#I suck at hands so I didn’t draw em! :~D

[chillbo-jillbo]

A little Steven Universe OC I did a few months ago.

Diopside ❇️

[cursestothemoon]

😶 ok but like imagine a smut with inexperienced fred and an experienced reader. LiKE I CAN KINDA IMAGINE IT, LIKE HE TURNS FULL ON FERAL MID-WAY LIKE! Anyway if you could do that as a request that would be wonderful, but obviously no pressure😌

Fred the reader is very experienced and Fred’s a virgin and they’re first time:)

I combined these two :)

Feral Instinct

F.W. X FEM!READER

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal penetration, biting, choking, dom!fred/ sub!reader, inexperienced fred, experienced reader, praise, crude language, oral (female receiving), fingering

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

“We don't have to, Freddie, not if you don't want to.” Your voice was soft, thumb caressing the boys cheekbone. 

Fred shifted, his torso in-between your legs, turning his head to place a kiss on your bare knee. 

“I’m sure.” He replied confidently. “Wanna feel you...taste you.”

Your thigh twitched at his response before you nodded your head, unable to find words.

Fred was a virgin.

It wasn’t something he was ashamed of nor something he hid. Fred was confident in his choice of waiting for the right time with the right person. He had grown up with cautionary tales from Charlie and how he felt pressured into having sex and had an absolutely terrible experience.

Fred was a virgin and he was confident in it, however, you seemed to ignite something deep within his metaphysical being- something raw and dirty.

You were far from a virgin.

Your virginity was something you lost early in your teenage years. The ripe age of fourteen had seen your transition from child to young woman- at least that’s how most saw it. You never cared for the label of virginity, so when you felt you could handle the intimacy of sex- both mentally and physically- you did, you also trusted your boyfriend at the time and made the decision all on your own accord.

You were far from a virgin and you were equally as confident in it.

And regardless of the fact that Fred Weasley seemed to ooze raw sex appeal, you’d wait for him to be ready- if ever- to go all the way.

Fred was beyond ready to be as close to you as intimately possible.

Slowly, Fred peeled your underwear from your already sopping cunt. He felt himself go slightly dizzy at the sight of your bare pussy, slick with arousal. Sure he’d seen naked girls before-adult magazines passed down from Bill were a Weasley brother right of passage- but never like this, never in person, never this close, and never had he seen one that he found so pretty.

“C-can I...” His voice trailed off, eyes not moving from your pretty pussy as he spoke.

A high-pitched ‘mhm’ was all you could respond, making Fred look up to meet your eyes momentarily.

He raised his hand carefully, slowly dragging his middle finger down your slick folds, you shuttered at the feeling. Fred was testing the waters, trying to find what made your toes curl and eyes roll back.

After another pass of his finger down your slit, he trailed back up to find your clit, an simple task seeing how it only took him a moment- he was a virgin, not Severus Snape for Merlin’s-sake.

His middle finger circled your sensitive clit whilst the rest of his digits could just barely be felt on the rest of your cunt. Your breath picked up as he quickened his pace ever so slightly, his eyes fluttering from your cunt to your face, gaging your response to his actions.

Your eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the feeling of a slow and steady knot forming in the depths of your belly.

What you weren’t expecting was the feeling of a warm, wet, tongue licking a broad stripe up your slit before replacing the fingers on your clit.

You let out a choked gasp making Fred smirk against your cunt. The sound was the best thing he’d ever heard, he’s sure of it. You vocal response also helped build his confidence, you noticed the way he started lapping at your cunt faster with more purpose. He was a man starved, hands anchoring around your thick thighs and pulling you closer to his face really allowing him to fully immerse in your essence.

Fred was relentless as he went down on you, making you let out surprised gasps and loud moans at how good he was. He ate you out like he needed to in order to survive. Something took over him from the moment the taste of your arousal hit his tongue and mingled with his tastebuds- he’d never experienced something so mouth-wateringly erotic.

“F-Fingers, Freddie. Use your fingers, too.”

Fred looked up, mouth glistening with your juices as he spoke, “Wan’ em inside?”

He asked the question so seriously, as if you weren’t just grinding your clit against the tip of his nose while his tongue prodded at your hole.

“Please.” You whined, voice coming out desperate and breathy.

Fred pressed a kiss to your mound, bottom lip adding pressure close enough to your clit to have you squirming, before he brought his hand to your cunt.

With slow fingers he trailed down from your clit to your hole, looking up once his digits started massaging your entrance.

“Tell me if something doesn’t feel right or-or if it hurts.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips at how sweet your boyfriend was, “I will, I promise. I trust you, Freddie.”

Silence fell over the room as Fred carefully pushed his fingers inside of your weeping cunt. He noticed the way your walls immediately gripped around his two digits, making his cock almost painfully hard in his tight black boxers.

Fred attached his lips back onto your clit, sucking on the nub before experimenting with a soft nibble. The action made you jolt, the combination of his fingers slowly thrusting into you and the way he worked your clit had you crying.

“I’ll take it you liked that.” He smirked, pulled away momentarily only to drop back down and continue to lick your pussy raw.

Your moans grew louder as Fred quickened the pace of his fingers, managing to figure out what motion would light your insides on fire. The sounds were beyond pornographic, slapping skin, vulgar squelching, and your uninhibited moans.

Fred was reeling in the power he had over your body in the moment, the affect he had over your body. His confidence was surging and he seemed to just have this instinct of how to make you scream.

He kept going, the way your pussy pulsated around his digits only spurring him on.

“I-I’m close.” You warned him, hand lacing through his hair only to grip onto the strands tightly and draw out a groan from Fred.

The vibrations of his groan on your clit had you gasping, the added in sensation of him giving one last, hard, suck on your clit made your orgasm shatter you from the inside, out.

Fred kept working his fingers in and out of you, his pace staying consistent, as you came all over his digits. The sight of your glistening skin and arching back was one he never wanted to forget, the taste of your cum on his tongue awakening something inside him. Something feral, and wild, and almost barbaric.

The bed shifted as Fred pulled away and you tried to catch your breath, only to be taken back by the fire that burned in Fred’s eyes fueled by his lust. He worked quickly to shed his underwear, your eyes going wide at the sight of his cock. Long, thick, and glistening with precum- his prick was gorgeous.

Fred climbed back up onto the bed, kneeling on one knee and placing his other foot flat on the bed to steady himself. He gripped your hips in a bruising hold and pulled you closer to him.

“You sure you’re ready?” You asked, wanting to make sure one last time- even though the look he had in his eyes was confirmation enough.

Instead of using his words to respond, Fred doubled over and captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip and tongue immediately dominating your own.

Pulling away, Fred lined himself up at your entrance and pushed in. He could feel each ridge and muscle of your pussy gripping his cock, making him question his ability to last inside you for longer than a few seconds.

The feeling was amazing. Your cunt was warm, wet, and the only place he’d ever want to be from now on.

Fred bottomed out, follow sheathed inside you, emitting a groan in sync with your whimper. He started to buck his hips against yours, losing more and more self control each time.

With his one foot flat on the bed he had enough leverage to ram into you hard, the angle making the tip of his cock hit places inside you that you didn’t even realize could be reached.

For the few seconds you were able to keep your eyes open to watch Fred, he seemed lost in the action. He had one hand firmly holding onto your hip and the other on the thigh that was rubbing against his leg, his head was thrown back and neck exposed as his hips fucked into hard and fast.

The sight was simply the most erotically breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen.

“Fuck.” Fred breathed out, drawing out the syllables.

You fought to keep your eyes open- though they fought to roll back in pleasure- as you lowered your hand down to tease your clit.

Fred seemed to sense your action and his eyes snapped open. He grabbed your wrist and shoved it away, his hand that was previously on your waist going to harshly rub at the sensitive button.

You lost yourself in the pleasure and it only seemed to grow when you felt Fred move so his face was closer to yours. He barred his teeth and bit the skin of your neck, moving down to your shoulder with his teeth leaving angry red imprints in their wake.

Groans and grunts found your ear, Fred’s raspy voice setting the depths of your belly on fire. Your orgasm was fast approaching and you were sure Fred was feeling similarly.

“M’ gonna cum-“ Fred grunted into your neck, shifting from kneeling on one knee to both.

His thrusts were longer and more drawn out as you could feel his cock twitch inside you- triggering your orgasm.

“Freddie, I’m cumming. D-Don’t stop.”

Your cunt milked his cock, pulsating and clenching around him, the sensation making his arms go weak and his body to fall atop yours. Fred’s balmy, warm skin felt familiar and stabilizing, the weight of his torso helping to keep you grounded. You wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding his body to yours as you both came down from your highs.

Fred kept his head in the crook over your neck, placing soft kisses to anywhere his lips could reach without his head having to move.

It was silent for a few beats until you decided to speak up.

“You know for someone who’s inexperienced, you’re really bad at being inexperienced.”

Fred giggled against your shoulder before lifting his head to place a kiss on your lips and look you in the eyes.

“I always seem to know what to do when it comes to my girl.” He teased, brushing his nose against yours.

You shook your head gently, with a smile, as you responded, “I’m serious! My first time i got my braces stuck to his and I sneezed into his mouth.”

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

[lloydskywalkers]

chrysanthemum

1/2 of the fics i wrote for the 10th anniversary zine!! if you haven’t checked it out yet please do @ninjaneverquit-zine , everyone worked so hard and did such a wonderful job, i’m beyond honored to have been included <3

I may not have been in the fandom since the start, but ninjago means the world to me - it’s gotten me through some of the worst times and pushed further in writing than i thought i’d go, and the fandom’s been a particularly bright light in my life since i’ve joined 💕and of course i can’t not celebrate that by writing for the light of my life lloyd garmadon, so here’s me crying over the garmadons anniversary-style :’D

Garmadon’s son has only been on the earth for twenty-four hours, and he’s only been Lloyd for nineteen, but he already finds himself terrified of the tiny, living thing he cradles in his arms.

“He’s so small,” he tells Misako, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

Misako, who’s been answering questions similar to this for the better part of the morning, rolls her eyes. “He’s fine, Garmadon. He was born a little early, that’s all.”

Not as reassured as he should be, Garmadon returns his gaze to his son. He’s sleeping now, deathly still in his arms, and he resists the urge to wave a hand over his tiny face, if only to feel the small puffs of breath he knows must be there. He brushes a wisp of hair from his head instead, marveling at how pale it is.

“He’s got my father’s hair,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care, Garmadon, we’re still not naming him after the man.”

It’s Garmadon’s turn to roll his eyes. “I never said that. I said Montgomery was an unacceptable name to burden my son with.”

“Oh, your son.”

He misses the rest of her retort as Lloyd fidgets briefly, tiny features screwing up as he shifts. A flash of lightning from outside brightens the room, and Garmadon pulls Lloyd closer reflexively. The thunder crack follows soon after, and Garmadon flinches, the thick smell of rain filtering through the open windows. He can already see thick droplets sliding down the hydrangeas Misako’s growing in the windowsill, drowning the pale flowers. It’s been pouring all week, typhoons hitting the coast with gusto as they always do this time of year. Garmadon doesn’t like it — his son is much more suited for the sun and all its brightness, not the grey-skied downpour of thunderclouds.

Lloyd hardly reacts to the downpour, having gone still and silent in his arms once again. Garmadon’s heartbeat quickens. He shouldn’t sleep this much, should he? He doesn’t remember Wu being like that, but he was so young when Wu was born, and it was so long ago, and he can’t feel for Lloyd’s breathing now because the breeze pouring through the window’s too strong, and—

A soft hand sets on his shoulder. “Here,” Misako sighs, guiding Garmadon’s hand to rest gently over Lloyd’s chest. “Feel. That’s a heart, going strong.”

Despite his hesitance, a deep-rooted part of him still desperately afraid his touch might hurt something so small, Garmadon does so. Lloyd’s heartbeat is rapid and as fragile as a bird’s wing, but undeniably there. A small, living thing.

Something warm curls in his chest, and Garmadon thinks he might understand his father’s delight in creation — in things that live.

Not, of course, that his father has ever created anything so perfect as Lloyd, but Garmadon can credit him for having tried.

* * *

It’s weird, having a dad.

Not the concept of having a dad — Lloyd’s bragged enough about being the son of Lord Garmadon to at least get that part. But actually having him here, a living, breathing person who looks at Lloyd and cares—

It’s weird, that’s all. Not that it’s a bad weird.

“You need to wrap your hands, before you go hitting things like that,” Garmadon scolds gently, twisting gauze around Lloyd’s bruised, swollen fingers. “The others can show you how, for training. They should have shown you earlier.”

Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t tell his dad that the bruises are less from training, and more from pointlessly banging on bars in an attempt to get on Pythor’s nerves. It sounds silly, compared to the way his dad swept in like a big hero and took out all the snakes in single swipes.

A big hero. Lloyd wonders if the others will ever see him that way, too.

His hand twinges as the gauze pulls tight, and Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath. Garmadon flinches, drawing his hands back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I keep forgetting — you’re so small.”

Lloyd makes a face at that. Small? “I’m not that short,” he grumbles. “I’ve grown lots.”

“Of course you have,” Garmadon amends. “I only—”

His expression twists, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. There’s that look again.

“I’m sorry,” Garmadon repeats, sounding downtrodden.

Lloyd purses his lips. For all his bragging, he’s never really thought much about whether he likes his family or not. It’s hard, when you don’t have one around to like. Watching the way his dad worries and his uncle walks around all stone-faced now, Lloyd’s not sure he should like it. He likes Uncle Wu, of course, and he loves his dad, but—

He hates the way they all walk around like they’re preparing for a funeral. His dad’s funeral, his funeral, whichever it ends up being. It’s stupid. Lloyd’s lived on the streets for months, and in Darkley’s even longer. He wouldn’t have minded walking around like he’s doomed for misery then.

But now? When he’s got people who care, and a family?

Lloyd sets his mouth stubbornly. He doesn’t know much about destiny, or the prophecy, but he knows he’s not about to lose this. Not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to having — to being someone worth having around.

No funerals, Lloyd promises himself. He can see this prophecy through — they both can, the two of them. You have to be alive to be a family, right?

“It’s okay,” he finally replies. “I’m alright, dad.”

And he’s gonna stay that way.

* * *

When Garmadon had thought about the final battle in the past, he’d expected the darkness. The destruction, the pain.

He hadn’t expected to survive.

“So you’re really giving up fighting, then?”

Glancing up at Lloyd, taller now yet still small enough to not quite fit his bright golden gi, Garmadon finds survival a very welcome surprise.

“Yes,” he says, returning his gaze to the flowerbeds Misako’s helped him put in the monastery garden. They’re coming along well, despite the recent fits of bad weather, and they do a fine job of making the monastery look homey. Unthreatening.

He hopes, at least.

“I think I’ve done enough fighting, for my part,” he continues. He gives Lloyd a wry look. “I’m not sure Ninjago could take much more of it from me, anyways.”

“I dunno,” Lloyd says. “It’s been getting pretty boring.”

Garmadon snorts. “Boring is something you should appreciate, son. Excitement isn’t always good.”

“No, but it isn’t bor—dull,” Lloyd mutters, crouching down to study the flowerbeds. Garmadon shakes his head in reply, sighing. He remembers being his son’s age once, yearning for the next thrill, even if it feels ages away now.

He’s got a whole lecture on appreciating the quiet moments on the tip of his tongue, too, when Lloyd speaks up again.

“We used to have these flowers at Darkley’s,” he says, tilting his head as he studies them. “Some of the boys tore them all up and threw ‘em at the window, but they were pretty before that."

Garmadon bites the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression softens as he spots the gentle way Lloyd handles the flower, carefully pushing it back to place. It never fails to baffle him how someone as gentle as Lloyd could’ve come from his beginnings, much less from Garmadon, but he treasures it.

“Snapdragons,” Garmadon says, instead. “Fitting flowers, for our family.”

Lloyd looks at him curiously, eyes bright with the light of suspicion, and Garmadon is tempted to tell him the full truth, then and there. But Lloyd is still so young, innocent and naive and barely come to terms with his place as the Green Ninja. The truth of their blood is a heavy one, and Garmadon can’t find it in himself to lay it on Lloyd’s shoulders today. No, his son is happy among humans, so a human he’ll let him be. Someday he’ll know he’s more, closer to the dragons he admires than he realizes, but not quite yet.

Miraculously, Garmadon has the time, now.

“If you stay after dinner, I can show you how they’re planted,” he offers. Lloyd nods, and Garmadon’s smile widens.

Destruction is in his blood, and he’d be blind to say it isn’t in Lloyd’s as well. Power is power, whether it’s bright and beautiful or stained in darkness, and Lloyd could shatter mountains as well as move them, if he wanted.

But Lloyd never moves to pull the flowers up, only watches them rustle slightly in the breeze, leaving them to grow a little bigger, a little brighter. Garmadon, for his part, watches his son, all bright eyes and the burnished gold hair of his grandfather, and reminds himself that one needs not be a master of creation to appreciate life.

* * *

Lloyd likes to think of himself as an optimist, for the most part. He’s at least good at pretending that he is one, with how many times he’s had to convince himself it’s worth it to get back up.

Right now, he’s trying to remember how he’s ever managed to convince himself, because this time, getting back up seems impossible.

Lloyd used to wonder, back during Morro, how far you had to push yourself to break like that. How far someone had to push you, to truly splinter. He thinks he might have found his answer, though his is less of a bitter hatred and more of an empty abyss of hurt.

It hurts to breathe. That would be a sign that something’s wrong, if Lloyd didn’t already have about sixty other signs that he’s in trouble. But the breathing thing is sticking out to him especially, right now. His lungs feel like they’re scraping against his ribs every time he tries to draw breath, bruised and stinging, and there’s a deep ache in his chest that grows worse by the minute.

He tries swallowing again, sand scraping down his throat as he does. He hisses out a breath instead of coughing, almost frightened that his lungs will give out completely if he does.

He says almost, because Lloyd isn’t sure what emotions he’s got left to feel anymore.

A lie. Pain starts numb, sometimes.

Lloyd’s chest spasms as he sucks in another breath, and he wishes the desert would swallow him whole. His father — his real father, who pushed him from the Cursed Realm and told him to return to light and living — would want him to stand back up. He’d beg him to, stress the importance of continuing on, of persevering. Stuff like that.

But if it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t have to get back up in the first place. If it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t be—

His eyes burn, stinging as he squeezes them tightly shut, and he tells himself it’s the sand.

Instead, he focuses on the ragged beat of his heart. He only knows it’s there because his chest throbs in pain with every pulse, but he latches onto the feeling and holds tight.

Still alive, he tells himself, even as every bit of him sings in agony and his lungs scream at him to stop. He’s still alive. His powers aren’t answering him but they will, he knows they will, he can’t disappear like he did with Morro. He can’t — he can’t leave it, not like this, not with his father — not like this. If he can’t stop Harumi, if he can’t save his father, if he can’t do anything else at all, he can at least do this.

Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.

He’s never realized how long the nights out here are, before.

* * *

After everything, the light dies down and the Oni vanish, and Lloyd’s heart stops.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Garmadon, who isn’t even sure his own heart beats now, but it is.

It’s not supposed to stop. There was a promise made, somewhere, to keep it beating.

It restarts before he has the chance to process what that even means, and the swell of relief is so foreign, Garmadon leaves before he even has the chance to ask Lloyd what he’d seen. He thinks to himself, that will be the end of it. The end of whatever tentative connection he has with the boy, whatever frayed and tattered threads of something they once had. Better to cut them away for good.

Lloyd’s not one to let things die, though. Garmadon should know that at least, the boy tells him.

“I know you like repeating yourself,” he mutters. “Letting go is different.”

“That’s not what this is,” Lloyd huffs back.

Garmadon rolls his eyes, the two of them drifting aimlessly down the Ninjago City garden paths. It’s secluded, the rest of the city still recovering, and Garmadon’s grateful for the quiet, even if it is awkward. Building any kind of bridge with the boy is difficult, if only because Lloyd stresses that they’re rebuilding a bridge, and Garmadon has no memory of any bridge to begin with.

He’s still sifting through jumbled emotions, sorting out what his place in this world was and is supposed to be, but he knows that the word son slips easier from his mouth than daughter ever did, so he figures he’s on the right path, at least.

“It’s about—” Lloyd pauses, his expression contorting. “It’s about surviving, I guess,” he grinds out.

Garmadon’s mouth curls into a grin. “Really. You were quite…vocal, that it was about more than that.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lloyd cuts off again, stopping them in a half-ruined section of garden still littered with remnants of concrete. “It’s the payoff, you know? Here.”

He bends down, brushing dust from a surviving scattering of flowers. He gently touches the edge of a petal, pushing the flower head toward the sun. “See?” he says. “After all that, it’s still alive.”

Garmadon stares at the delicate edges of the petal, smaller and more fragile than any of the buildings that crumbled beneath his rule. At Lloyd’s nod, he stretches his own fingers out toward it, his hand impossibly dark and calloused next to his son’s own small one. But he brushes his fingers over the petal edge nonetheless, almost surprised that it doesn’t decay beneath his touch. It’s soft, he notes, like the fragile skin of a newborn. Odd that it should’ve survived, out of everything else that perished.

“So it is,” he says, carefully. Lloyd says nothing, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his lips. They must make an odd sight, the pair of them crouched in the dirt in the recovering garden. There’s no use in sitting here and looking at the flower, no explanation Garmadon can offer himself, but he doesn’t leave. He can take the moment, he decides, to appreciate what Lloyd is trying to show him.

They too, after all, are still alive.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Most Hated Characters

As y’all can see, this week’s T5F is a request sent in by anon. I picked it because I guess at the time I thought it would be fun to explore some of TWDG’s least popular, and most hated, characters while also taking into account characters that I can’t stand. 

These are characters that the vast majority of us don’t like or downright despise for many different reasons. None of us are going out of our ways to defend most of these bastards, and anyone who is I get the impression they’re doing so for the sake of being Different™... though while looking around for info about these characters and what people were saying about them, I did find myself in some odd places.... come across, eh... odd fanart. 

But I guess this is the part where I say this is all in good fun and if you happen to be a legit stan of any of these people, that’s cool. Maybe you can answer some of my questions as to why??

5. Nate 

Okay, when I said that I found myself in odd places, it turns out that Nate actually has a bit of a fanbase. It’s not big or anything, from what I can tell, but big enough for me to question why because I was under the impression that we all agreed that this dude sucks.

Seriously, I would’ve put him higher on this list if I hadn’t discovered this handful of people making fanart for him and claiming him as a comfort character. While I find that an odd choice, you do whatever makes you feel comforted, y’know? Just would like to understand why. 

As for the rest of us, he’s terrible. Every time I go back to 400 days, he’s someone I never look forward to seeing. I’ve even tried not getting in the truck with him while playing Russell’s story, but in true Telltale fashion, you’re forced to drive along with this creep. 

Red flags start going off when Russell’s sharing his story about his previous group, something you can tell left some trauma with him, and Nate is just weirdly fixated on the girl Russell liked. Like yeah okay dude, I get it, it’s the apocalypse and you haven’t had any action for a while but oh my god. 

Then the whole walker thing that almost gets Russell chomped is annoying. Oh, and how could I forget about how it’s implied that he attacked the old couple before and was there to finish them off, which he does no matter what and it’s not great. 

Hell, he even uses the line Russell gave him but it’s worse because crazy eyes. And if you don’t say anything, Nate murders them right there without a thought and then continues to be a real creep. Fuck this guy. 

As the wise Eddie once said, “I don’t what that guy in my life, man!” 

4. The Stranger

Hey, have I ever mentioned how much this dude sucks? 

I don’t even have to tell you why he’s on this list. We all know the obvious reasons-- manipulated and kidnapped Clementine, which caused Lee to get bit by a walker and fucking die. No one here is white-knighting for this dipshit. 

Sure, it sucks what the Stranger went through. He lost his family and that would be enough to drive anyone up the wall. I mean, just look at Kenny. But this dude, okay. Look. Listen. I can only feel so bad for you when you lost your son on a hunting trip that your wife told you not to go on, then when you went looking for him, you literally left the car unlocked and running for anyone to come across. Then you come back and gasp. So your wife leaves you for being a moron... then when you find her dead, you cut off her head and keep it like a damn bowling ball because...??

At least that’s what I get from it. The writers probably should’ve done a better job with explaining what the hell happened but y’know. 

That’s not the only reason no one likes this guy. Oh no, you also add to the pile that the Stranger himself is dull. As a character, the dude is just.... boring. And I get that’s probably what they were going for with the whole “I’m just a guy, but you ruined my life and made me this way.” 

However, when you set him up the way you did with the talks over the walkie and the stalking, I was expecting a bit more personality outta this loaf of soggy bread. But no... boring yet crazy. Interesting combo and I’m afraid it doesn’t work. 

3. Larry

Larry?? On a list of most hated characters?? Nooo...

Yeah, surprise. Larry also sucks. Stop the presses. 

Larry is a pain in the ass to deal with for two episodes, constantly belittling the people around him and treating his daughter like shit. Oh, and don’t forget how he behaves towards Lee even if you try to be as nice as possible. Nope, he doesn’t care, he still thinks Lee is garbage and will continue threatening to reveal Lee’s secret to the group. Who cares if that could fuck up the dynamic and endanger the group? Larry sure doesn’t. 

Until the very end, this dude is just a splinter in the foot. By the time you get to the meat locker and he has a heart attack, you’re not gonna save him because you think he’ll be better if he survives. No, you’re attempting to save him for Lilly and Clementine’s sake, and if you don’t even care about that, you siding with Mr. Family Man to smash his head in. 

Not only is he a soiled diaper, he also don’t have much personality outside of asshole. He has maybe two moments where he’s shown to be just a bit chill? I mean, Lilly tells us that he has a lot of pain and that’s why he’s like this.... but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. 

Oh, and can’t forget that apparently he was obsessed with Lilly leaving the lights on so he let the power get cut, so Lilly couldn’t eat ice cream and had to let her hair air dry like a heathen. Unforgivable. 

So yeah, fuck Larry. 

2. Troy

Ugh, Troy. Fuck this guy. 

No really, out of all TWDG characters, this dude and my #1 pick are my most hated. Can’t stand Troy and the only reason I didn’t do a tie for #1 is because for a split second, Troy does show a tiny bit of humanity when Carver is beating down Carver, but blink and you’ll miss it.

Which had me a little concerned to find a handful of posts about having crushes on Troy and drawing fanart but.... again, I guess you do you? And if you can, please explain why because I honestly don’t understand. 

Just looking at the screenshot of him annoys him. He’s got one of those punchable faces, y’know? 

Anyway, when playing as Clementine, I’m always worried that he’s gonna pop up outta no where and grab her by the neck like he does later in ep3, even though I’ve played s2 a bunch to know that he’s not going to. 

But hell, he doesn’t need any excuse to smack anyone around, and there are a handful of times he can really hurt Clem depending on her choices. 

Not great, dude. 

Can’t say I’m too sorry that Jane shot your dick off. 

1. Badger

Yeah, you guys remember Badger. Y’know.... the man who murdered Mariana then laughed about it, claiming that he enjoyed watching her head explode and would do it again and again if he could? 

That’s what puts him at #1. He may not have the most screen time like Larry or Troy, but when he is around, he’s fucking awful.

He gets joy from killing Mariana, like it’s some sort of sick thrill for him to go around murdering children and other innocent people. 

Remember Francine? Caught her and used her as bait to try and get Javi to come down, and even went as far as to have some fingers cut off. Like, he gets off on destroying people, entire communities.

Shit, he seems to even get off to his own beat down. 

He’s fucking gross and outta everyone on this list, I haven’t found a single person being like “Yeah, he’s garbage but I like him kinda?” like no, you’re such garbage that even the Different™ crowd don’t want you. 

Fuck Badger. 

By the way, if you’ve never had Conrad kill him in your game, I suggest looking it up. It’s pretty good. Gives Conrad a little bit of closure after what happened to Francine, as well as give Javi some closure for Mari’s murder. 

Not a single soul wept for you, Badger. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Joan. She’s boring, forgettable, and no one is out here gushing over her because most of the time, we can’t even remember her name. -Danny from Vince’s story in 400 Days. Y’know, the dude going to prison because he was convicted of SA. I’ll never understand why people go with him over Justin. Justin sucks, too, but not the same level Danny does.  -Lilly in S4. Ugh. That’s a whole other topic for another day. -Arvo, though I guess he has a bit of a following, too

---

Well there ya go. Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 BROTPs

[avionvadion]

It’s finally dooooneeeeee. Now I can go back to the animatic, lol. My backgrounds suck when it’s not nature, but I tried. XD Part three of chapter 17 for my fanfic, Forest Deep. There’s nothing quite like listening to the original soundtrack when drawing the original (and only) Lord Sesshomaru and Inugang. Yashahime doesn’t exist.

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115702/chapters/58056064

Story Snippet:

I barely got two steps in through the doorway when there was a loud meow and I was catching a familiar cat demon in my arms, the kitten curling against my chest and licking the blood off my face. I stumbled and caught myself, standing still for a second as I processed this. I held her up, staring at her big red eyes in shock.

"K-Kirara?"

A voice from inside called out my name and very soon a young brunette came rushing out, barreling into me as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Sesshōmaru and Jaken waited outside in the hallway, stopping as if they knew what was about to transpire. "Irene! Do you have any idea how worried I was about you!?"

"S-Sango?" She held me so tight she was shaking. Relief washed over me and I leaned into the touch, having a bit of trouble reciprocating before Kirara climbed onto my head. I clung to her kimono, burying my face in her shoulder. "I-I was so scared that- ohhh, I'm so glad you're safe!"

"I should be saying that about you!" She pulled away, grasping my shoulders. Her eyes widened and she then reached up, resting the back of her hand against my face. "Irene, you're burning up! Your eyes are all red and puffy, too. Were you crying again? Your wounds are still bleeding, too! How much blood have you lost? I'm surprised you're still even able to walk!"

I laughed weakly through the mask, pulling back a hand and tapping at the object. "Mostly because of sheer willpower and this. Think you can make me one sometime? I love it."

"It might take a while, but sure. I'll have to collect the demon bones necessary to do so." She looked over her shoulder, calling out to the others. "Everyone, look! Inuyasha was right; Irene is here! She's safe!"

Kagome brought a hand to her chest, letting out a small sigh. "That's a relief. I'm glad."

"Me too." Miroku smiled. "We were getting a bit stressed out waiting for you. We feared the worst might have happened."

Inuyasha scoffed, crossing his arms. "I told 'em not to worry. You can be pretty useless most of the time, but you always pull through in the end. Still…" His ear twitched and he glanced uncomfortably at the doorway. I wondered if he could smell the demons I was travelling with. I sincerely hoped he was not the brother I thought he was. Could he smell Sesshōmaru?

I was never able to ask, for Sango pulled me back into another hug. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to go after you when I saw Kirara was alone, but more and more corpses were gathering and it would be too dangerous if we were all together. We figured you'd be safer by yourself than with us."

"N-No! No, it's okay. I mean, there was a whole horde of them on like several levels that tried to kill me, but…"

Sango moved back a step, leaning away so she could brush the bangs out of my face. I was sweating badly, covered in dirt and blood- both dry and fresh. I must look like a mess to them. Sango was smiling so warmly it got rid of all the words I was going to say.

Shippō spoke up from his spot on Miroku's arm. "How come you had such trouble getting here?" He asked, confused. "We didn't encounter any demons or undead on our way up here."

"They smell vitality," Miroku said, his eyebrows knitting together, "By all means they should have went after those of us that were in groups of two. How come they all went after you? Did Naraku somehow order them to-"

"Uh, actually I think it was…" I hesitated, catching everyone's attention. Inuyasha scowled, his ears twitching as his eyes once again flicked to the doorway behind me. He was really unnerved by their scents, wasn't he? I suppose I should tell them. "I think it was because there were three of us? I mean, a larger group to track and all that…"

Kagome looked dumbfounded. "Three of you? You mean you weren't alone? We were all up here, so how could you have-"

As if deciding now was the time to reveal himself, the silver-haired man known as Sesshōmaru entered the room. Kirara's fur stood on end when she saw him walk up behind me, the demon far too close for her liking, and she began to hiss. Sango's eyes widened immediately and she wasted no time in hoisting me up onto her shoulder, causing me to yelp as she suddenly jumped back closer to the rest of the group in an attempt to get away from him. The cat demon leaped down to the floor and transformed, snarling at the man.

Everyone else readied their weapons, Inuyasha pushing Kagome behind him as he unsheathed tetsusaiga. "Sesshōmaru!" The half-demon growled. "What are you doing here!?"

Were they seriously going to attack him? This is not okay. Nope. I wiggled my legs and struggled in Sango's grasp, the woman loosening her hold in surprise. She wasn't used to me resisting her protection. I ripped the mask off my face- leaving it to dangle around my neck- and I stumbled over to the full-blooded demon, alarmed and very much panicking. "W-Wait! Don't… Don't attack him! Please!? H-He was really nice and helped me get here!"

Sesshōmaru's golden eyes followed me as I made my way in front of him, watching as I held my hands out defensively as if to protect him. Which, admittedly, was a little ridiculous because he needed no one to shield him. I was just scared and, even now, I was struggling for oxygen.

"Nice?" Sango echoed, stunned. "You can't be serious."

Inuyasha scoffed at my words, unable to believe what he was seeing. "Get away from him, Irene! Sesshōmaru doesn't have the heart to be nice. All he has is a hollow where a heart should be! I bet he was gonna kill you once he got what he wanted."

"What?" I've seen Inuyasha angry before, but this was pure bitterness that was in his voice. He almost sounded afraid. "B-But… he protected me! The zombies were about to kill me when Sesshōmaru showed up! He… He saved me from several demons and dozens of undead! He isn't the bad guy, I promise!"

Sesshōmaru actually scoffed when he saw the way Inuyasha was looking at him. "So, little brother, this human woman is indeed your friend? I suspected as much."

My eyes went wide and I looked up at him. He knew all along? Was my hinting that obvious? How come he let me live? If he truly was related to Inuyasha and was the villain everyone painted him out to be, by all means I should not be alive right now. He seemed so tolerable of me, a human, so did he really hate him for being a half-demon? I didn't understand.

"What of it?" Inuyasha demanded, snapping at Sesshōmaru. He gripped the handle of tetsusaiga anxiously, ready to fight if need be yet clearly scared of this opponent. It was a completely different side to him. "You gonna kill her now? I don't know why, but you seem to have her brainwashed into thinking you're some kind of compassionate demon! How about you show her your true colors, huh?"

"T-True colors? What?" I'm so lost. Sesshōmaru stepped forward, pushing me back with his hand and out of his way. His hand reached for the other sword, the one I had yet to see him use. "So you are his older brother?"

Kagome nodded fervently. "Yes! He's the one we told you about- and he's ruthless! Get away from him while you can!"

"I…" I really didn't want to. I trusted Sesshōmaru. He scared me a little at first, but he's been so kind. He protected me, honoring the deal we made, and while there was nothing to be gained from freeing the souls of the dead he did it anyway. "I don't…"

I don't think he's a bad person.

"Irene." I snapped my head up, staring at Sesshomaru with wide eyes. It was the first time he called me by name. I hadn't even thought he remembered it. The demon wasn't looking at me, instead focusing his attention on Inuyasha and the others, watching them closely. The demon removed his hand from his sword, standing upright and narrowing his eyes. "You've completed your side of the bargain. You are no longer under my protection."

"Uh, o-okay?" That came out of nowhere. "D-Does that mean I should back away from you now or…?"

He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes before turning away. Sesshōmaru no longer appeared as if he were going to battle the others, sliding a foot forward to walk away. "Do what you will." He told me, moving ahead and stepping past the others. Inuyasha called out to him, demanding he turn back and fight him, but Sesshōmaru paid him no heed. "Jaken, let's go."

The imp yelped and hurried forward, not wanting to be left behind. "Y-Yes, Lord Sesshōmaru!"

[peppermint2d]

F#$%ing uh Calm After the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

guys this is 10k words already ripppp

chapter 1, chapter 2

Chapter 3

The emergency lantern was still on, dimly illuminating the room. That's when you spotted the alcohol from last night or perhaps lack thereof. The bottle was completely empty. Luckily it was not that large or both of you would have died from alcohol poisoning. (Drink responsibly!) The terrible hangover symptoms make a lot more sense now, normally you barely suffer from a night out.

You snuggle into the bed as much as your constraints would allow, the warmth and comfort easing your headache. As you move, you feel something crumble on your neck. You use your burnt arm to lightly touch what it was, only to find it to be dried snot. Ew. You were going to need a shower later. 2D lightly snores his head by your shoulder like how it was last night, not that you remembered. A trail of dried snot fell from his nose, and the thought that he sobbed on you tore you up. At least he looked at peace while he slept. With the soft light from the lamp, his eyebags were barely visible. His worry lines disappeared completely. His big, lost eyes were closed. He looked innocent and untroubled, how you imagined him to be were it not for Murdoc. You appreciated the rest of his face too. His button nose twitched while he slept. The clean line of his jaw. His thick eyebrows, surprisingly, do not make him look angry but adorable. It was about time that you admitted, to yourself at least, that you found all of him adorable, not just his eyebrows. His smile, his clumsy movements, his accent, his habit of being so attentive, it was all adorable. You liked adorable. You liked drawing adorable, you liked watching movies with adorable, you liked holding hands with adorable, you liked getting drunk with adorable. Hell, you even liked having hangovers with adorable, so long as you got to wake up captured in adorable's embrace.

Adorable, adorable, adorable.

His whimpers and flinching snapped you out of your trance. He frowned, "No...no..." he whispered, sounding in pain. "Lemme out! I'm in 'ere!" He started to shout and thrash around, messing up the covers, and even hitting you a couple times (only slightly less adorable than normal). None of which helped your hangover.

"2D, wake up. You're having a nightmare." You gently pushed him. That did nothing to change his behaviour. "D!" you said more forcefully. He calms down and then opens his eyes.

He sits up and rubs his eyes. "What's, What's goin on?"

"You were having a nightmare. How are you doing?" It was awkward. You didn't know if he was aware of how you two were sleeping before his nightmare. Would touching him be inappropriate right now? You refrained from doing so.

"From one nightmare to anofer, this 'angover will be the deaf of me." he grumbled.

"At least only one is real." You stand and go over to where he took out the ibuprofen yesterday. You open the drawer and find it filled to the bring with drugs. Thankfully, most of the bottles were empty, but 2D had enough pills here to turn quite a profit. Most had unpronounceable names and were completely foreign to you. Why does he have so many painkillers?

"Bof were real for me. I was relivin me coma." He said nonchalantly. He saw you shuffling through his pills. "Jus bring the lot of 'em ofer, I take make me mornin mix."

You grabbed as many as you could and brought them over. You wanted to ask about his experience, but if it bad enough to give him nightmares, then perhaps it's best left alone. "I guess it was a good thing I woke you up then?"

"It's always good to wake up to yew." He dumped around six pills into his hand and dry swallowed them like a professional. You were concerned about his drug habits and confused by his forwardness.

"Yeah, thanks for letting me crash here."

2D's grin slightly fell as he looked at you. He reached out and touched your neck with his finger, brushing away some of the dried goop on there. "Sorry for cryin on yew last night."

You lightly chuckled and you could still feel his ghosting over your skin. "I thought that might have been you."

"Yew don remember what 'appened?" He pulled his hand away.

"Should I?" Did something important happen last night? You worried that you were forgetting a pivotal moment.

"No, it's fine. I'll take yew to the showers to wash up." He got up and stretched, the shirt rising to expose his stomach, causing you to flush and turn away. You hoped you would remember if you made any advancements in that department. He leaves his outfit from last night on the floor, adding to the piles of clothes already there, as he walks to his closet. "Do yew need somefin to wear after your shower?"

You flush even deeper. You had forgotten about that. "Yes, please. Sorry."

"Don apologize! I 'ave enough for the bof of us." He pulled out a white tee and some loose black shorts. "These are the cleanest clothes I 'ave. I'll throw yours in the wash."

You grab them from him. "Thanks, D."

He leads you to the showers. "I'll be waitin in the kitchen for yew. See if I can grab us some breakfast."

You thank him and step inside. You set the clothes down and lock the door, stripping down now that Murdoc won't accidentally enter. 2D insisted that Murdoc doesn't even shower in the first place, but you still felt apprehensive. You nearly screamed when you turned on the water and it was ice cold. You fiddle with the knobs a bit. Burning hot, freezing cold. You start to understand Murdoc's position better. You finally managed to get it slightly not cold and reached for the soaps, finding 2D's cedarwood and vanilla scent.

It was so intimate. You felt like you were violating his privacy like you were borrowing a piece of his identity, his scent, at least until it wears off. You were secretly thrilled by it, smelling like him. Would he care? Would he notice? Would others notice? And, as Russel had before, suggest something that you desperately wanted? The smell washed over you like it did the first night you were with him. Only two days ago, you wanted nothing more than the interview to be over, to be finished. But now, you had made a great friend, and, you selfishly hope, something more.

After you finished rubbing your neck raw, you step out and put on the clothes 2D gave you. You took off the bandage he wrapped, and the edges of the burn had started to scar. He forgot a towel, so you were soaking wet. You left a trail of droplets as you navigated the halls you have memorized by now.

You were shivering by the time you reached the kitchen, your soaked through clothes doing little to help with the heat. 2D saw you enter and turned slightly red at the sight of you in his clothes. He wouldn't tell you, but it was the first time since Paula that someone else was wearing his clothes. He then noticed that you were shivering. "Yew cold again? Russ managed to get the stove on wifout anyone burnin so I'll bring you a cuppa."

"When you and 2D disappeared halfway through yesterday, Noodle got worried and thought y'all were kidnapped. She'll be glad to see that I was right about what really happened to you." Russel said, sitting on the couch, smirking again.

You blush furiously, getting his implication, and join him on the couch. "Russel! We didn't do anything!" You say in hushed tones, hoping 2D in the other room doesn't pick up on anything.

"Who said I said about you to doing anything?" He raised his eyebrow and grinned. Checkmate. You groaned and shield your blushing face from Russel, causing him to chuckle. "You know, I haven't seen 2D this open since-" He stopped himself.

"Paula?"

He nodded. "I'm surprised he told you about that. Look, you two are very close, hell you're wearing one of his favourite shirts and you smell like him. You seem to bring out a new version of 2D, he isn't even that worried about Murdoc anymore. I like this 2D. But, I gotta warn ya, other people may not. A broken person is easier to control than a happy one." Russel looked at you knowingly. "That being said, if you make him broken again. I will break you. Understood?"

You nod vigorously. "Crystal clear!"

"What are yew talkin about?" 2D comes over with a tray of food and two steaming mugs.

"Weather!" You blurt out as Russel says "Politics!"

2D looked confused as he set the food down. "Right. I brought us some oatmeal and I 'ope yew like peppermint tea."

"What? Come on, why does she get some, but when I want to use just one teabag, you smack it outta my hands!" Russel complained, throwing his hands into the air.

"It was the last one in the box!"

"You and I both know that you keep three boxes in Kong" he grumbled.

"Some pretty special tea then?" You ask.

"I drink it whenefer I need a pick-me-up!"

"Explains why you drink it so much," Russel said.

"To fink I was gonna give yew a cup too!" 2D feigns hurt as Russel vehemently apologizes. 2D eventually concedes and leaves to make a cup.

"See," Russel turns back to you, "two weeks ago he slapped me. Now, I get the tea. Not much has changed here other than you."

You blush. "I really didn't think I was doing anything."

"You help remind him of the outside world. That is doesn't always have to be how it is in Kong. This place can really suck the life out of you. You should stay in contact, even after you leave."

"Are you doing okay, Russel?"

He avoided your gaze. "Not really. But it helps to have a new face here. Somethin to shake things up a little."

You saw 2D approaching again. "Well, then I hope his tea is as good as he promises."

"What are yew talkin about dis time?" 2D said again, as if on repeat.

"Politics." you say as Russel goes "Weather." You look at each other and start laughing.

"We really need to get that down." You insist. 2D sets down Russel's matching mug and sits by you. "Always loved tea. It reminds me of Austen's writing."

"Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love." 2D recites in a posh accent. You all chuckle at his poor imitation of it.

"I didn't know you could read!" Russel jests.

The conversation then shifts towards literature and you learned how well-read your companions are. It goes unspoken that 2D remembered the quote because of Paula's disappointed love.

The impromptu book club breaks up when Noodle and then Murdoc enter the kitchen. Noodle grabs a box of cereal and starts eating from it. "Ohayo!"

"Good morning!" You call back. Russel and 2D both look surprised. "You're telling me that you've been living with someone who exclusively speaks Japanese and you haven't tried to learn any?"

They both grumble. "We... make do." Russel finally manages.

"Hello, pet." Murdoc gently whispers, suddenly appearing by your ear, causing you to yelp. His presence scared off 2D who went to the kitchen to refill the tea. He breathes in. "You smell like the Face Ache." He growled. "I know what you're trying to do. You can't take my singer away from me."

He then stepped away from you and walked to the windows, saying loudly: "Would you look at that, the storm's slowing down."

You got his hint. "Right. Then I best pack my things."

2D looked crestfallen. "What? Yew's leavin already?"

"Yeah, sorry D, but I think I may have overstayed my welcome."

"I'll 'elp yew pack up then." He sighed and led you to where your clothes were.

It was a rather anticlimactic packing up. You kept trying to drop hints ("Your bed was so comfy, I'd love to sleep over again." "Your hair was so soft last night, I'm sure I dreamt it up") which he kept avoiding ("Yeah, it's a nice bed, innit." "Nah, it's normally pretty soft."), so you decided to stop altogether.

When you reached the front door, the rest of the band was waiting. Noodle acted first, giving you a hug "Sayonara!" You wished her farewell in return.

Russel was next and gave you a bear hug. "Don't forget our agreement." He whispered into your ear. "Wouldn't dream of it." You whisper back.

You hold out your hand for Murdoc to shake, but he just scoffs, so you move on to 2D.

"I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss yew more, love!" He gave you a tight squeeze. You two were slow to pull away, but when you did, you caught sight of tears in his eyes that matched your own. He hands you something. "'ere's me number so yew can call."

"This won't be the last you hear from me, D." And with that, you got back into your rusty company car and left Kong Studios, but couldn't leave behind the thought of a blue-haired singer.

[divineluce]

And from the Ashes || Leah, Luce, Morgan, Nell, & Rio

Timing: Late at Night May 26th, 2021

Location: A burnt out clearing in the Outskirts

Tagging: @phoenixleah, @divineluce, @mor-beck-more-problems, @nelllraiser, @3starsquinn, and featuring Bernard Burnie the Phoenix

Description: The time has come to try and save the phoenix.

Running a hand through her hair, Luce looked at the clearing that she’d led the others to. It was a wide-open space, already charred and covered in ash- she’d first spotted the burnt-out area when she and Adam had posted up in the burnt out shell of a building on Scorch Street. She’d ventured out here on her own a few days before, dragging as many branches she could manage into the center of the neat circle of blackened soil. They needed a pyre, a central place for the magic to be channeled, to catch the energy they poured into the spell. They. That assumed that she’d be able to do something, that she’d be able to… summon the flames.

Luce dropped the gas can she’d hauled into the woods with a heavy, sloshing thud. There were already a few cans lying at the edge of the clearing, a contingency plan courtesy of Adam. He’d been game to help with the setup, loaning her what equipment he had to help. Nell knew how to pick ‘em. Even if he was some kinda doomsday prepper. “Here we go. Rio, you’ve been looking at the wards, right?” She said, gesturing to the area around them. “I’m not sure how big we need to go… Would you know anything about the scope?” Luce asked, glancing over at Morgan with a tentative gaze. The scratches that ran along her body were still scabbed over and angry to the touch, even with the help of Nell’s poultices. “Nell, do you want to get started with the herbs? Leah should be out looking for the phoenix, hopefully we have some time before she radios us that they’re on the move.” Luce said as she unzipped her backpack and began to pull out the various ingredients the ritual required. A silver mortar and pestle, courtesy of Bea, the Bloodroot, the jar of corrupted resurrection dirt, another glass with the phoenix’s still smoldering ashes, and bundles upon bundles of sage and lavender. Pulling the last vial from her pocket, Luce stared at the small bottle of phoenix tears. This had to work. It had to work.

Leah Ramirez was not an improviser. Not by any means. For an event like the one they were attempting to go as smoothly as possible, it was incredibly important to plan out every detail down to the second, and then establish a plan B, C, D… all the way to ZZ in case things didn’t go as planned. It was admirable how determined Luce was to save this poor soul. Leah always knew she had a huge heart, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t always a big fan of showing it. This needed to go well- if not for the phoenix, for Luce. For her to know it was okay to openly care about something and to ask for help.

Her job was simple enough. Find the corrupted phoenix, entice him to chase her, run to the clearing, help with the ritual. It wasn’t hard to find him, either. He’d been leaving a path of destruction for weeks now, and she followed the path of ash and char that he left behind until she found an area that was still very much on fire. The flames didn’t scare Leah- they couldn’t hurt her. And she hoped if what she’d heard about corrupted phoenixes was true, he’d get frustrated at the lack of damage he was doing to her and chase after her. If not, there was always plan ZZ. But when she finally laid eyes on him, it felt like a punch to her gut. She’d seen plenty of phoenixes in their flame state before, but her family was always so careful to be controlled and calm in their flame presentation. They had the privilege of years of training, not to mention the ability to change back if it all became too much. The corrupted phoenix, on the other hand, was raging, stuck in an eternal flame state with no way of connecting with anyone or anything. Of course he was destroying the world- it was the only way he could get its attention. She radio’d the group from her safe distance, watching the phoenix to see if he’d noticed her. “Found him. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Orion had stayed up half the night drawing the runes that Luce had sent him. He wasn’t sure how much the group would need, so he figured he should do as many as he possibly could. He kept his bag full of them, weighing on his back as he followed the group to the clearing Luce had prepared. From the looks of it, Luce had been hard at work to get things ready for the spell. While the rest of the group was probably used to stuff like this, Rio hadn’t taken part in many spells. He was equal parts excited and nervous. Something like this was an entirely new experience to learn about. It was every scribe’s dream. On the other hand, Luce had already warned him how much energy this would take. This wasn’t going to be a simple spell, one thing gone wrong could screw everything up. Rio just wanted to make sure he wasn’t the cause of any mess ups.

Once they were together in the clearing, Rio dropped his back and pulled the stack of paper with the wards drawn on them. “Yeah, I’ve got a bunch. Just tell me what to do with them. I’ll follow everyone else’s lead. I think I’m the newbie here.”

Morgan double checked the notes she’d made on her phone. “Bigger might be safer,” she said. “Wider net, easier catch.” But not too big, or else the energy needed to power the space might increase to dangerous proportions. She came over to Rio and showed him the diagram she’d made. “If we give ourselves a twenty foot diameter, you should be able to put down the runes in intervals of two feet. Move clockwise and make sure they’re all oriented the right way, okay?”

That done she went over to Luce, who was looking a little uneasy. “Hey. This’ll work if you let it, okay? You can help him.”

Nell was tired. But that seemed to be the beginning of every thought she has of late. It was getting to the point of being exhausted from the constant state of emotional tiredness, which often left her feeling either drained, irritable, or both. As she bent over her densely packed sticks of herbs, she did her best to banish the sensation of lethargy seeping into her bones, shaking herself out of its grabby hands to gather the strength she’d need for the coming ceremony. If there was one thing that could spark her massive reservoirs of determination, it was a sister in need— and as Nell let her gaze wash over Luce, and all the physical as well as emotional cuts and scrapes it’d taken her to get here, it was obvious Luce was certainly in need.

She didn’t have fire like her sisters, so when she lit the herbs to cleanse and purify it was with the lighter from her pocket. Blowing softly over the end of it, she let the flame peter out until a steady trail of smoke was rising from the end of the bundle before handing it off to Rio. “Take this with you, too.” Did he have enough hands for it? MAybe he could stick it in his pocket or something. Or- “I can walk with you if you need it.” Then she was on to lighting the next stick of herbs, keeping this one for herself.

Rummaging around in her pockets, Luce pulled out the shitty little Zippo lighter she kept on her. She’d never had to actually use it, but now might be the time. If her flames didn’t come, she’d find a way to make sure that this worked. One way or another, she’d get fire to burn and to hopefully, hopefully put an end to this person’s nightmare. After all this time, the weeks of work trying to gather the ingredients she needed for the ritual, she hadn’t paused to think about how they must be feeling in the middle of all this. Were they still in there? Or were they lost to the fire, like she had been? The walkie talkie on her belt buzzed and she heard Leah’s staticky confirmation. “Sounds good. We need a bit more time, but I’ll give you the signal when we’re ready.”

“Bigger is better, I’ll take your word on that. Thanks for drawing those up, Rio.” Luce said, looking closely at the runes he’d drawn. Damn. For a Scribe who claimed like he didn’t know what he was doing, they looked damn good. Like, really fucking good. And Morgan knew what she was doing, she could guide him as they set the perimeter of the ritual site. Sucking in a deep breath, she cast Nell a tense grimace of a smile before staring at the silver mortar in front of her. The ingredients were all here. She just had to… tap into the magic. Flexing her hands, she unstoppered the bottles and began to mix them together “The corrupted earth with tears to mend,” She muttered quietly to herself, trying to reach for the magic that lived within her. Fear gripped at her heart as she tried to feel the connection and found… nothing.

Leah couldn’t have taken her eyes off the corrupted phoenix if she tried. The way he moved and raged through the forest, his path clear but his goal unsolidified, it fascinated her. She wanted to take it all in, write it down and warn family members about the dangers of changing their ways. She took another step forward toward him, and suddenly, he whipped around to stare at her, flames angry and dark. For a while, there seemed to be nothing else, just two phoenixes, born of very different circumstances, staring at each other and waiting for the other to make a move. Could he sense what she was? Was he confused by her lack of fear? She took another step forward, right into the charred remnants of a tree that were still on fire. We’re the same, she was trying to tell him. We can be the same. In her time observing him, this was the first time she’d seen the phoenix still.  “We want to help you”, she said, quietly. Would he hear her? Could he understand? But as quickly as it had seemed to pause, his rage picked up again, and soon, he was barreling toward her. The radio secured at her shoulder buzzed, with Luce indicating they weren’t ready. Shit. As he ran toward her, she thought quickly, switching into her flame state.

Now they were really the same.

With the two phoenixes both engulfed by their flames, there was no solid body for the corrupted one to ram into, no destruction he could cause.  He whipped around again to look at her, and for another moment, as if there were a second of clarity. But again, it didn’t last. Leah switched back, and began running toward where the phoenix had come from, into the fiery destruction he’d been wallowing in. “We want to help you” she cried as she heard him begin to run after her.

Morgan watched Nell and Rio get to work laying the circle and burning their bundles. There was another one for her, but she hesitated to reach for it. This wasn’t an afternoon in her studio or a hopeful exercise for her peace of mind. Someone’s life was hanging in the balance. All of theirs, really, if you factored in the risks of this going sideways. What good was the energy of a dead woman with no direction? And yet. She felt useless, just standing there. Sure, she’d helped Luce work out the magic maths for the circle and organize a delegated plan, but that was theory, that was cozy. She wanted to help, if only to prove that she still could. That she hadn’t given up yet. So she picked up the last bundle and lit it up. She could smell none of the smoke that rose from the black and orange crackling ends, but she remembered her own rituals in the woods when she was trying to learn blood magic. She remembered her fear of being shut down by the universe, of being turned away by her friends, and the way her hope trembled as the smoke cleansed the hurt from her space. As she did the last thing, the only thing she could, she prayed to the earth below them that this phoenix would have his hurt wiped away too.

“I think that’s about it. Everyone ready?”

Orion had a stack of papers in his mouth, hanging on by the corner of the paper as he moved along the path, more paper in one hand and the burning herbs that Nell had passed to him in the other. He had assured Nell that he was fine, but one misstep and he would tumble. He followed Morgan’s directions, placing the runes around in a large circle and watching the other group carefully. Everyone looked incredibly focused. Just another hint that this was serious. Stuff like this must be second nature to them, yet there was a lot of care and detail put into every single step. It made sense, from what Rio knew about spells, the devil was in the details. Sometimes literally he supposed. But the smallest inaccuracy could cause horrible side effects. His chest tightened at the thought of what backlash could come if something go wrong, but he shook it off quickly. He had been injured trying to help others. It had never changed his mind before, he wasn’t about to let today freak him out.

Once the circle was complete he gave a thumbs up towards the group just in time for Morgan to ask if they were ready. Honestly, Rio had no idea if they things were ready, but he eyed the gas cans around the circle. He figured those would come into play once the spell started. “All set” Rio confirmed, moving in the circle to join with the others.

None of them were wholly fireproof anymore despite having taken their own footsteps through the flames of their existence, and Nell was no exception. Each one of those present had all weathered their own firestorms, walking straight into infernos that had every right to have felled them where they stood. But still they persisted, like the embers of a life refusing to be snuffed out despite all the gusts buffeting them from sometimes all sides. Fire was life and death, as cyclical as anything else in the magic. That’s what Nisa had tried to teach her daughters while they’d grown amongst the trees of the forest. It could steal life in a moment, burning a person out of existence until they were no more than ash on the wind, but as was the way with everything in the world it had the other face of its coin. Warmth, cauterizing, cleansing. In and of itself fire was the most alive of the elements, flickering with a spirit and will of its own. And yet that same life was so good at snuffing out others.

Nell didn’t have the fire her sisters had once wielded, so she’d thought the lessons didn’t apply to her. But she had her own flame living in her chest, the same heat that had told her to kill Montgomery and to make it hurt. The searing anger that had her digging a knife into Frank’s side, and poised to smother his own fire. Maybe they all had flames living within them, dangerous if left unchecked. Luce had left her flames to themselves since nearly a year ago to the day, or maybe it had been even longer. Nell had too. But she was watching in real time as her sister tried to reign them in, reignite them in a way that didn’t end with screams and acrid stench of burning flesh. It was enough to make Nell wonder what the peace on the other side might be like, whether she might one day give up the things fueling her flames to try her own hand at seizing it. Today wasn’t about her, though. That much she knew as she came out of the circle she’d walked to slip her hand into Luce’s for a squeeze. “We’ll make this work.” Luce wasn’t alone, and she’d be sure to remind her sister of that. Gathering her magic, she searched the corners of herself to pick up every scrap of it, knowing this spell was no small feat. She and Luce would be lucky if they didn’t pass out, let alone leave with skinned arms and a heart attack later. “You’re ready?”

Luce couldn’t help the way angry tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, helpless, unable to feel the flames that lived within her. This had to work, it had to fucking work. She needed it to work, she needed to save this person but… The words Adam had told her, when they’d posted up in the burnt out husk of a building on Scorch Street, they echoed in the back of her mind. Either I accept the dude in the mirror or I keep doing stuff that hurts everybody I care about. One of the most dude-bro things she’d heard from him, but it was true. She’d been mulling over their conversation for days now, trying to reconcile what he’d told her with the things she felt. And she’d thought… She’d thought she had this. She thought she could do this. But what if she was wrong? What if she couldn’t? What if he was wrong, what if Rio and Nell and Morgan—who had given her this second chance to change—had misplaced their faith? Her hands trembled slightly as she uncorked the bottle of ash, muttering a quiet Turkish chant over the still smoldering remains as she mixed it in. The Bloodroot followed and she mixed it all together with the pestle, the mixture crackling and sparking as she did her best to guide the magical properties of the ingredients into what she wanted, what she needed it to be. A cure. A way to end the nightmare. Redemption. Though her flames lay stubbornly still within her, Luce poured intention into the mixture until the chalice was full of a thick, smoking liquid.

Swallowing, Luce glanced up to see that Morgan and Rio had already drawn the wards, laid out the runes in their prescribed spaces around the large pyre. The bundles of herbs were smoking, filling the air with a heady scent, and all of them were waiting on… her. Luce felt Nell slip her hand into her own and she offered a nod. She wasn’t ready but she had to do this. She had to see this through. “Whatever it takes.” She said quietly as she stood up in the circle. Holding tightly onto her sister’s hand, the silver cup on the ground before them, Luce brought the walkie talkie to her mouth with her free hand. “Send him our way. We’re ready.” Now or never.

Leah ran and ran, waiting for the fuzzy confirmation that she could bring the phoenix to the clearing. She didn’t know how long they played cat and mouse, Leah switching back and forth between flame state to keep him occupied. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up. As she ran, exhaustion began to over take every part of her- her bones, her heart, her lungs- but she had to keep going. They had to help. And suddenly, when it felt that maybe she couldn’t go anymore, she heard the telltale buzz from Luce that they were ready, and without warning, she switched her path and began to run toward the clearing. The phoenix, in his effort to catch up with her, seemed to leave less of a trail of destruction than he had been in the last week or so, and she had to breath a sigh of relief at that.

It seemed like it took forever, but she finally broke through the clearing with the group of her friends, all ready and expectant to start the ritual that could end this. The phoenix seemed to pay them no mind. As they reached the center, she turned around and watched him stop and finally take in his surroundings. At least, that’s what she assumed he was doing- if he was even aware of what was going on. Regardless, with him distracted, Leah switched back into her flame state one last time, wrapping herself around the corrupted phoenix and engulfing him with her own flames. “We’re the same”, she whispered, hushed and smoky. “You’re not alone.”

Nell’s first reaction upon seeing Leah and the corrupted phoenix was one of ‘fight’, muscles tensing as she prepared to dodge a fireball that may or may not be coming her way, and dive in headlong to try and subdue the phoenix. But that’s not why they were here. They weren’t fighting today, they were cleansing, purifying— and violence could never truly grant either of those. Killing a problem wasn’t the same as healing from it, and wasn’t that obvious in the way her past choices seemed to never let her be? Maybe Luce should have asked Bea to help with the phoenix. Bea could be warm in the way the flip side of fire was meant to be, she’d know how to burn out the bad without incinerating the whole. Sure— Nell knew her plants and practical magic, but what good were those when she was home to an unsteady heart? If her intentions wavered, if she didn’t focus on the right things...would the phoenix simply rise to an even bigger and angrier inferno than it was now?

Thankfully Nell’s sister by her side, and Leah’s embrace of the other phoenix served as a reminder that she wasn’t all sharp edges and bloody hands. She had a family. And even though a bulk of it had left in the form of the coven, friends that had needed to find their own way beyond the town lines of White Crest, and even Bex who had fled in a fear Nell was still struggling to process— she could see her family reflected in the faces present. Luce by blood, Morgan by choice, Leah by upbringing, even Rio at times with the way he was ready and willing to help anyone who so much as glanced in his direction. Surely anyone who had a family was worth something? To have people who loved you was no easy feat. Did the phoenix have people that had loved him before? Leah loved him even now as he tried to burn the world to ash, caught in between her arms. Maybe there was another choice that could be made. As cliche as it may be, love was a cleanser, a healer, a purifier. And Nell knew how to do that even if she wasn’t always adept at it. That would be her focus point for the spell.

With a smattering of her own Turkish words Nell fueled the wards to life, letting her magic blaze through them so that the area was safely contained. Nowadays, she most often used Latin for her spellcasting, skipping the extra step of translation when she could. But if this were to be a spell of love she’d used the tongue her sister had used, the one her father had told stories in. Taking Luce’s other hand in her own, she placed their joined hands on the outside of the chalice, folding her palms over Luce’s while they cradled the silver between them. Leah had said it best, and she borrowed the words from the phoenix to lend to Luce, the soft Tukish private between them while she let her magic and intentions flow. “We’re the same.” They’d both been lost. Both desperately trying to claw their way out of the prisons they’d made for themselves out of their past deeds. But maybe with this, with the cleansing of the phoenix- at least Luce could be found. It was hard to remember that there were hands waiting on the other side of one’s self-made bars, people simply waiting for you to reach out and hold on tight. Nell wasn’t sure which of them was raising the other from perdition anymore, but she knew it was as one. “You’re not alone.”

The phoenix looked even worse than the first time Luce and Adam had seen them. Him, she realized. The phoenix was a man wreathed in brilliant, unnatural flames that seemed to flare around him in a malevolent glow. He stared at the clearing-- perhaps a moment of recognition for a place he’d already brought ruin upon, perhaps trying to puzzle out what the ritual space was for. Either way, Leah took advantage of the distraction and, cloaked in her own flames, she held onto him tightly. Her brilliant flames clashed against the ominous vermillion fire that surrounded the other phoenix. Luce felt Nell’s fingers tighten around her own and together they picked up the chalice, the magic coursing between them.

Luce could feel the wards glow, the paper Rio had drawn them on smoldering away to nothing until the burning runes were etched into the earth. And as Nell’s magic funneled into the chalice, Luce nearly let out a gasp as… the embers within her began to stir. The flames were weak, nonexistent. But the connection, the magic, it was there. For the first time in six months, she could feel the magic that had forsaken her. She reached for it cautiously, her spirit fanning the flame as carefully as she could to try and coax the spark back to life. “We’re the same.” Luce echoed as she stared at the phoenix held by Leah’s flames. She could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that was seared into his soul. As he strained against Leah, she knew she had been right. He wasn’t afraid of them, but of himself.

“You’re not alone.” Luce said, her voice rising as she let the magic flow through her fingertips into the chalice. The mixture continued to smoke and smolder and she knew that fire should be burning from the cup. But the flames wouldn’t come. No matter how hard she tried. “You’re not alone! We just want to help. Please, let us help you!” She called to the phoenix. Take our help, let me help, do what I never did, please.

Pain ran through Bernard’s body as the flames that weren’t his own burned around him-- frustration, rage, fear, they mixed together within him, the only thing he’d known for the past… how long? How long had he been like this? Days? Weeks? Months? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He remembered erupting from the earth, tearing away from that cursed echoing place as fast as he could. It was a blur of fire and flames and pain and blood. And the voice, the voice, it followed him everywhere he ran. Whispering sometimes, shouting at others. All it wanted was for the world to burn. And he was powerless to it. People, animals, all who were caught in his path, they… crumbled to nothing. And all he could do was shriek in agony as his own cursed flames continued to burn. He couldn’t stop them, was powerless to the darkness that ran rampant within his body. The voice that wasn’t his own rang in his mind through all hours of the day, screaming at him to burn this place to the ground. It was the voice he’d fled from when he’d first awoken in this new body, the voice that still chased him.

And even now, it was shrieking at him. Burn the girl, burn them all, cast their bones to ash, let the flames consume this town. Let all become fire, let all become ruin.

But, a different voice-- the first voice he’d heard that wasn’t a strangled scream-- it made its way to his ear. “We’re the same.” A soft voice, whispering, pleading, “You’re not alone.” Fighting every instinct in his body, Bernard was able to tilt his head in the barest of nods. He did his best to regain control over the fire that raged around his body, to fight the voice within him. “Help me, help me.” He whispered to the woman whose arms were wrapped around him, “End-- end this.”

As the man struggled and strained against Leah’s hold, it began to feel hopeless. Already exhausted from their run through the forest, she knew she couldn’t hold onto him for much longer. And with no one else there able to withstand the flames, she wondered, briefly, if it had been a mistake for Luce to ask her for help, at least with this part. She was never strong- always swift and agile and smart. Perhaps Alfie would have been better for something like this. But then, he seemed to respond. A hint of a nod was all it took for Leah to gain her confidence back. This was working, and they were going to fix this. Together. She was not alone.  Carefully, she unwrapped her arms around his body, instead, choosing to hold his forearms for guidance. Gently, she guided him onto the pyre. Though he still seemed to struggle, it was a lot easier to guide him up than it had been to hold him in place. She wondered if he was fighting too, now. Somewhere deep inside. She noticed the chalice shared between Nell and Luce, smoking and smoldering and beckoning to help. “I know it’s hard”, she said again, more firm this time. “But we think this will fix it. You have to try and drink this, okay? Drinking it will help. We’re going to help you get better, but first you have to drink it.” She continued to whisper these affirmations in his ear, willing him to continue to fight through the flames. “We’re all here to help you.”

Nell could feel the moment her sister’s magic sputtered into existence. She’d be able to recognize her sister’s magic anywhere. Such was the bond of countless spells done as one in their youth, and the few they’d done together in the last year and a half. It felt like someone waving her home from the front porch, far more comforting than something as tangible as physical touch could ever achieve. This was the two of them truly coming together as one for the sake of another. For the sake of her sister. For the sake of the phoenix in Leah’s arms. “We’re gonna make it,” Nell told Luce, giving her the words she too needed to hear the most. There was an end, and they’d found it. They were so close. So close to that win. So close to doing something good. Just let the past die, and then Luce could be free.

Luce watched as the phoenix allowed himself to be brought towards the pyre she’d built in the center of the glowing runes. His flames licked at the wood, straining to ignite the wooden structure. She could feel the heat of it from here-- she couldn’t let Nell get any closer, not when the flames were this hot. Nell didn’t have the same resilience she did. “We’re gonna do this. But I’m not letting you get hurt.” Luce said. “Step back, Nellie, please.I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you-- without any of you,” She said looking to Rio, to Morgan, even to Leah. “But I’ve gotta do this.” With that, she pulled the chalice gently from Nell’s hands, and followed Leah and the phoenix up the pyre. And as the phoenix’s cursed flames began to consume the wood, Luce took a deep breath and followed.

“Leah, you should back up. I don’t know what the wards might do if there are two phoenixes here.” Luce said as she held the chalice up, hands shaking slightly. The silver cup was still smoking, but she could feel the energy thrumming inside her. She could feel her magic lying in wait, but for what? She was trying so hard, the need to draw upon the magic was almost overwhelming. The flames were searing, painful in a way that fire had never felt for her. Not since she was a child, before she’d fully gained control of her magic. Luce swallowed as she stood next to the phoenix and, as she lifted the silver cup to his mouth, she saw him for the first time. Dark black eyes stared at her in desperation, the irises ringed in glowing red flames like the sun during an eclipse. Those eyes stared at her, consumed by fear and anguish and then-- a flicker, something dark flashed over his face. A tongue of flame shot from the phoenix’s body and curled around her left arm and Luce let out a scream of pain as the fire sizzled against her flesh. Agony shot up through her and her grip on the chalice loosened as she stumbled backwards, the flame retreating back to the phoenix’s body.

“We’re going to help you.” Luce panted, her fingers wrapping around the cup once more. “You’re not alone. This isn’t you and this,” She gasped in pain, the searing sensation still present within her, “This isn’t the end. You’re not alone.” Luce said. As she spoke, the burning heat grew within her. And that was when it hit her. The warmth was familiar. “Benim alevlerim.” She breathed and watched as the chalice blossomed with blue flames. “Drink. Please, drink.” Luce said and pressed the cup against the phoenix’s lips, tipping it back before staggering down the burning pyre. She retreated to where the others stood safely at the edge of the wards to wait and to watch.

Bernard drank. And for a moment, nothing changed. These people they’d tried, they’d failed. And he would be-- his eyes flicked open as the pain mounted to new, unimaginable heights. It felt as though he’d swallowed the sun, that the light was burning him from the inside out. The voice that had shouted at him, it was screaming again. But now, it screamed in pain, agony, as the sun continued to burn. His mouth opened to scream but all that escaped was a plume of blue flame. Instinctively, he shut his mouth and curled in on himself, hugging his burning body. Meanwhile, the blue flames crawling over his skin, over the pyre, overwhelming the cursed red flames. For a long moment, pain was all that filled Bernard’s mind. And then, there was nothing at all.

Things seemed to be going to plan. At least, Orion hoped that they were. None of the actual spell experts seemed to be freaking out, so Rio had mostly taken that as a good sign and held back. He silently observed, a worried line drawn across his face. The concern only grew as the Leah showed up with the Phoenix. Up until now, everything that Rio had witnessed had just been preparation. With the phoenix here, the true spell began. He stood just on the edge of the wards they had constructed, nervously fiddling with his fingers to keep himself still. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Luce and the phoenix. Even from back here, Rio could feel the rise in temperature associated with the phoenixes flames. He pressed against his skin, warning of the heat. How could Luce handle being that close to it? His entire body tensed as the flame surged towards Luce. He almost jolted forward, but stopped himself at the last second. She was trying to get away. He needed to trust that Luce knew better for this than he did and let her do what needed to be done.Flames seemed to be consuming him, a bright, glowing red that made Rio clench at his heart. It looked so incredibly painful. “Oh my god.” He muttered, mostly to himself. If tears poured down Rio’s face he did nothing to stop them, he could only stare at the scene as the man screamed, only for blue flames to erupt. That blue soon took over the red, covering every inch of the man and becoming too bright for Rio to stare at any longer. He covered his eyes, glancing away from the scene in fear that he would go blind completely.

Luce was right, and Leah stepped out of the circle, toward Rio and Morgan. She switched out of her flame state in the process, and found a safe space behind her friends while still holding a good view of the action at the pyre. She couldn’t take her eyes off of everything that was going on, not even if she tried. She could see the pain inside the phoenix, almost as if she were sensing it within her heart. His flames, red and unnatural, looked like an illness that needed to be cured. How she wished she could run back in and hold him again. The flames seemed never ending but not at all stable; all encompassing but not all warm. And with the eruption of more and more of them, Leah was worried if too much damage had already been done. She couldn’t look away, but her heart was begging her to.

For a while, it seemed as though the fire would never end. It looked as though the flames would continue to spiral and battle against one another, locked in a continuous battle until the pyre that fueled the blaze crumpled to ash. But, Luce watched as her blue flames over took the phoenix’s own iridescent fire and then… She let out a gasp as the man sank to his knees and then crumpled to the ground. The fire continued to rage around him, consuming the wooden pyre. Meanwhile, the runes that formed the wards continued to glow, the lines brilliant and blue. Just the same shade as her flames. And then, almost as quickly as it had started-- the flames burnt out. In their place was nothing but a pile of ash.

Blinking in the sudden darkness, Luce held up her uninjured hand and reached tentatively for the magic. But her fears were unfounded, as vibrant blue flame jumped to the palm of her hand. “Is he… Do you think he’s alright?” She asked the others, voice hoarse from the smoke she’d inhaled.

There was little Nell could do as she watched her sister dive into the flames along with the phoenix, and she couldn’t help the protective step she made towards the center of the circle while the fire sizzled around Luce’s arm. It wasn’t unheard of for the Vurals to throw themselves into the center of an inferno for their sisters, but the more rational voice in her head quelled the emotional response, reminding her that she wouldn’t so much as get within a few feet of Luce before burning to a crisp. And what help would that be? Nell would be incinerated, the wards would fall, and Luce and the phoenix would be worse off than when this had started. Nell filled her now empty hand with Leah’s no longer flaming one, the familiar warmth of a fire being granting her another form of comfort.

The wards stayed strong as Nell kept the flow of her magic constant, using her worry of Luce to fuel the glowing runes. After all, that stemmed from love as well, and thus it would rightly serve the spell. Finally the flames subsided, and Nell was free to move forwards after watching the phoenix fall to ash on the ground. Just as any phoenix would at the end of their lifecycle. It had killed him? This was the cleansing that he’d needed? Death? Surely there were less permanent ways to purify? But death was anything but permanent for a phoenix. Or at least...it was meant to be. They hadn’t actually killed him, had they? “I…” This couldn’t be the result of all their efforts— all of Luce’s efforts. She’d needed to do something good, something that helped the phoenix, not end its cycle. “Wait- I think- is it moving?” Or had it only been her hopeful eye that thought she spotted a sign of life beneath the gray?

While the explosion of bright blue and radioactive red flames was all encompassing, the silence and emptiness that followed their burnout was even more-so. Leah looked between her friends, first to Nell, who’s hand she gave a tight squeeze back, then to Rio and Morgan, and finally to Luce. Luce, who had worked so hard to save the phoenix- ...she didn’t want to disappoint her. But in Leah’s experience, a pile of ash only meant one thing. She looked down at what was left of the phoenix, his ashes still and unmoving. Perhaps this was what was meant to happen all along. The ritual was meant to get rid of the illness- did it presume that the only way to rid one of corruption was through… death? It seemed too morbid. Too unfair. Tears filled her eyes as she looked back to Luce, ready to break the news to her. It wouldn’t be fair to get her hopes up if there was none to have. “I think...he might be d-”, but she stopped, interrupted by Nell’s observation. Her eyes shot back to the pile of ashes, sensing the tiniest pile of movement for herself. “Wait, -what?”

The scent of ash filled Bernard’s lungs as he shifted among the dust and debris. His fingers curled around the fine grains of dust and he began to crawl out from under the pile, his head emerging. He was covered in soot, his body ached, and he felt so, so cold. But, the world was blissfully, wonderfully silent. His mind was silent. The voice that had echoed in his head had been burned clean and now… Now he was whole again. Exhaustion and relief washed over him in equal measure and Bernard was able to lift his head up for a brief moment to take in the small cluster of people staring at him. He offered a weak smile before his eyes rolled back up into his head and he collapsed, unconscious once more. 

Morgan had watched the proceedings in petrified silence. She understood how badly Luce needed this and as she huddled closer between Leah and Rio, she started to accept that she might need this too. There was so much suffering on this miserable rock of a planet and so much that couldn’t be helped no matter how much money or good vibes you threw out there. But maybe this could be different. Maybe this one witch and this one broken bird could do better for a little while. She stared at the clump of ash on the ground, bracing herself for the worst. “Leah, don’t…” she whispered. If this was another cosmic fuck you, Luce wouldn’t need to be told. And then he moved.

“Shit, Nell’s right. He’s moving, she’s right!” She grabbed Leah, squeezing tight and looked at Luce. Whatever she was holding against the witch didn’t matter just then. There was only relief and understanding. “Guess you’re better than you thought after all,” she said. “So, who’s helping to carry Mr. Firebird? I don’t think he’ll like his feet dragging on the ground if I lift him by myself.”

Seeing the shift in the pile of ashes finally let Orion take a breath of relief that seemed to be shared by everyone in the group. This hasn’t been in vain. It had been dangerous, and exhausting and at times even seemed a bit hopeless. But when the pile of ashes shifted and everyone’s gone shifted from solemn to overwhelming relief, it all seemed worth it. “Holy crap.” Rio breathed, too giddy to stay still. He bounced on his feet, still a bit apprehensive to move anywhere in case the spell wasn’t completely finished. But Morgan spoke first, suggesting they carry the man away from the spell site and back towards civilization. If she was confirming it, then that meant that it was done. “We really did it.” Rio spoke again aloud, not trying to hide the surprise. “You really did it.” He repeated, directed towards Luce this time. Maybe it had been a time effort, but she had gotten the ball rolling. And from the looks of it, she had paid a price. “I’ll help carry him. Someone should help Luce too.”

Time seemed to slow as Luce stared at the pile of ash, unblinking. Waiting. Had she killed someone else? Had all of her effort and time and energy and intention meant nothing? Had she taken another life, an innocent life? An eternity stretched on as she stared at the pile. And then. Relief. Luce felt her legs buckle as the man lifted his head from the ashes and stared at them, his face illuminated in the glowing flames that rose from her hand. Normal eyes, no longer ringed in fire. Her blue flames sputtered and went out as Luce sank to the ground next to Nell, her hand still clutched in her sisters. She let out a shaking, shuddering breath as she sat on the ground. They’d done it. The ritual had worked. He was okay. And somehow, in the midst of it all, her magic was back.

“Holy shit. We did it.” She breathed as she glanced up at the others. “Thank you… All of you guys. This wouldn’t… None of it could have happened without you. Thank you.” She murmured. Her entire body ached, she felt absolutely drained, and her arm was filled with a burning pain she hadn’t felt since she was a little girl, but none of it mattered right now. She’d done it. They’d done it. 

[alice-dont-break]

y’all wanted kinky d/s smut so here you go! i am... mildly embarrassed by how my brain could write something so filthy... but i hope you enjoy 🙃

in charge (part 1) | janthony smut

cw: FILTHY SMUT, dom/sub, mild choking, spanking, biting, literally just filth

In the car home from the bar, Jasmine and Anthony could barely keep their hands off each other. He kept a firm grip on her thigh with his thumb stroking half circles that steadily rose higher and higher, pulling the hem of her dress along with it. By the time they made it inside and upstairs to their bedroom, Jasmine’s lips were swollen and their clothes were flying. After he’d removed the last of her clothes and his own shirt and pants, he scooped her up and playfully tossed her down on the bed. Hovering over her in only his boxers, he met her eager lips again before trailing down to suck a new purple smudge on her neck.

“Wanna try something new tonight, baby?” He growled against her tender mark, before flattening is tongue to soothe the sting.

“Mmm what did you have in mind?”

Anthony gathered her wrists as her hands rested on his chest, and pinned them up above her head. With one hand holding them in place, and the other tracing a soft line down her jaw, he smirked. “What if I take charge? You do what I say... and only what I say,” he said, pressing wet kisses where his fingers had just ghosted down her face.

“Yes sir,” she snickered back.

His hand wandered down her hip and grabbed at her curves, nails biting into her flesh. She gasped at the slight pain, and Anthony took advantage of her parted lips.

“Might wanna watch the attitude, sweetheart,” he sneered between kisses. “Gonna have a safe word, okay? Green for keep going, yellow for slow down, red for stop. If you can’t talk, tap me three times. You use that if you need it, promise?”

Jasmine nodded eagerly, but Anthony wasn’t satisfied. Pulling back her bottom lip between his teeth, he muttered “words, baby.”

“Y-yes, I promise,” she breathed. He hummed into her lips, pleased with her response, before deepening the kiss. Her tongue tried to match his, but within seconds, he won the battle and was exploring her mouth at his own pace. She squirmed under his grip as he pulled back to brush his lips over hers, just breathing her air as her eyes softened.

“Seems like someone’s already struggling to stay still,” he chuckled, squeezing her wrists tighter. “Need some help keeping your hands where I want ‘em, love?”

Jasmine’s eyes widened and she nodded again, before moaning at the burn of Anthony’s fingers digging into the swell of her hip again.

“Thought I already told you to use your words baby... break my rules again and you might have a hard time sitting on that sweet ass of yours later.”

“Y-yes sir,” Jasmine rasped.

“That’s my good girl,” Anthony said, kissing from her lips up to her jaw. When he reached her ear, he nibbled softly and suckled on her skin as her back arched off the bed. He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, memorizing every ridge and slope, before pulling back. “Don’t move,” he instructed before rolling off the bed and walking to the closet.

Jasmine wasn’t sure what part of this was sending shivers down her spine and straight to her core. Was it his steely eyes? The way his oversized hands could engulf her entire thigh, or breast, or neck... Or was it the way that she could trust him so completely, knowing that he knew all the ways to wind her up and lovingly bring her back down? That no matter how rough he was, she was completely safe in his arms? All she could focus on was the thumping rise and fall of her chest as she panted with anticipation.

Anthony walked back with a seductive gaze raking over Jasmine’s body like a fine tooth comb, but her eyes locked into the handcuffs he’d retrieved.

“When the hell did you - “

“I’ve had ‘em for a while,” he interrupted, before climbing on to the bed beside her. She’d obediently kept her hands above her head and he snapped on the cuffs with a smile. “Been waiting to see you like this forever.”

Anthony sat up on his knees beside her and scanned every inch of her bare, longing body. He trailed a finger down from her sternum to stop just before where she wanted him, leaving chills in his wake. Jasmine arched her back, eager for more contact, and Anthony chuckled.

“Gonna have to be patient for me, sweetheart,” he crooned, withdrawing all contact. He lay down next to her, and hovered over her face before nestling into the crook of her neck. His teeth grazed over her already sensitive skin, and she threw her head back to give him better access. Kisses and nips coated every inch of her neck, leaving behind stunning bite marks and bruises. The whiney moans were music to Anthony’s ears; he’d found the perfect balance of pleasure and pain to drive her crazy. After soothing the ache with open-mouthed kisses, he wandered further down her body.

His lips danced across her collarbone and down the valley of her breasts, as Jasmine felt her skin ignite. She never knew when the soft touch would turn into a pinch she was strangely craving. Once Anthony’s face was level with her rack, he laced his tongue around her supple skin in long strokes. She arched her back up, desperate for more contact, but Anthony tutted back at her. He pulled back, pressing his hand around the sides of her neck and pressed down just slightly. “I said,” he growled, “be. patient.”

With his hand still testing her throat, Anthony shifted his focus back to teasing her breasts, pausing the slow motions of his tongue every few inches to sink in his teeth. Finally, he landed on her hardened nipples and sucked wantonly. Every swirl of his tongue and flicker of his teeth drew a deeper and deeper moan from Jasmine’s lips, and she could feel her pussy absolutely flooding.

Her breath hitched as soon as he started to crawl further down her body, unsure how much more anticipation she could handle. On his knees between her ankles, his hands pried her open, leaving behind half moon shapes they would see again tomorrow. He felt her body humming with anticipation as he pressed kisses all the way from her ankle up to where his hands were still clutching her thighs. His nose was just inches away from her slit and he could nearly taste her arousal. Jasmine’s impatience was mounting and she squirmed, trying in vain to press her core towards Anthony’s face, only to be met with a firm arm across her hip bones.

“Keep your eyes on me and stay still while I take you apart, sweetheart,” he growled. His tongue parted her folds and swiped all the way up, drawing a long mewl from Jasmine’s lips. Slowly and methodically, he used his tongue and lips to taste every drop of her essence and explore every fold.

“Ant... feels so good, need more,” she cried out.

Anthony hummed against her, and pressed down harder with his arm. He needed to remind her he was in charge, but couldn’t bare to break the connection with her sweet pussy. His tongue swirled around her entrance, just barely dipping inside, before pulling back and working up to her clit. His lips ghosted over her most sensitive spot, before gently latching on with the softest kitten licks.

Jasmine was in such a trance from the fire spreading through her clit, that she didn’t notice Anthony’s hand had moved up her thigh. After just one swipe through her folds, he plunged two fingers into her soaking hole as she cried out.

“Ant... oh my god... oh my god fuck,” Jasmine yelped, as he stretched out her tight walls. She had no time to react to the shockwaves his curling fingers sent before he was pulling out and thrusting harshly back into her. His grip across her stomach tightened to hold her in place as he thrust into her repeatedly and relentlessly. As she looked down at him through heavy lidded eyes, she was overwhelmed by the contrast between his carnal attack on her inner walls and gentle caresses to her clit. All she could focus on was how fucking good his mouth felt on her, and the tightening coil in her center.

“Ant... please I’m gonna come.. please can I come,” she begged through panted moans.

“Yes,” he growled against her clit. The vibrations of his words threw her over the edge, and her thighs squeezed together to trap his hand inside of her. Anthony curled his fingers to probe at her sensitive inner spot, coaxing the orgasm and all its aftershocks out of her. His lips stayed glued to her clit, pressing soft, loving kisses, while his eyes gazed upwards. Her face was contorted into pure pleasure and she was arched off the bed, straining at the cuffs that prevented her from tugging on his curls.

“Fuck, baby your noises are so pretty f’me,” he murmured, as her muscles released under his grip. He pulled his hand out slowly absolutely coated in her juices, then crawled up to kiss Jasmine’s forehead and prop himself up beside her. “You made quite the mess on my fingers, sweetheart. C’you clean me off?”

Jasmine eagerly tilted her chin up and ran her tongue from his palm to his finger tips. Once she tasted her sweetness, she hummed and pulled his index and middle fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue all the while. She plunged up and down, looking up at him with lustful eyes, knowing exactly what he was picturing. Once she pulled off, he cupped her chin tenderly, slipping his thumb past her lips to run along her bottom teeth.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he whispered.

“No, you are,” she grinned, “that was insane.”

“Not done yet, princess. Legs still work? Can you stand for me?” He smirked, pressing wet open mouth kisses to her temple and cheek as he tried to pull her out of her post-orgasm haze. He was far from done with her.

She nodded, and he watched the hunger return to her eyes. He helped her up, and her cuffed hands hung between between them. He cupped her cheeks and continued peppering kisses over her flushed face before pulling back to remove the cuffs. When she was freed, he held her hands and raised them so his mouth could soothe the red streaks around her wrists. Jasmine was practically purring against his soft touch, and he was entranced by how absolutely pliant she was in his grasp. He leaned into her neck, desperate to taste her again, and whispered against her neck. “Color for another round baby?”

Jasmine’s lips curled into a devilish smile, and she nodded. “Green,” she said, before sinking down to her knees in front of him. “I know you’re in charge, but is this okay, daddy?”

Anthony’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her pouted lips. Her knees were spread just enough so he could get a glimpse of her still swollen clit, and her hands were clasped behind her back so her breasts were thrust forward. “God you have no idea how you look on your knees for me like that. So beautiful, so cute, so mine.”

“M’yours,” she hummed eagerly. Jasmine was drunk on her fiancé’s touch and she needed more. She craved his hands over every inch her skin, the sounds she coaxed of him, the feeling of him filling her up to her limit. “Can I touch you, daddy?” She asked, batting her eyelashes, as if she had know idea what that word would do to him.

“Yes, baby. Remember to tap three times if you wanna stop, okay?”

Jasmine nodded up at him, keeping their eyes locked as she wrapped her lips around his head. He let out a low grunt at the sensation of her warm mouth around him, already achingly hard from watching her come undone. She swirled her tongue as she took him all the way into her throat until he nose bumped her pelvis.

“Fuck ,Jas,” he groaned, letting his head loll back, “your mouth is so good for me pet.”

She hummed against him, reveling in his praise, sending more and more shockwaves through his cock. She pulled off slowly letting a string of saliva hang between them, and flattened her tongue to lap at his head. She drew a long stripe down his shaft, and he gasped as she pulled his balls into her mouth and suckled lightly.

Anthony let her continue for a moment before reaching down to tug at her hair. “Stop teasing me,” he growled. With his fingers still tightly wound in her curls, he gently guided her back to his cock and she latched back on with loving eyes gazing up at his.

Her first slide down was tentative, testing her limits and gauging his reaction, but from there she couldn’t hold herself back. The tensing of his thighs, the grunt rising from his chest, and the sting on her scalp, all while he hit the back of her throat was all the motivation she needed. With her hands clasped neatly behind her back, she hollowed her cheeks and moved earnestly up and down his length. He couldn’t help but admire the depth of her gorgeous eyes, even though all his senses were clouded with a fog of pure arousal.

“Fucking hell baby you suck my cock so well, you’re such a good girl taking me all the way into your throat like that. So beautifully submissive on your knees... fuck.”

Anthony basked in the bliss of being engulfed in the wet heat of her mouth, and it was taking all his concentration to avoid filling her mouth with his seed right then. When he couldn’t hold off any longer, he pulled her back by the roots of her curls, and she looked up at him with saliva dripping down from her puffy lips onto her tits.

“Yes, daddy?” she asked with a sinister smile. Jasmine could sense Anthony was dangerously close to the edge, and decided to test his dominance. Keeping her eyes on him, she unclasped her hands, grasped his length, and swiped her thumb over his leaking tip. Before she could even start to pump him, he grabbed her wrist hard so she would let go, then yanked her up to standing.

Their faces were just inches apart, and Anthony could feel her heavy breaths accelerating on adrenaline. Her hands were still tangled in her hair, and he used the leverage to open up her neck. His lips found a sensitive point which he licked and suckled before sinking his teeth in. She sighed out in a desperate moan at that same delicious mix of pain and pleasure, as her eyes rolled back.

“Don’t remember giving you permission to use your hands like that, especially after I’d just pulled you off... Are you testing me, baby?” He husked against the bruising skin, sending shivers down her spine. “You think I don’t see that my sweet girl is actually dirty as fuck? Think I don’t know you’re giving me that smirk just begging me to punish you?”

All Jasmine could do was whimper, though the sparkle in her eye only got brighter. With a firm hand to her lower back, Anthony bent her over the edge of the bed with her cheek pressing into the mattress. As she turned over her shoulder with an inviting glance, he leaned down to trail tender kisses up her spine until he was close enough to whisper in her ear.

“Color, baby?”

“So fucking green,” she moaned.

“Hm,” he chuckled, “sounds like I was right to think you’d like this game. You like submitting to me, baby girl? Like doing whatever I say? Whatever daddy says?”

“Yes, yes, Ant... daddy... love it,” she whined.

“So do you wanna tell me why you touched me like that? Is it cause you wan’ me to punish you?”

Jasmine’s cheeks flushed to an even deeper shade of crimson as he saw right through her little scheme.

“Really gonna forget to use your words again and make this harder on yourself?”

“N-n-no, daddy,” she whined, “I did.. I do want you to punish me.”

Anthony felt his cock twitch in his boxers as he grinned down at her. “So fucking naughty, baby girl... what d’you want me to do? Spank you? Spank this perfect round ass of yours?” He growled, grabbing roughly at the stunning expanse of perfectly soft skin.

“Yes, Ant, please...” she whimpered.

He leaned over her to kiss her head one more time, and whispered in her ear. “Gonna give you just five... would give you more but can’t handle not being inside you for much longer... remember you can say orange or red whenever you need.”

Anthony stood back to admire the skin so beautifully presented for him, then brought his hand down sharply. He let his hand linger, feeling the heat radiate as he soaked up her sweet, breathy moan, then repeated his action on the other side.

“You gonna test me again, sweetheart?” he smirked down at her.

“N-no, gonna be so good for you.. so good,” she babbled.

“Already are such a good girl for me... so perfect.”

Anthony brought down the next three strikes in quick succession, then kneaded her ass to soothe the sting as she whined. “All done, you did so good for me. Took that so well baby.”

Jasmine whimpered not from the ache, but because she could feel her wetness soaking down her thighs. Anthony noticed the same thing, and chuckled lowly.

“Doesn’t seem like that was much of a punishment baby...think you liked it too much,” he said. He flattened his hand and rubbed it through her folds, feeling her wetness for himself but not coming close to satisfying her craving.

“Ant... ant please... please...” she whispered.

“What’s that baby?” He taunted her, “what do you want?”

Jasmine pushed her hips back towards him and whined. “Please fuck me Ant.. daddy.”

“So pretty when you’re begging... so needy and adorable... keep going.”

“Ant please! Need to feel you inside, need you to fill me up, need your cock, just please fuck me Ant please,” she cried, looking over her shoulder with a wistful eye.

Anthony pulled off his boxers and lined himself up at her entrance, keeping his hands warmly on her hips. In one steady thrust, he bottomed out inside her as they both groaned.

“God baby, you’re so fucking tight. You squeeze me so well, pussy is so good for me,” he grumbled as he built a rhythm right away, before she’d had any chance to adjust to the stretch.

“Ant, so big, feel so full, babe, so good,” she meowed.

Encouraged by her gorgeous noises, he thrust harder and started fucking up into her yielding body. Her moans grew louder and louder and higher and higher in pitch, as she felt him slamming into her. His head was nudging against her cervix and she felt so fucking full. Every thrust was relentless, leaving her no time to breathe before he was shoving back into her heat.

“Fuck, my handprints look so good on your ass, babe,” he rasped.

Jasmine was too breathless to respond with words, but her sounds told him she was just as lost in her arousal. Desperate to see how she was feeling, he flipped her over and yanked her by the calves so her ankles were over his shoulders and her ass was at the edge of the bed, legs spread and so ready for him. “Wanna watch you come for me,” he said while thrusting back into her and hitting a deliciously new angle. She responded with a strangled moan and her eyes rolled back, but he reached forward to focus her with a hand in her hair. He wanted to see the exact moment her eyes softened into bliss.

As he barreled into her relentlessly with his hands roughly grabbing at the supple skin of her breasts, her lips curled around his name in loud moans. “Ant, Ant, Ant, daddy... can I can I come? Please can i come?”

Anthony leaned over to smash his lips against Jasmine’s. “Come with me right now,” he growled, and she tightened around him like a vice. After slamming into her once or twice more, his thrusts turned lazy as he filled her with hot ropes of cum. She threw her head back and her pussy squeezed around him over and over, pulsating in rhythm with his spurts. He leaned forward and looped an arm under her back where she had arched off the bed. His soft rocking rode her through the aftershocks of her orgasm until she was limp in his arms with a thick sheen of sweat between them.

Once Anthony could breathe again, he pulled out of her slowly, pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and another to her forehead, then shifted to lay beside her. She flopped over to rest her head on his chest with an arm and leg thrown over him, and grumbled something incoherent about being tired.

“You okay, love?” he asked, sweeping the slicked down curls off her sweaty forehead.

“So good, so floaty,” she mumbled. “That was so good I feel drunk.”

Anthony grinned against the top of her head and rubbed her back up and down. “I’m glad, baby. You were incredible. Gonna take care of you now, okay?”

“Mmm don’t leave,” she grumbled.

“Gonna be right back, Jas,” he chuckled before leaving her with a kiss to her forehead. Anthony hurried off to the kitchen and returned a moment or two later with a glass of water and a power bar. He left those on their bedside table while he retrieved a warm cloth from the bathroom. When he sat down on the bed beside her, he rubbed her leg and smiled as she broke out of her haze to flash him an exhausted smile.

“Hi baby, just gonna clean you up okay?”

She hummed in agreement, and he let the water wipe away the sweat and cum that coated her inner thighs, all the way from her folds to her knees. He silently thought that if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d have to spend much more time watching his cum slowly leaking out of her pussy, but he was wise enough to know that his absolutely fucked out fiancé deserved better right now.

Once she was cleaned off, he sat against the headboard and pulled her by her underarms to lay over top of him. With her head on his chest, she looked up at him with a dopey smile.

“C’mon baby, take a sip of this water for me, okay? Water, snack, then we’re getting you up,” Anthony cooed.

“Noooo,” she giggled, “just wanna lie here and cuddle.”

“I know babe, but if I let you stay here and get a UTI, you’ll kill me later. We’ll go to the bathroom, have a nice warm shower, then I’ll put the sheets in the wash and we can go snuggle up on the couch for the rest of the night. Kay?”

Lulled by Anthony’s long fingers which were now lightly scratching at her scalp, Jasmine smiled and nodded. “M’kay, love you Ant.”

“I love you too, Jas.”

“Oh and baby?” she asked, straining her neck to look up at him with her most innocent little smile. “Next time’s my turn.”

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Already Gone (SOA x Mayans Crossover)

A/N: Deep diving back into my roots. SOA will forever be near and dear to my angsty heart! This chapter primarily focuses on Y/N and Jax but following parts will include my Mayans. As always, feedback is GOLD!

SIDE NOTE: Huge shout out to @creativepromptsforwriting for motivating this story into fruition. Your blog is beyond inspirational!

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or you’d like to be tagged; please let me know!

MASTERLIST 

Jax Teller x Reader (then we’re in Mayans territory :D )

Word Count: 2375k

Warnings: language, mention of biker gangs, slight female degradation, angst, sprinkles of heartbreak. 

*********************************

Daylight vanished drifting into another starless evening. Nightfall succumbed to a starless evening. Y/N wished to be anywhere else in the universe than where she currently found herself; the Sons clubhouse. In childish hopes, she stilled all movement adjusting her jacket nervously fidgeting with the hem. The door swung back under her touch; light reflected back harshly in the demurely lit bar. Smoke descended throughout the congested area; clouds of hazy fog engulfed her lungs. Here goes nothin.

The air wreaked of putrid obscenity and cheap tequila. First and foremost, Y/N met Chucky’s charismatic stare. She sent him an anxious grin impulsively pleading for uneasiness in her stomach to subdue. The one-handed man remained surrounded by countless liquor bottles engrossed in order after order shifting gears from her. 

Every man and member leeched on to the closest thing in a short skirt, tits overflowing from too small blouses, and topped off in four-inch platforms. Any girl within proximity of the Sons all had a similar motto; barely-there skirts and perky tits. There was no doubt sex was the main attraction tonight.

And to this very day, she played nice with them so long as they abided by one rule in particular; Jax was untouchable. She was their queen bee. Glancing down at her outfit; she preferred a more comfortable approach. She paired tonight’s look with her favorite pair of worn out high-waisted jeans styled with a Ramones crop top finalized with suede black booties. Her body was a sacred temple and only those granted permission were able to worship her. She made sure of that. Loud conversations vibrated from table to table, voices lost in the chaos increasing with every passing decibel.

Y/n scanned the room peering for one particular member; Jax fucking Teller. In childhood, Mr. President and Y/N friendship blossomed as close friends before ultimately admitting their feelings five years ago. The wildest five years of her entire life. Her thoughts quickly darkened, if only someone would’ve warned her those three years ago. If only Y/N hadn’t welcomed him with welcoming, open arms. But sometimes life’s a bitch, and the hardest way is merely the only route.

Her clandestine orbs voraciously whipped back and forth jumping from person to person. In her search, Opie sat alone at a corner table secluding himself willing her his direction. The pitiful look in his eyes was enough to make her stomach flip. Long ago, she grew weary with the amount of messes that befell on Opie. Their relationship bordered along best friend status, always seeking the other out. Ranging from moments of clarity to cruelty, Opie Winston never once betrayed the trust instilled upon him.

She already knew what bullshit lay ahead; it was his shitty way of apologizing for Jax’s past, present, and future fuck-ups. In the back of her mind, Y/N convinced herself she was different to him, that she was his one. But nowadays, doubt replaced confidence as Y/N drifted farther out of reach/touch. Her feet clumped heavy against the wood suddenly weighing her down. Making her way through the crowd, Y/N plopped herself closest to Op.

Her palms dampened in sweat wishing the fall beneath her to open up swallowing her whole. “So, this was the big meeting Jax was in a rush to get to?”

His eyes bounced from side to side searching for any way out of the conversation; “Shit Y/N...”

Y/N collapsed next to the burly man nuzzling deeper into the warmth of his neck, quietly leaning in closer so he could hear her clearly; “I know it’s not your fault, Op. I just wish he respected me enough to be honest with me. I can’t keep living like this anymore, he’s breaking me… I’m sure going to miss you, big bear.”

Y/N waited patiently for the wheels to turn in his brain. “You’re a smart man. Connect the clues, buddy.”

“You—You’re leaving?”

Her heart plummeted into uncharted territory; her head bobbled too quickly, too excitedly almost as if she’d been rifling for a way out of this life, out of their lives. She glanced sadly at him, really appreciating his handsome appearance while trying to memorize the man who’d kept her insanely calm since middle school. There was no hiding the bemudding frown etching her lips. His lengthy, luscious hair and accompanying brawny beard was enough to make any woman swoon.

If only she’d chosen him to protect her heart but what ifs were a dangerous path to question. Add in his admirable qualities and he was the gleaming winner. The man Y/N should’ve pursued but she was a fool and fell for the Teller trick over and over again. Long ago, Opie came to the conclusion that Y/N would never leave his side, not even if the devil bribed her himself. Her departure was agitating, possibly selfish, but absolutely necessary. Jax breaks everything he touches…eventually.

“Some bitch is grinding against his junk and you expect me to be alright with it? Boy’s got another thing comin if he thinks I’ll always be waitin to greet him at the front door.”

Words jumbled on the tip of her palate; ‘I just wanted to talk to you first before shit goes down. I’m so thankful for you, always know that.”

Op stared down at his dirty boots unable to meet her dejected orbs.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You deserve more than his half ass shit. Ya know, I was afraid Jax had sucked out all that rad awesomeness you possessed before you decided to get together. He’s my brother, don’t get me wrong. But, he’s kinda the biggest dick on the planet and not the good kind. I’m proud you found your backbone. Here I thought you’d softened up…”

“Haha, glad to see you think so highly of me still! Please take care of yourself.”

“I’m a phone call away if you need me. Any time, any day, I’ll be there.”

His arms draped around her exposed waist rubbing soothing circles on her lower back. Her chin rested atop of broad shoulder before she reluctantly pulled away from his embrace.

A few tables over Jax’s arms seductively draped his arm around the croweater’s exposed waist. Every few minutes the chick gyrated submissively against him cock arousal his member. Jax closed his eyes inhaling a puff of his cigarette thinking of the girl waiting at home for him. All he had to do was find the courage to get up and leave. But this was the life, his life and Y/N understood him better than anyone else. So, he accepted the Yaeger bomb from girl with the rose tattoo and smiled widely. Fuck ‘em. He leaned incredibly closer connecting his lips to her plump ones.

Her sultry tone echoed into his ear; “Mmm, you taste like sin…”

Jax chuckled in retort; Darling, you ain’t even taste the best part yet…”

Disgust and fury ran uncontrollable through her body radiating to an explosively dangerous level. She quietly whispered; “This fucking asshole…” as she compelled herself to clear the lump in her throat noisily.

Her annoyance was beginning to peak into seething eruption; “You’ve got some damn nerve, Jax. That I can give ya. Such a lady’s man.”

A shudder ran through his vertebrates forcing the hairs along his neck to stand painfully on the edge. Her words were impudently brash bouncing off her rosy plump lips.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya, doll.” His arched brow sprouted newfound madness as Y/N daydreamed of punching that shit grin off his idiotic face. But his eyes told another tale, his sapphire irises brimmed with tacit concern and uncertainty.

Her life with Jax was a never-ending roller coaster. Exhilaration awaited them at every corner until it didn’t. No matter how many wrongdoings Jax committed, Y/N dutifully stayed by his side never daring to question his authority. Gemma taught her of loyalty, of the importance of family eternally sticking together, and to never turn her back when the going gets rough because it was bound to cross a line if you survived long enough. The Sons checked their moral ambiguities when they patched in, sacrificing their soul for the benefit of the club.  

So, Y/N’s skin thickened as time meandered on, and as Jax shacked up with Wendy, and again every time she watched some slut leave his dorm every night. Honestly, she should thank Jax for her turned her into the dominantly powerful woman she became that awakened Jax’s feelings. But now, now he was the reason her heart was breaking.  

She cleared her throat attempting to draw his attention; “Wow, seems like you’ve got your hands full tonight. Didn’t realize I needed to make a reservation.” Her eyes penetrated his, he looked like a deer in blinding headlights at the recognizable voice in front of him.

The girl seating in Jax’s lap had the audacity to open her bright fuchsia painted lips; “He’s busy tonight. Shoo, buh-bye.” Motioning her hand in Y/N’s direction.

Y/N eyed the broad up judging her every spectacle of the way. She bit the corner of her lips in attempt to register what her mind couldn’t.

She clicked on tongue in vast disapproval at the idiot before her; “Listen here, bitch. I’m Y/N, his old lady and you’re going to get the fuck up and listen to the words leaving my mouth and find another lap to occupy, NOW.” She put on her fakest high pitched voice just to prove a point; “Got it? Good, now if you make me repeat myself, I’d love the opportunity to fuck up that plastic face of yours. Now, Shoo.”

The random girl gulped unwillingly to challenge the alpha female and meekly wagged her head in agreeance. Jax noticed the slight tremor as she removed herself from his grasp trudging in defeat. He sighed in extreme exasperation; “Congratulations, you’ve got my attention…now talk.”

“Ugh, I’m seriously starting to question what the hell I’ve been doing with an asshat like you for so long? Seriously Jax, what the shit?”

He remained irrationally irritated Y/N had chosen a party to air out their dirty laundry. She was undermining him in front of his brothers, nobody challenged him. This was yet another lesson he’d teach Y/N the difficult way.

“You’re makin a scene! Let’s talk this outside?” He seized her arm dragging Y/N behind him. Her heels dug into the surface fighting his weight with her own. Jax glanced back at her stubbornness on display and/snickered sinfully.

“No, I’m fine where I am.”

Jax invaded her space, his breath jostled against her peach fuzz. He hovered dangerously close to her, fury seeping from his freckled skin.

“Ah, the mighty heroine here to save herself. Classic, real good Y/N.”

Y/N huffed venting her building frustrations; “I can’t do this anymore, Jax.” Her voice wavered in confidence before erupted in sadness; I fucking won’t do this anymore.”

Jax Teller rolled his eyes before sighing annoyingly loud; “You always say this shit, Y/N. And you always keep comin back for more. This is a dance we memorized baby girl, our dance.”

Her fists ignited into internal rage; her breathing skyrocketed to unbridled anger. Typical biker to neglect the actual words leaving a woman’s mouth in this hell hole.  

“So, I guess that makes me the fool and you the asshole, hmm? Yes, I might be a fucking glutton for punishment but at least I have a heart, some decency of a moral compass to abide by. But you, Jax? You would burn the world simply because you were bored. And right now, this is me telling you I quit. Go fuck one of your many other mindless wannabes. I bet they’re beggin for Jax Teller’s cock as we speak.”

His cockiness was beginning to push her past the point of no return as he growled his words from his venomous mouth; “I don’t doubt that darling. The question of the hour is if you’re really sure you wanna throw in the towel?”

Y/N’s head whipped around fast; her eyes blazed in pure hatred; “The biggest mistake you ever made was letting love come into your life. You fuck up everything you touch. Have a nice life, Teller.”

Heavy footsteps clonked against the wooden slats swiftly rushing towards the front doors of the clubhouse. She approached the entrance grazing her knuckles along the worn material. In the upper right-hand corner, the smallest of carvings adorned the walk away years later; their initials carved for the world to bear witness. Digging through her purse, Y/N located her car keys and stood on her tiptoes scratching at the etchings now nothing but mere wood indentions. Fuck happy endings. No wait, fuck this ending.

Finally, anger breached its imminent tipping point as his temper imploded. His arms gripped hers excruciatingly firm slamming her against the wall aligned of mugshots. A frame or two randomly dropped closer by. Jax was the Kurt Cobain to her Courtney Love; both destined and simultaneously cursed. Glass pierced the ground piece by piece. Her eyes fully dilated as fear crept into her smug demeanor. Her breath came out in short, timid, huffs as quaked in anxiousness.

“You’re my girl, Y/N. Don’t do this shit. You know I love you.”

Confliction cowered in her bones. His ragged and pathetic tone drew her in wrapping itself snugly around her. She knew that if she would have heard these words any other day, she would have declared it the best day of her life and would have started to call everyone to let them know that he finally said the words! But today was not that day and all she wanted to do right now was putting her hands over her ears and stop listening.

She spewed her virulent words once and for all; “You’re not the person I thought you were.”

Her body went rigid in his arms as sorrow clung to her like forgotten hope. She was losing him, sacrificing a piece of her heart for her own freedom. She loathed the man Jax evolved into but somewhere under his façade lived the gentle poet who stole her soul. Jax snickered obnoxiously before a murderous grin took ahold; “No. I’m just not the person you wanted me to be.”

Tags: @twistnet @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123​ @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf​ @scorpio4dayzzz​ @starrynite7114​ @penny4yourthot​ @breanime​ @whyisgmora​ @thegirlwhowritesfics​ @star017​ @threeminutesoflife​ 

[nanoland]

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

0  

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

 the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

[sugargliderowl]

Thoughts on Janus’ Playlist...

Some of my first-time-hearing reactions to Janus’ playlist (sorry for the rambling parts):

Black Hole Sun: It’s apparently about depression according to Genius? Like it’s kinda like yearning for the depression to be sucked into the “black hole sun”... The snake references and heaven and hell is definitely Janus. Also, it sounds old-timey like a jazz song, so that sets up the mood of the entire playlist. I don’t really get this... but this feels like a mood setter for the entire thing, unless it means something else. What do you guys think?

It Seemed the Better Way: The strings? CHILLS. Leonard Cohen’s voice reminds me of Hades in Hadestown. “Sounded like the truth, seemed the better way... but it’s not the truth today” is just his motto is what I’m seeing. And then the “I better hold my tongue, I better take my place...” part feels like resignation to me. It’s either Janus is trying to help, but that didn’t work so he resigns to become the “villain” of the light sides. It could allude to the dark sides as a whole: they are all trying to help Thomas in their ways, but because being themselves doesn’t work, they need the villain, spooky facade.

Anywhere: Ooh, I’m seeing a vintage vibe from all of this... Back to the song. “It’s a beautiful / If you’ve been lied to” is a good callback to the whole “society is built on lies” from SvS from Jay Dee. “Let this be a call to arms / At the changing of the avante garde / Nothing in this world... is beautiful.” Is Janus a pessimist? If so, he’s a good juxtaposition to Patton, the optimist. Also, the vocals remind me of like a really old timey radio, semi-haunted... my instincts say that it feels like the singer is like Harrison Bergeron (Kurt Vonnegut; do read it; it’s a good short story) trying to tell the truth about this world that people think is a good place.

Talking at the Same Time: Someone please draw Janus as like a 1920s gentleman character swaggering... wait I can. This song reminds me of “Why don’t you do right” by Jessica Rabbit on “Who Framed Roger Rabbit.” Jazz or blues? Either one. This song is really depressing? I don’t know why, but there is that feel of everything is hopeless. Pessimistic, again. “A tiny boy... made a sword from a stick and a gun from his hand” reminds me of Roman in a way? But then again, the “we bailed out all the millionaires / they’ve got the fruit / We’ve got the rind” doesn’t remind me of Roman.

all the good girls go to hell: “MY LUCIFER IS LOOONELYY”... sorry I love this song. Anyways, the lyrics really speak to Janus just because of the whole duality and Christian metaphors. Also, J is the side who would definitely “want the Devil on her team”. We love the whole duality motif. I just *chef’s kiss x3*.

Denial: OH MY GOSH THE SVS REDUX... J was denial. HE WAS DENIAL. “Just don’t shut your eyes closed / Not until I get it off my chest” is basically the blindfold metaphor that happened throughout SvS, so would this be the message he wants to send to Thomas and Patton... or maybe the entire light sides. “Have you turned a corner? / Do you think of leaving me behind?” Dark side acceptance arc? Also, “I know you’re looking for direction... I know where you wanna go / Oh I do, but do you?” is to Roman and Thomas for the callback because he knew they wanted to go “so bad.”

(click for more analysis and summary!)

Trust in Me: Of course, snek boi, I knew this could be something you’ll put in. But do we trust you? So this is his suave villainy song. This again shows how Bananaconda child operates; he wants Thomas to trust him and be selfish but excessively. That’s why balance is necessary for all of the sides!

Razzle Dazzle: *gasp* MUSICAL SONGS NOW? YASSS. Definition is “noisy, showy, and exciting activity and display designed to attract and impress,” so the whole facade of being fancy to hide the insecurities and “bad” parts. Sounds like someone we know (*cough* ROMAN *cough*). “What if your hinges all are rusting / What if, in fact, you’re just disgusting? / Razzle dazzle ‘em and they’ll never catch wise” is just a jab and a stab at Roman. Or maybe it’s him. He’s also the dramatic one. If so, we have angst arriving.

When the Chips are Down: HADESTOWN OH MY YES! STRINGS! AAAAA! Does Janus give me Fate vibes in a way? Yes, definitely. “Nobody’s righteous / Nobody’s proud / Nobody’s innocent / Now that the chips are down” Holy CRAPP. It’s the perfect response to Patton’s “Nobody’s perfect... except for Thomas, he loves his friends!” in SvS. Now that the “chips are down,” Thomas should take after himself... after all, the Fates were telling Eurydice to look after herself. Sounds like what Janus said to Thomas after the Redux.

Mandy Goes to Med School: Oh. Um. This sounds like the whole jazz/20′s theme. This song’s apparently about abortion? I’m kinda confused, so feel free to add on! But it’s quite the bop, just listening to it. Maybe the whole thought that society makes laws based on a false conception? Help.

I Put A Spell On You: Janus definitely goes to jazz clubs. “I can’t stand it ‘cause you put me down” and “I tell ya I ain’t lyin’” and “Because you’re mine” makes the whole villainesque feel. I don’t know where this was from, but this stands out to me just because it was on the “Friends on the Other Side Mashup”. 

Evil Night Together: Ominous, and then jazzy. Jay Dee’s flirting skills go to the max. This also gives the villain vibe by the lyrics referencing things that Remus would be fond about. Also, “Who’s gonna make you a hero” seems to be directed to Roman like he did in SvS. This is a very seductive song with really dark undertones about crime. Janus, that slimy snek boi is a lawful neutral to evil. 

Dont’ Tell Mama: Cabaret... a classic musical, eh? “Hush up, don’t tell mama / Shush up, don’t tell mama” goes to Janus’ power to silence people. “If you had a secret, you bet I would keep it / I would never tell on you...” Janus is definitely the one about lies and secrets, so that goes to that.

You’re a Cad: “What’s the point pretending that you could be a better man? / Just give in, since you always end up right back where you began” “You’re a rascal and a rogue, a villain and a crook” is the other sides viewing him, and “Still I tug at your line, I’m a fish on your hook” and “I should be better, but I’m worse” is hinting at some Janus angst. I think it’s going to be something about trust

As Far as I Can See: JANUS ANGST TRUCKING IN ON TO YA: “Nobody loves me / As far as I can tell.” Or even “Nobody’s listening as far as I can tell / And when I’m crying out / Nobody cries back for me.” Haha... I’m totally fine (*sobbing*). Also, the “we’re all going down / all down the staircase aboard” either hints at the Redux statement of pushing people off staircases... or maybe Virgil who went down the staircase and left the dark sides. Gosh, I thought this was gonna be a hype song by the beat, but I stand corrected.

Criminal: Oh, so the angst continues. Great. Totally great. This somehow links back to the bloopers of Thomas, as J, saying “I’m not bad; I’m just drawn that way.” This is peak sarcasm in a way, but I don’t really know. “I’ve done wrong and I wanna suffer for my sins / I’ve come to you cause I need guidance to be true / And I just don’t know where I can begin”... is this from Thomas to Janus or the other way? If it’s from Thomas, Janus is kinda mad and is using as much sass as he wants. If it’s from Janus, it’s either he’s lying or he genuinely wants a redemption arc like Virgil did... but in a not so righteous way with “And I need to be redeemed / To the one I’ve sinned against / Because he’s all I ever knew of love.” I don’t really know, but this is such a bop.

Change: “I’ve been thinking it’s just someone else’s job to care / Who am I to sympathize when no one gives a d-” and “” Wow. Janus has his similarities with Logan. He wants to be listened to the sides. I mean, there is a reason why he impersonates the light sides: to be listened without bias. “Change is a powerful thing / I feel it coming in me” foreshadows some good stuff with Janus! YES! Also, “Maybe by the time this song is done / I’ll be able / To be honest” and the rest of the lyrics just hit me like a truck? It hurts the soul in a way. Change is inevitable is the message, so would that mean Janus could have an upgrade? I mean, the change started when SvS Redux happened with him coming out and being accepted by the light sides, so maybe, maybe things will change from there in a good way.

Devil In The Details: “A house of cards / A supple heart / Is not a place to dwell”.... Patton? Oh no. “But know there’s no backing out / This is gonna be reality / You can never dream it out” is going to his reputation and relations with the sides and Thomas? He seemed to have hesitated to say his name and let his reputation down since that would change everything that he has known over the years. Would this mean the dark and light side thing will break in later episodes? Maybe. “I put the past into the ground / I saw the future as a cloud / If there’s still time to turn around / I’m going to” is a big oof. And then... “I am the first one I deceive / If I can make myself believe / The rest is easy” comes in. Is Janus lying to himself? He’s the manifestation of deceit, but is he also doing that to himself? Or it could be to Thomas. But then again...

Come Little Children: Spooky. Nice. This feels like a lullaby. “It must be this way / To weary of life and deceptions / Rest now my children...” and then “The time’s come to play / Here in my garden of shadows” make me think that Janus thinks that this life is quite... painful. I am not too sure about this, tell me what y’all think!

Into The Unknown: Oh it’s not that one. It’s the one from Over The Garden Wall (the animation if I remember it right). I don’t know why, but I saw Come Little Children and connected that to Into the Unknown as words, so that was cool. “Dancing in a swirl / Of golden memories / The loveliest lies / Of all” refers to nostalgia. This song is about nostalgia. Wait. OH WAIT. Patton’s room is all about that... so would that mean nostalgia is also part of Jay Dee too because of the mood around it that is distorted by emotions? That’s something really cool to think about. One more: “If dreams can’t come true / Then why not pretend?” I feel like this points to Virgil in a way because his dream is complete acceptance, but Janus knows V was a dark side, so maybe he’s hinting at Virgil pretending to compensate for the fact that he is a dark side.

Summary:

Janus’ aesthetic would be a 1920-40 vintage theme with jazz on the background, strings and piano used ominous effect, and being flashy and dramatic. He wants to be listened to the other sides, so he puts up different disguises (like to Pat and Lo), which includes his villain facade he put on for the past maybe 2 or 3 years. He strongly believes that society is built on lies, and like in SvS, he doesn’t want Thomas to be disadvantaged in the said society. He loves the whole duality and juxtapositions (I mean, his name is Janus for a good reason) because he embraces them both. He jabs at several sides for them faking themselves to hide their true feelings, but then again, he might also be lying to himself. He knows that change is inevitable after the whole name reveal, and we know that his acceptance arc is going to come. It could be about trust and facing the reality... just my thoughts. In other words, this playlist gave me a bunch of reasons on why Janus is a great morally gray character.

FEEL FREE TO ADD ON! I LOVE SHARING THOUGHTS! Especially with analysis, more people means more thoughts and new ideas and theories. Thank you! 

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Ground Rules

Geralt lays down the law with the help of yennefer after catching the reader haveing a bit of me time in the bath.

Masterlist

Ok this took all day as i couldnt stop tweaking it and i got to the point iv just got to step back and throw it out there or im gonna scream.Any way this is to go along with pastry negotiations its based after that one so could be considered part two? can be read stand alone tho in all honesty these modern reader inserts are gonna jump about in timeline cos my plot bunnys are twats. Im basing my Ciri on a mix of mature netflix Ciri and slightly mischievous witcher 3 Ciri. Any way i hope you enjoy this one im pretty pleased with it xx 

WARNING: Adult Themes, Smut, DubCon Swearing MxFxF 18+

Dont like it dont read it.

Geralt snaps when you take matters into your own hands.

The Ground Rules

"Well someone is excited" Jaskier drolled as he watched your form slowly creating distance between you as you marched ahead.

As the small rickety town came into veiw you cried out a victorious and dramatic "still alive" causing eye rolls and chuckles in the group. Honestly this was the first real town you'd come to since being here and you were thrilled. Sure you'd passed a tiny smattering of houses four or so days ago where you'd traded for some bread, tiny amount of dried meat and a few other essentials oh! and yenn had managed to replace your pastry to the amusment of the resident witcher. They'd both been more open with you since the whole pastry incident-which you thought was an off handed comment on yennefers part but she and geralt had since indicated otherwise.

The people in the village had mentioned of a near by town that was rumoured to have a contract out on a nest of some monster thingamajigs that you hadn't botherd to remeber the name of .You looked down the verge towards the town with immediate thoughts of eat, bathe and sleep- on a bed, a real fucking bed ,ok so it wont be a temper mattress but you could live with that-oh my fucking god hot water,a nice loooong soak you moaned in your throat the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You walked ahead trying to usher the group.

And maybe you could have your own room. Honestly sharing a bed with the couple was becoming an issue for you,your crush on them was definatly getting out of control now constantly blushing under their heated glances and they are becoming more touchy feely, Hands lingering longer than nesscasary or leaning in so close so thier breath tickled the hairs on your neck basically doing anything to get you flustered and you swear to god yesterday yennefer copped a feel whilst helping you threw a small steam which you didn't need help with;not that she listened. Bottom line you were becoming sexualy frustrated pretty much staying in a constant state of arousal a night away from them to take care of business would be very much appreciated. 

"Come ooooonnnn guys keep up" you turned looking back at them drawing out your whine befor resuming towards the town

"Someone should catch up with her she looks like a girl on a mission" Yennefer commented 

"Yes. Ciri would you keep her near the main gate and out of trouble while we settle roach in the stables ,here take her this she should cover up befor anyone gets any ideas" geralt grunted as your form began to dissapear down the brow of the hill ,ciri looked between the two before shrugging grabbing his offered cloak then ran to catch up with you.

You glanced to the side as you heard footsteps noticing Ciri fall in step with you she held out his cloak.

"Here geralt said to cover up before people get any ideas" you sighed it wasnt your fault his shirt hung off of you showing a large amount of shoulder and chest luckily when the hoover portal of doom sucked you in you were in fleece lined black leggings that had been durable enough to survive the last 3 weeks on the road(your stitch t shirt hadn't survived your initial fall) because you doubt he'd have anything your hips would get in to. Rolling your eyes you pulled the heavy fabric across your shoulders repostioning it so that it wasnt draging on the floor to much but was still sheilding your body. 

"He's such a dad" Ciri giggled nodding in agreement befor reciting what esle geralt had requested ordered. You scoffed shaking your head

"So he doesnt even trust me to walk through a town, he does realise im an adult right? That i can do things with out causing trouble. i mean for god sake im not jaskier" she snorted 

"I think its more like he doesnt want other men trying to sleep with you" you did a double take 

"The hell you know about that sort of shit? has Jaskier been corrupting you?"

 A knowing smirk crossed her face as she held her hands up coming to a halt facing you just inside the wooden gates of the town.

"You think i havent noticed whats going on by myself, Geralt likes you so does yenn jaskiers noticed to, think he's going to write a song" 

"He better bloody not and anyway maybe i want to find a companion for the night." You announced tersely crossing your arms only to freeze as you heard a growl from behind you.

"Oh yes, i may have forgot to mention that witchers are senses are really sensetive" she smiled sweetly, you gaped why were you only being told this now. Looking between her and the others approaching.

"Wh-what how the fuck you leave that out? d-do you think he heard us? from back there" She nodded 

"Most definitely" you gulped feeling yourself shrink into Geralts cloak a little at the looks you received from Geralt and Yennefer as he spoke to her telling her what youd just said.oh fuck.

"when you say senses you mean all of 'em? Not just one or two?" hoping beyond hope that something had been lost in translation.

"Nope all of them sight, smell, hearing the whole lot" she replied watching the colour drain from your horror sticken face. You'd been getting wet over the past few days. And the realisation that he probably knew embarrassed the shit out of you. Geralt smirked obviously he heard.You were so fucked.he knew and if he knew then she knew.oh my god. You were sooo fucked.'whelp there goes my dignity' you thought. He strode past you to the mediocre stables with roach in toe ready to hitch her for the night.Jaskier and yenn followed pulling some of the bags off of the horse then passing them out to their respective owners. Geralt then stood before you all giving you all the 'game plan' as you call it.

"we will find an inn and eat after that you get settled in for the night whist i see about this contract."

"don't bother about me tonight im going to catch myself a young fair maiden for the night" you scoffed at Jaskier's announcement drawing his attention

"Sounding like a creeper there Jask, what? you gonna do throw a net in the tavern? don't think they'd take to kindly to that" he huffed through his nose aggravated. 

"No im going to sing in the tavern and lure a beauty to my side for the night" you played along widening your eyes in false realization

"oohh so your gonna go pay for it, how does it work exactly is it by hour or-" Geralt quickly intervened covering your mouth one to stop the inevitable spat and two before you could corrupt Ciri any further Jaskier deadpanned giving you a flat look.

"you're welcome to come find out for yourself im sure your just Itching  to get some relief-"

"JASKIER! you go ahead at least try to keep a bit of coin back this time" Jaskier 1 Y/n 0.

You glowered behind Geralt's hand as he dismissed the smirking bard who turned on his heel prancing off quite pleased with himself. You smacked Geralt's hand away wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before slowly making your way down the street into town.It had taken nearly half an hour to find a decent inn that had room for the four of you. A room with two double beds that had a heavy curtain to split the room into two it was usually rented by traveling families. You groaned as you walked in, now you really couldn't take care of business, you followed Ciri as she placed her bag on the bed on the left following suit you placed yours on the other half of it only to have Yennefer quickly relocated it to her side of the other bed. Ciri snorted giving you a knowing look.you sighed then stomped across the room. Knowing all to well that it was futile to argue with the sorceress ,the witcher was stubborn but she was something else. Geralt handed a small pouch of coin to Yennefer.

"This is for the new clothes Ciri needs a thicker cloak preferably fur lined maybe new boots to not sure how long those will last in the mountains." yennefer hummed as she pocketed the money. 

"And the clothes for Y/n as well?" 

"Yes, should be enough there for what we discussed if not i'v got a bit more saved" you raised your brows blinking at them.

"err what was discussed? guys? what did you talk about? was it about me? helloooo" you waved as they ignored you.Yennefer pulled off her cloak leaving it on her side of the bed. you and Ciri followed their lead only for Geralt the tug yours back across you giving a sharp look as you rolled your eyes.The group made its way down into the quiet main room of the family run inn where you were served a meal of roast beef with vegetable trimmings ,before you knew it Geralt had left to find out about the contract with a final 'Behave' thrown in your direction.To which you grunted in response,too full to even tell him to 'jog on' - a phrase that still frustrated the witcher as he didn't know the meaning-. Yennefer had asked for a bath before your meal which you were just informed was ready leaving you alone with the sorceress. You had all decided Ciri would have the bath first then you, yennefer and finally geralt if he was back before it got cold.

"I cant breath" yennefer laughed out loud you rubbed your tummy closing your eyes

"I mean honestly, I think theres food in my lungs" groaning leaning back against the chair she gave a sympathetic smile

"Well you did inhale your food, maybe next time take it easy."

"Can you blame me, been the first meat iv recognized since i got here" It was true so far you'd been living on meats that you wouldn't have necessarily chose to eat back home rabbit,mutton venison ect.

"After we've bathed we will rest for the day but tomorrow we have to run over to the seamstress and get your new clothes, not sure how long we will be here and might have to order some or have them taken up,you are a little thing.Might have to have some leather work done too." you squinted pointing an accusing finger at her

"You calling me a midget? we going for shots now are we?" she smiled sheepishly

"No .no shots?. i just meant your petite don't worry its very cute. Anyway we are only picking up the basics a few day dresses ,Riding clothes boots that sort of thing" you blinked owlishly flushing as she called you cute. 

"Riding clothes yes. Dresses no thank you" she stared unblinking at you for a few moments making you squirm at the calm expectant gaze that was getting heavier by the second, it was like the eyes of a mother when you'd been caught doing some dumb shit you knew you shouldn't be doing.

"Stop it....Yenn no... cant i just get something like Geralt has..please... i'd be much more comfortable...even Jaskier i mean im not one for the puffy bits but 'd make do....."

she blinked slowly

"Oh fine but only one or two no more and your not getting rid of these leggings either" you gave in, her gaze was to unnerving and it did things to you. Her face lit up. She was looking forward to seeing you in feminine gown instead of a her and Geralt's shirts not that she minded but it'd be a nice change to your strange stetchy leggings (not that she minded you in the form fitting bottoms) She moved leaning in to your side hand on your thigh patting it lightly.

"Thank you, don't be so worried i will take good care of everything" you gulped as you felt the flushed skin of your face grow hotter,your core clenching and warming at her sultry reply you closed your eyes trying to regain a bit of control. Suddenly her attention was drawn to a pink skinned Ciri who had finished her bath and changed Yenn nodded and released your thigh. You bolted upstairs hearing a chuckle as you did.

Once in the room you sighed in relief, making your way towards the screened off section that held a large oval tub full of steaming water. Discarding your clothes as you all but melted into the hot water.You submerged yourself getting your hair wet scratching tentatively at your scalp that had begun to ache under the grime. Spotting a small stool with what you'd consider toiletries, a bar of hard sweet smelling soap and a few vials.You grabbed the soap, opting for using it for your hair as well unsure what vials did what and went where.After scrubbing all the built up sweat and dirt you you closed your eyes lounging back against the slanted end tub you relaxed a few moments it wasn't long before you were feeling much better ,tired muscles succumbing to the soothing hot water.your body hummed. 'no one would have to know' as your summarized that this was the perfect opportunity to relieve yourself of other tensions, 

'its not like geralt could smell you under water, i mean i dont think dogs can thats why criminals cross rivers when their being hunted on tv isn't it?' biting your lip you peaked an eye open and listened out carefully feeling naughty when you began moving your hand to the apex of your thighs gasping as your finger ghosted over your hardened bundle of nerves .Fuck. Your clit was sensitive not surprising when Geralt and Yennefer had practically edged you for nearly a week. You whined quietly as you began a fast rhythm on your clit ,other hand slinking down to your opening rubbing your fingers up and down the warm weeping hole. You bit off a groan as your hips gyrated against your roaming hands. Stomach tensing as you drove yourself faster and faster to the edge.Almost there.Fuck almost-you jumped hissing 'shit' ,ripping your hands away from yourself , sitting up fast enough to make your head spin splashing a wave of water over the floor when you heard the door open slamming the wall beside it.

"err theres some one in here!" you called out loudly, angry at who ever just interrupted you.You got nervous as the heavy steps quickly made their way towards you.Realizing who ever it was didn't care for your modesty as they were coming your way you slung your top half out of the tub to grasp the towel screaming because before you could grasp it and cover yourself a large calloused hand enveloped your shoulder shoving you back into the water.

"WH-GERALT THE FUCK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME." you shouted at him as he released you then you looked down slapping your hands down to cover your self as he raised his eyebrows and gave a lop sided grin.He defiantly looked like the big bad wolf in that moment eyes ablaze with a hunger you wasn't sure you wanted to explore or not. Collecting yourself swallowing dryly before scolding him in a voice that seemed to become smaller with each word.

"hey! get the fuck out im trying to bathe you prick" you heard the door open and close again in a less violent fashion. And suprize suprize yennefer glided into view behind the .

"Thats not all you were doing tho was it? i can fucking smell you" was growled at you as geralt wet his lips you squeaked. 

"huh? b-but.. i thought..w-water" you stuttered out as your brain malfunctioned on on an epic scale. Yennefer gave out a loud laugh.

"so thats why he tore threw the inn like that.honestly Geralt i thought something was wrong" she continued laughing as she replayed the way geralt had all but vaulted the tables to get to the stairs. you pouted throughly humiliated

"something is wrong" he ground out before kneeling beside you .Shifting you tired to create some distance from him. He was having none of that wasting no time thrusting his hands into the water tugging away your shielding hand the other forcing its way between your legs. You slammed back against the tub gasping trying to get away. All you'd achieved was his hand pinning your hips to the back of the bath by your pussy

"GERALT WHA-"  

"Lets lay down some ground rules" He squeezed your throbbing heat in his hand curling his fingers dangerously close to your opening you bucked moaning breathlessly .Your eyes searched Yennefer's for help but she wore a similar hungry look that he had. Another slow squeeze brought your attention back to the brooding alpha male in the room.

"This is ours.ours to lick,suck and fuck as we see fit, to do what we please with and is off limits to your wandering little hands we clear on that?" You groaned out as he emphasized certain words with teasing brushes of fingers and a slow rub of his palm. Realizing that he might actually be serious.You nodded quickly babbling as he rocked his hand back and forth igniting the heat that you had built alone.

"C-crystal-please Geralt PLease" You threw your head back as his hand moved deliberate and teasing.

"You think you deserve it? after being caught up here playing with yourself?" You nodded then shook your head confused, unable to really concentrate on anything apart from his magnificent hand ,half lidded eyes and clenching your fingers tight around the thumb he was using it to control your movements as your body whithered under his ministrations.

"Really?" He said smirking as he held completely still you sucked through your teeth biting back curses.He chuckled smug bastard. moving trying to get some friction to no avail.

"Well we have been teasing the poor thing ,of course shes going to try sorting herself out the first chance she gets .Honestly Geralt what did you expect? i did tell you" yennefer reasoned as she stood behind you combing threw your wet hair you before grasping your free hand pulling it up out of the way kissing your palm before ghosting her nose down your neck pressing soft kisses along it you mewled at her and tried to coax geralt to continue again by rolling your hips.

"I suppose we could let her off this time" His voice was pure sex as he glanced down before giving into pushing two thick fingers up into you. his breach of your walls had an initial sting but was incredible as your needy walls tried sucking him deeper greedy to be filled.

"oh-oh fuck Ger-please" you arched your back pushing down onto his hand clutching onto Yennefer's wrist. you were so hot .fuck.he was gonna make you cum too quick. You panted throwing your head side to side as your legs tensed then raised up towards your torso, your pussy wrapped tight around Geralts fingers as he held them deep every few thrusts making you feel just how your walls rippled around him. he alternated between fast and shallow then slow and deep trying to build you up slowly he wasn't going to rush you, he was skilled enough to walk you up to the edge and throw you off whenever he damn well pleased. You'd never been this desperate in your life . Yenn's cool fingers delicately teased out your nipples pinching and flicking them until they stood out provocatively. You rocked against the both of them as Geralt made sure to start dragging your clit up and down with his palm as he finger fucked you curling his fingers searching for that small spot that'd send your mind reeling. Yenn had leaned down kissing your cheek and begun whispering lowly into your ear.

"He knows what he's doing doesn't he?Iit wont take him long to find every single spot you have, thats the thing with bedding a witcher they are much more observant then regular men. I have no doubt he will know when your going to orgasm before you do.He has the ability to force them out of nowhere when ever he pleases.. He is quite cruel like that" you moaned out loud snapping your head back high pitched and vulgar sounds tore from your throat as Geralts invading fingers began rubbing furiously back and forth on a soft spot inside of you.Unable to control yourself as your legs and tummy spasmed erratically as your tearfull moans and pleas filled the room

"Thats it oh i think iv found it~" he boasted as he moved his elbow pinning a knee to the side of the tub leaving your clit cruelly exposed for Yennefer,they shared a look as she moved her hand down to join Geralts taking over to rub small firm circles on your exposed clit.

"oh-OH fuck noNOno i cant please i ca-UGh to-Too much please FUCK" Yennefer was quick to swallow your moans in a kiss of clashing teeth and tongues before any one could hear ,tears streamed down your face as your body ached your pussy contracting painfully around his swiping digits. Pulling back for air the sorceress placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulders leaving red marks with her teeth and sucking bites.

"Good girl your being sooo good you don't have to ask this time" she praised as she reached your ear befor sucking harshly below your jaw. you were quickly becoming putty in their hands Geralt growled as he picked up the begining tremors of your orgasm.

"Look at me" you obeyed instantly moaning as you watched the white wolf pull his lip up in a snarl that would have scared you any other time.

"This is what you were made for, your ours, we own you, mind body and soul we own every whimper ,every tear ,every orgasm and hole they are ours for the taking when ever we choose,from now only ecstasy you will know is what we give you" You'd never have guessed how filthy his mouth could be but it seemed to have the desired effect as a sudden rush of heat was your only warning before rearing up screaming out, not sure if you'd shut your eyes or blacked out for a moment as you gushed into the bath water.Geralt pressed into you persistent while Yennefer's hand continued the tight circles efficiently drawing out the best orgasm your ever had.Finally their movements ceased and your body went limp wracked trembling in the aftermath as your orgasm ebbed away slowly. After giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath Geralt removed his fingers you whimpered inside's still so sensitive after your orgasm, sucking on them he moaned deep and feral before plucking your clenched fingers off his thumb. Yennefer quickly wiped your pussy gently clearing the cum from between your swollen lips. Making you twitched as the cloth ran over you.Pulling you from the bath was a joint effort as they rested you on the bed and began patting you dry with the towel.Moaning in protest as your arms waved loosely trying to take over only having your hand smacked away as they finished.Lying back looking up at them bleary eyed trying to stay awake you felt like jelly, giving up fighting you rolled over yawning tucking your arms below your head Yennefer tilted her head stroking your hair sending you into a relaxed sleep.

"Poor dear ,Oh look at her geralt shes all fucked out and we haven't even fucked her yet" 

"hmm she'll be ok we just need to work on her stamina" he replied patting your bottom as he pulled the cover over your washed out form.Geralt panicked

"Shit wheres Ciri?"

"well when you came charging in down stairs i told her to go find Jaskier and stay there until one of us came to get her" Yennefer said with a sly grin he shook his head and scooped her up kissing her passionately. As he took a few steps to the now vacant bath

"well the bath is still warm care to join me?"

"with pleasure lets try not to wake her tho"

.

See you soon xxx

[datawyrms]

Prove it with one hand behind your back

Dannymay day 12: Gloves There is reference to the events in Hypothesis, but can be read stand alone. Now Ao3′d “Uhhh, Danny?” Jazz called up the stairs, laundry basket under her arm.

“What? I’ll get my stuff when it’s dry!” Her brother yelled back down, apparently not interested in leaving his room so they could speak semi-normally.

“Normally it would be my duty as your sister to throw your wash on the floor. Were you aware your laundry is glowing?”

Her frazzled brother appeared at the stairs then, taking them two at a time. “Geeze Jazz, tell the whole neighborhood why don’t ya?” he hissed as he passed.

“Mom and Dad aren’t here, and you’re welcome.”

“Obviously. Jerk.” he made an exaggerated frown at her before ducking into the washer, dragging out handfuls of the expected tee-shirts and jeans followed by an impressive amount of mismatched lightly glowing gloves.

“You’re taking trophies now?” she raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of it. Not a single one had a pair, and none of them were even his ghost form’s hazmat gloves. Quite a few of them looked rather elaborate, some very interesting embroidered patterns making it obviously not something of her brother’s making. Delicacy was not his strong suit.

“Huh? No! These are-” he paused, taking a breath as he covered the glowing handwear with several shirts. “You remember that whole Sam got dragged to the ghost zone because Aragon’s an idiot thing?”

“The self important dragon shapeshifter with some serious hangups and anger issues?”

“Yeah, that one.” he nodded, rubbing at his chin. “Did I mention Dora sort of knighted us for helping drive him out of power?”

“No, but I’m pretty used to you leaving out important details by now.” Jazz smirked as her little brother rolled his eyes.

“It was nice of her and all but apparently they have a sort of tradition in her Kingdom? Where to show you’re worthy of joining the Queen’s guard you challenge one of the newest knights to a duel.” Danny paused to fish out one of the gloves. “Giving over a glove is basically how they ask for that duel. All very formal, I’d write it down if I could explain how I know without completely blowing my cover.”

“So you’ve got a bunch of medieval ghosts throwing gloves at you and wanting to duel...and you decided to wash them. At home.” Jazz crossed her arms. “Seriously?’

“Where else was I gonna do it? I thought they’d make decent proof so show Dad ghosts have society and rules.” He paused, throwing the glowing thing back under his regular clothes. “Then I remembered there’s no way I could explain how I got these. So now they’ll just smell nice in Sam’s closet or something.”

“Your closet a little too risky this time?”

“Nope. All of these belong to Sam. She’s the one getting all the challenges, not me.” he glanced down at his basket. “I think she named some of these.”

“It’s it a little unfair for a ghost to fight a human? That goes against the whole honourable and fair thing it seems to be going for.”

The half ghost grinned. “That’s what they think! Challenged gets to set the rules, and it turns out ghost knights are really, really bad at adjusting to ground only combat.”

Jazz blinked, the part that had been bothering her clicking into place. “Wait, so there’s that many because you’re still the newest knights?”

“Wasted every single challenger. I keep trying to convince them they’ll have a better shot against me, but noooo, they insist on trying to best the ‘breathing banshee’.” he shrugs. “Most of em would absolutely wreck me in a proper fight, I don’t usually need to fight ‘fair’ or anything.”

“So why don’t they go after Tucker? Getting all the way out here for a tradition can’t be easy.”

“He still insists he’s Friar Tuck. You don’t swordfight the clergy. None of them have actually called him on it, so maybe he is?” his brow furrowed, thinking on that. “Maybe I should ask Dora that sometime. Find out if we need to worry about some ghost pope later. Would not want to be the guy who punched the dragon queen’s ghost pope.”

Jazz couldn’t suppress a snort, easily able to picture such a mishap. “A year ago if you said that I’d say you should be committed. Now I’m just nodding along.”

“Even if you were saying it now, I’d get out.” A wicked grin accompanied a flash of green eyes.

“Very funny, dork.” Still, the idea was worth thinking about. “Well I can see why you wanted to try using them as proof.” The project was rather important to Danny, seeing as it was his best shot to get their parents to re-evaluate their ‘ghosts are mindless’ stance. “Maybe you could get Tucker to film a fight? Sam keeping ‘contaminated’ gloves wouldn’t seem that weird, and the variety can prove it’s not just one ghost mindlessly repeating the same behaviour.”

“I’d still be stuck explaining how Sam became ‘Sir Manson’ in the ghost zone. Which seems like a disaster waiting to happen.” his shoulders sagged. “They’ll think I made it up or Tucker did some video editing.”

“I still think it’s worth trying. Sam’s got a rich family, you could probably think up an excuse that she’s practically ‘royalty’ and that’s why they come.”

“Eh. Maybe. Don’t tell Sam but I’m giving the challengers tips now. The sooner they stop coming, the sooner I can stop getting all antsy about a ghost attack where I find out it’s another steel welding glove thrower.”

Jazz set her shoulders, determined to get some of that humour back in her dispirited sibling. “Use that. They owe you if you help them out, don’t they?”

“Well, I guess they do. Like I’ve had them tell me stories about what it’s like for them, if they remember stuff or have always been ghosts, they’re pretty chatty to a ‘fellow of the sword’...but it’s all stuff I write down. I can’t prove a ghost told me. I can’t film it, or have Dad listen in. The second they call me ‘Sir Phantom’ I’m toast.”

“He said he’d at least listen to what you found, right? It can be a starting point, and if you have some really specific detail it’s less likely that you made the whole thing up.” she stopped to ruffle his hair. “That, and if you were going to make something up, you’d have some star ghosts or ecto-aliens.”

“I would not!”

“Yes you would. And you’d draw them little space ships and everything.”

“...Okay maybe I’d make up some ships.”

“A lot of ships. With long complicated names. With scientific reasons for those names. Cus your my dorky little brother.”

“Well you’re my nagging big sister. You get to be the black hole equivalent.” 

“Just don’t give up on the idea so quickly, okay? It’s a good one, and it really can’t hurt too much to try.”

A small smile returned as he elbowed her “Careful, or they’ll think you’re being influenced by ghosts too.”

“It’s not like their theories can have any more concrete proof than yours does. What are they?”

“Dad thinks ectoplasm naturally ‘homes in’ on stuff over here, and that’s how they’re finding the portal.” he closes his eyes, foot kicking at the floor. “He’s got this box thing? A lot of box things with different kinds of ectoplasm to see if they move towards ‘our world’ over time. I keep forgetting it’s floating right next to the portal and almost kick it.” his face turns into a grimace. “Dad thinks ‘that ghost kid’ is messing with his experiment on purpose now, so that sucks.”

“Well you could mess with it on purpose, that would be intelligent.”

“Nope. That would be the ‘natural aggressive action’ towards human materials. Tried it.”

“What’s mom’s hypothesis then?”

“That the portal always being here makes this part of Earth more ectoplasm rich so they’re drawn to enter here instead.” he waves a hand. “She’s half right? I don’t think strong ghosts can go all that long without ducking back home to recharge. She’s using the frequency of ‘higher level’ ghosts as proof that they ‘need’ a certain level to function outside of the ghost zone.”

“Another theory you’re accidentally stomping all over.”

“Since they almost never spot ‘Phantom’ going back to the Zone, yeah. I apparently account for ninety four percent of all ghost sightings. Yet only three percent of that is being spotted outside of a fight. Which sounds really bad! No wonder they think I only think about fighting other ghosts.” he rubbed at the back of his head. “I think she plans to test that by uh. Sticking a ghost in a place with no ectoplasm to see how long they hold out, if at all. So I’ve kinda been...making sure she can’t do that.” he swallows, his glance towards his sister more timid than anything. “It'd be a really, really nasty way to die. From what I heard.”

“Good for you. She’ll thank you once you prove that sort of thing would be unethical.”

His frown didn’t move. “If I prove it. So far I’ve just proven they really don’t like that ghost kid.”

“From what I’ve heard you’re the one with the most solid proof. Once you’ve shown everything you’ve collected, then you could try convincing them to see for themselves you aren’t making it up.” Jazz urged, not wanting to watch her little brother give up again.

“Even if I could convince Dad to come in the specter speeder with me we’d scare most ghosts off. The ones we don’t might want to beat me up, or not use a name I can’t explain away.”

“Sam gets to set when one of those challenges happens right? Invite him to one of those.”

He blinked. “...I guess that might work. If Sam made it clear that they couldn’t say my name under any circumstances. There’s one lady who keeps coming, insists she’s going to be the one to get to succeed after ‘Slapping Sir Manson with her glove’, she might be down for that…” he caught the weird look Jazz was giving him. “Oh. Apparently if you’re rivals hitting the person with your glove is ‘provoking your betters’ into a fight? So it’s a respect thing? I don’t really get it. Sam thinks it’s great, which I didn’t see coming but I didn’t think we’d still be having ghost knight fights either.” he let out a breath. “I’m rambling again.”

“You know, if Mom and Dad could see how you talk about this stuff they’d know you aren’t making it up. Looks like ghost research does run in the family.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m a ghost hunter if anything. It’s just nice being able to chat instead of fight sometimes. The ghost zone is pretty neat. If you know, half the stuff in there wasn’t trying to skin me alive.”

“I still think you have a good shot. You know it’s true, so they’ll have to see it given enough time.”

“Maybe. Can’t really talk about this stuff to them though. Gee dad, how do I know about Frostbite? Well when I stole the Ecto-Skeleton and shoved back Pariah Dark this whole tribe of yetis decided I was their Great One. So now we’re pals. Oh what’s that dad, you say the ghost kid did that? Funny thing!” he dropped his arms with a scowl. “That’d go over like a lead balloon.”

“Maybe stick to the dragon queen society for now. It’s not like anyone over here saw that. Then you can expand into the rest of the friendly areas.” she put a hand on his shoulder. “One step at a time Danny, you’ll get there.”

“I hope so. If it doesn’t, I blame you if I’m torn molecule by molecule.”

“Ew Danny! Don’t be so morbid, it’s not good for your development.”

“Is it morbid if I’m dead?” he winced from his sister’s whack to the head. “Ow! Half!”

“Better. Now scram with all those gloves before someone thinks you robbed a ghost antique boutique.”

“You’re such a busybody Jazz.” the half ghost teased before darting off with his half spectral laundry. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to convince their parents, but he did seem to be on the right track. So of course it was her job to make sure he stuck to it. Siblings had to look out for each other, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Caught In Between 18. Lost In Thought

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 09.15.20

Word count: 2.6k

Based off: 03x15 “All My Children”

Masterlist

CIB Masterlist

The next morning I come out of my room to find Rebekah and Damon leaving his room, “Well surprise, surprise. Ah not really,” I say as they pass my bedroom.

“I thought you’d be with Nik last night, seeing as you two have been getting closer and closer by the minute, guess I was wrong,” Rebekah taunts.

I scoff and roll my eyes at her comment, “And why are you so worried about Klaus and me? Thought you didn’t like me very much,” I question crossing my arms.

“I just think that--” Rebekah starts.

“Let’s not get into this ladies,” Damon interrupts pushing Rebekah passed my room. I follow them downstairs as Damon escorts her to the front door. As Damon opens the door a very confused Elena is found behind it.

“Did you stop taking your vervain?” Elena asks after making her way into the house.

“You think Rebekah had to compel me?” Damon questions back while putting a shirt on.

“What’s wrong with you? She tried to kill me less than 48 hours ago,” Elena explains.

“Can’t we just move past that, Elena?” Damon asks making his way across the room.

“So is that how it’s gonna be now? I hurt your feelings, and this is how you lash out at me?” Elena asks as I settle myself on the couch.

“Well, maybe, for once. Something I did had nothing to do with you. Plus I don’t see you grilling Athena for her and Klaus’ little affair thing,” Damon states pointing over at me.

“Don’t put this on me,” I respond.

“She’s not actively sleeping with an original,” Elena defends me. “You should know…that Esther’s planning on killing her entire family. She’s linked them all together with a spell. Whatever happens to one happens to all of them,” Elena explains as I hop up from the couch as quickly as I could.

“That’s great. Klaus’ll finally be dead. We win,” Damon states happily. “Why do you two look like someone just shot a panda bear?” Damon asks noticing the upset looks on both Elena and I’s faces.

“Because to kill Klaus, she has to kill all of them, including Elijah,” Elena states.

“And he doesn’t deserve that,” I quickly state after.

“Exactly,” Elena agrees.

“What about Klaus, Athena? Don’t you have something say about killing him?” Damon questions.

“Just because I’m sired to him doesn’t mean I don’t think he deserves to die. He hurt me worse than anyone else has in my life,” I state.

“Sure. And I’m supposed to care about Elijah?” Damon asks.

“Shouldn’t you at least care about Rebekah?” Elena asks as I look at Damon raising my eyebrows.

“Two seconds ago, you were pissed that she attacked you. It’s a win-win,” Damon states. Elena tries to walk away but Damon quickly stops her. “Don’t do anything to screw this up, Elena.” Damon threatens.

“Why are you doing this?” Elena asks.

“He’s right, you know. Klaus has to die. They all do,” Stefan states coming from the hallway.

“See? Democracy in action,” Damon states before Elena leaves bumping him, spilling his drink.

“Look I know they’ve all hurt us one way or another but we all know Elijah doesn’t deserve to die. He’s done the least to us,” I state to the brothers.

“I think you’re outnumbered on this one sweetheart,” Damon responds. I don’t respond and decide to head upstairs not feeling up for dealing with the brothers anymore.

Once I made it to my room I found another box on my bed. Knowing who it was from, I moved it into my closet, out of sight out of mind. Except after a few minutes, I let my curiosity get the best of me...again. 

Once I opened the box, on top was a note that said, “I hope this inspires you, Klaus.” On the flip side was a small sketch of me in a field of sunflowers. What remained in the box was an array of art supplies, a sketchbook, and a few canvases. As much as I wanted to toss the supplies away, I missed sketching and painting as I hadn’t had time since moving to Mystic Falls. 

I spent most of the day sketching and just disappearing in my own world. A few hours had passed until I heard a knock on my door. I open it to find Damon, “Yes?” I question.

“You seem to be in a much better mood,” Damon states hearing the softness in my voice. “Have you heard from Eleana? She’s not answering her phone calls and Ric hasn’t seen her since this morning,” Damon explains.

“Uhhh… no, I haven’t talked to her since this morning,” I respond.

“Well, let me know if you do. Stefan is out looking for her right now,” Damon says.

“Oh for sure. Hope she’s alright,” I respond.

I spent a few more hours sketching and soon enough it ended up being dark. I forgot how lost I could get while drawing. Realizing that I needed to eat something I decide to head downstairs. Once I made it down, I saw Stefan make his way into the house.

“Can’t find her anywhere,” He says frustrated.

“Hello, Stefan,” I hear Elijah’s voice from the great room. Curious of what’s happening I make my way over and find the Salvatores by the door and Elijah in a chair by the fireplace.

“He has Elena,” Stefan states.

“Elijah,” I say disappointed.

“Actually she’s with Rebekah,” Elijah says disregarding my disapproval for what he’s done. “As you can imagine. My sisters just dying to tear her throat out. So if you want to save Elena’s life, I need you to help me stop my mother,” Elijah explains.

“I’m a little embarrassed to admit, but when it comes to killing thousand-year-old resurrected witches, I’m a little rusty,” Damon responds.

“Yes, unfortunately even when killed, my mother doesn’t seem to want to stay dead, not with the spirits of nature at her side,” Elijah says.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Stefan asks stepping forwards.

“The witches that released my mother, she’s drawing her power from their bloodline. That bloodline needs to be broken,” Elijah explains.

“Broken?” I question.

“Yeah, he means…” Damon says and puts a finger to his throat meaning killed.

“You want us to kill them,” Stefan says.

“You know I’d do it myself, but I’ve absolutely no idea where they are. Besides, seeing me, they’d immediately know my intent. They won’t expect to be harmed by the likes of you.” Elijah explains getting up from this seat. “In any case, you have until 6 minutes after 9:00 to find them,” Elijah says.

“Oh, how superspecific of you,” Damon says annoyed.

“By 9:07 the moon’ll be full, my mother will have the power she needs to kill me and my family. If you do not stop her before then, Rebekah will kill Elena. So we all have our timeline. I suggest you get started,” Elijah says before letting himself out.

“And you were saying about Elijah being undeserving of dying?” Damon questions at me. I just scoff and head back up to my room, not wanting to talk about this.

A few minutes pass by before I once again hear a knock on my door, “Here to give me a lecture?” I ask knowing it was Damon.

“No, you, me, and Stefan need to come up with a plan come on,” Damon says walking back down the hall.

“And what makes you think I want to be a part of this, he clearly wanted it to be you two,” I state not shifting from my position.

“Because Elena is in trouble and I know you want to save her,” Damon says from down the hall.

“You really know how to push my buttons,” I state making my way out of my room. We head down to the basement where Stefan is debating on drinking from a blood bag.

“Clock’s ticking. You gonna help us brainstorm a plan, or you too busy fixing a snack?” Damon questions his brother.

“We need to call Bonnie. There’s gotta be a way for her to stop Esther from channeling all that power.” Stefan states closing the fridge lid.

“‘A’ what if shes with Esther? ‘B’ what is she can’t cut her off? ‘C’ I don’t know how any of this stuff works, and ‘D’ neither do you,” Damon states.

“You got a better plan?” Stefan asks.

“Wore-case scenario simple mechanics. Can’t draw power from a dead battery,” Damon states.

“Kill ‘em,” Stefan says knowing that’s where Damon was getting out.

“If it comes to that,” Damon says. He then takes the bag from Stefan’s hands and drinks from it.

“There’s gotta be another way,” I say.

“Well, what if I told you two I had a less diabolical plan?” Damon asks and holds up a dagger.

“You wanna dagger Elijah,” Stefan says taking notice of the dagger.

“Well, they’re all linked. One goes down, they all go down. The witches live. Elena’s safe. Problem solved,” Damon states.

“We don’t know how that’ll affect Klaus,” I state.

“Ironically, Klaus isn’t our current problem,” Damon states.

“Dagger’s lethal to any vampire who uses one,” Stefan says.

“Well, I just so happen to know someone crazy enough to give it a shot,” Damon says before making a call. The call was to Alaric to confirm if Klaus and Kol were still at the Mystic Grill.

“What’s the plan?” I hear Alaric ask over the phone.

“Divide and conquer. First, we’ll need a little brunette distraction,” Damon says eyeing me. I roll my eyes knowing that means I have to talk to Klaus. Damon explains the rest of the plan and then hangs up.

“Do I really have to?” I ask a bit whiny.

“If we want to take them down, without killing them. Keeping everyone safe. Then yes,” Damon states.

“You are so lucky I care too much about you all,” I sigh.

“Then it’s settled. Get to the Grill,” Damon says.

I quickly get myself ready from my little interaction with Klaus, hoping it wouldn’t go south on my end or the others. I make my way into the Grill and head on the way to Klaus and his brother. I take notice of Alaric and let him know I’m the distraction by a slight look over.

~At the Bar~

“I remember her from last night. She looks like a tasty little thing,” Kol says to his brother.

“Say another word, and I’ll tear out your liver,” Klaus threatens taking notice of Athena from across the room.

~Athena’s POV~

“Athena,” Klaus says gaining my attention, as needed.

“What do you want?” I ask crossing my arms.

“Join us for a drink?” Klaus asks as Kol raises his glass.

“I’m not in the mood for chit chat, but thanks,” I say before heading back to the door.

~Klaus and Kol at the Bar~

“Isn’t she stunning?” Klaus asks Kol.

“She certainly looks good walking away from you,” Kol responds.

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” Klaus says before heading to Athena.

~Athena’s POV~

I head towards the town square across the street, “Athena,” I hear Klaus from behind me, as I was hoping, for the sake of Damon’s plan but not my own wishes.

“What?” I ask stopping in my tracks turning towards him. “I’m not in the mood to talk with you,” I turn back around and continue to walk.

“Don’t be angry, love. We had a little spat. I’m over it already, I’m willing to fight,” Klaus states.

“I’m not and I don’t see you fighting,” I state still walking.

“Well, how can I acquit myself? You weren’t very clear on the instructions,” Klaus asks.

I stop in my tracks, “You know what you have to do. And I’m not really in the mood to talk about this,” I state.

“Take a chance, Athena. At least talk to me, no fights,” Klaus says sitting down on the bench beside us. I look at him almost like he was crazy. “Come on. Let’s catch up,” Klaus says seeming happy that he was even able to get my attention. “I dare you,” He smiles.

“Fine,” I respond after a few moments of making Klaus think I was debating it and sit next to him. Klaus continues to look at me intently, with that soft look he gave me the night before. “So, what do you want to talk about? Catch up on?” I ask.

“Well, for starters, did you get my gift?” He asks. “Then your hopes. Your-your dreams. Everything you want in life. The things you never told me when we first met. You were very secretive you know,” Klaus states.

“Well, being a teenager alone in the world, you learn to be,”  I laugh. “And you mean the art supplies, huh?” I ask.

“Yeh, did you like them? Did you draw or--or paint anything?” He asks.

“Uh yeah. Lost track of time today actually,” I state.

“What did you draw?” He asks. 

“Just some flowers,” I say. As much as I hated to admit to myself, but I missed the little talks like this with Klaus. I missed...him, being there for me, looking out for me. I almost felt at peace, like there was no one else in the world but us. 

“You know I miss you, I truly do,” Klaus says. “I miss our moments like this, where it feels like it’s just us,” Klaus takes a hold of my hands and stares into my eyes.

“Klaus--I,” I start but before I could finish my un-thought out sentence, Klaus  stands up and starts to breathe a bit heavy, “What is it?” I question pretending to not know what was going on.

“What did you do?” He questions me.

“Nothing,” I state, hoping the tone of my voice was believable.

“What did you do?” Klaus asks once more with urgency grasping the sides of my arms.

“I didn’t do anything. Stop it,” I say once more. 

Klaus lets go of me and looks back to the grill, “Kol,” He says before rushing off, leaving me by myself.

I quickly make my way back to the Salvatore house in hopes that they completed their mission. Unfortunately, it was just me, leaving me with just my thoughts. At this moment, not a great idea. I don’t know how to feel about Klaus and my friends. Part of me wants to be with him, part of me feels like it’s just the sire bond and part of me wants to stick with my friends. It doesn’t help much that I had a small heart to heart with Klaus and Elena is in danger. I feel like I’m fighting with my self.

An hour or so later I hear the front door shut, alarming me to the fact that someone is home. I make my way out of my room to see who it was. I notice Damon making his way to his room. 

“Did it work? Is Elena safe?” I ask. 

“Uh, I think so but Stefan would know better. We at least know we stopped Esther, so assuming Elijah keeps his word, Elena should be ok. Are you ok?” He asks me.

“Yeh, I’m fine. Just trying to sort my thoughts. But I’m glad you’re ok,” I respond.

“Have another quarrel?” Damon asks.

“No,” I respond not really wanting to give any details of Klaus and I’s conversation.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re not hurt either,” Damon says before continuing to head to his room.

“Night,” I say seeing as he’s not in the mood to talk. 

A/N: More reveals for Klaus and Athena’s relationship and feelings. I hope you guys enjoyed this little filler. BTW I’m skipping the next two eps because I can’t find a place for Athena to fit in and I want to get further in the show. So sorry in advance if some of the stuff seems weirdly placed (I guess?).

🏷: @tristanacarry​ | @commentaryfanfic​ | @april-14-blog​ |  @simonsbluee​ | @awkwardspontaneity​ | @keiko0​

[alipeeps]

New tag game: Post pictures of your first ever (fictional/celeb) crush to the latest one and tag five others to continue the game

Thanks to @minmoyu for tagging me and ooof, are you sure you’re ready for this?!! :D I have been around/in fandom for a loooooong time and at first I thought, okay, no way I can list all my crushes, there have been SO many and we’ll be here all day but then as I started compiling a list I found I was having fun reminiscing and decided, what the heck, yeah, let’s do em all... or at least all I can remember! :D

There have absolutely for sure been other more minor crushes and passing fancies along the way, but these are the big ones that I remember (and that, in more recent years, I can track by going through my posted fanfics on AO3 and even *shudder* FFNET and seeing which shows I was into enough to want to write fic about the characters).

[Quick note: with rare exceptions, for actors I am listing them by the character they played rather than just the actor. Whilst there are actors that I like in multiple roles (and conversely, characters who on paper I would normally be into but are played by actors who do nothing for me, and hence the character generally does nothing for me either), for the most part it is the character I really have the crush on.]

I’m going to put this under a readmore cos it has gotten ridiculously long:

So... without further ado:

1. MORTEN HARKET from a-ha - OKay so, dating myself badly here but... I had the *biggest* crush on Morten Harket when I was a teenager. Pretty much the entirety of my side of the bedroom I shared with my sister was covered in posters of a-ha, and Morten in particular. I even had a heart-shaped Morten Harket pillow! :D I loved a-ha’s music (still do!) and I wanted to go see them in concert when I was 14 but my parents wouldn’t let me (*sob*). I did finally get to see them in concert in the early 2000s and they were BRILLIANT live (and Morten was still very very pretty)! 

2. RICHARD DEAN ANDERSON as MACGYVER - MacGyver is the first tv character I remember being really into and having a crush on, to the extent that I would record episodes of the show off the tv (onto VHS tape - yes, I am *that* old!) so that I could rewatch them (especially the ones where he got hurt - yeah, I was a whumper even then! :D)

3. KEIFER SUTHERLAND - One of my rare exceptions. I think I first saw him in Lost Boys (and loved him in that film) but it was his role as Doc Scurlock in Young Guns that really made me fall for both the character and him. I definitely remember seeking out any and all films he was in and buying any magazine he was interviewed in (and knowing far more facts about him than was probably healthy! :D) and even drawing a fanart portrait of him. :)

4. KYLE MACLACHLAN as SPECIAL AGENT DALE COOPER - I remember hearing about Twin Peaks before it started airing in the UK and it sounded so different and interesting... I watched it from the very first episode and very quickly developed a crush on Coop.  

5. BRENT SPINER as DATA - I think ST: TNG had been airing for a while before I stumbled across it but I quickly became hooked and Data was my favourite character right from the start. I definitely remember at one point buying an (unofficial) episode guide book so that I could look up which episodes were good Data-focused ones (especially ones where he got hurt! :D) so I could go out and buy the videos that had those episodes on (at the time the show was available to buy on VHS-tape with 2 episodes on each tape).

6. DAVID DUCHOVNY as FOX MULDER - Another show that I heard the buzz about and started watching right from the start and, like so many others, I immediately developed a crush on the snarky, enigmatic, troubled FBI agent with the weird name. The X-Files was the first show I ever tried writing (one, never-finished) fanfic for.

7. PAUL GROSS as BENTON FRASER - Man, Due South was such a good show! It was so quirky and clever and funny and Benton Fraser, with his huge heart and his serious demeanour and his gorgeous blue eyes, was just so darn attractive! He also got whumped a fair bit too! :D Due South was also the show that introduced me to the music of Sarah McLachlan (I was enough of a fan that I bought the show soundtrack on CD).

8. HUGH LAURIE as DR GREGORY HOUSE - This was a bit of an odd one for me because I had grown up knowing Hugh Laurie solely as a comedian/comic actor, known mostly for playing buffoons and genial idiots. And suddenly here he was with stubble, an American accent, and a limp, and he was hawt AF! :D It caused quite the feedback loop in my brain for a while which pretty much went “Wow, House is hot.... but it’s Hugh Laurie... but he’s hot... but it’s HUGH LAURIE!!1!”

I *loved* House (the first few seasons, at least) and oof a character with persistent pain (and a self-destructive streak a mile wide!) was a whumper’s dream. House was the first show for which I wrote - and published online - completed fanfics.

8. JOE FLANIGAN as JOHN SHEPPARD - Stargate Atlantis was my first proper online fandom, the first show I prolifically and repeatedly wrote fanfic for, and the first time I ever met in person an actor I was a big fan of (and while the show was still airing, to boot!). It was also my first introduction to the online community of whumpers! A bunch of us from the Shep Whump thread on Gateworld heard that Joe was going to be at a convention in London and we decided to book hotel rooms and meet up and go to the convention together and it was AWESOME! I can still remember seeing Joe *in person* for the first time and just,,,, struggling to believe he was actually here, in person, in front of me! He was super super lovely and humble too and took time to chat to everyone at the signing table and I clearly remember my brain just pretty much fritzing out during the photo session and being intensely aware of the sensation of Joe’s hand on my shoulder....

It was also super lovely to meet fellow fans, and online friends, in person for the first time and we had so much fun, and it kickstarted me going to lots of other conventions, including specific Stargate/SGA ones where I got to know lots of other lovely fans and online friends. I’ve met Joe about 4 or 5 times in total now and he’s been lovely every time.

9. PAUL BLACKTHORNE as HARRY DRESDEN - Gosh I loved the shortlived tv adaptation of The Dresden Files. I loved the fantasy aspect, the stories, the humour, and I especially loved Harry Dresden and how often he got whumped! :D 

10. DAVID TENNANT as THE 10TH DOCTOR - I had watched the Christopher Ecclestone revival of Doctor Who and enjoyed it well enough but I can clearly remember watching David Tennant’s first episode as The Doctor - on Christmas Day, at my brother-in-law’s house - and being aware, as I watched it that... ooookay, yes, I’m in trouble here... I like him... I like him a lot... :D I mean, I’m sure the fact that he got whumped so thoroughly in his very first episode had nothing to do with how quickly I fell for him... right? :)

11. ALEX O’LAUGHLIN as MICK ST JOHN - Another show that ended far too soon and just as it was getting *seriously* good. But also a prime example of my point about having a crush on the character not the actor. I looooooved Alex as Mick St John... and yet in Hawaii 5.0 he pretty much does nothing for me (the character is too stoic and the whump often too unrealistically glossed over). Anyway, in Moonlight he was my favourite kind of character - angsty, brooding, dangerous AF when he needed to be... and essentially immortal so you could whump the heck out of him and he’d recover so you could whump him again! :D

12. SIMON BAKER as PATRICK JANE - There is so much to love about Patrick Jane... his smarts, his sass, his angst... and Simon is a rare “against type” blonde crush for me (you may have noticed by now that most of my crushes follow a similar physical aesthetic - tall, slim/wiry, and dark-haired) and again here I think my crush is almost all to do with the character rather than the actor.

12. BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH as SHERLOCK HOLMES - I’m almost ashamed to admit it, given the clusterfuck that both the show and its fandom became, but in the earlier seasons I had quite the crush on Benedict’s Sherlock (and okay, a little bit on Benedict himself - I did definitely enjoy some of his other roles too). It helps that I was already a huge fan of the Sherlock Holmes character (I’ve read all the stories and novels multiple times and was a big fan of the Granada adaptation starring Jeremy Brett - whose Holmes would definitely count as one of my more minor/passing crushes) already. Benedict is another crush that I have met in person, at a (actually, the first!) Sherlock convention and he was lovely in person - very genuine, very articulate and thoughtful.

13. TOM MISON as ICHABOD CRANE - I was excited for Sleepy Hollow as soon as I heard about it and I was SUCH a fan for the first couple of seasons (before TPTB completely destroyed it and it inevitably got cancelled (I didn’t even watch the last season and a half)) and Tom’s Ichabod (and his amazing chemistry with Nicole’s Abbie) was a large part of why. I also quickly became a big fan of Tom himself as he came across as so witty and self-deprecating and *fun* in all the behind the scenes/convention clips etc. I was lucky enough to also meet Tom at a convention and he genuinely is that witty and charming and lovely.

14. TOM WISDOM as ARCHANGEL MICHAEL - I think Dominion was possibly the first show that I got sucked into by seeing whumpy gifsets on tumblr! :D It was such a great show and also to date the most immersive, welcoming, cast-and-crew-interactive fandom I have ever been in. The cast and crew regularly live-tweeted the episodes, and interacted with fans on Twitter, and it was SO much fun. And Tom’s Michael was my favourite character right from the start - seemingly aloof but so much going on under the surface... and some really nice whump, especially in season 2! I was heartbroken when it was cancelled after only 2 seasons (and just as the plot was getting *really* interesting).

15. OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN as LUCAS - I was hooked on Emerald City right from the first episode. It was visually stunning, so atmospheric, and really intruiging. I love love loved Adria Arjona’s Dorothy (ngl, I had a bit of a crush on her too) and she and Lucas together were just... *chef’s kiss*. I mean... what an introduction to a character... she finds him crucified, bleeding, his wrists tied with barbed wire, and amnesiac.... and the whump only gets better and better from there on in! Like the entire first two episodes are just... Lucas whump! :D And his devotion to her... Emerald City was honestly the first show where I really got into a ship. I was *invested* in Dorcas, dammit! Aaaand sadly another excellent show that never made it past its first season.

16. JASON RALPH as QUENTIN COLDWATER - Another show that I watched right from the start, was heavily invested in.... and that the writers absolutely tanked and destroyed in later seasons. *cries* Quentin was such a brilliant viewpoint character for the show and I loved his awkwardness, and his angst, and his enthusiasm, and his adorable floppy hair... and how often he got whumped! 

17. COLIN MORGAN - I fell for Colin in Merlin (which I stumbled upon late, long after it had finished airing, and hence was able to binge-watch the entire 5 seasons!) and liked him enough to seek out his other works, such as The Fall, and Humans, and The Living and the Dead, and he was brilliant (and very pretty) in all of them... and his characters also seem to get whumped quite a lot! :D 

18. MATT LANTER as WYATT LOGAN - Wyatt was another of my favourite archetypes... absolutely badass and competent... but also tortured and angsty and capable of intense devotion. Another show that I watched because of whumpy gifs on tumblr and the second ever show where I actually got invested in a ship - Lyatt all the way, baby!! :D - aaaaaand yet another show cancelled before its time.

19. NOCTIS LUCIS CAELUM from FINAL FANTASY XV - my very first video game crush! I was recommended to play FFXV by fellow whumpers on the whumpshire discord because it was whumpy... and they were not wrong and I loved the game and I absolutely adored Noctis. FFXV is one of very very VERY few video games that I have actually played right through to the end. And possibly the only video game that has ever affected me to such an extent... I became so invested in the characters and their world and I actually found the last couple of chapters really hard to play because it was actually upsetting me emotionally. I had to take a break for a couple of weeks before I could go back and finish it!

20. CONNOR from DETROIT BECOME HUMAN - and from there I jumped straight into another video game crush! DBH was another game recommended to me for its whump potential and I, and many others, immediately fell in love with the quirky, sassy, self-sacrificing (if you play the game right!) “android sent by Cyberlife”. The game itself is really good too... although, I have tried to play through all the different endings to the story but have never yet managed to make myself play the machine Connor storyline.... I want to complete all the story branches... but I also just want Hank and Connor to be friends and to be happy! :D

21. ZHU YILONG - Ahhh... the beginning of the asian drama arc of my fandom life! I first came across Zhu Yilong after getting sucked into watching Guardian because of pretty (and whumpy) gifs on tumblr... and I’ve never looked back. He is one of the rare entries where I am pretty much guaranteed to like him in pretty much anything he does and my crush extends beyond Shen Wei, or his other characters, and into reblogging his fashion shoot photos, and keeping up with news of his work in general. He’s just... so darn pretty! And also so... blur! :D And the behind the scenes stuff and interviews of him with Bai Yu, during the Guardian era, just made me fall for him all the more. He’s also ridiculously talented - not only a fantastic actor, but a really good singer (I love his singing voice), he plays guitar and piano, and he can paint too!!

He’s also pretty much what made me start learning Chinese... because after Guardian I went seeking his other dramas to watch... only to find that many of them are only partially, or not at all, subbed. So I thought... why not try learning Chinese and then I’ll be able to watch his other shows? :D

21. JI CHANG WOOK - My first kdrama crush, and what a good one to start with! Healer was the first drama I ever watched and can you blame me for falling for JCW... especially when I followed up Healer with The K2?! I’ve liked him in pretty much everything I’ve watched him in. Although I do wish he would go back to doing more action-based shows as he is sooo good at them... but he seems to prefer the romcom genre these days, which is something I am nottt always a fan of tbh.

22. JAKE HSU as MENG SHAO FEI - Yet another show that I got sucked into by tumblr - and also one with a great, fun fandom through which I met lots of lovely people who I still follow/am mutuals with to this day. I just *adored* Jake’s character in History and I also loved the ship - Tang Fan and Meng Shaofei were awesome and adorable together and I was totally invested in both the ship and the gangster/cop/what happened years ago story happening alongside the ship. And Jake is just all kinds of cute.

23. XIAO ZHAN - Aaaand we are pretty much up to current day now... where The Untamed took over my life in the summer of 2019 and has yet to let me go. Xiao Zhan is another disgustingly talented human being - a fantastic singer and a really good actor, and also an artist - and he also just comes across as a genuinely sweet and charming person, and a very thoughful and earnest one too. And lbr he is ridiculously pretty, and his smile is just pure sunshine. 

24. LEE DONG WOOK as LEE YEON - The most recent entry to the charts.... a Korean actor I was aware of but whose work I hadn’t watched and whose looks didn’t particularly seem to grab me... until I watched Tale of the Nine Tailed and fell head over heels for Lee Yeon (and daaayum does red hair suit LDW!!) and very quickly began to find LDW’s looks very appealing (and oh my, does Lee Yeon whump well!!). And yes, I have now started watching Goblin. :D

Phew! Aaaand we are done! I’ll admit, I did think of a few more as I was compiling this list but I decided to categorise them as more “minor” crushes and not include them... otherwise we really could be here all day!!

I’m going to tag: @sarah-yyy​, @arlothia​, @howdydowdy​, @thepromiseweheldforlife​ and @the-wandering-whumper​!

[himbowelsh]

If you want to, 9 or 19 with webgott? I hope you have a wonderful week 💕

i’ve got another prompt for #19, so how about #9?

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy  💋 (accepting!)  9.  one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other 

The stars are brighter tonight than any other time in recent memory... and it’s not like Austrian skies aren’t impressive as a rule. The nights shine brighter in the countryside than they ever did over the bustle of New York City. No matter how many times he sees the skies alight, David will never get used to it. Something divine shimmers in each blinking star, something earnest and mythical in the constellations strewn like New Years’ confetti across the sky. He is not a spiritual man, but Austrian nights make him feel like he could be, maybe.

Tonight, the sky is putting in extra effort. Each star feels like a beacon, calling him away from war and mourning. One of them, he muses, might be Janovec. 

He spun off the road just that morning, with little warning and no fanfare. One second, he was alive. The next... the war had claimed him too, and he didn’t even have a bullet wound to show for it.

The men who died on D-Day were heroes. David saw them drown in waist-deep swamps... gurgle to death on blood and bullets... strangled by their own risers and left hanging from trees like Halloween decorations. Heroic deaths, all of them, and their parents must claim some sense of pride in knowing their sons lives ended, not in agony and fear, but in resolute patriotism.

American heroes still sob for their mothers in their last moments. David still hears their screams.

Isn’t it such a privilege to die for one’s country?

Janovec didn’t even get that. He wasn’t taken out by enemy gunfire — only it was an American Jeep, and an enemy tree. Hoobler didn’t die in the heat of battle. His killer was a German pistol, but an American hand. Van Klinken caught machine gun fire, but he bled to death on Dutch soil, with Dutch dirt in his mouth and Dutch ash mixing with his tears.

Will they be called heroes, now that the fighting is done?

Austrian summer is warm, but there’s always a chill this high up. It bites at David’s exposed skin. He draws himself up a bit tighter, knees pulling close to his chest. There’s no real danger of overbalancing. The street may be a dizzying distance below, but this part of the rooftop is steady and nearly flat. He’d never have climbed out otherwise. David is not in the business of risking his own life unnecessarily. He fought a war, which ought to be enough; he’s got no intention of dying now that it’s done.

(Done for some, in limbo for others. In a few months, will they all be speaking Japanese?)

It’s chilly up here, but quiet, and perfectly dark — exactly what he was looking for. The sky sprawls above him, endless and alive with constellations. Each one welcomes him, calls out to him, tugs at the exposed threads of his soul. There, glistening brightly off to the right — is that Janovec? There, the one with the steady glow — Hoobler? Or maybe it’s Jackson — maybe those twin stars, glittering playfully side by side, are Muck and Penkala. Maybe there’s a place in the sky for more — hundreds, thousands, him —

“You gotta be kidding me.”

The unexpected voice jars him, like waking from a deep sleep. David flails. If the roof were any more perilous, he’d have certainly gone over the edge — but if this occurs to the intruder clambering out the rooftop window, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Of all the places — ow, fuck —“ Joe Liebgott smacks his head against the top of the frame. He’s too lanky; on the ground, he carries his long limbs with the grace of a feline, but he clearly wasn’t made for cat burglary. David sucks his lip, determined not to laugh, as Joe awkwardly forces his too-big body through the opening. “Of all the places to get yourself killed, Web, you know how to pick ‘em.”

“Figured it would have happened by now, in some way or another,” he replies with an easy shrug. “Why wait for anyone’s help?”

Joe says nothing — unless another muffled curse as his foot gets caught on the frame counts. By the time he manages to haul himself out onto the rooftop, he’s got a tear in his shirt sleeve, and multiple bruises to show for the effort. Never mind the fact that David didn’t invite him, or tell him where he was going; Joe still huffs at him as if it’s somehow his fault.

“People who can’t climb out windows typically shouldn’t,” is all David has to say on the subject.

“If they were made to be climbed out of, they’d be bigger.” Joe inches forward on his hands and knees, peering over the ledge with his typical morbid curiosity. A low whistle echoes through the quiet night. With a sigh, David settles back in his comfortable spot, watching the interloper warily. He doesn’t know why Joe’s here. Nevermind what he wants — he’s never been able to figure that out, and they’ve known each other for nearly a year now.

Instead of explaining himself, as he can usually be relied on to do, Joe goes quiet. It’s... somehow worse than chatter. Silence is heavy, like a lead blanket draped over their shoulders, weighing them both down. It feels more intimate, somehow. There’s not much space on this rooftop, only a few feet of distance between them, but the longer the quiet stretches on the more that distance shrinks to inches.

If only he’d brought cigarettes — that’s something to share, and a good excuse for sitting alone at night. As it is, if Joe asks what he’s doing out here... David doesn’t know what he’d say.

Joe isn’t paying attention to him, though. His gaze, too, is trained on the sky. No one can escape it tonight.

Unexpected, unbidden, Joe breaks the silence. “You ever think about what’s up there?”

David tenses. Too close to home. “I mean... sure. Sometimes. I guess... lots of gasses, and dust particles, water vapor... and that’s just in our atmosphere.”

Joe casts him a glance that’s half-annoyed, in the way that isn’t really annoyed at all. David hates how  accustomed he’s grown to all those outspoken looks. “You know what I mean,” Joe says — and David says nothing, because he does.

“I used to... think there had to be something up there. Not really people, y’know? My Mom, she tried to raise us the right way — when our pet hamster died, she told us about immortal souls, olam haba, everything that’s supposed to come after. Except I never really...” He gestures for a minute, snapping his fingers like the words elude him. “Got it. My Mom will give you her opinion on anything, but even she can’t say for sure what happens when you die. It was all too hazy for me as a kid. I didn’t know what to look for, or... what it meant.”

David tries to understand. He comes up short, in ways he can’t identify but is painfully aware of. Even so, he tries.

“My mother’s family was Protestant. She used to say there were angels watching over us all the time.” His nose crinkles. “Just to get me to eat my Brussels sprouts, I think. The angels saw me feed them to the dog.”

Joe laughs, sound sharp as a knife in the gentle night. David can’t say why he’s pleased.

“Exactly, though. You Christians pretend to have it all figured out. God’s up there, he’s watching everything, and when your time’s up you’ll either go upstairs or downstairs.” His lips purse, the way they do when he’s trying and failing not to grin. “Jews are still arguing about how many heavens there are.”

“What do you think?” He asks the question before he means to, without really thinking. As soon as it’s out, David regrets it... but Joe doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Aliens. Real ‘War of The Worlds’ type shit.” Finally, he allows himself to grin, and it only widens as he keeps talking. “Like to think Flash Gordon’s saving the universe up there somewhere. Maybe Superman too, but he’s kind of a chump. Probably some planets we ain’t found yet, suns and moons we ain’t seen.” He’s hesitates. “But I think I like that other idea now... that maybe there are people up there. Maybe there is something... something real after.”

He falls quiet. His hands are braced in front of him, taut as straining metal. David studies them, and doesn’t dare look at Joe.

“How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.

David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”

“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them, so he forcibly tears himself away. Wherever Joe’s mind is going, he can’t — possibly shouldn’t — follow.

Guessing isn’t safe. Wondering isn’t safe. Seeking insight into Joe Liebgott’s mind, when it’s so… enigmatic to Webster’s own has never been, and will never be, safe.

The acrid smell of tobacco startles him. When he looks back over, Joe has lit up a cigarette, and is blowing a long cloud of smoke against the black sky.

“No, really, I’m fine. Thanks for offering,” David drawls, inching closer. Joe’s eyes flicker towards him; his mouth curls up around the cigarette. 

“Only got this one left, Web. If I had one to offer, you know I would.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m generous like that.”

“A modern day Santa Claus, huh?”

“Ho ho,” Joe replies.

David reaches for the cigarette. He doesn’t know why — it’s not like he really wants a smoke — but the idea of doing nothing, of letting silence linger between them as they both stew in their own thoughts, is worse. Also, if Joe gets a bit of relief via Lucky Strike, he’s got no right to hoard it. Determined, David leans forward, even as Joe angles away from him.

“Yeah, no, nice try.”

“Share! You — quit moving, we’re going to fall off the roof.”

“You’ll fall, and I won’t catch you.”

“I’ll drag you down with me!”

He catches the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and deftly plucks it from Joe’s grasp. Victorious, David brandishes it high, letting a thin stream of smoke blaze into the night. Over the chorus of Joe’s curses, he takes a drag. It goes too deep into his lungs, too quickly; he ends up sputtering, lurching forward in a chest-rattling burst of coughs. His grip on the cigarette goes loose, and it falls from his hand.

“Shit, Web!”

David is too preoccupied with his lungs turning themselves inside-out to pay attention to Joe… until a hand finds his back, rubbing steady curves between his shoulder blades. He sputters, but Joe is there, coaching him through it, until he’s finally able to take a breath without gagging.

“Oh boy,” he mutters. “Oh god.” Then, realizing Joe’s last cigarette has fumbled straight off the roof, to the cobblestones down below, he hisses. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t bother.” Joe is still rubbing his back, even though there’s no need to — really, he’s fine. “I can get more when I need ‘em.”

“No, I’ll — I’ll give you some of mine when we get back inside.” He breaks off with another harsh cough. By the time he’s done, David is spent; only a moment too late does he realize he’s slumped back against Joe’s chest.

The other man doesn’t pull away. Joe supports him, easing David upright and bracing his weight. He handles him like a delicate thing… and from Joe Liebgott, who David has never known to be delicate in his life, the treatment is jarring. David looks up at him, gaze pulled as though caught in a magnetic current; he finds Joe staring back. His eyes are dark as ever, still lit with starlight. His lips are wet.

“You okay?” Joe asks.

“Yeah. Fine,” David replies.

“I ain’t mad, Web,” he says, “but I would’ve liked a little more of that smoke before you tried to eat it.”

“I got enough of it to share.”

David’s not sure what the hell he's saying. It doesn’t matter. Joe’s lips twitch.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His head tilts. David’s eyes close. A second later, Joe’s mouth is on his, warm and tender, and he couldn’t exhale even if he remembered how.

Maybe David’s the first one to cup Joe’s face; maybe Joe’s hand is the first to find his hair; maybe they're twined together for hours, or only a few precious seconds. When they break apart, none of it matters. Joe’s eyes are wide, pitch black. Surely his incredulity must be reflected back in David’s own face, because right now, his heart wants to pound out of his chest.

Joe’s hand is still on his face. He only realizes this when a rough-padded thumb caresses his cheekbone, unspeakably tender. “You okay, Web?” Joe asks again.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice shuddering. “Incredible.”

He’s not sure who moves forward then — it’s probably both of them at once, seizing that impossible instinct driven only by heat and instinct. Everywhere Joe’s skin brushes against his, his nerves explode into an electric shower; his mouth is hot and needy, consuming David’s as soon as they find each other again. Joe draws him in like he’s the only thing left that matters, and David is helpless in his desire to give himself up.

Please, he thinks desperately, kiss me like I matter. Kiss me like we’re both alive, and going to stay that way. Kiss me like the stars aren’t watching, and we’ll live forever.

Joe’s lips are a fantasy, and they thoroughly carry him away. For a moment, he lets himself go. Nothing matters but the pressure of Joe’s lips, sucking dark bruises along his jaw, or the determined hands that grasp at his shoulders. In the heat battle, you learn to zero your focus in on one thing, and that concentration keeps you alive. This is a different heat, a different ear waging between them, but David gives every ounce of attention to Joe all the same. He drives him forward, keeps them moving even when their hearts are beating out an urgent symphony in twin ribcages, and David’s is ready to burst.

“Joe —“ He gasps, over the sound of the other man’s harsh breathing. Joe shushes him, fingers brushing his swollen lips. David leans into the touch. Joe leans back to accommodate him. They both lean too far.

“Shit!”

For a second, it’s blind terror — the ground sliding away beneath them, fumbling for a hand of foothold as the ledge looms closer… 

David catches them both, his heels catching on a gutter and halting his descent. Joe’s still holding onto him, so the momentum carries over. They’re dangerously far down the inclined roof; a certain broken back looks twenty feet below, the ledge within spitting distance. They don’t go over, though, and that makes the difference.

After a moment, Joe exhales a great, shuddering breath. One hand runs through his hair. “Fuck. Jesus fuck. Just lost two decades off my life.”

“Better than losing it all,” David mutters. He’s determined not to look over the ledge. Unconsciously, his grip tightens around Joe; he doesn’t realize Joe’s holding him just as fast until a small tug pulls him back from the roof.

“Come on,” Joe mutters. “Let’s get the hell outta here before we both end up weird stains on the ground.”

He doesn’t need to tell him twice. David casts one last look up at the night sky — serene, twinkling like it knows a secret but doesn’t dare say — before huffing, and clambering up in Joe’s wake.

Existential questions can wait until morning. Joe, on the other hand, has never been good at waiting.