them. Is this what they wanted? To keep themself in the isolation they were put into? 

Fae were capricious, at best - and devastating at their worst - but after their forced ejection from the comforting and constant darkness that they called home, Dīs found some comfort in the other nymphs that made Wicked’s Rest their home. Perhaps Cass deserved a chance, even if her encroaching on something that was still so raw to them set their frustration ablaze.

This was probably a bad idea. Dīs inhaled deeply and shut their eyes tightly for a brief second, as if they were still trying to talk himself out of what they were about to say. “You didn’t mess… everything… up,” they returned stiffly; that was the closest to a compliment she was going to get from them. At least right then. The lampade paused.

“If,” they lifted an index finger; they were not relaxed at all, “you can suppress your need to lure my employees into geas,” they exhaled, but continued, “I might… be able… to find you another table to have… fun at. Something that is not so high stakes so we don’t run into any problems.”

Dīs pressed their lips together. “If you really want to stay, that is. You can leave otherwise.”

—

Comfort wasn’t a thing she expected. Even now, with all the friends she’d made in this town and the family she’d built for herself, it was rarely something she believed she’d received. After all, she’d spent the first nineteen years of her life existing in a way that was only ever transactional. No one was good unless they wanted something from you; no one helped you unless they needed you to help them back. Cass still found herself thinking that way sometimes, still found herself wondering what Metzli would ask of her, or Ariadne, or anyone. Because surely no one could like her for her, could they? Surely no one could see her as she was and think her worth having, even for a moment. 

But the nymph offered her comfort anyway. They told her she hadn’t messed everything up, even if it wasn’t really true. She’d caused problems in their place of business, and they didn’t owe her anything but they were giving her something anyway. That wasn’t the way the world worked. Didn’t they know? That wasn’t how life had been before.

Except… that was how life was now, wasn’t it? Metzli, Ariadne, Milo, Wynne, Van, Nora — her friends all loved her for free. Without expectation, without cost. And this nymph was offering her something, too, not because she’d earned it but because they wanted to. Cass felt a grin spreading across her features, her eyes getting big with her excitement.

“Really? Do—” She cut herself off, mouth snapping shut. Do you promise, she’d almost asked, just as instinct. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” she said. “I can do that. I can — Can not bind anyone. And I’ll be good at it! I know I will be. I won’t cause any problems, I won’t. I want to stay. I’d really like to stay.”

—

Yes, this was definitely going to be a bad idea, but it was a chance they were willing to take. Maybe if they made nice there could be a better arrangement regarding their… living situation. Something that benefited them more. 

For now, though, they needed to navigate whatever this was, so they pressed their palms into their hips as they listened to her excitement bubble with hope and promise, a trust thrown into the darkness like a silver fishing line, keen to catch even the smallest of fish. They’d already made themself known, in the deep, so there was really no other option but to take it and hope they could drag her below instead of being pulled to shore to be gutted.

Again.

“Alright,” they answered her plea and, with a single movement, plucked a dark folder off of their desk. There were a few open positions within; some already had interviews lined up and others had been empty for far too long. A single sheet was procured and handed over to Cass. Roulette was a fun game and the table had its own corner, opposite the bar. The majority of people that tended to frequent it weren’t hotel guests and they only showed up for a day or two. Hardly worth the trouble. They didn’t think it would be much of an issue, but maybe they had too much hope there would be no speed bumps.

“You can start today since you seem to have the time. Elizabeth will train you, but the table will be yours once you’re more…. Comfortable with our procedures. The game itself is not too difficult to understand and you will have plenty of people to do with what you will. Bind them, love them, I don’t care — but don’t touch the employees. They are bound enough, as is.”

—

There was a quiet sense of elation overtaking her as she took the paper offered, reading it over. She didn’t know much about roulette, but it looked fun. And it didn’t matter much if it wasn’t, because she’d be in a position where she got to spend her days talking to customers and celebrating with them when they won. That was all she really wanted, anyway. She beamed, shining brightly as she bounced on her heels. 

“Okay,” she nodded, looking like an entirely different person than the desperate girl who’d been begging for a second chance mere moments before. “I’ll be good at it.” It wasn’t a promise, but it was a guarantee. Cass was a quick learner — quicker still when there was someone she wanted to impress. And, in spite of everything, she did want to impress the nymph in front of her now. She wanted them to like her the same way she wanted everyone to like her.

And maybe she wanted to play with people a little, too.

Binding strangers felt good, even when she knew it shouldn’t. And a near-unlimited number of them being handed to her wasn’t something she could pass up. Leaving the employees alone would be easy enough so long as the customers were hers to enjoy. “You got it, boss.” She forced a serious expression and a salute, though it didn’t last long before she was letting out a squeal of delight. Unable to stop herself, she launched across the table to give the other nymph a quick hug. “I’m going to go find Elizabeth and get started right now! I won’t let you down!”

[beneaththetangles]

This week, Maison Ikkoku comes to an end (again); the mesmerizing A.I. story, Your Forma, receives a manga adaptation; Tomozaki-kun makes a difficult choice in the latest volume of his top-tier light novel series; and much more, including the debut reviews by our two newest reviewers, WacOtaku and Marg. Check out their reviews and the rest below!

Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki (Vol. 9) • Maison Ikkoku: Collector’s Edition (Vol. 10) • Oshi no Ko (Vol. 1) • Pandora Seven (Vol. 1) • Romantic Killer (Vol. 2) • Yakuza Fiance: Raise wa Tanin ga Ii (Vol. 1) • Your Forma (Vol. 1)

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Maison Ikkoku: Collector’s Edition, Manga Vol. 10

After a hit-or-miss middle portion that sometimes felt like Rumiko Takahashi was deliberately stalling, the final act of Maison Ikkoku gives this iconic RomCom a grand-slam home run finish. Volume nine ended on a cliffhanger, with an enraged Kyoko planning to return to her parents’ home after a miscommunication convinced her that Godai had two-timed her and proposed to his longtime sort-of girlfriend Kozue, when in fact he had deliberately broken off that relationship to tie up his loose ends. Now, with the finish line almost in sight, our luckless protagonist must overcome his lady love’s tempestuous nature, her father’s disapproval, and his own insecurities over whether Kyoko truly loves him or just sees him as the best available substitute for her late husband Soichiro. (Oh, and he still needs to find a full-time job as well.) This final volume centers around a remarkable shift in the relationship dynamic between our two main characters, and not simply in a romantic way. For so long, Godai has been an immature schmuck desperately trying to prove himself to an older and more established Kyoko. But now that Godai has grown as a man and closed the maturity gap between them, he is in a place to take the lead in their relationship, putting Kyoko into a situation where she must confront her own character flaws. I won’t spoil the details of the ending, but it forgoes bombastic displays of romantic passion in favor of a sometimes messy but incredibly tender intimacy that I’ve yet to see equaled by any other mangaka. Rumiko Takahashi finished Maison Ikkoku before I was born, and Yusaku and Kyoko would be about the same age as my parents today; but I strongly suspect that for as long as there are fans of manga, this series will remain evergreen. ~ WacOtaku Maison Ikkoku: Collector’s Edition is published by VIZ Media.

Pandora Seven, Manga Vol. 1

Lia is the lone resident human on an otherwise-utopian island where food is plentiful and strawberries come in milkshake form practically straight off the plant. She’s cheery, capable, and kind—too kind for her own good, as her mother (a very, very large dragon) intones to the audience of (humanoid) vegetables, animals, and demons—er, “village ladies”—who come to keep her company during the millennial festival. Mama dragon is too preggers to move, so they bring the party to her. That turns out to be short-lived too, as suddenly a shipful of aggressive, veiled humans led by a particularly imperious young woman rock up and ruin everything. Absolutely everything. Lia flees, leaving death and destruction in her wake—much of it of her own inadvertent doing. For amid all the turmoil, Lia accidentally opened Pandora’s Box! What strange power has she stumbled into? What identity crisis will this fateful encounter with her own kind spark? Only time, and hopefully subsequent volumes, will tell—because this volume doesn’t really. Instead, reading Pandora Seven is akin to being dropped in the middle of a Gordian knot: there is a profusion of subplots, characters, relationships, tropes, and meaningful hints branching off willy-nilly, alongside masses of world-building, both visual and dialogic, but no clear through-line—thematic or otherwise. There’s no setup for a central character arc yet either. Granted, I do suspect that things will clarify in volume two, and what we’ll have is a kind of paralleling of the tales of the two human girls, protagonist and antagonist, until they realize they have more in common than not and would be better off partnering up to overthrow the various oppressive forces in their lives. But this is just a hunch, and based more on the two pages of bonus material at the end than the four chapters that precede it. Indeed, the bonus material goes a long way to salvaging this first volume, clarifying the lore and teasing vital plot and character points that are enough to pique my interest again after it had waned halfway through. What this volume needs is one final edit. Yet even so, there is a spark of something here that could be quite epic, and so I’ll give Pandora Seven and creator Yuta Kayashima one more volume to pull themselves together and start to shine with clearer purpose and direction. ~ claire

Pandora Seven is published by Yen Press. Volume one releases on January 17th.

Yakuza Fiance: Raise wa Tanin ga Ii, Manga Vol. 1

I am beyond excited to finally have this in my hands!  This is one of my most anticipated releases from 2022! Yakuza Fiance is by Asuka Konishi, who also created the one-shot Haru’s Curse. Having enjoyed that manga, I couldn’t wait to read more of her work. Konishi’s storytelling and beautifully distinct art style make her stand out above the crowd. The story opens with our lovely heroine, Yoshino, storming in on her grandfather and demanding he give her an explanation about a newspaper article. She finds out that the article is about her, and that she is to be married off to Miyama, the son of a rival yakuza gang. To keep the peace between gangs, her grandfather coaxes her into meeting Miyama in Tokyo. Yoshino reluctantly agrees, and off to Tokyo she goes. When they meet, Yoshino thinks that Miyama’s just a little “too chummy.” He doesn’t act like she’d expect a yakuza boss’s son to act, just like a regular high school guy. Then late one night, unable to sleep, she happens to see him coming home with blood all over his hands and clothes. Maybe she was wrong about her first impressions of him. Little by little, she starts seeing a different side to Miyama, a scary one. Her first instinct is to go back to her grandfather in Osaka, but she decides to stick it out for one year. She fires back at Miyama and takes him by surprise—so much so that a switch is flipped inside of him, and he becomes utterly obsessed with this strong, fiery side of her. It looks like we are witnessing the birth of a strong, independent woman. Will she be able to continue holding her own against these rivals and a love-crazed Miyama? I cannot wait to find out! The next volume is set to release this month. ~ Marg

Yakuza Fiance: Raise was Tanin ga li is published by Seven Seas Entertainment.

Your Forma, Manga Vol. 1

Echika Hieda has always been head and shoulders above the rest of the Electronic Investigation Department of Interpol. Which wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that Divers like her must be paired up with equally skillful Belayers, or else risk permanent brain damage—to the Belayer, that is. After frying the brain of her latest partner in less than two seconds flat, Echika is paired with her worst nightmare—an Amicus, or a type of artificial person that Echika loathes, for reasons that are only hinted at so far through tantalizingly brief peeks at her slow-burn backstory. Writer Mareho Kikuishi offers up some ingenious world-building and genre play here, making Your Forma ideal for fans of sci-fi mixed with psychological detective story a la ID: Invaded, as Echika dives into people’s minds through the Your Forma technology implanted in their brains (now you can just think your social media posts!) and Harold, the AI, pulls her out. The story sports an edginess that recalls the more unsettling side of the genre spawned by Asimov’s “Three Laws of Robotics,” as seen in films such as Alex Garland’s Ex Machina. It’s also a bit of a globetrotting adventure, taking the leads from Paris to St. Petersburg, to the wilds of Sapmi (Sami territory or Lapland, and an official no-go zone for tech) and its polar opposite, Silicon Valley. The two MCs make for an interesting pair, with Echika being strangely grizzled for one so young and more emotionless than any AI ever was, while Harold is as jovial as they come, with cut-glass good looks and a flirty readiness to use them—all in the line of duty, of course. This is the first of writer Kikuishi’s novels to be adapted for manga, and boy, does artist Yoshinori Kisaragi ever do a fantastic job. I would be tempted to read the novel rather than wait for the next manga installment, but the art is so vivid and expressive that I’m going to try to resist, even if it means perching on the edge of my seat for a few months. In short, Your Forma is an absolute corker! ~ claire

Your Forma is published by Yen Press.

Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Light Novel Vol. 9

Fun, addictive, intriguing, and now, masterpiece? Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki reaches the heights of the romcom genre in volume nine, blowing the lid on parallel stories—Hinami’s slowly churning tale on the one hand, and on the other the romance between Tomozaki and Kikuchi, thanks to their recent decision to date and the major challenges in their new relationship. What results from Yuki Yaku’s decision to dig deep into these major storylines is heavy progression in relationships all around as Tomozaki, with the help of friends old and new, must decide how to prioritize values in his packed life. His thoughts are scattered and often puzzling, but realistic for him (and more generally to 17-year-olds). There’s also serious character growth for Tomozaki as the author dives right into the complexities of romantic relationships, jealousy, and friendships with the opposite sex. He doesn’t shy away from these issues, creating considerable depth as Tomozaki evaluates his feelings for Kikuchi and how he should treat her, as well as what he really feels for Hinami. But not only are we treated to Oregairu-level thoughtfulness, we also get tender and emotional moments—more in this volume than in the rest of the series combined. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll sometimes scratch your head—and you’ll finish volume nine feeling satisfied. This story refuses to go in circles. I can’t wait to see how all lands. One caveat, though, which I haven’t previously explored: For all the laud I’ve given Yuki Yaku, I find this author’s notes at the end of each volume strange and sometimes deplorable. He gives little insight into his wonderful work, but always focuses on the cover image, explaining in great detail why these illustrations are so sexy. I wish he’d class these notes up to match the series he’s created. ~ @animepopheart​

Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki is published by Yen Press. Volume nine releases on January 17th.

Read: Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki Reviews: Vol. 3 // Vol. 5 // Vol. 6 // Vol. 6.5 // Vol. 7 // Vol. 8 // Vol. 8.5

Romantic Killer, Manga Vol. 2

Due to the ever-heated controversy on Twitter surrounding the shojo series Romantic Killer, I continued this series with just as much hesitant curiosity as I did volume one. Volume two kicks off right where the previous volume ended, as we get to know and learn more about the “childhood friend,” Junta. As Anzu becomes more acquainted with him while discovering how to survive in her “awful world” of being surrounded by hot guys, she starts to think she has a pretty good handle on things. That is, until Riri’s antics lead to another hot guy taking an interest in her! I have to confess that I was most interested in reading this second volume because of Kazuki. He and Anzu have such a wonderful and refreshing friendship that I needed to know if Riri would cause more romantic “mishaps” between these two. While I won’t say whether my expectations were well met (due to not wanting to share spoilers), I will say that I was very happy with the amount of page time he received. I also enjoyed getting to know Junta on a deeper level, even if, like Anzu, I wish that the “love spell” (as she calls it) would be broken. He is such a sweet young man! I did, however, deeply dislike the new guy that Anzu meets. I didn’t care for his actions or general attitude, regardless of how hard he tried to “change” so that he could get to know Anzu better. Despite that, though, I am curious to see where things go in volume three, even if it is specifically for more romantic mishaps between Kazuki and Anzu thanks to Riri’s relentless shenanigans. ~ Laura A. Grace

Romantic Killer is published by VIZ Media.

READ: Romantic Killer Vol. 1 Review

Oshi no Ko, Manga Vol. 1

What do you get when you cross the comedic cleverness of Kaguya-sama: Love is War with the unflinching stare at the seedier side of life found in Scum’s Wish and set the whole thing among teenaged entertainers in the Japanese film and music scene? You guessed it: Oshi no Ko (which can be translated many ways, the most pertinent to this story being “the children of my favorite performer”), which is co-created by Aka Akasaka of Kaguya fame, and Mengo Yakoyari, of Scum’s Wish. The results are intriguing, producing a rich thematic tapestry that both pushes and pulls, repels and compels with its various plots and punchlines. There are many moments that, if pursued a beat (or panel) longer, could make for a really uncomfortable scene. The premise alone is what my grandma would have called “near the knuckle”: Gorou is a massive idol otaku and an OB/GYN who treats—and then on the fateful day of labor, reincarnates into the child of—his favorite idol, Ai, who is a mere sixteen years of age(!). But Akasaka and Yokoyari know precisely when to cut short a particular thread before it crosses the line, and leave it up to the reader instead to wander (or not) into unsavory thought territory. If this were all this volume was—a sort of knife’s edge dance with titillation—then I’d probably pass on it and the upcoming anime adaptation (about which there’s already a fair amount of buzz). But actually, there’s a lot more on offer here. The story swiftly and unexpectedly moves into the realm of thriller, with the fate of the male lead’s soul in the balance. There are layers upon layers to the storytelling, with a clever framing device at the start of each chapter that gives the sense that the creators have planned everything out thoroughly, taking the time to refine the details and set up a potentially mind-blowing resolution, possibly years from now. The first volume concludes with two core mysteries in play: one that Gorou is aware of, and the other that has yet to dawn on him, though we already know the answer. This is a clever technique because the genuinely unknown plot hooks the reader, while the known mystery ties us to Gorou as we anticipate that moment when he finally realizes what we know to be true. Will this second mystery have lost its affective power by the time he puts things together, or will it be the missing piece that redeems him from a self-inflicted fate as ugly as any of those in Scum’s Wish? In short, an unexpected twist and skillful restraint in the writing here have piqued my interest, and I am looking forward to the next installment. ~ claire

Oshi no Ko is published by Yen Press.

=====

“Reader’s Corner” is our way of embracing the wonderful world of manga, light novels, and visual novels, creative works intimately related to anime but with a magic all their own. Each week, our writers provide their thoughts on the works they’re reading—both those recently released as we keep you informed of newly published works, and those older titles that you might find as magical (or in some cases, reprehensible) as we do.

[xandriagreat]

Wishes to Reality

Chapter 2: Mayor Magnífico and the Wishes of Rosas

Prologue | Last chapter | Next chapter

Author’s note: Just want everyone to know that the song’s lyrics are going to be bold and italic. Some lyrics are color coded: Magnifico’s singing is green, Asha’s singing is purple, and both of them singing at the same time is blue. Also the orbs are in different colors (unlike in the movie) that represent their ages; purple for the young ones (18-29), green for those middle-aged (30-59), and the iconic blue color for the elderly-age (60+).

Notice/warnings: death mention, war mention, CAPs, shout/yelling, pregnant

▪▪▪

Amaya and Asha talked as they went to the mayor’s office. Well, it was more of a study but some people call it an office.

They were walking up into the mayor's office as Amaya began talking about the mayor and what is expected for the assistant and secretary.

“The assistant should always have the fire going, he likes his drinks hot, even on hot summer days. He also likes to talk, so just listen to him.” Amaya said, listing the things of what to do.

Asha was listening and taking notes in her head. “I can listen very well.” she said, feeling like it should have been said.

Amaya hummed softly and chuckled softly. 

“Oh, before I forget.” Amaya said, stopping at the door to the mayor’s office and facing Asha. “Some items might seem strange but what the mayor needs is not for your concern. Also, above all, don’t expect to see the wishes unless he wants you to see them.”

Asha nodded. “I understand.”

Amaya smiled softly at her and said, “Asha, I’m rooting for you and I see that you got this.”

“Really?” the young woman asked, playing with her braids a bit. “Why?”

“Yes. I see how you care for others and how much you love our city.” the assistant mayor explained, still smiling softly at the young woman. “Generosity is the true essence of Rosas.”

Asha smiled softly at Amaya and nodded in understanding.

Amaya chuckled softly and opened the doors to the office.

Asha was taken into the office with a giant black mirror door that leads to the lab.

Inside was pretty big. Almost like some sort of medieval room from a castle but a bit modern.

There were a lot of bookshelves full of books against the well. There was a marble desk that was connected to the floor with a few papers on top. And there are glass doors that lead to a balcony. There was even a tapestry of a family and an old photo of a town on one side of the wall.

Asha had never seen anything like this and she was amazed by the room as Amaya watched her with a smile. 

Then Amaya’s earpiece went off as someone connected to her to talk. “Ma’am, we need you to check on the ceremony.” Samantha said on the earpiece.

“Alright. I’ll be there shortly.” Amaya said into her earpiece to respond to her.

Asha looked at Amaya as the assistant mayor turned around and said, “I’m going to check on the ceremony. Magnifico will be in to meet you in a bit.”

“Oh, ok.” Asha said, nodded. “Bye.”

The assistant mayor looked at her one more time and smiled softly before leaving the room.

☆

Asha began to look around the room more. 

It was much bigger than she had imagined. It also contains a study room.

Asha looked at the different title books on the shelves.

The books were somewhat colorful or at least only white, silver, gold and even shades of blue. The books were different fairy tales and science books, including ones of astronomy.

Then she saw an odd book behind an odd looking glass box case. “Whoa.” she breathed as she walked over to it.

Asha was about to touch the glass but jumped when a voice from the lab doors said, “Stop.”

Asha quickly turned around to see Mayor Magnifico in front of the giant black mirror door.

It was Mayor Magnifico himself. A handsome tan-skinned man with pale blue eyes and gray hair with several black streaks along with a goatee and mustache. His suit was white and gold with blue lining and he was wearing white shoes.

“Sorry, Asha. But that book is forbidden.” Magnifico said with a chuckle.

Asha was about to say something but then she touched the glass and was surprised, feeling a bit of electric shock from the secure glass.

Then she was getting attacked by glass mosquitoes.

She was trying to catch and stop them as Magnifico walked over to her and explained, “Well, I put a spell on the glass so that no one would be tempted to touch it.”

“I thought it was supposed to be pretty!” Asha exclaimed, swatting at the glass mosquitoes as the glass mosquitoes continued to attack her.

“Well, the book is dangerous.” Magnifico explained with an awkward chuckle.

“Then why have it?!” Asha exclaimed again, still swatting at the glass mosquitoes.

“Well, a mayor needs to be prepared for anything.” Magnifico explained more as he walked over to help her. 

Asha was still swatting at the glass mosquitoes.

“Just… Hold still.” the mayor said with a chuckle when he got to Asha. Then Magnifico starts to use his magic to take a hold of the glass mosquitoes to stop them from attacking the teen and put them back on the glass case. “There we go.” the mayor breathed, straightening his suit before looking at Asha.

Asha was swatting the air, still thinking that the glass mosquitoes were still attacking her.

“Um… you ok?” Magnifico asked, tilting his head a bit to the side.

“No-! Yes!” Asha shouted as she realized that the glass mosquitoes were gone. She stopped swatting as she stood up right, clearing her voice and said in a calm voice, “Yes. I’m ok… I understand if you don’t want this interview with me because you have seen enough of me…”

Magnifico chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, no, it’s alright. You’ve gotten my attention.” he said, a soft smile on his face.

Asha begins to calm down reminding herself of her family and even her friend's support.

‘This is for your future and the family.’ She thought as she followed the mayor to his desk.

“So, tell me, why do you want to be my assistant and secretary?” Magnifico asked, using his magic to write something down.

“Well… I care too much.” Asha said, rubbing her hands together to be calm.

Magnifico looked at her, confused. “Um… ok? That’s… interesting.”

“It’s a weakness that I have.” Asha explained, chuckling awkwardly. “I just want to get the weaknesses or bad stuff out of the way first.”

“Ah, fair enough.” Magnifico hummed and nodded. “Alright, what are your strengths?”

Asha began to take deep breaths to calm down and said, “I’m glad that you ask! I’m a quick learner and hard worker. I help well and I’m young, so I’m valuable but not too young I’m not too valuable… Oh! I also draw!”

Asha shows him his sketchbook and begins showing an animation of her pet goat like a flipbook. She sometimes likes to show appreciation to animated films growing up.

Asha looked at Magnifico, who looked confused. 

“What am I looking at?” the mayor asked, looking at the drawing and at Asha.

“It’s a goat.” Asha explained, smiling softly. “It’s hopping.”

“Uh huh.” Magnifico hummed.

Then Asha showed him the drawing goat hopping again.

“Ah, yes. It’s a good talent.” the mayor said, looking at the young woman again after watching the drawing move for a moment. “Do people call it a talent?”

Asha chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. “Well, um… some people do… My father did.” she said, looking at her sketchbook and then at the mayor.

Magnifico looked like he was reminded by something when she mentioned her father.

“Ah, yes. Tomás, the philosopher. He was a good man to work with.” Magnifico said with a soft smile. “He helped me with the stars.”

Asha smiled softly and nodded. Then she turned the page to reveal a drawing of her late father and younger self on a big twisty tree branch.

The tree had always been her favorite since she was a young kid and she had fond memories of it and was also one of her favorite spots to when she needed some peace and to sometimes get some inspiration.

Asha started to get lost in the drawing as she explained, “He used to take me out to the big twisty tree outside of the city and we sit on one of the branches where it’s just you and the stars… He said that the stars are here to guide us… to inspire us… to wish and dream… to remind us to believe in possibility… even when he got sick, he took me out there, to dream, to wish… All that I wished and dream was for him to get better…”

“How old were you when he died?” Magnifico asked, his voice soft.

“I… I was around 12 when he died.” Asha said, feeling a lump in her throat. 

She could remember her own father dying of lung disease, even though he was healthy. He spent as much time with his family as possible, including with his daughter. Of course he died in his sleep, which caused mourning in the morning.

“That’s not fair, isn’t it?” Magnifico said, looking at the young woman. “When I was young, I too suffered great loss…”

Asha looked at Magnifico as the mayor looked at the old photo on the wall, which made her look at the photo.

The old photo of a town with a young man that looked like Magnifico.

“My entire town was part of an awful war that we didn’t ask to be in. Most lives were taken and all homes destroyed on the last day of the war. It was unlivable, so the remaining survivors had to leave…” Magnifico explained, a sad frown on his face.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry.” Asha said as she looked at Magnifico again.

“It’s fine… But the war was terrible… like the Vietnam war. If only I knew magic then…” Magnifico continued, looking at the photo before looking down. Then he sighed and looked at Asha, smiling softly at her. “You see I found this place for a city so there would be a place where everyone would be safe. Not having to experience the loss of their dreams destroyed and safety taken away before their eyes.”

“No one should experience a life of that pain everyday.” Asha said, remembering hearing the history of the city but in secret  as she sometimes reads her father's books from outside of the city.

“And that’s why I do what I do.” Magnifico said softly, smiling at her.

“And that’s why I want to work for you.” Asha said, smiling back and nodding to him.

“Just like your father.” Magnifico chuckled softly.

Asha chuckled softly as well and put her sketchbook away. She felt her heart beating excitedly and it felt like she was finally getting the job she was working hard her whole life to get her family a better life and even provide it.

Magnifico smiled at her as his eyes lit up with an idea. “Come with me.” the mayor said, walking to the giant black glass mirror door.

Asha followed Magnifico to the door and watched him waved his hand to the side and the door opened to reveal the lab.

It was almost something from a sci-fi movie but with medieval and fantasy inspiration all over.

“Whoa.” Asha breathed as she walked into the lab with Magnifico.

Magnifico chuckled softly as he raised his hand and waved his hand. “You can feel them, don’t you?” he asked, looking at Asha.

The young woman looked at him, curious about what he was talking about. Then she looked up and gasped softly to see the wish orbs by the ceiling.

The ceiling was full of beautiful orbs. It was in a variety of different colors, mostly purple, greens, and blues.

Slowly, the wish orbs floated down to them.

“Whoa! They feel like they’re alive!” Asha exclaimed, looking at the wishes. Then she felt she said something wrong and she apologized, “Oh! Sorry! I feel like I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no. It’s ok, Asha.” Magnifico reassured her as he smiled, waving his hand to show her three different wishes. 

Asha looked at the three wishes in wonder while Magnifico explained, “You see, people think that wishes are just ideas, but no, they are a part of your heart. The best part. That’s what makes them feel alive.”

The first wish showed a young woman flying with the birds, the second wish showed an elderly woman being a sailor, and the third wish showed a man being an adventurer and making his mark.

Asha was amazed by them and looked at the other floating wishes, smiling at them as she looked at the different wishes.

Magnifico noticed it and hummed softly. 

Then he noticed that a few of the green and blue wishes were near a window. “Oh! No, no, no.” he said calmly, waving his hand to use his magic to move them away from the window. 

Magnifico looked at the wishes and said softly, “I think it’s time for a lullaby.”

Then he snapped his fingers together and a soothing song from a music box began to echo the entire room, playing a very well known lullaby.

The wishes started to gently spin around Magnifico and Asha, moving to the beat to the music. 

Asha was in awe at the orbs' little spins as Magnifico start to sing, “If happiness was a tangible thing, It would be you If you'd have told me the feeling you'd bring, I'd think it untrue and people search for a wonder like you all of their lives. You still amaze me after all this time.”

Magnifico looked at different wishes with a smile while Asha looked at them in wonder.

“You pull me in like some kind of wind. Mesmerized by the hold I'm in. Leave you here, I don't wanna. I wanna… Promise as one does. I… I will protect you at all costs. Keep you safe here in my arms. I… I will protect you at all costs. At all costs.”

Asha felt that she should sing the lullaby to the wishes as well.

“What's pain? When I look at you? No way! I could explain you, even if I tried to, I'll never dream like I used to do.” 

Asha gently touched a few wishes that floated near her and she saw what the different wishes were. It felt like she was touching a rainbow of colors and a lot of love.

“If someone tried to hurt you, I don't. See how that could happen. I'd fight for you in ways you can't imagine. Felt this, no, I haven't, I hope. It would be all right to stay right here beside you.”

The orb began to spin and shine around them more as they both sang, “And promise as one does, I… I will protect you at all costs, Keep you safe here in my arms. I… I will protect you at all costs.”

Asha gasped when she saw her grandfather’s wish orb that was glowing bright. She begins running towards her grandfather's blue orb carefully while Magnifico just lets the other orbs around him spin around him.

“At all costs! If you're ever feeling like you're lost, I'll come find you! Man all fronts, there's no ocean I won't swim across to be right by you! And not just once, here and now I swear on my response, I'll remind you. And promise as one does I, I will protect you at all costs! Keep you safe here in my arms! I, I will protect you at all costs. At all costs.”

Asha held the orb and saw her grandfather playing a mandolin with a lot of people around him, listening to him.

Then wish Sabino looked at her and Asha shed a happy tear.

It was her grandfather's dream and wish, to be a musician.

☆

Magnifico sighed happily as he looked at the wishes while the song faded. Then he noticed Asha was out of his sight. “Asha?” he called out, looking around. The mayor saw the young woman holding one of the wishes as most of the wishes went to her, like they felt more comfortable with her and trust her.

Magnifico stared at her for a moment before chuckling softly and walked over to her, waving his hand to make the other wishes go up with the others by the ceiling.

He gently taps Asha’s shoulder, getting her attention. “Hey, everything ok?” the mayor asked, tilting his head a bit to the side.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I got lost in my train of thought.” Asha said with an awkward chuckle.

“It’s alright.” Magnifico chuckle.

Asha looked at Magnifico, still holding the wish in her hands. “I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Magnifico nodded. “Go ahead, Asha.”

“Well, today's my Saba’s 100th birthday and I was wondering if you could grant his wish at the wish ceremony tonight?” Asha said, looking at him as she still held the wish close to her. “I don't mean to be selfish and I understand if you already have a wish picked out but I care for my family and… I wanted to see him happy.”

Magnifico was surprised by this but hummed in understanding. “So you want his wish granted?” he asked, looking at the young woman.

Asha knew this was her chance as she nodded with a big smile.

Magnifico nodded with a hum. “May I see this wish?” the mayor asked, offering his hand to hold the wish.

Asha nodded and handed it to him.

Magnifico looked at it and it led him to look concerned. “This is a beautiful wish, wanting to inspire the next generation. But it’s dangerous.” the mayor said, inspecting the wish.

“Dangerous? What do you mean?” Asha asked, trying to see what Magnifico was seeing. 

Asha's curiosity began and she looked at her Grandfather's orb with Magnifico as it showed Sabino stop playing music and telling everyone around him something.

“Well, you see. Your Saba wants to inspire the next generation. But to do what? A revolution? A war between classes?” Magnifico said, looking at the wish with a frown.

“What- no! My Saba wouldn’t do something like that.” Asha said, surprised that Magnifico would think that her saba would do that.

“No, no. I’ve seen and know what happens when people get together and start a revolution.” Magnifico said, looking at Asha, who was confused by what Magnifico was saying. 

Then Magnifico shrugged, waved his hand in front of the wish and sent it back up with the others while he said, “Well, you’re young. You don’t know anything about the real world yet.”

Asha watched the wish go up with the others as Magnifico walked to his lab desk and started to make the shell of the next new wishes.

“Sir, please listen… I love my family… I-I want him to be happy.” Asha begged, looking at the mayor.

“There’s nothing that he can do without the wish. Along with everyone else’s.” Magnifico said as he mixed the ingredients together. “But yet, their wishes will be safe here.”

“Ok then… but are you going to give them back?” Asha asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Excuse me?” the mayor asked, stop mixing and turn around to look at her for a moment.

“The wishes that you’re not going to grant.” Asha said, pointing at the wishes. “Aren’t you going to give them back? So they could grant them themselves?”

Magnifico was quiet for a moment as he stared at her. “No. I grant wishes, I don’t give them back.” he said, a bit coldly. 

That took Asha off guard and made her confused. 

“Okay… but why is granting wishes any different than giving the wishes back?” Asha asked, still looking back at Magnifico, who felt his blood just boiling with anger.

“These wishes are part of who they are and some of them are reachable.” Asha explained, looking at the wishes that were floating by the ceiling. “And, I don’t know if you know this but, the people without their wishes aren’t fully happy or act what they used to before giving their wish to you. They feel empty.”

Magnifico was taking in a few breaths, trying to calm down, “Asha-”

“You said that the wishes come from the best part of the heart and also by the looks of it, none of them are dangerous-” Asha started but was interrupted by Magnifico saying, raising his voice, “You don’t understand the point!” 

Asha was caught off guard by that.

Magnifico turned around to continue to work on the shell as he explained, “The people come here because they can’t make their dreams come true, feeling it’s not fair, the world beyond Rosas is too cruel, and the journey is too hard for them. So by giving their wishes to me, it’s easier for them and it’s the cost to live here.”

Asha was quiet for a moment while the mayor continued to work on the shell.

“Okay… But I also noticed they don't remember their wishes or their passion.” the young woman added with worry. “Why? Why do they forget?” 

“They forget their worries when giving their wishes to me.” Magnifico explained, sounding a bit cold. “But they do have a feeling of contention when seeing, doing, or reading something that connects to their wish, so there’s that.”

Asha remembered of her grandfather when she gave her saba’s gift to him this morning, that he felt something familiar about it. “They just have a small feeling about it but not remember it until granted?” she asked. “Exactly.” Magnifico said, nodding.

Asha’s eyes widen as she looks at the wishes again. “So, some of these wishes aren’t going to be granted?” Asha asked, worried as she looked at Magnifico again. 

“Not some. Most of them.” Magnifico corrected as he was about done making the shell.

Asha’s mind keeps on getting more and more questions about the wishes after learning more and more. “What about the others who have kind and selfless hearts?” she asked, taking a few steps forward. “Or people who didn’t want to give up their wish?”

“It’s the cost.” Magnifico said, through gritted teeth.

“For what?!” Asha said in a loud voice. “What’s the cost?! Look… My saba is good. The people of Rosas are good! They deserve more than-!”

“I DECIDE ON WHO GETS WHAT THEY WANT AND WHAT THEY DESERVE!” Magnifico shouted, turning around quickly and his eyes glowed green.

Asha was shocked by this. 

No… 

Terrified. 

Asha was terrified by this.

She has never seen anyone like this. She thought that he was calm, nice, and gentle but now he seems like a mad person.

Then Magnifico shook his head and his eyes went back to normal. “I… I’m sorry. I had an episode.” the mayor explained with an awkward chuckle and smile, starting to walk over to Asha.

“S-stay away.” Asha said, about to back away from him.

Then there was the sound of a door being open. Magnifico and Asha looked to see that Amaya and Samantha had just come in.

“Is everything ok in here?” Amaya asked, looking at them.

Before Asha could say anything, Magnifico said, “Yes. We’re fine.”

Amaya looked at both of them before humming softly.

“The ceremony is ready, sir.” Samantha said, nodding to him.

“Ah, ok.” Magnifico hummed, smiling as he and Asha got out of the lab. 

“Oh! Please have a seat for Asha on the stage. I want her to see the magic on the stage. And no is not the answer for the request.” the mayor added, waving his hand to close the lab door before leaving the room. 

Amaya followed Magnifico out of the room. 

Samantha was about to follow but stopped when she noticed that Asha looked upset. Samantha walked over to Asha when she noticed Asha's state. “Are you ok?” Samantha asked, worried.

Asha was so distrount and confused about what happened that all she could say was, “I… don’t… know…”

“Hey, it's not your fault, kid.” Samantha said, trying to cheer her up. “You just want to help your family and make your grandpa's wish happen in a good way.”

Asha looked at her as she hugged herself.

“Now come on, Asha.” Samantha said, wrapping an arm around her. “Let’s go to the ceremony.”

Asha walked out of the room with Samantha, worried about this wish ceremony and thinking about what happened.

☆

The wish ceremony came that evening.

Asha sat next to Amaya on the side of the stage while the guards, including Samantha, were by the steps of the stage.

Everyone from Rosas was there, including Asha’s family and the rest of her friends.

Asha was nervous when seeing her family and friends in the crowd, who waved at her, except for her mom because she was holding Valentino.

Then she looked at everyone in the crowd as they all cheered when the stage lights lit up.

The mayor began appearing in a spectacular way as he entered from his usual entice from back center stage to running to front stage. He uses his magic to control the holograms like birds fly around the place before letting them go and letting them fade as he looks at the crowd.

“Hello, Rosas!” Magnifico exclaimed, a big smile on his face as a spotlight shined on him.

People began to cheer more.

Everyone calmed down as Magnifico raised a hand.

“I am proud to announce that we have new arrivals!” Magnifico said, pointing his hand at the staircase of the stage. “Jameson and Marianne Lights!”

The two new arrivals from earlier walked up the steps, getting up to the stage. They walked over to the mayor, excited.

They faced Magnifico as the mayor said, “Close your eyes, think of your wish from your heart’s desire, and then you’ll be holding it in your hand.”

The two did as they were told as their hearts started to glow yellow for a moment before it changed to a mix of light green with a bit of purple as Magnifico got each wish into it’s own wish orb as the two wishes were given to him

“It’s a real weight off, isn’t it?” Magnifico said softly to them as he held the two new wishes.

The two new arrivals looked confused as to why they were there on stage while everyone in the crowd cheered. 

“Forget without regret!” someone in the crowd shouted.

Magnifico lifts the wishes up in the air, using his magic to guide them to his tower.

Asha watched the orbs float up to the tower, feeling bad for them and their owners as the two new arrivals were guided off the stage by some guards.

Samantha looks suspicious at the two arrivals, knowing something was up but she had to stay focused.

When the two new arrivals were off stage, joining the crowd, and the wishes were in the tower, Magnifico turned to the crowd and asked, “Ok! Who’s ready to have their wish granted?”

Everyone cheered excitedly. 

“Grant my wish!” someone in the crowd shouted.

Magnifico smiled and said, “And to let you all know, I'm changing up a bit, because an important person here was waiting for a very long time.”

Everyone was talking among themselves excitedly.

‘Please let it be my Saba’s.’ Asha thought, crossing her fingers as she was deeply excited about it

Magnifico looked at everyone, a big smile on his face. “Sonia Osman!” the mayor announced loudly.

Asha felt her heart break along with her family when hearing the announcement.

The crowd cheered for the young woman.

“YES! IT’S ME!” a young woman named Sonia yelled, running to the stage. “IT’S MEEEEEE!!!”

The young woman was very excited as she got on stage and faced Magnifico, doing a happy little dance as she couldn't control herself.

Magnifico smiled at her as he got her wish out. “Sonia, I mean it when I say that I would grant your heart’s greatest desire.” Magnifico said, flicking his wrist and using his magic to grant and make the wish into an object. First it looked like fabric wrapped around Sonia with magic scissors as Magnifico continued to say, “To make the most beautiful dresses in the world!”

Then the fabric went above Sonia and transformed into a magical pair of gorgeous fabric scissors.

Sonia gasped softly as the scissors gently floated down to her hands and she held the scissors. “My wish came true.” the young woman said, smiling softly at her wish.

Fireworks went off as everyone cheered for the granted wish.

Asha felt shocked and felt down. She saw the look of her family, who looked broken.

Asha looked at Magnifico as the mayor walked over to leave the stage. But Magnifico stopped and went to her, saying, “Oh… and Asha?”

“Yes, sir?” Asha asked, worriedly.

“Sorry that I say this but your application has been rejected.” Magnifico said, looking down at her.

Asha felt shattered as Amaya was surprised by this. “I… I’m sorry.” Asha said, hugging herself as she looked at Magnifico.

“Oh but don't worry, I will still keep your family’s wishes safe and sound for a very long time. Along with your wish, when you become 18.” Magnifico said with a calm tone, smiling darkly at her before he went off stage.

Amaya looked at Asha in worry as the young woman tried not to cry. “Asha, it’s ok. You may go now.” The assistant mayor said as both got up from the seats. “I’ll… I’ll talk to my husband to see he’lll change his mind.”

Asha nodded in sadness and went offstage by a guide of Samatha.

‘I’m sorry…’ Asha thought as she looked at her family. She began feeling bad about it as her friend comforted her.

“It’ll be ok…” Samantha reassured her, gently rubbing her back as they got offstage.

☆

Amaya sighed and got off stage, catching up with Magnifico.

When Amaya caught up to Magnifico, the mayor looked at her and asked, “What do you say we get dinner? Maybe with some wine?”

“I don’t want a drink of wine.” Amaya said, a stern look on her face. Amaya was looking down and touching her abdomen for a moment. She was pregnant, but she didn't want to tell Magnifico yet.

She took in a breath and sighed, glaring at her husband. “What was that?” Amaya asked angrily, pointing at where the stage was. 

“About what? Asha?” Magnifico asked to make sure that they were on the same page.

“Yes! That was not ok!” Amaya said angrily. “I mean, really! On the stage?! In front of everyone?!”

“No one was watching it.” Magnifico said, shrugging it off as he continued to walk like it was nothing.

“What about your mic? What if it was still on and it picked up the conversation?” Amaya said, making a point as she walked with him. “Either way, it was not ok! Also, you still need an assistant and secretary! You can’t keep doing this!”

Magnifico stopped abruptly and looked at her, making her stop in place. “Amaya, she… triggered me…” he said with a deep sigh. 

Amaya's stern look became softened for she knew what her husband had to go through. Also she didn't want any more stress on the baby.

“Did… she find out about… him?” Amaya asked, more unsure. “The boy from the accident?”

The boy from the accident was an accident that happened 10 years ago.

The memory was a bit fuzzy to Amaya and doesn’t fully remember, but it's something that Amaya still remembers.

“No, which is one of the good things, because I don’t feel like erasing any memory of that time.” Magnifico answered, starting to walk to the dining room. “Now let’s eat.”

Amaya was worried about the future, for her baby inside of her and for Asha as well. ‘Don't worry, my little baby. Everything will be ok.’ she thought to her baby, following her husband to the dining room.