#but it's going to rain again hard apparently so i feel like the smell will wash away LOLOL

[speakeasier]

i know it's not SPRING quite yet. but today is the first day i actually smelled the early beginnings of it. kind of how when it's not quite fall and the leaves haven't fully come off. but you smell the crispness of the air??? kind of vibes??? feeling it with the cool breeze now.

[valaryswrites]

🪐 pov: you overheard your boyfriend remus and his friend sirius talking about you

warnings: english is not my first language & mentions of being hard. mostly fluff

Grimmauld Place was silent that night. You took a nap, and what a nap! You woke up feeling dizzy, you watched the sky trough the window; it was dark, and of course, raining.

There was a pair of glasses in the bed right next to you. But there were no books. Not a single one. So apparently, Remus spent the whole evening watching you sleep. He’s not a nap guy.

Walking down the stairs you smelled the sweet scent of an apple whisky; Sirius was probably drunk, it was his favorite drink, and it was friday. You heard Lupin’s voice.

In silence, you approached the nearest door; right next to the kitchen.

You were ready to join them, but you stopped the moment you heard something that caught your attention.

“I didn’t know she hated Snape.” said Sirius, and you knew he was taking about you. “Can’t blame her, that cheeky mother fucker will be the death of me.” Remus laughed.

“Yeah, she does.” the man said. “She was her student, and you know how much Severus loves his students.”

“I don’t know about Snape, but the one who really loves his students is actually you, mate.” Black laughed out loud. “Can’t believe you were fucking one of them! Thank god she’s old enough.”

“Ugh, don’t be a pain in my ass, Pads.” said Remus smiling. “She wasn’t my student back then.”

There was a silent. You thought about stop hearing that private conversation and make yourself visible. But Sirius started talking again, and you couldn’t help it; they were mentioning you.

“You really love her, huh?” Black asked after pronouncing your name in a whisper.

“I do, yes.” Lupin answered and of course, you smiled. It wasn’t new; both of you said those three words thousand of times to each other. But that tingle in your belly was always there.

“I’m glad you do, Moony.” Sirius said. “I want you to know that… I like her. It won’t be a problem for me if you want her to live here with us.” your heart stopped for a moment. “I would love that. I’ve been alone for so long... I like her company.”

“Yeah, I thought about that.” Remus whispered and took a deep breath. “But I don’t want her to think I’m going… too fast.” You insulted him inside your head. How silly! Of course you wanted to.

“Oh, come on, Remus!” Padfoot said. “You are adorable, but kind of stupid sometimes. Do you love her or not? Don’t doubt, for god’s sake! We could die any day!”

“I know!” Remus answered quickly. “She listened to me when nobody else did. You were away, and she was my only friend. I like having her around, she makes me happy... and hard.”

“But mostly hard.” You said, making your appearance at the kitchen. You walked towards Remus and kissed his cheek. He smiled, and Sirius laughed.

[lovebugism]

hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼

like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a

dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU

✶ ┄ OH, BABY !

summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3) a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day. 

A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.

His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.

Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.

Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.

Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.

Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.

Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk. 

It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.

Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house. 

He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.

The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.

His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.

You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.

Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.

You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.

Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.

You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.

The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.

He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.

His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.

He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.

Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.

As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.

He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.

Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.

You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.

“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”

“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.

“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”

“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”

You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”

“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”

“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.

The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it. 

After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.

“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.

You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.

You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.

His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent. 

It makes his heart swell. 

While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him. 

You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.

He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.

A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.

Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done. 

You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.

And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.

You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.

Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.

“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb

“Basically,” you nod in reply.

When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.

“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”

He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.

Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.

“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.

He can only nod in response.

His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.

You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.

“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.

“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.

“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.

Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.

And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.

The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.

It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.

You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.

“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”

“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”

You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”

The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.

You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).

“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”

The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.

It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.

“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.

But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.

“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.

You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.

“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”

Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.

He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating. 

“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”

He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.” 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.

He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.

He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.

And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.

So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.

But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.

But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”

Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.

And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him. 

And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.

“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.

Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.

He was right about what he said before — you were soaked. 

All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.

“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.

“Shut up,” he groans against you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.

Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.

“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?” 

He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”

“Sorry… what?”

There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.

“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.

A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.

Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.

“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.

You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.

You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.

And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.

He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.

“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”

He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.

Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”

You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.

“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”

You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.

It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.

You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.

Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.

“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.

A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.

“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”

You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.

You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.

Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.

And you do. Most ardently.

You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.

It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.

It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.

But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you. 

He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.

“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.

“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you. 

“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”

A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.

Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.

You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him. 

You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him. 

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.

He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.

You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.

You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.

You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.

You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.

“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.

He nods.

“And that we’re—”

“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.

“Yeah… And—”

“Too broke? I know that too.”

“Also my—”

“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”

It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.

“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”

Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.

No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around. 

It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.

“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.

He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.

“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”

He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.

“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”

You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”

Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.

[asa-do-your-thing]

Burn me down

Michael Gavey x Reader

18+ Minors DNI WC: 4.6k Warnings: Cigarettes, Alcohol, Smut, Wax Play, dom-ish Michael, Nerd in the streets, freak in the sheets A/N: I've asked you to choose a little something for my Birthday and you chose this! Yay! Here's to my 22nd birthday and a rather sweet and kinky Michael.

You stood in front of the Pub, taking quick drags of your cigarette. You damned the horrendous british weather, you damned the fact that the student's exchange office apparently 'lost' your exams in the mail, making you re-sit everything in the winter break, but most of all you damned that Michael.

He was supposed to be your buddy - your mentor, showing you around campus and helping you connect with the other students, though all he did was invite you to the pub where he'd drink his pint in relative silence before leaving again.

It wasn't like you disliked STEM students, no; most of them were the chillest friends one could wish for. But he? He was a right royal pain in the ass, trying to convince you of his intelligence everytime you'd meet up.

You shivered as the cold wind whipped around you, making your eyes water and your teeth chatter. The rain pelted down hard, turning the pavement into a slick, shiny mess that squelched beneath your feet with each step. You finished your cigarette quickly, flicking it away into a nearby puddle with a silent curse as rain dripped onto your fingers. The smoke from it mingled with the damp air, creating an acrid smell that mixed with the scent of wet earth and cobblestones underfoot.

You tucked the next one into your mouth, feeling the familiar burn as you lit it from a soggy match that barely stayed alight in the weather. Pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket, you frowned when you saw no new messages from Michael; he'd stood you up again.

Blowing out a plume of smoke, you sucked your teeth and were just about to turn back and head home when you just-about-avoided giving Michael a burn as he appeared out of nowhere, stepping way too close to you.

"Sorry," he mumbled and looked down at your shivering form. "You said to meet up at eight, why would you text me if I'm here at quarter to?"

You took a step back and offered him a cigarette, which he quickly declined. "It's rude to be on time, it's best to be early. Doesn't matter, you're here now," you said and gave him a one over. That man really did not have a single fashionable piece of clothing to his name, it was incredible. He looked like he'd raided your father's wardrobe. "What's the plan for this evening?"

Michael shrugged, his eyes clung to the glowing end of your cigarette as though the answer was hidden in the embers. "The usual, I suppose," he stammered. "Grab a pint, talk about... things?"

You chuckled, "Ah, the endlessly fascinating 'things'," you teased, flicking some ash off your cigarette onto the pavement. It mingled with the small droplets of rain on the ground like stardust on a cosmic canvas. "How absolutely riveting."

He frowned slightly and looked at you; his eyebrows knitted tightly with confusion. "I didn't mean to be vague," he explained. "It's just..."

"It's just...?" you repeated with curiosity.

"Everything," he muttered. "Everything has been so much more... complicated since meeting you."

You looked at him in surprise as your next words hung precariously in the cold night air. You weren't sure where this conversation was going, but it certainly wasn't in the direction you'd expected.

"Complicated?" you echoed his words, blowing a cloud of smoke into the wind. The bitter cold bit at your face and you withdrew back into your collar. His expression was unreadable underneath the dim wintry light, giving him an aura of mystery that was oddly arresting.

"Yes," he nodded slowly before rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Because you're so different from what I'm used to."

You raised an eyebrow at that comment but said nothing, intrigued by his sudden openness, a stark contrast to his reticent persona up until now.

"But it's not a bad thing," he quickly added, pulling up his shoulders.

God, he was so awkward. Watching two drunk, scantily dressed girls leave the pub, you could see into the establishment and shook your head, grumbling.

"That damned thing's full to the brim. Would you be cool with coming to my apartment and have a drink or two there? I should still have beer and schnapps." Tossing your cigarette butt away you gave him a small, cheeky grin. "Or are you afraid of being alone with a woman?"

Michael's eyes widened at your bold comment, but after a moment his face relaxed into a sheepish smile. "No, I'm not afraid," he admitted. His voice was quiet but firm. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes so you decided not to push any further.

"Good," you replied, slightly impressed by the unexpected admission. "It'd be a shame to go and drink my beer by myself." You proceeded to lead the way to your apartment, just a few streets away. The cold rain was unrelenting and by the time you reached your building, both of you were drenched to the bone.

As soon as you stepped inside however, warm, dry air greeted you like a comforting blanket. You hurried up the worn wooden staircase leading to your apartment, Michael following closely behind. He looked around with curiosity and slight apprehension as he entered your abode for the first time.

Your apartment was small but cozy. A worn-out sofa sat before a small TV set, a coffee table littered with textbooks and research papers spread out before it. The walls were filled with photographs of family and friends; some from home, some from university. The kitchen was compact but well organized, a fridge full of post-it reminders of upcoming exams and assignments.

"Make yourself comfortable," you told him as you headed into the bath to grab some towels for drying off. He hesitated for a moment before finally settling down on the edge of your sofa.

When you returned with two towels, his eyes were darting around your living room - taking in all the photos and personal items that adorned it - like pieces of a puzzle about yourself that he was eager to solve.

"Different..." he mumbled again, almost to himself while his gaze lingered on a picture of you posing with your old high school friends.

"What?" you asked, throwing him one of the towels and ruffling your hair with the other.

He fumbled to catch it and cleared his throat. "You're just... different from what I expected," he repeated, sounding unsure of whether he was complimenting or criticizing you.

"And how's that?" you quirked an eyebrow at him as you headed towards the kitchen, deciding to ignore any potential insult for now. "Want a beer or schnapps?"

"Uh... a beer, please," he said, trying to wipe the rain off his glasses with the towel you gave him.

You opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles. "And how exactly am I different?" you asked again, popping off the caps and joining him on the couch.

He took the offered drink quietly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "You’re more… real," he finally said, looking into your eyes earnestly. "I thought you're just another hippie lit student, but you do seem to be... uh, more scientific."

You burst out laughing at that comment, causing him to blush awkwardly. "Are you saying I am deep?" You took a gulp from your bottle before continuing, "Well, despite your stand-offishness and your slight academic snobbery, Michael," you said pointing at him with the bottle. "You are not so bad yourself."

He looked taken aback and looked away, taking a gulp of beer. Deciding that there wouldn't be much conversation from now on, which was usual for the both of you, you set your beer aside and walked to your wardrobe, pulling out an oversized T-Shirt and some short shorts, deciding to get out of your wet clothes. Not bothering to go into another room - you were still wearing your underwear, so there wasn't much to see anyways, you argued with yourself - you changed quickly.

When you turned back to Michael, he was staring at you with a startled expression, his cheeks flaming red. He quickly averted his gaze, muttering a soft, "Sorry."

"No worries," you replied nonchalantly, taking your seat back on the couch. You enjoyed his discomfort and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

Silence hung in the room as both of you focused on your beer bottles, the familiar scent of hops and barley filling the room. The distant sounds of the city could be heard through the thin walls of your apartment as well as the constant tapping of rain hitting the windowsill.

After a while, you broke the silence, "So... about these 'things' we're supposed to talk about?" You smirked at him, noticing how he squirmed under your gaze.

He sighed heavily before looking at you directly; eyes full of seriousness. "I think... I think I like how things are complicated with you."

You were taken aback at his straightforward confession and blinked at him. He looked just as surprised by his own boldness, face paling slightly.

"Look," he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "what I mean to say is... I find it intriguing, being around you. You don't strive to fit in any mold and that's... refreshing. And after our... our... evenings, you don't go about shouting it from the rooftops."

You stared at him for a good few seconds before bursting into laughter once again. His obvious discomfort combined with his honesty was endearing in its own strange way. Of course he was mighty uncomfortable about your deeper, emotional talks once you were drunk enough, but who were you to hold it against him.

"You are one weird bloke," you said amidst your laughing fits.

His face reddened once more but this time he nervously stood up and sat down flush next to you, eliciting another round of small giggles from you. "What are you doing? Are you trying to cuddle me?"

"No, I'm not trying to cuddle you," he protested, looking both embarrassed and indignant. Yet, despite his words, he didn't move away. Instead, he found himself moving closer to you on the sofa, closing the distance between you two.

"Then what do you call this?" you asked, laughter subsiding as you turned to face him. His close proximity made your heart beat a little faster, to your own surprise.

"I call this... um... adjusting for... comfort," he said, sounding nervous and uncertain. But his eyes never left yours and there was determination in them that was hard to ignore.

"Yeah? And who's comfort are we talking about here?" you asked, looking at him with amusement. You wondered how much of his boldness was down to the beer or simply his genuine personality.

He hesitated before answering, "Yours. And mine."

Grinning, you set your bottle down and turned towards him, laying an arm over his shoulder (which wasn't very easy, that damned man was so much taller than you were) and licked your lips. "Oh really? Yours as well? I'd never have guessed." With that, you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him softly, giving him the option to retreat from it if he'd wish to.

Much to your surprise, your kiss elicited a small groan from him and made him wrap his arms around you, tighter than you'd have thought. So your suspicions were true then - he was as interested in you as you were in him.

Michael's touch was warm, his scent of rain and musk mingling with your own, his unsure hands very rough on you, though you had to confess that you didn't mind it as much as you'd have thoought you would. He tasted like beer and something else, something uniquely him. As you kissed him deeper, you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. There was a spark that ignited between the two of you - a mutual curiosity and eagerness that had been brewing beneath the surface for quite some time.

When you broke the kiss, you both gasped for air, eyes locked on each other's. "I think we should take this to bed," you whispered huskily, leaning in for another kiss before standing up and offering him a hand to help him up too. He took it gratefully, his palm soft against yours as he rose from the couch with you guiding him through the darkened room towards your bedroom door. Once inside, you turned lit one of your copious scented candles, casting a soft yellow glow across the space.

You both undressed slowly, shedding layers until all that remained were your underwear and his slightly damp shirt clinginging to his broad shoulders. His tall, lanky frame towered over you as he sat down heavily on the mattress, pulling you into his lap with an easy strength that made your heart race faster than before. The wet shirt clung to your skin as it rubbed against yours during every movement.

As you lay in his lap, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, his fingers tracing your spine and shoulders, you couldn't help but notice how warm and safe you felt in his embrace. He kissed your neck softly, the stubble on his chin brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your back. You moaned lightly as he nibbled on your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His other hand slowly found its way to your breast, cupping it gently as he explored its softness beneath the padded fabric, causing you to gasp. "You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin. You held your breath as he kneaded it gently, his touch sending sparks of desire straight to your core.

You couldn't believe how comfortable you were with him already; with someone you barely knew but somehow understood on a deeper level than anyone else ever had. The alcohol maybe? Or maybe it was just him—his innocent yet bold nature? You'd never know. All that mattered was this moment—his hand on your breast, the heat radiating from his body, the wet shirt clinging to both of you as if they were magnetized—made every nerve ending tingle with anticipation.

You pushed yourself closer into his touch, arching your back slightly when he pinched the nipple between his fingers teasingly before licking and sucking it softly. A groan escaped your lips at the sensation. You thought he'd be a virgin, but much to your surprise by the way he expertly unclasped your bra behind your back with a single hand and guided you gently onto your back it seemed like he did have a fair amount of practice.

His cock was throbbing against his pants, begging to be freed, but it seemed like he knew that wasn't the only thing that mattered right now. He wanted to get to know you in every way possible - and not just physically. He loved the taste of your lips on his, tangy from the beer but still sweet and soft. Both of you were shivering with anticipation. His hands traced up and down your sides slowly, feeling every curve and edge of your body as if they were made for each other. His fingers brushed against your underwear-covered mound and he gasped slightly at the wetness there before moving upwards to cup one of your breasts, holding it gently.

Your lips trembled as you whispered, "How long have you been wanting this?" Your breath caught in your throat as he clumsily lay next to you, his throbbing arousal pressed against your chilled skin. The way his fingers expertly teased and twisted your nipple made it clear that this was not a spontaneous decision, but rather a burning desire that had been building up inside him for a while. And making out with someone like Michael Gavey would never be just a spontaneous act - he would've started planning this weeks before.

"I... uh...", he muttered, clearly trying to conjure up a lie that he'd never thought about it, so you gave him a small smile. "Didn't mean to offend you," you mumbled as you moved a bit closer to him. His lips met yours again, hungrily, his tongue digging deep into your mouth as you felt his arousal press against your leg. You reached down and grasped it through his pants, feeling the warmth and length of him beneath the cotton. He groaned into the kiss, pressing himself against you harder. You could feel his heart racing as much as yours was, and it only fueled your desire even more. You could taste the beer on his lips and feel the barely-there stubble against your chin as he traced nervous kisses down your jawline, across your collarbone, and lower to your breasts.

When he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently at first and then harder as you gasped, you arched your back off the mattress. He moaned into your skin, humming quietly as he continued to tease you with his lips and teeth. His free hand slid down between your legs, pushing aside the damp fabric of your underwear to touch you directly. Your hips bucked up towards his hand instinctively as he found your already slick folds and began to rub gently. The softness of his touch only added to the intensity of the sensation that coursed through you both.

Your breathing grew heavier as you ground yourself against his hand, needing more contact but also not wanting to beg for him. As Michael's tongue danced around yours, your kisses became more intense, your bodies pressing closer together. His heart was racing, his breathing heavy with anticipation. His hand slid up your side, tracing the curve of your waist before landing softly on the lace of your black panties. You caught your breath as he ran his fingers lightly over the fabric, feeling the softness against his skin. He leaned away from the kiss gradually, smirking at your flushed face and parted lips as he pulled the delicate garment down to reveal what lay beneath.

"Oh," he breathed out, taking in the sight of you - already wet and ready for him. He gave a mocking chuckle, "So ready for me, like a little slut." You blushed even deeper and looked away, unable to meet his gaze. His free hand found its way to your chin and tilted it up gently until you met his eyes again. There was a twinkle in his green irises that made your stomach flip-flop uncontrollably.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more in a slow kiss that lingered for far too long before pulling away. A teasing smirk lifted the corners of his mouth as he took in another deep breath and sat up, straddling you, effectively trapping you under him. "Now tell me, how long have you been wanting this? How long have you been moaning my name before you went to sleep?"

Opening and closing your mouth, you blushed heavily and licked your lips as he gingerly picked up the candle and let a tiny droplet of wax fall onto your belly. "Michael!" you gasped and blushed even further, especially as you could see him biting his lips. Shit, you thought, he likes to see you writhing under him. "Michael, I... I... didn't want to bother you, I..."

To that, he only lifted an eyebrow and grinned, letting more hot wax drip onto your chest, which was echoed by a yelping moan. "You still haven't answered my question."

The heat from the candle wax dripping onto your skin sent shivers down your spine, but you didn't flinch away from him. Instead, you inhaled sharply and arched into his touch, feeling every inch of his presence against yours. His hands gently caressed your skin as he waited for your answer, his thumb brushing across the sensitive flesh where he had dotted it with hot wax. You licked your lips nervously, trying to gather enough courage to speak the truth. You couldn't lie to him anymore - you felt like you might explode at any second and were this close to begging him to fuck you senseless.

Oh yes, you knew he'd do that. These shy, standoffish nerds - you knew for a fact that they had the biggest cocks and were willing to use them.

"I've wanted this for weeks," you finally admitted in a barely audible whisper. "Every time I saw you at Uni or when we sat together in the library, I could feel myself getting wet just thinking about what it would be like to be underneath you." Your blush deepened at the admission, but at least now it was out in the open. He was looking at you with such intense curiosity that you could feel yourself melting under his gaze.

As if in response to your confession, he set the candle down again and kissed a trail from your collarbone to your other nipple, nipping softly before catching it between his teeth and sucking gently. Your back arched off the mattress as pleasure coursed through you; he knew exactly what he was doing to make you lose control. His other hand moved lower still, fingertips dancing over your clit. "Hm," he mumbled, "I think I still haven't heard enough."

Whimpring, you tossed your head from one side to the other, trying your hardest to form a coherent sentence, or even just a word, the way he was circling your nub with an ever quickening pace. Losing all your dignity, you looked up at him and whined needily. "Please, Michael, fuck, fuck me... I need you, I..."

You felt his hot breath on your skin as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your earlobe before whispering, "You need me?" He nibbled softly, sending shivers down your spine. "I think that can be arranged..." His voice was trembling with anticipation, giving away his own nervousness and excitement. He trailed his tongue along the edge of your earlobe, grazing it gently as he slid off of you and stood up.

You couldn't help but watch him as he pulled down his underpants. His cock sprang free, hard and ready for action, glistening with his precum as it lazily slapped up ointo his his stomach. He was certainly well endowed - not the thickest, but by god that must've been at least twenty centimetres. You licked your lips unconsciously, wanting nothing more than to taste him, to feel him inside you. He smiled shyly as he quickly rummagged through the pile of discarded clothes and pulled out a condom from his wallet.

"On your hands and knees," he commanded in that same low voice that made your insides melt as he opened the package and rolled the rubber quickly over his cock.

Obediently you complied, presenting yourself to him in a way that only heightened the anticipation building between the two of you. The room was dark now as he extinguished the candle, casting eerie shadows on the walls as he moved behind you. His warm breath fanned over the nape of your neck making you shiver again as he ran a hand through your hair teasingly.

A sharp intake of breath escaped from you when he lightly skimmed a kiss over your spine before tracing it back up, holding tightly onto your hair as you could feel him positioning himself in front of your pulsating pussy.

Without another word, Michael's cockhead pressed against your entrance, teasing and stretching it before he finally found the sweet spot. A low moan escaped from his lips as he sank in to the hilt, filling you up completely. He pushed further inside until he was fully sheathed within your tight heat. You felt him to the core, his length stretching and filling you up completely.

The feeling of his length inside you was both exhilarating and overwhelming, making you moan out in pleasure as he gently began to move within you. His hands cupped your breasts, massaging them gently as he slowly withdrew and thrust back in again. Every inch of him flexed inside you, rubbing against your walls as if trying to find that perfect spot that would make you scream his name.

He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you hard, forcing a gasp from your lips. His hips pounded into you with unyielding force as it seemed like every muscle in his body tensed up with desire. The sound of skin smacking against skin echoed around the room, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of your hearts in your ears.

He looked down at your exposed ass cheeks while he kept pounding into you, admiring how they shook and clenched with every thrust. One hand moved around to caress them in tandem with his hips, making sure those cheeks received some love too as he slapped them harshly.

Your legs trembled beneath him as he startet grunting more loudly, his fingers clenching around your hips, pushing and pulling in a way that made you feel like he was using you like a toy. Fuck, who would've thought that Michael Gavey was such a freak. Though as soon as that thought had run through your mind, he wrapped his arm around you, quickly rubbing your engorged clit while he pistoned into you at an impossible pace. That was enough for you to scream into your pillow and to half-collapse, him following you almost instantly as your cunt squeezed his cock dry.

He collapsed onto your back, panting heavily against your neck. His heart hammered against your spine, matching the erratic rhythm of your own. He remained in you for a few more moments, his pulsating cock still buried deep inside you; you could feel him twitching with every throb of his orgasm.

Finally, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling out of you carefully as he did so. You whimpered at the sudden lack of contact, your body feeling oddly empty without him filling you up. He looked at you then; his eyes soft and full of wonderment as he took in the sight of you lying there—sated, flushed, and thoroughly fucked.

You turned to face him on the bed, reaching out to touch his chest as if to make sure he was really there beside you. His skin was damp with sweat, and he shivered as your fingers traced the contours of his chest and abdomen before finally coming to rest on his softening cock. You gave it a gentle squeeze, making him groan and buck into your touch.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” he stammered shyly after a moment’s silence. “I… um… didn’t mean to be so…” He trailed off uncertainly, looking rather sheepish as he glanced down at you.

But instead of chastising him or laughing at his awkwardness—as any other woman might have done—you simply smiled up at him before leaning in for a kiss. It was sweet and tender—a stark contrast from the roughness that had transpired between you two moments ago.

"Michael," you murmured against his lips once the kiss broke, "do you think I didn't enjoy it?"

He looked a bit taken aback, his brows furrowing in confusion as he met your gaze. "I-I mean... I just..." he stammered, clearly still embarrassed by the sudden shift between his lustful and awkward side. It was endearing to see him this flustered, considering moments ago he had been a commanding force.

"Hush," you cooed, pressing a finger to his lips to silence his ramblings. "I enjoyed every single breathless second of it," you reassured him. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at your words, but his eyes sparkled with relief and satisfaction.

You saw him gulp down his lingering nervousness before he finally managed to utter something coherent again. "I'm glad," he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. "Really glad."

[ramblingoak]

Jam Day

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 15 - Jam Session

Mountain x Rain (using a bonus prompt today but interpreting it a bit differently hehe)

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. It's sort of like a Satanic version of a Hallmark town. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mountain has a little farm and sells flowers at the local farmer's market. Rain meets him there while selling his art. ~

Warnings: a bit smutty at the end, nsfw 18+ only, 800 words (thank you @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

Rain had fallen in love with Mountain’s farm immediately.

As an artist, the sheer amount of inspiration everywhere was overwhelming.  Beyond the flowers, fruit and vegetables Mountain grew and the handful of animals he kept the area around the farm was beautiful.  The thick woods, pond and rolling hills were a painter’s dream.  Rain’s fingers were constantly twitching, wanting to grab a pencil or a brush to start recreating the natural world around him.

Of course Mountain was inspirational in his own right.

After he had moved in, Rain had insisted on helping out around the farm.  He had learned that Mountain did more than throw some feed out for his hens every morning.  Each morning they would check over the fencing around the coup and the coup itself.  Apparently there had been an incident with a hellhound a few years ago and Mountain still felt guilty.  So when it came to his “Golden Girls” as he called them he was extremely protective.

The two goats that Mountain had adopted, Penny and Pepper, were a bit of a sore spot for Rain.  For one, if they were roaming around when he was out sketching or painting the little bastards were known to grab onto his paper or his brushes.  Basically anything they could get their little mouths around they would take off with.  Mountain and Rain had a standing date each week to visit Mary Goore at GraveYarns and replace whatever the two goats had taken.   

The rest of the farm involved the greenhouses that Mountain kept his flowers in, the main way he made money.  He spent many long days and nights getting his bouquets ready each week during market season.  When the market wasn’t going on he still sold them, mainly relying on anyone that lived in Lucifer’s Hollow that needed flowers for whatever reason.  But he also gave them as gifts, something Rain was very familiar with.

Mountain also grew a large selection of fruits and vegetables.  He sporadically sold them at the market with his flowers but he mostly used them in his own cooking, as gifts or gave them away to some of the local food banks in the area.  Rain’s boyfriend was amazing in the kitchen and that led to the water ghoul’s current dilemma: Jam Day.

Jam Day, as Rain had dubbed it, happened once a month in the summer.  As long as there were ripe fruits Mountain would take a day to make homemade jam, filling dozens of small glass jars with the treat.  The house always smelled amazing during and after, the sweet scent of the fruit permeating the air for days.  Even better, Mountain would smell like the jam as well.  Rain had soon found it impossible to resist him when this happened.

“Did you just lick me?”

“No.”  Rain flicked his tongue against Mountain’s neck again while he clung to the earth ghoul.  “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

“If you’re hungry I could make you something.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”  Another lick, this time he dragged his tongue across Mountain’s pulse.  “I can wait.  Focus on the jam.”

“It’s kind of hard when my boyfriend is licking me.”  

“Mmm, speaking of hard,”  Rain pulled away enough so he could sneak a hand in between them and cup Mountain’s cock through his pants. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s very interested in the licking.”

Rain grinned and began to massage his cock, pleased to feel it hardening more under his touch.  His mouth was watering just thinking about it and he was torn between dropping to his knees right there or attempting to drag Mountain to their bedroom.  His boyfriend seemed to decide for him, sliding his strong arms around Rain’s waist and hauling him out of the kitchen and down the hallway to their room.  

“Wait, what about the jam?”

“The jam is fine, duckweed.”  Rain giggled when he got dumped onto the bed, rolling over just in time to catch an armful of earth ghoul.  “You are so distracting.”  

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Liar.”  

Rain’s retort disappeared into Mountain’s mouth.  Their tongues tangled with each other as one of Rain’s hands grabbed onto a horn, the other tangling in Mountain’s hair.  The earth ghoul’s hands were busy elsewhere, tugging at the drawstring of Rain’s pants and shoving them down far enough so his cock sprang free.  Rain broke away from the kiss with a gasp when a strong hand wrapped around him. 

“M-Mountain, fuck yes.”  

“It should be a crime to interrupt Jam Day.”  A disbelieving laugh bubbled up in Rain’s throat and he tugged at Mountain’s horns so he could kiss him again.  His boyfriend allowed it, grinning as he got closer.  “I’ll have to think of a suitable punishment.”  

“Plea—ah, yes—please.”

He pouted when Mountain pulled away, another ‘please’ on the tip of his tongue but when Mountain scooted down the bed and took Rain’s cock in his mouth the rest of it died in his throat.  

Fuck, he loved Jam Day.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More fics in the Tales From Lucifer's Hollow masterpost

[darlingian]

🪐⚡weekly tag wednesday⚡🪐

✨ it's that time again!! lets answer some really random questions for fun ✨

thank you @deedala @energievie @mybrainismelted for thinking of lil old me

name: c h a n i

age: I was born when Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" was top of the charts.

astrological sign: A goat.

upon which continent do you reside: Turtle Island.

tell us how you're feeling right now using 3-5 emojis: 🫠💀💅🌧🪠

whats your favorite flavor of gum? Peach Extra. It was discontinued like 15 years ago but I still think it's the best.

whats the last movie you watched? Jane Eyre 2011. I won't go into how often I watch that movie.

what was your worst subject in high school? Math. Lordy lordy, math just would not click for me no matter how hard I tried.

whats the job you stayed at for the shortest period of time? I worked in a call centre for two days. They literally told me when I showed up on day two that they were impressed I'd come back because apparently most new hires don't even last one full day. IT WAS SO AWFUL.

whats your favorite thing to do at an amusement park? I love funnel cake and those huge things of lemonade where they put whole lemons in there. I love most rides except wooden roller coasters. I rode one of the wooden coasters (Mine Buster specifically) at Canada's Wonderland and it rattled my brain so hard I was convinced I was gonna die.

what condiments go on top of the perfect hot dog (meat or plant-based)? I'll take an Oktoberfest sausage with Oktoberfest mustard, diced onions, and sauerkraut. (You can take the girl out of Kitchener but you can't take Kitchener out of the girl.)

cincinnati chili, thoughts? I have no idea what that is. (Hold on while I Google it.) So it's chili on top of pasta with cheese and onions? Sounds good to me? Lol it honestly sounds like something I'd have been served as a kid growing up poor.

do you sleep with a plushie? I don't because until super recently I wouldn't let myself enjoy stuffies? I felt like as an adult I wasn't allowed. But that's stupid. lol

how do you feel about thunderstorms? Looooooooove them. They remind me of the sound of rain on aluminum roofs at camp, counting between thunder and lightning as a kid to know how far away it was, Having the power go out and reading by candlelight, the way everything smells when the rain dies down. I just love them.

what's the last animal you touched? one of my cats when I served them their breakfast! Not sure which one I touched last but I usually give them little good kitty pets as they dig in.

grab the nearest item with words on it that ISNT a book and tell me the final word: "Bitch" hehehehe It's my laptop and the sticker closest to me says "Liking what I like don't make me a bitch"

have you ever forgotten to do an assignment until the night before its due? I'm gonna be real with you and say that I don't think I turned in a single assignment in highschool on time.

tagging these peeps and please pretend I tagged you if you want to play too! @michellemisfit @too-schoolforcool @mickeysgaymom @gardenerian @gallawitchxx

@heymacy @heymrspatel @sam-loves-seb @crossmydna

@blue-disco-lights @jrooc @samantitheos @creepkinginc

@whatthebodygraspsnot @palepinkgoat @mmmichyyy @sluttygallavich

@thirstyvampyr @iansw0rld

Tried to tag you all earlier but the tags didn't show. I forgot about the glitch 🤦🏻‍♀️

[ashwritesmonsters]

Hello!! Been following your work for a while, I read your stories when I’m sad lol!

Can I request giant x fem!reader with lemon?

Go wild, I just love content with giants and don’t see enough of it

Thank you ♥️♥️♥️

F!Reader x M!Giant - Lemon

Note: Okay, first I'm sorry this took so long. Motivation to write has been hard to come by recently. Like, I know I'm sorta relaxed with requests, but jeez. I think I'm finally starting to find my groove again, slowly, so hopefully I get some more requests to start building up my writing muscles again. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Cradled in Uvor's hand, which was normally quite comfortable, you were starting to feel a little seasick. Not because you were at sea, but because his careful, deliberate steps rocked you in his palm like a ship. His pace was slow, yet his eyes darted rapidly as he looked down, at you, at his feet, at the ground below and the pine trees that equaled him in height.

"Uvor..." you groaned. The view of the nature preserve and the fresh air helped a bit as you cuddled his thumb like a pillow.

"We're almost there, little bloom," he apologized quietly, though his voice still rumbled your bones. "Sorry. I just don't want to step on anything."

"It's okay." You tried to focus on the smell of pine and cool feeling of mist on your face. "I'm sure the wildlife appreciates it."

"They do," he answered seriously. "If you look up, you might be able to see it from here. We're close."

Uvor lifted you gently, as he always was, and you could just barely see above the trees. A column of steam as wide around as a neighborhood lazily rose into the overcast sky.

"Wow..." you couldn't contain your wonder. You had never seen anything like it before, yet Uvor apparently came here every day.

"You'll feel much better once you're in the warm water. I promise." He smiled faintly, still focusing on the safe navigation of the untamed forest.

A stray raindrop struck you in the face. "Warm water sounds amazing right now," you said, wiping it away with a wool mitten.

After a little more lurching travel, you arrived at the destination Uvor promised. Once he set you down on the forest floor, just on the edge of the clearing, all you could see were multitudes of steaming pools stacked atop one another like tiers on a wedding cake.

"Uvor, this place is beautiful," you gasped, surprised this hadn't already been turned into a tourist attraction. "You come here every day?"

"Indeed," he boomed, his voice always large enough to shake the ground you stood on, "It's the reason I don't smell. I'm very grateful." He smiled and squatted next to you.

"So I guess I should, uh..." you hesitated, the cold air biting your cheeks, "undress before I get in?"

"I could keep you warm on the way back," Uvor explained, "but it would be easier if your clothes were dry."

"Got it," you answered, still not entirely ready to disrobe. Sure, Uvor was as caring and gentle of a boyfriend you could ask for, but going au naturale in front of him was a new, yet not unexpected line to cross.

Uvor sensed your hesitation. You had been standing idly in the cold rain with steamy hot springs just before you, after all. "If you want to keep your underwear on, that's okay too," he added gently.

"No, I'm not going home with soggy underwear." You found the resolve to undress, starting with your coat. Uvor and you had talked at length about boundaries and comfort and such, and a slightly bolder version of you from the past agreed that this trip to the hot springs was meant to be a romantic—and nude—one.

Uvor offered a hand to you while you shucked your bulky autumn clothing off. One by one you tossed your coat, your sweater, your shirt, your pants, and so on into his waiting hand like it was a laundry basket at home. Once the last of it was safe in his grasp, you jogged across the cold clay ground into an eagerly awaiting hot spring. The warmth was divine.

"Oh, this is perfect," you sighed contentedly, vapor from your breath joining the steam as it rose towards the sky. Just as you rested your head against the earthen lip of the pool, the ground shook. Uvor had done away with his loincloth and gently sat down in a pool that was large enough to accommodate him just next to yours.

“Isn’t it?” Uvor sounded pleased with himself. He reached over, dipping his huge hand into the water beside you, offering it. You leaned against his wrist at first before deciding just to sit in his hand again. He held you perfectly under the balmy water.

"Thank you, Uvor," you leaned back and closed your eyes. Cool mist dotted your face. "I know I was hesitant to come out here with you, but..." you blushed. The warmth and steam had distracted you from the fact that you were now completely naked and sitting in your boyfriend's hand.

"But?" Uvor's middle finger curled, gently spreading your thighs apart as it nestled between them.

"But I'm glad I did." You tentatively accepted his advances. You parted your legs just a bit more, blushing, and allowed yourself to straddle his middle finger, his index and ring fingers holding your thighs in place like warm pillows.

"Mm," he grumbled, satisfied. "Me too." His finger curled further until all your weight rested on it. You gasped. His heartbeat pulsed in between your legs... and gradually got faster.

You leaned forward and grabbed his fingertip like you were riding a rocking horse.

"You seem eager." You could hear the smirk in his voice.

"So do you." You turned back and looked at him and returned a smirk of your own. There was still a kindness in his eyes, but backlit by desire. He was trembling at how delicate and soft you felt in his hands... and something else, too.

His finger curled. You gasped at the sudden movement and how it rubbed against you. Despite being a giant who spent most of his time in nature, the skin on his hands was soft. The grooves that gave you fingerprints instead gave him lovely, supple bumps that rubbed against your tender sex.

"Uvor," you said, your breath catching a bit, "that... that feels good." The admission made your face burn hotter than the springs.

"Mm," he rumbled, almost teasing. "Would you like me to move?"

"Um, a little," you answered, eyes closed as warmth built between your legs.

"As you wish, my little bloom." He uncurled his finger. It rose slightly, pressing against your pussy gently. When you gripped his fingertip and moved your hips, a moan escaped you. Pleasure surged through you. The spring felt hotter, the steam thicker. Your breath took a moment to catch up.

"Good?" He asked, feeling you melt in his hand.

"Y-yeah." You started to pant. Your trepidation before this outing was cleared away by the hot steam. More movement with your hips. Your knuckles went white as you clung to his fingertip. The steam in front of your face spun away from you in silky swirls with each hot breath.

Back and forth. Every nerve in your body lit up when your clit found purchase on his hot, soft skin. Your eyes scrunched shut.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Uvor rumbled. He reached across with his other hand to delicately cradle your face between his large thumb and forefinger. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah...” you squeaked, your breath short and legs beginning to shake.

"Come for me." His heartbeat between your quaking legs was impossibly warm. "Come for me, little bloom."

Pleasure exploded within you as your clit rubbed against his tender skin. You gasped, shaking. Your knuckles went white, holding on to Uvor as you rode out your orgasm. It was hot—too hot—and after crying out to the overcast sky, you fell back and lied against his wrist. Your glassy eyes saw stars.

"Are you okay?"

You came so hard it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. Breaths came unevenly, and your voice was small. "I'm... yeah..." you tried to say, drowned out by the bubbling noises of the springs.

Immediately, as you gasped at his speed, Uvor lifted you from the water and sat up, holding you before him. He cradled you in both hands as cool air rushed around you and stray rain droplets peppered your skin. He wore an expression of concern, examining you.

"What was that for?" You asked, slightly put off by the cold that shocked you out of your post-orgasmic stupor.

"I was worried," his eyebrows softened, and he let out a breath he seemed to be holding. "I thought I... hurt you, or the springs gave you heat stroke, or..."

"I'm fine," you reassured him, standing in his palms and reaching out to touch his stubbly cheek. The moment your hand met his skin even more tension left his face and shoulders.

"I'm sorry for ruining the moment," he rumbled, his eyes no longer on you, downcast.

"You didn't ruin anything. I just..." you had cooled down, but heat returned to your cheeks as you prepared the words, "I just came really hard, thanks to you, big guy."

You could feel heat rise in his cheeks too. "I... uh... I'm glad." He couldn't find the words.

"Good talk." You chuckled, patting his cheek. He chuckled with you, flashing that goofy grin of his. "Why don't you set me down in the water again? It's cold up here."

"Of course, my little bloom."

[rosinbae]

spring rain ⋆ shen ricky

◜✧◞ SYNOPSIS ─ spring rain, what a distinct smell which he finds so alluring.

◜✧◞ PAIRING ─ shen ricky x male!reader

◜✧◞ GENRE ─ fluffy fluff.

y/n has spent so much time with ricky, he's begun picking up some of his own habits.

he can't exactly remember when he started acting exactly like ricky does, or recognizing ricky by the smallest of things which anyone else would find absolutely hilarious, or knowing facts ricky hasn't even told him but he's figured out by just being around him for so long.

everything about ricky, to y/n, is just so pretty, endearing, he enjoys spending time with him, he loves buying things for ricky, even if ricky's the rich one, he'll spoil him like crazy.

he simply.. likes ricky.

it isn't until that one friday at 10 pm, that he finally realizes that he really does like ricky, though.

y/n never sleeps early, he says he's gonna go to sleep but ends up sitting up in bed on his phone for two hours straight. he hears the door open, but he doesn't look up right away, only listening to the skittering footsteps.

when he finally does look up, he thinks he might be frozen in shock. ricky has wet hair, and is wearing a white shirt, searching for something, in his room apparently.

y/n thinks he's staring too much, and internally curses for even thinking about staring so hard. "you seem spacey.."

"huh?" y/n turns off his phone, placing it on his bedside table. ricky chuckles, shaking his head.

"just saying" he says in a singsong tone, falling down onto his back as he stares up at y/n.

"did you wash your hair?" y/n inquires, raising an eyebrow at ricky who simply stares back. ricky nods, a small pout.

"yep, hao hyung forced me to, said it would help or something".

"i like it like this" y/n hums. "though i also like your hair down" he narrows his eyes as his mind races with thoughts of which ricky hairstyle he likes the best.

he runs his fingers through ricky's hair, as he always does, humming. "why are you still awake y/n?" ricky asks, moving to grab y/n's wrist.

"because i'm not tired— god, ricky, what are you doing?"

"if your not tired, then i'm gonna lay here with you until you fall asleep".

y/n sucks his teeth, ricky is so lucky he likes him because he would never take this from anyone else

besides yujin, that boy uses puppy dog eyes to manipulate him into doing anything—

y/n feels his stomach flip over when ricky almost immediately cuddles up beside him, resting his chin onto his shoulder.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck i can smell his hair— why does his hair smell so good?

"um.. earth to y/n?" ricky calls, his voice is a little too close for y/n's weak heart. "you okay?" he whispers, noticing how he was spacing out, again.

"yeah" he replies. i am totally not okay. "it's just, your hair.." he mutters, not knowing how to explain his compliment. "it smells good".

"you weirdo" ricky laughs, covering his mouth to contain his giggles. "why are you smelling my hair?"

"why is it so close to my face then?"

"oh shush, i'm trying to help you fall asleep".

"did i mention your hair smells like spring rain?" he adds, and ricky rolls his eyes, scoffing at y/n's question like addition.

"spring rain? what a weird compliment".

"it's not weird!" y/n fires back. "spring rain smells nice! at least you know your hair doesn't smell bad!"

"of course my hair doesn't smell bad! i won't let it smell bad!" ricky argues, a frown crossing his face as if he can't imagine himself doing such a thing.

"spring rain is nice.." he mutters, placing his chin onto ricky's head. "your hair smells nice, rui".

y/n didn't know spring rain, specifically ricky's hair smelling like spring rain, could relax him to an extent, but it did.

because it was ricky, of course it did.

[oochunghee]

hi friends! i'm arc, 28, she/her, i'm in gmt-5 / est but i work evenings / nights so my schedule is wonky. if it's 6am and i'm around and you see me, no you don't ;) i have discord and prefer plotting on there so feel free to add me: arclightabysss (three s). i present to you my boy chunghee, he's a revamped version of a muse i've tried to bring to life in other sol roleplays with little luck, but the concept of the loop caught my eye and it felt like a great fit for him, so huzzah! here i am! under the cut is his information which can also be found on his blog. i don't have any wanted connections for him and would prefer to just brainstorm. if you'd like to plot hit the lil heart and i'll slide into your dms!

right or left? straight on leads to a dead end. 

shin chunghee just signed the lease .ᐟ they’re moving into 3b of the loop. the carpenter is 24 years old. i’ve also heard that they’re dedicated and selfless and self-loathing and distant. oh, wait… it’s their first year here apparently. sorry. time can be so hard to keep track of in a place like this. you know what, i remember now. i think i did go into their apartment once. it made me think of sawdust, fireflies, cold brew, worn wool, and candlelight.

[ trigger warning: parental death, terminal illness ]

caught in the roundabout, riding the loop.

shin chunghee was born to a low income couple at the turn of the millennium. at first, his birth was seen as auspicious, a new beginning for his mother and father. he was meant to give them a purpose and a reason to unite and forge a happy life together.

things don’t always turn out the way they’re meant to.

age of one, mere months after his birth and mother and father are fighting. they’re hungry, they have no money to enjoy life with because it all goes into the child, the son that was meant to bring him smiles. he was supposed to be the way. 

age of two and mother is pregnant again. the toddler senses fear behind her kind eyes that quake and tremble, and shine like diamonds as droplets fall and hit the carpet.

‘i will always love you chunghee, my dear son.’

five months pregnant and mother is showing. father asks how she’s been getting fat when they eat nothing but ramen and frozen dumplings. mother finally confesses a second child is on the way.

father becomes the air and flies on the wind, heading south, never to be seen again, never to caress mother’s soft cheek again. she’s alone, with chunghee, and a soon to be second child. 

age of five, chunghee follows his mother to the market, pushing the dinky stroller his younger sibling sleeps soundly in. he watches her debone a fish with great interest, eyes big and bright and shining with intrigue. 

“eomma, how do you do that? i want to do that.”

age of seven, chunghee is playing with frogs in the alleyway behind the market, the smell of chum filling the air as a misty rain descends upon him and his wart-ridden friend. his sibling throws rocks into a puddle beside him. he glances up and sees the kind ahjussi that sells squid handing mother a package. he sees her eyes brim with the same diamonds, but no fear is found, only relief.

age of ten, and his sibling is a prodigy, ahead of the class by a country mile, but chunghee is just chunghee. his sibling is in afterschool classes while chunghee sits with his mother, peeling bones out of the fish like she does. mother turns her head to cough inside her elbow, hocking phlegm with sharp, throaty sounds for minutes on end. chunghee’s eyes pan the market, and the kind ahjussi walks up, offering his hand.

‘come with me, chunghee. let me show you how to fix things.’

age of twelve and young chunghee is slowly becoming not-so-young. his shoulders broaden and his legs thicken. muscle grows, and he’s able to fix things: furniture, doors, pipes. ahjussi is going to teach him how to fix cars and appliances soon. and when he’s thirteen he’ll be able to make his first chair all by himself. that’s what ahjussi said. he promised.

'chunghee, you’re such a good boy. eomma loves you so much. what would she do without you?’

age of thirteen and chunghee has made his first chair, a rocking chair is mother sits in all day as he fixes her tea, her soup, his sibling’s meal, then heads out to the market to debone more fish and talk to the kind ahjussi who promised to teach him how to change a tire today. but it’s raining today, and the frogs will be out. ahjumma will insist chunghee gets to play for once.

age of fourteen, and chunghee wakes at 5AM to open the stand at the market, debones fish for an hour and asks ahjussi to watch for customers so he can be home by 7AM to wake his sibling for school. he tries to wake his mother but she needs her sleep. her breaths are shallower these days. he leaves her medicine on her nightstand with some water and rice cakes the ahjumma made, then makes breakfast for his sibling. he takes them to school and heads back to the market. he debones fish, he saws planks for a deck the ahjumma is paying him to repair, he sells his fish, he fixes a tarp for one of the stand owners and he heads home, hoping his mother has finally woken up. 

age of fifteen and the doctor says there’s nothing more he can do except keep her comfortable. 

age of eighteen and the papers come in the mail. guardianship and power of attorney. he has his sibling read it all and explain it to him so he understands. diamond droplets stain the papers where is name is scratched in with shaky ink scraggles. 

'what will i do without you?’

age of twenty, and the kind ahjussi lays a hand on his shoulder. the hedge stone is simple, elegant. just like her. the sky weeps and diamond droplets fall all around them. the earth softens beneath his feet. he’s ready to be swallowed.

age of twenty-two, and he’s alone. his sibling has gone to college, full scholarship. he lives in the remains of their house, sawdust filling the air as he makes more chairs. empty chairs, with no one to sit in them. 

age of twenty-four, and he’s handed his high school certificate. finally, he can go to bed at 8PM again without worrying about night classes. his sibling writes him from seoul, telling of the wonderful adventures of city life, endless nights that bleed into the morning, lights that never sleep, and the stink of chum from the fish market near their dorm. chunghee smiles.

he looks up from the letter and the certificate to his new apartment. 3b. age of twenty-four, and only now can his life truly begin. 

'i don’t know what to do, but i will always love you.’

from his app:

started from the bottom .ᐟ  chunghee has just moved into the loop after finally completing high school by going to night school after working full days as a carpenter. he just recently gave up his mother's home and fish stand at the market, and has ultimately decided to try to move on from his former life and forge his own path in the world. he has no clue what he wants to do with himself, but has figured a fresh start in a home that is his own is the best way to begin. he has no clue who shin chunghee is, having lived his life for his late mother and his sibling who is now away at school. more than anything, he needs to find himself.

someday you will be here .ᐟ after spending four years in the loop, chunghee will discover his passion for wood-working on a more artistic level and come to accept that he's actually good at something that defines himself beyond the people around him. he will open his own furniture shop and make custom pieces that will eventually see him go viral on social media (once he gets the hang of SNS). he will come to terms with being his own person and letting go of the need to self-sacrifice constantly for others, and will learn to put himself and his own goals first for a change.

[jtargaryen18]

Hounds of Hell MC 3: Axel

Sadie -- I finally found the courage to escape my abusive boyfriend, but I didn’t make it far. I’m holed up in a small Virginia town called Mercy. There will be no mercy for me if my ex finds me. Thanks to Axel, the gorgeous biker who towed my car to his garage, I have a place to stay and a job at the town’s greenhouse. I also have the hope that I might have a second chance at love one day, with Axel.

Axel -- When I got called to tow a broken-down car to my garage, I found the beaten and battered angel who owns it on the run from the devil. Here in Mercy, with me, she’s healing and learning to live again. When her ex figures out Sadie’s here, even his Mafia ties can’t protect him from me. His entire mafia family can’t take back what’s mine and there’s going to be hell to pay when they try.

Excerpt

After dinner, Sadie had retreated to her room. It had thankfully been a busy day and she hoped that Liza bought her excuse of just being tired as the reason she disappeared into her room early. 

Her nerves were shot from the man coming to the nursery today, probably one of Bobby's men. They were here in Mercy now, looking for her. They were so close to finding her. She tried reading but her mind rejected the words on the page until she gave up. She went into the bathroom, covered the roots of her hair that had grown out. Taking her time in the shower once that was done, Sadie was losing to fear and frustration at the entire situation.

What was she going to do?

 It had only been an hour or so after she called Axel that she heard back from him. Yes, the man came to the hospital but they cut him off before he could do any harm. Apparently, the sheriff also showed up. It was encouraging because maybe they were all really close to catching these men before they could do more harm. Maybe soon it would all be over and she could continue living here in Mercy with her friends, and her job. And Axel...

The darker corners of her mind reminded her that the men were still here for a reason. They had to know they killed the wrong woman by now. What would Bobby do about it? Send more men? Come to Virginia himself?

Late at night, the panic was hard to fight off. If it would save anyone here in Mercy who had been so kind to her from harm, maybe she should just find those men and let them kill her or take her to Bobby. No one here deserved to be shot like Ryder or killed just for trying to be good people. Just for trying to help someone who escaped from a horrible situation.

Maybe she should run away from Mercy, get started in a new place. She proved that she could survive after Bobby. Granted, she had a lot of help. And what made her heart feel like an aching open wound was the thought that she liked it here Mercy. It had become her home.

Axel had become her home.

A summer rain had started, the scent of it drifting in through the window by her bed. Turning out the light, she stretched out on her bed, trying to concentrate on the sound the rain hitting the roof. She would have given anything to be able to shut out all the thoughts and fears that plagued her. 

When someone's weight on the bed behind her pulled her out of sleep, she startled awake. Sitting up with a gasp, she found Axel sitting next to her on the bed, pulling her into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know." Sadie held him for all she was worth. "I'm just happy you're here."

They stayed that way for a long moment. It felt so good, just being held in the shadows of her bedroom with the sound of rain all around them. For a moment, she could forget everything else. For a moment, she was safe and loved.

Axel smelled good. She buried her face in his long, dark hair, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of his neck.

"How is Ryder?" she asked, continuing to chain kisses over his skin. 

Axel's hold on her tightened, his hands starting to explore her.

"He's fine, Darlin'," Axel said. "Yeah, that guy showed up but he never even made it in the hospital."

"Did you stay with him while all that was going on?"

Shifting on the bed, Axel picked her up and placed her on his lap. The feel of him hot and hard beneath her was definitely pushing those lingering fears out of her mind. He was warm, solid. She wrapped herself back around him.

Axel eased back so he could meet her gaze. "That was originally the plan but a friend of his is a deputy sheriff now and she stayed with him while everything was going on."

He explained how everything went with the confrontation between the guy and Hero, the sheriff's warning.

Fears were trying to push their way back in. "Do you think the sheriff can handle it?" she asked.

His expression took on a somber note. "Darlin', if that guy pulled out in front of me an at intersection or knocked over my bike, yeah, maybe the sheriff's department could handle it. But this is serious. It's not the way of our club. We're not going to sit on our asses and wait for the sheriff to do their thing. They shot my brother and that demands an answer. And we ain't letting anyone answer for us."

It sounded like something Bobby would say, without the insults. The mob and Axel's club were both outside of the law. She didn't know a lot about either but it sounded like they had similar ways of dealing with things.If someone had attacked Bobby and his men, revenge would be swift and brutal. The Hounds might just handle things the same way.

The difference though was Bobby and Axel couldn't have been more different. Where Bobby allowed all the anger and rage he harvested from his violent world to bleed into his personal life, Axel seemed to mostly have control of it. She'd never really even seen him upset. Imagining Axel moved to violence was something she struggled to envision.

"We're going to take Ryder out of the hospital," he said. "We can't protect him there and now we know Sheriff Sawyer is watching closely, we just have to."

"Is that safe for him?" she asked. It was just Tuesday. "Considering his injuries?"

Axel sighed. "Probably not but we don't really have a choice. They can't take a chance that he saw something or could identify them. We'll take him to the clubhouse and most of the Hounds will stay there with him."

"What about you?" she asked, noticing he said most of the Hounds.

"I'm staying with you," Axel said, stealing a kiss. "I have to keep you safe too." More kisses, his arms tightened around her. "I will personally make sure that asshole never fucking ever hurts you again."

Buy it today!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chrissy didn't have to tell Eddie that she wanted some space. He just started distancing himself from her as well. Ronnie let it slip that it had probably had something to do with the fact that Higgins said something to him on Thursday after the fight, a fight that Chrissy had missed because she had been sick. Apparently, Jason and Tommy Hayes had been beating up Gareth for his lunch money, which was another cliche that Chrissy hated more than the rain. Eddie tried to stop them, but what he got was them knocking him around and him getting called to the principals' office while the actual assholes got away with it.

"What the hell did he say to him?" Chrissy asked.

They were leaning against Chrissy's locker that following Monday. Eddie had been nowhere in sight that morning.

"I don't know, but he probably somehow made it feel like it was all Eddie's fault. That asshole gets into Eddie's head, and despite what I tell him, it's hard to shake off," Ronnie said.

"He is an asshole," Chrissy frowned. "I wish there was something that I could do for Eddie."

"I don't think there's anything we can do except make sure Eddie knows that we're here for him and we're not going anywhere," Ronnie said. "If anyone can make him believe in himself, it's you."

God, Chrissy wanted to laugh. She leaned her head against the locker.

"I just told myself that I needed some time away from," Chrissy frowned.

"Hmm, maybe he could use some space too, to realize what he could lose," Ronnie said and paused, her face twisted as if there was something eating at her.

"What? Is there something else you're not telling me?" Chrissy asked.

"Well, the thing with Paige, the girl from the bar, is a lot more serious than we thought," Ronnie said.

"They're together?" She asked.

"I don't know, but he showed up at practice on Saturday with the girl, and apparently, she works at WR Records in Los Angeles. Eddie thinks she can sign us, but we need to record a demo to send in," Ronnie said with a sigh. "I have my doubts, though."

"Do you think she's leading him on?" Chrissy asked.

"I don't know, I don't think so. She's got stars in her eyes as much as Eddie does. I think they might both be using each other," she replied. "I think Higgins must have said something to make Eddie want to leave town. It's bad enough that people hate him because of his father. It's always been a sensitive topic for him."

Chrissy frowned at the thought of Eddie getting into trouble because he was trying to prove to people he wasn't what they said he was.

"Did you guys agree to making a demo?" Chrissy asked.

"Yeah, I don't know how we're going to get the money to record the demo, but Eddie says not to worry about it," She said. "Which is odd timing considering that his dad rolled back into town."

"His dad came back?" Chrissy asked.

"Yeah, Al is a notorious conman, which is probably why Officer Moore hates him so much," Ronnie said.

"Did he say where he was?" Chrissy asked.

"Eddie thinks he was in prison up in Joliet. I have no idea for what, though," she replied. "Dougie, Stan, and Jeff are excited about it. It all smells fishy to me, though, but I guess it's better to be there in case something goes wrong."

"You think Al has something up his sleeve?" Chrissy asked.

"Yeah, and I think he's definitely going to involve Eddie in his stupid scheme, but Eddie never could listen to me, his uncle, or anyone really when it came to his father except when he's being compared to Al," she said.

"Maybe there's a part of Eddie who wants to believe that Al cares about him and wants to be a part of his life," Chrissy said softly.

"Maybe," Ronnie said softly.

And as much as she had tried over the past weekend to put Eddie out of her mind, he was all she could think about. There was this pit in her stomach as she thought about what Eddie might do because he thought he needed to run away. How far was Eddie willing to go to escape? She wondered if she could go to Hop, but then she thought about what he could possibly do. It was all just speculation. There wasn't anything she could do either. It was his choice to make, but maybe she could, at least, try to talk some sense into him. When she arrived at the lunch table, it was void of Hellfire.

"Oh, yeah, they decided to remain at the Hellfire table indefinitely," Robin said.

"Which I don't understand, did we do something?" Steve asked.

"No, I think Higgins got into his head," Chrissy said.

"Asshole," Steve, Robin, and Nancy said.

"Where's Jonathan?" Chrissy asked.

"He said he wanted to spend the lunch period talking to Argyle," Steve said.

"And I told him you can't exactly eat a conversation," Robin said. "Which he didn't find very funny."

"No one did, Robin," Steve replied.

Robin glared at him before throwing a pretzel at him. He caught it in his mouth proudly, and then they started throwing pretzels in their mouths.

"Does this mean we're not going to the Hideout anymore?" Robin asked. "I mean, that would suck for Eddie, you know, since we're his friends and all."

"Just say you want to see Ronnie," Steve said.

"Am I that obvious?" Robin asked.

"Yes," Steve, Nancy, and Chrissy said.

"No need to say it in unison," Robin pouted.

The next evening, they all went to the Hideout. Eddie didn't even look at her, his eyes on Paige. Chrissy tried to get Eddie to talk to her after the set, but it was the other girl who drew her attention. Chrissy rolled her eyes as she slid into a booth with Ronnie, Robin, Steve, and Nancy. Ronnie was placing her corduroy ball cap on Robin's head, tucking a piece of hair behind Robin's ear.

"Looks cuter on you than it does on me," Ronnie said.

"Yeah?" Robin asked with a snort.

"Definitely," Ronnie said.

Robin blushed and looked down at the table. Chrissy forgot about her problem for a moment as she watched them flirt. She shared a look with Steve and Nancy. Of course, Eddie was still oblivious that his best friend was falling for a woman. Chrissy wondered if Ronnie even knew about herself. She did say she didn't think she would ever have a crush on anyone. Maybe she wasn't aware of her attraction toward women, but as Chrissy watched Ronnie gaze at Robin, maybe she was starting to realize it. She only hoped that Eddie would pull his head out of his own situation long enough to be there for his best friend.

The next day was another day without a sighting of Eddie, another day without him leaning against her locker. Chrissy was grumpy the entire day, and when her free period came, Chrissy went to the library again to sketch in her notebook again. She was scribbling furiously when she was yanked out of her chair. Chrissy nearly yelped until she saw that it was Ronnie. Chrissy quickly grabbed her stuff and let Ronnie pull her into one of the empty rooms in the library. She watched as the other girl paced before closing the blinds, and she invaded Chrissy's space, leaning over her. Suddenly, Chrissy was very aware that Ronnie was taller than her, reminding her that she was taller than both Eddie and Robin.

"How did you realize that you also liked women?" Ronnie asked in a hushed whisper.

"Well, I was having a conversation with my friend and her cousin when I realized that not everyone noticed men and women the way that I do," Chrissy said. "I mean, I had an inkling for a while, but I thought that I had to choose one or the other."

"I just - I never gave men a thought, I just assumed that meant I wasn't attracted to anyone, but maybe it's because I was ignoring my attraction to women," Ronnie said. "Am I a lesbian?"

"I don't know. Is that a word you feel suits you?" Chrissy asked softly.

"Yeah, it feels right," Ronnie said with tears in her eyes. "Why am I crying?"

"Because it can be pretty overwhelming when you come to terms with yourself," Chrissy said.

Ronnie hugged Chrissy tightly. She smiled as she pulled back.

"You're probably wondering - "

"Robin?" Chrissy asked with a teasing grin.

"Damn it. Was I that obvious?" Ronnie asked with a laugh.

"Yeah. Are you going to tell her?" Chrissy asked.

"Give me a chance to breathe, Henderson," Ronnie laughed. "But yeah, eventually."

Well, she couldn't figure out her own relationship. She could at least help someone else out with theirs. She still didn't see Eddie all day, and when she walked out onto the parking lot when school ended, she found Ronnie standing there staring as Eddie's van drove away. Chrissy walked over to her.

"He's not driving you home?" She asked.

"Nope, apparently, he's got somewhere he needs to be," Ronnie said.

"Something to do with his father?" Chrissy asked.

"More than likely," Ronnie replied.

"He's determined to make our hair go gray early, isn't he?" Chrissy asked.

"And fall out," Ronnie said.

"We have an extra seat since my brother will be biking home with his party," she said. "You want a ride?"

"Will Steve mind?" She asked.

"Let's ask," Chrissy grinned.

Of course, Steve couldn't say no to the girl his best friend was pining over. Ronnie slid in the middle seat, right next to Robin, while Chrissy slid in beside her.

"Hi," Ronnie said to Robin.

"Hi," Robin replied, her cheeks red.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi!" Chrissy said cheerfully.

"I swear I know more words," Robin muttered and Ronnie laughed.

"Me too," Ronnie blushed.

The rest of the ride to Ronnie's trailer was quiet with Ronnie and Robin exchanging glances every so often. Once they arrived, Robin opened the door to get out but was stopped suddenly when Ronnie climbed over her, practically straddling her lap for a millisecond before getting out.

"I, uh, would have gotten out," Robin said as Chrissy handed Ronnie her things.

"I know," she said softly. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Robin said.

Ronnie closed the door, waved at Steve in thanks, and went inside. Steve drove away while Robin face planted onto the middle seat.

"Are you okay, Robin?" Steve laughed.

"My heart is beating so loudly. Can you guys hear it?" Robin asked, her voice muffled.

"No," Nancy giggled at her sister. "You've got it so bad."

"Shut it, Nance," Robin said.

"It's so cute," Chrissy giggled and poked Robin in the side.

She was happy for her friends' developing relationship, and she really tried hard not to feel sour about her slowly fading relationship with Eddie. It was hard when he wouldn't talk to her, and he would quickly leave whenever she tried to approach him. It was disheartening, to say the least. After trying all week, Chrissy finally gave up, hoping that Eddie would make the decision to come to her. Finally, it was the weekend, and Chrissy was over at the Wheelers. It was strange. In the past, it was usually just her and Nancy sprawled out on her bed with Barb occasionally joining them, but Robin joined them now. Nancy and Robin still fought like sisters do, but nowhere near as much as before. Not only were they sisters, they were now best friends.

"What's been going on with you and Eddie?" Robin asked. "I mean, it can't be because of whatever Higgins said."

"No, not just Higgins. His dad is also in town," Chrissy said. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Eddie is dating Paige."

"That cheater!" Robin gasped.

"Robin, we were never dating," Chrissy said.

"I mean, you and Eddie definitely have feelings for each other. Whether you guys admitted it or not, you guys were dating," Nancy said. "You had dinner at his house all the time, and sometimes that included his uncle. You danced together!"

"Well, if we didn't know we were dating, then we couldn't have known that we were exclusive," Chrissy said.

"Shit, that's true," Robin frowned. "Still, I'm calling him an idiot."

"Can we talk about something else?" Chrissy asked.

"Mike! We could talk about Mike. He's always doing something stupid," Robin said.

"What stupid thing has he done now?" Chrissy giggled.

"The little shit broke into my room, and then he had the audacity to get mad at me! Me! In my very own bedroom," Robin said.

"He's been very angry lately," Nancy said.

"Well, watching the first girl you like die to save your life probably doesn't help," Chrissy said and they all winced.

"Shit, why didn't I think about that?" Nancy asked.

"Because you've been dealing with Barb, and I've been dealing," Robin said.

"We kind of all been dealing with that, but still, as his older siblings, we should have done better," Nancy frowned.

"Maybe we can spend some time with him tomorrow," Robin said. "If he lets us."

"Well, just try not to push him too hard. He'll talk when he's ready," Chrissy said and frowned. "Dustin has been complaining about his attitude lately and that he hasn't been all that interested in playing D&D."

"Jesus, he must be in a really bad place," Robin frowned. "Should we go down there?"

"Well, they're playing right now, and I'm not looking forward to having my head chewed off by Mike for interrupting," Nancy said. "Tomorrow."

"Are you guys scared of your brother?" Chrissy asked with a giggle.

"No," Nancy and Robin scoffed.

Chrissy parted ways with them pretty soon after that. She said goodbye to Jonathan and Will on her way out before biking home with her own brother.

"The guys want to know when they can meet Eddie," Dustin said. "They think that I'm making him up and Hellfire."

"I don't know, he's been pretty busy since his dad came back," Chrissy said. "I don't know what he's even doing today."

"Did you guys have a fight?" Dustin asked.

"No," Chrissy said and then lied. "We're fine."

Chrissy kept telling herself that, all the way home. They were fine. They were going to be just fine. Chrissy wished she wasn't such a terrible liar.

Chapter Ten

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 9: Tellings of the Wheel

Hello again! This reread is filled with spoilers of all kinds (that Dracula guy isn't just a funny foreigner - he's a vampire!) and is best avoided if you don't want to read that sort of thing. For everyone else, let's get started!

The chapter icon is another dragon's fang, probably associated with Rand's dream and the general sense of panic in the village.

Rand’s heart pounded as he ran, and he stared in dismay at the barren hills surrounding him.

Dream sequence time! This is quite possibly our first sighting of Tel'aran'rhiod, a plot device that lets Jordan get away with far more dream sequences than most authors can. After all, if you die in T'A'R, you die in real life. Unless you're Lanfear, apparently.

But that's way, way away.

This was not just a place where spring was late in coming; spring had never come here, and never would come. Nothing grew in the cold soil that crunched under his boots, not so much as a bit of lichen. He scrambled past boulders, twice as tall as he was; dust coated the stone as if never a drop of rain had touched it.

If Rand is in T'A'R, then he's in the worst possible place to be in T'A'R: the Blight. Indeed, after just a little bit more running he ends up in the shadow of Shayol Ghul itself.

That bleak stone spire, a dagger stabbing at the heavens, was the source of his desolation. He had never seen it before, but he knew it. The memory of it flashed away like quicksilver when he tried to touch it, but the memory was there. He knew it was there.

Rand's very first LTT memory! He's going to get a lot of these, and this one is particularly interesting because it's later stated (I think in the BWB but possibly in the text itself) that in the AoL, Shayol Ghul was just a pleasant island. Ignoring the weirdness that is it not being where the Collam Daan was (I don't get it and I never will), this implies that the Forsaken took the time to renovate the island into a more forbidding mountain by the time of the Hundred Companions or that the Dark One's touch did it all on its own. Either way, the mountain wasn't affected by the Breaking... Or duh, the island was the first thing Broken when all the Companions went crazy together. The memory is hard for Rand to capture not just because it's his first one, but because it's from a time Lews Therin himself doesn't remember well.

Serve me, a voice whispered in the stillness of his mind. A familiar voice. If he listened hard enough he was sure he would know it. Serve me. He shook his head to try to get it out of his head. Serve me! He shook his fist at the black mountain. “The Light consume you, Shai’tan!”

If you say the Dark One's name in a dream, does it count? The smell of death lays thick over Rand immediately, but it's Ishamael who shows up being all crazy eyes and maybe it's just his B.O.

Not caring if he fell over the edge, he threw himself away. He had to get away. Far away. He fell, flailing at the air, wanting to scream, finding no breath for screaming, no breath at all.

Rand warping so easily from the Blight to Tar Valon is another thing that makes this place feel T'A'R-like more than a vacuole like Ishamael sometimes uses in this book. Rand wants and needs safety and ends up where he's told was safe, but of course even in the dream it isn't. First Ish tries to pull him away from the city, but Rand gets there. Then we get this oddity.

Smiling people walked by on either side of him, people dressed in so many colors they made him think of a field of wildflowers. Some of them spoke to him, but he could not understand, though the words sounded as if he should. But the faces were friendly, and the people gestured him onward, over the bridge with its intricate stonework, onward toward the shining, silver-streaked walls and the towers beyond.

T'A'R is not normally so populated a place! I think Ishamael switches up his tactics at this point, trying to get Rand caught in a particular dream to make him more malleable. Once he gets into the city, he finds it a lot harder to break the script; the White Tower keeps looming in front of him no matter which way he goes, and everyone is sugar sweet.

His feet itched to join in their dance, and even as he thought of it he was dancing, his steps fitting as if he had known it all from birth. He threw back his head and laughed; his feet were lighter than they had ever been, dancing with. . . . He could not remember the name, but it did not seem important.

Another memory of his past life, though distant. Are they just coming forward because in the dream Rand doesn't mind them too much, so he doesn't try to repress it like he does awake? Does Ish have some crazy technique to make people more in touch with their past lives? Semirhage will later state that people with Rand's condition are almost impossible to cure, so it may well be that the prospect of driving Rand to despair over his memories is worth the risk of him using those memories if such a state can be deliberately induced. Or maybe the first memory is legitimately LTT's and the second is Ish trying to bring Ilyena to mind but failing because Rand's not unlocked it yet.

“We have been waiting for you,” the Myrddraal hissed.

It's a simple trick, but it's brutally effective. By trying to make Rand associate Tar Valon with the Shadow, the chances of him willingly going there and possibly benefiting from the help Moiraine and Siuan would try to provide (though again I can't stress enough how bad an idea it would be to try) are much lower.

He rubbed a sore spot on his side. Apparently he had slept with the sword hilt jabbing him in the ribs.

Rand should get used to having a sore side now, all things considered.

But Rand could see no need to go over every step of the journey from the farm, or his fears, or the Myrddraal on the road. Certainly not his nightmares as he slept by the bed. Especially he saw no reason to mention Tam’s ramblings under the fever. Not yet.

It's sad that despite all this Rand is still doing a better job of communicating with Tam than most people will manage with each other in this series. Of course, if he had told Tam, he might well have put two and two together much too early and really freaked out.

“Then he knows what he’s talking about. You listen sharp, think deep, and guard your tongue. That’s good advice for any dealings beyond the Two Rivers, but most especially with Aes Sedai. And with Warders. Tell Lan something, and you’ve as good as told Moiraine. If he’s a Warder, then he’s bonded to her as sure as the sun rose this morning, and he won’t keep many secrets from her, if any.”

Most of Tam's advice is good and true (especially since he's aware enough to explain the basic principles of how Aes Sedai Truths work, even though he doesn't understand the mechanisms behind them), but his warning about Lan is actually not. Tam has no way of knowing it of course, but Lan and Moiraine are going to have divisions and Lan is just as obsessed with making Rand his found family as Rand is to win him over, so they're not as united a front as all that.

As to what the Aes Sedai got out of it, the stories were silent, but he was not about to believe they did not get something.

I could tell you what the Greens get out of it, Rand, but even your farming education won't have prepared you for those depths of depravity.

The Aes Sedai in general most notably get the benefits of a second pair of eyes and ears (not useless even from a non-channeler) and also a slave who can never truly rebel, because the Aes Sedai can Compel them at any time. This is naturally a huge secret on their end because holy shit is it fucked up.

“Perhaps I’ll follow in a few days anyway. Catch you up on the road. We will see if Marin can keep me in bed when I want to get up.”

Sorry Tam, she can and she will. Further, Nynaeve will leave in the interim, so you'll be convinced not to leave for quite some months yet. Seriously, you don't make it to Tar Valon for AGES. It doesn't even make sense.

Outside the room Mat waited, cloaked and coated and carrying his bow. A quiver hung at his waist. He was rocking anxiously on his heels, and he kept glancing off toward the stairs with what seemed to be equal parts impatience and fear. “This isn’t much like the stories, Rand, is it?” he said hoarsely.

What kind of horribly boring stories do fantasy characters tell each other that at the first sign of anything bad happening everyone's always going, "This never happened in the stories!"??? Dear fantasy writers and would-be fantasy writers: never use this cliche again. It is overused, nonsensical, and adds nothing!

Wondering what they could be watching, Rand went to join him. The Warder muttered at him to take a care, but he did open the door a trifle wider to make room for Rand to look, too.

"Today, I teach him to kill all of his own townsfolk who threaten him. Tomorrow, I teach him to die for our fallen kingdoms in the Blight."

You just know that if Mat had approached the door, Lan would have kicked him in the shins until he sat back down.

Cenn Buie was there, as well, looking uncomfortable.

"I can't believe that the crowd of people I incited to riot are rioting!"

Dead silence fell, except for the shuffling of a few feet as men drew back. Two Rivers folk could fight back if they were attacked, but violence was far from common, and threatening people was foreign to them, beyond the occasional shaking of a fist. Cenn Buie, Bili Congar, and the Coplins were left out front alone. Bili looked as if he wanted to back away, too.

I dunno Jordan, once you've gotten to the torch and pitchfork phase (okay there's no pitchforks but there are torches), they're usually past the point of their conscience kicking in like this. Guess Rand's ta'veren is keeping him alive.

Cenn half lifted his right hand, then looked away from it angrily. “I cannot deny what she did,” he muttered, and he did sound ashamed. “She helped me, and others,” he went on in a pleading tone, “but she’s an Aes Sedai, Bran. If those Trollocs didn’t come because of her, why did they come? We want no part of Aes Sedai in the Two Rivers. Let them keep their troubles away from us.”

I dunno Cenn, even ignoring the Dragon Reborn you don't know about standing some fifty feet away, there is that other dude who can channel claiming to be a Dragon, and the weather is unnaturally evil. The fact that you can't even stick to a single conspiracy theory at a time is what makes you simultaneously so pathetic and so realistic. Ten years ago I woulda called this sequence of dudes who Moiraine healed trying to have her burned at the stake contrived, but not these days.

“Is this what Aemon’s blood has come to?” The Aes Sedai’s voice was not loud, but it overwhelmed every other sound. “Little people squabbling for the right to hide like rabbits? You have forgotten who you were, forgotten what you were, but I had hoped some small part was left, some memory in blood and bone. Some shred to steel you for the long night coming.”

Sorry Moiraine, but the only parts left are in the EF5 (or in Rand's case, his adoptive father), and if it weren't for Perrin, these rabbits would all be dead by the end of book four, no matter how good their longbows are.

Eldrene, so beautiful that it was said the flowers bloomed to make her smile.

Rand will eventually unlock memories of the Songs of Growing and make stuff bloom around him all the time. Did the Songs last a little longer than we think, with Eldrene and others slain in the Trolloc Wars their last practitioners, and the details getting a little mixed up in the telling? Mat hears the Song and thinks it sounds familiar...

At night their cook-fires outnumbered the stars, and dawn revealed the banner of Ba’alzamon at their head. Ba’alzamon, Heart of the Dark. An ancient name for the Father of Lies. The Dark One could not have been free of his prison at Shayol Ghul, for if he had been, not all the forces of humankind together could have stood against him, but there was power there. Dreadlords, and some evil that made that light-destroying banner seem no more than right and sent a chill into the souls of the men who faced it.

The Dark One wasn't there, but he's not Ba'allsy either; Ish is. Just think bro, if you hadn't been sooooo insistent on wiping out Manetheren, its heartlands wouldn't have decayed into the very hinterlands that Rand grew up safely in. For a dude obsessed with breaking the Wheel, you sure are good at playing into the Pattern.

But some did not flee. First in a trickle, then a river, then a flood, men went, not to safety, but to join the army fighting for their land. Shepherds with bows, and farmers with pitchforks, and woodsmen with axes. Women went, too, shouldering what weapons they could find and marching side by side with their men

Literally Manetheren has been fighting an apocalyptic war for two centuries and they STILL aren't throwing every able-bodied woman at the problem? Maybe if you'd used the full extent of your populace, you could have wrapped things up in fifty years instead of two hundred plus!

*glares at Jordan*

But the price was high for Manetheren. Eldrene had drawn to herself more of the One Power than any human could ever hope to wield unaided. As the enemy generals died, so did she die, and the fires that consumed her consumed the empty city of Manetheren, even the stones of it, down to the living rock of the mountains. Yet the people had been saved.

Between the manner of her death and the relative circumstances (the loss of her husband and Warder), people including me are pretty convinced that Egwene is Eldrene reborn. It's nice to know that this time around she'll do it a little better, and instead of burning out and taking everything with her, she helps sew reality back together instead.

Other wars would wrack them in years to come, until at last their corner of the world was forgotten and at last they had forgotten wars and the ways of war. Never again did Manetheren rise.

Moiraine skims over a lot of details that aren't really relevant to her, "Try to burn me at the stake and I'll end you with just a fraction of the power Eldrene Sedai used to nuke her enemies" spiel, but we don't have to! Manetheren would be replaced by two kingdoms, Farashelle and Dhowlan. The former was the northern section and held the territory that would become the Two Rivers, the latter was basically Ghealdan, the kingdom whose queen would later swear fealty to the man rebuilding Manether--

Wait, what's that? Sanderson completely tossed aside Perrin's thread of rebuilding Manetheren? Whoops!

The two kingdoms occasionally skirmished, with Farashelle trying to restore Manetheren to its former glory, but nothing ever came of it thanks to Garen's Wall. A thousand years after the Trolloc Wars, Farashelle was conquered by False Dragon Amalasan and then claimed by Hawkwing and Dhowlan was conquered by Hawkwing directly. This tale of reunification is a fun parallel to Rand the real Dragon growing up in western Andor and Perrin the conqueror uniting both regions for his k-

Oh. Right.

After Hawkwing's death, Farashelle was briefly independent until conquered by Andor. Dhowlan was eventually made into Ghealdan by a compact of four nations that established a Crown of the High Council, paralleling the compact of four towns in the Two Rivers that would lead to the establishment of a new kingdom-

Er... guess not.

Oh well, it's not like the only note Jordan left behind on Perrin specifically stated he was supposed to become king or anything.

Weep for Manetheren. Weep for what is lost forever.

This was supposed to be ironic by the end, but since it isn't, I implore you to obey Moiraine and WEEP. Lord knows I'm going to.

Lan pulled Rand back and shut the door. “Let’s go, boy.” The Warder started for the back of the inn. “Come along, both of you. Quickly!”

Now that you're done weeping, let's end on a lighthearted note: Lan cares enough about Rand to address him specifically. Mat meanwhile, he's clearly only bringing along because Moiraine told him to.

Next time: Awesome speech finished, our heroes are finally ready to think about talking about planning a committee to consider the best way to organize their pre-departure if and when they can finalize a date.

[alittlebitofrainbyyourside]

Have an untitled document snippet that I refuse to name because it was /supposed/ to be a like- Quick Pornie Au with Big Dick Phayu and his childhood friend Rain who has recently gone throuh his Slut phase.

Either way, Rain scrubs his skin in the shower, snagging his body wash from the shelf to replace the smell of whatever the hell the guy's name had been from last night. Ball? Bean? Rain hadn't been listening particularly hard. And the guy certainly hadn't put in enough effort for Rain to bother moaning it, so what did it matter? He hadn't been half as big as Rain had thought he was in the club, and his thrust game had been dismal. 

A little delirious, Rain thinks about the possibility of making a shirt that says 'you must be this big to play'. Maybe that would help him weed out the non-contenders. 

Another rumble from his stomach and Rain sighs, petting it fondly, "I know, I know. Hopefully P'Phayu and P'Saifah will have something yummy for us."

Thankfully they don't live too far away. Close enough that Rain doesn't even bother grabbing his keys after he's gotten dressed, opting to ride his bike five blocks down to where the twins live. It might not be as cool as Phayu's motorcycle, but it's functional and it gets him there faster than walking would have. Which is important given how loud his stomach is protesting.

He rides his bike up the driveway of the huge house, carelessly letting it drop to the side as Rain goes to beat on the door. Once. Twice. Three times.

Rain's just about to hit it again when it opens and he throws his arms around the neck of his savior, "P'Saifah! Please tell me you guys have already made breakfast! I'm going to waste away if not!"

Saifah laughs, spinning Rain  inside and dropping him unceremoniously on the floor so that he can shut the door. "Phayu's in the kitchen now. Forget to buy groceries again?"

"Maybe."

"When's your Mama coming back, anyway?"

Rain slides off his shoes, shrugging. "She's with Papa in Korea, so probably another month or two. She's never in a rush back when she gets to stay with him."

Not that Rain can blame her, it's just that maybe he'd like to go too sometime. But apparently his studies are too important. Maybe over the summer he'll be able to visit. In the meantime, he's making the best of having the house to himself-

Even if it means shopping for himself. Rain wrinkles his nose- shopping is just so boring and he always feels like he's forgetting something important. Maybe he can convince Phayu or Saifah to come with him on their day off. At least that would solve the boredom problem.

Rain follows his nose (and his stomach) to the kitchen. Sausage- Phayu's definitely cooking sausage. Probably eggs too, if Rain knows his friend and after over a decade, he sure thinks he does. There will be vegetables too, of course. Rain's gotten the lecture about balanced meals leading to a balanced life so many times that he could probably recite it in his sleep. 

Which is why Saifah's probably the best target when it comes to asking someone to go to the grocery store with him. Saifah will understand why Rain's cart is half filled with chips.

"You're here early, Nong," Phayu says, one eyebrow raised as he stands at the stove.

"I'm starving, Phi," Rain sing-songs as he boosts himself up onto the counter- far away enough that he knows Phayu won't chide him about having his ass too close to the food. He winces slightly when he makes contact, the after effects of last night not completely invisible despite being mostly unremarkable. 

It's disappointing, truly. He'd rather have a night out sing through his body in the morning, than show up as a whistle later.

Phayu's eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything about Rain's placement and Rain takes that as a win. What Phayu does say is, "Let me guess, Mama is on a business trip again?"

"And Rainyboy hasn't gone grocery shopping," Saifah adds as he starts to take down plates from the cabinet to set the table. "When'd she leave?"

Rain kicks his heels against the wood, trying to think back.  "Last Friday, I think? Maybe Thursday."

"It's been over a week and you still haven't gone grocery shopping, Nong?" The judgment in Phayu's tone is clear, even as he takes the pan he's had on the stove off and begins to divvy up the food on the plates that Saifah brought down.

"I think our little friend has been too busy with <i>other</i> things, if you catch my drift," Saifah teases.

[cboffshore]

Questions, questions... May I ask you to explain some of the motifs in IICT(OSC)? Such as tea and heat, what was their inspiration? What were your intentions in using them? Feel free to write a mini essay on this, I am your demanding creative writing teacher (I enjoy reading your thoughts :3)

Yes, absolutely! This one's going under the cut just like the last one I discussed, because Spoilers and Long.

I briefly mentioned the tea motif in a previous fun facts post, but I'll go over it again here (mostly because I'm too lazy to look it up and link back, but also because you KNOW I love to talk). The tea thing is specifically inspired by an old Skybound activity/storybook of dubious canon status, where Wu gets some fabulous digs in and we learn that Nadakhan apparently smells like tea because of being stuck in the teapot for so long. Again, the canon status is a hot mess, but it's such a fun little detail! So I decided to use it. The tea symbolism ties in with the wine that appears in c5, as well as the general appearance of water, and comprises a little scale I like to call the Nadakhan Influence Scale, which works like this:

When water appears as a beverage (which only occurs in Coughing up Feathers, but was something I was able to retroactively work with) or as a general mention, Nya's pretty much in control; Nadakhan has no bearing on the scene, or on what Nya's doing. This link should be obvious given her whole elemental schtick, and is at its strongest when Nya's unconscious in the prologue and the rain attacks Nadakhan before he can get the bracelet off. For the retroactive Coughing Up Feathers appearance, that means the glass of water on the nightstand wasn't drugged. Nya's anxiety got the better of her, so she made the decision not to mess with it. In IICT(OSC), the bathroom is Nya's refuge, and is her only free access to water.

When tea appears, usually as a beverage or just as a sensory detail, that means Nadakhan is indirectly influencing the scene - that is, he isn't actually there, or Nya can't see him if he is. Tea appearing on the trays is a pretty straightforward thing - he's deciding what gets delivered to her, and on a grander scale is shaping her entire existence down to the smallest detail he can, including what she's drinking with breakfast. Tea is also implicated with the scent detail when Nya is blindfolded during the escort scene, then used as a weapon against Not-Landon - both times that Nadakhan is driving the action, but invisible (by way of blindfold or shapeshifting). It's worth noting for that last one that Nadakhan anticipated that she'd try to use something on that tray as a weapon. Depending on how stupid you like your 'khan, feel free to decide if he wanted her to use the tea or not. I like to think he didn't - he expected her to go for the knife - but what matters with this is that tea appears in a prank he designed.

When wine appears, again as either a literal object or just a sensory detail, that means Nadakhan is in full control of how the situation begins, at least as far as Nya's concerned. He's actually not in too much of this fic, so the wine mentions are few: once in the nightmare sequence, where Nya notes that the air tastes like it, and then again as a recurring object and plot device in the chess sequence, which he planned down to the letter. This is an homage to a lot of Skybound fanwork, where everyone seems to agree that it's wine. It's also based on the fact that there appears to be a globe bar cart thing in the e60 dinner scene, plus the line about plundering a case of cider in e61. Given that evidence, I'm willing to make that jump - it makes sense that it's alcohol. (Sidenote, as a hard cider enjoyer myself, I do have to wonder if you can infuse that with fiddlehead fern, or if that would even be good. Back on track!) Note that I said wine indicates that Nadakhan's in control of how things start; both appearances ultimately end in Nya saying, "this bitch handsy, YEET!" and doing something he genuinely does not expect.

The wine thing actually segues nicely into the importance of heat - after all, the wine is mulled. Fun fact, that was a direct result of me panicking and trying to think about the most overbearing beverage I've ever had so I could describe the scent accurately. I've never actually had mulled wine, but I have had undiluted IKEA VINTERSAGA glögg directly from the bottle, which is apparently supposed to be mixed with wine and heated. Also: it's really strong on its own. I felt like I was drinking cough syrup. (Protip: sparkling water with a good pour of VINTERSAGA is great!) Anyway, that unpleasant experience is what made me choose mulled wine, and then I worked backwards incorporating heat to work up to it.

I didn't get to go into quite as much detail in IICT(OSC) as I wanted to with the heat thing, but my initial plan (and an undercurrent inference that still made it in and is a fully valid reading) was to have the cold be deliberate on Nadakhan's part. While I don't believe that Nadakhan fully viewed Nya as Delara (except for his early-season misconception that she was just Delara reincarnate), I do believe that - at least for a while - he was trying to soften her up, or just mess with her, to make the whole wedding plot easier on himself. That's where the heat thing began. The basic idea is that, by plunging Nya into a freezing, uncomfortable environment and making himself the only consistent source of heat (for example: supplying hot meals, having access to the fireplace tools, and of course the mulled wine near the end), he intended to quite literally make her warm up to him. In short: maybe she'd go for it if he makes it clear that cooperating with him is the only way she can be physically comfortable here. The bathroom stuff ended up overriding that a bit, but still works - maybe letting her have a little heat now and then makes her want it more. You don't stay warm for too insanely long after a bath, especially not if you walk into an icy room right after.

Adding onto that - the original ending of IICT(OSC), after Nya rebels with the hook toss thing, actually had Nadakhan vindictively extinguish the fire and forcibly take her robe off (nightgown's still there! we're not getting weird! don't make me get out the spray bottle!) before leaving her to pass out. There was a cryptic comment about him hearing that possession is cold and wanting her to be used to that in advance that I lost, and I kind of miss it, but I do like what I ended up with. I think the final version of the ending gets his slipping frustration across nicely, but I do wish I'd been able to highlight the heat thing a little more without it being clunky. (I tried. It didn't work.) I'm really glad you asked about heat specifically, because it means I did get it across on some level. Yay!

Anyway, thanks for the ask!

[helloneighborfan]

PS: The moons will be to identify who is who, that is, the new moon is from the distant future and the full one is for the current time. It is a vision that occurs in the dream.

🌑 "What's going on?" 🌑

The woman looked around her and seemed to notice that the storm was over and the one that had nearly killed the couple. If it hadn't been for him, she'd be in a grave writhing with death. Part of her abdomen was perfectly bandaged, although she had a hard time standing up because of the stab wound she received in her abdomen. It seemed that they were still in the heptagonal room that they found hours ago.

There was her husband, lying on one side of her.

The storm, the Ravens, the assassination attempt, the cold dark night that nearly ended their lives and her husband. Rita! She didn't see her return that night. Had they taken her? Or worse yet, had she been killed? Many questions came to her mind causing her to slowly break into anger and immense tears, causing her beloved to wake up quickly. Without the strength to be able to stand up again, as if she had given up on the situation that was presented to them as the lack of income, the financing of her research had stopped financing since they were no longer interested at all the topic. Still separated a fair distance across the room, Roger decided to speak first.

-Adelle, I know you're overthinking things because of what happened, I understand, but-

Then she totally exploded on top of hers, causing him to be interrupted again. "Don't be hard on her, a lot more has happened than we could see that night." he thought

"What if the cult finds the children and involves them?!"

"We solve this, the children have nothing to do with this ."

"I guess you're right" Adelle said more calmly. Although a strong rain of memories came to her mind. Her head was exploding with everything, making her try to get up from where her husband was. She was fighting the twinge coming from her abdomen and the terrible headache that was making her wince. But she fell to the floor, living again a terrible night:

"They'll be alright, they'll be alright, they, they'll be alright, they'll be alright, they'll be alright, they'll be alright, they'll be alright."

"Believe me, sometimes we have to take the law into our own hands, my dear, and that justice is what we take."

"ahhh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

"They won't do anything to my wife while I'm standing!"

"I feel like my head is about to explode, I can't stand this rotten smell anymore, but I have to get out of here alive"

"This is what you caused, we did it the hard way this time and the next one will be worse than before"

"At that moment, the woman groaned in pain as she was stabbed causing her to faint; the meteorologist was forced to watch as her wife was slowly seriously injured."

Suddenly, he remembered the process of the food chain. They were the prey that escaped from the beast that ate the other animal so that later the three of them would fight for the end of the chain. But an instinct of his witnessed that all was not lost. With the little strength that he still had, he slowly crawled into a room that he couldn't see but he went towards that room. where everything turned dark

She didn't hear anything at all, just those terrible memories, until he slowly began to come to his senses. Apparently a worrying voice had called her name a few times. Roger

She slowly opened her eyes looking at Roger. She was dragging herself towards where her partner was, her savior. "thank you, thank you" she whispered. He noticed that and touched her pale cheek, he smiled sadly into hers, her wild emerald eyes, he didn't know how to express her concern so he hugged her deeply, forgetting all the nightmare he had. past.

.~.

"Don't despair Lisa, they'll be back soon, I know it."

"But it's been 2 days!"

The boy takes his sister by the shoulder. "As long as I'm protecting you, you'll be fine."

Lisa slowly calmed down until someone knocked on the door. "Come with me Lisa, I'm not going to risk being taken away." Both brothers went and opened the door and to their surprise, there was no one on the porch of their house when a hoarse and masculine voice was heard in the hallway.

"What's up Peterson? Did the cat get your tongue or are you seeing a ghost?

“You are a protective forest!”

She analyzed him from head to toe in detail, he had a black hood that covered part of his head along with a beak similar to that of a raven, only it was black as dust and had long claws, but he saw a pair of eyes through the lenses of the beak.

"That's right, girl." he said proudly. "We are the ones who seek the misery of your family and total ruin, they deserve to be dead just like your brother!"

Her tears began to run down her face until her voice cried out in pain. "Get away from my sister!" Ted, with all his strength, pulled the forest protector by the arm, taking him out of the house. "I will not have remorse with you again, not even from myself."

~•~•~•~•~

🌕 Raven Brooks is quiet in the middle of the night as life continues... 🌕

[bogclan-updates]

BogClan - Prologue

“Use them well.”

The words echo in Lavenderstar’s head as they lean down to grasp the small pale kit by the scruff, hefting his baby-round body as gently as she could. She took careful steps across the rainslick stones, listening with flattened ears to the sounds of distant thunder. She, and the rest of what was left of BogClan, trudged through this ragged landscape with their tails dragging and their spirits wilting. There were barely any trees here, not like their old home, which meant they all felt exposed.

Shadedfreckle looked back and forth, eyes darting at every shadow. “I don’t- I don’t know about this, Lavendertr- I mean, Lavenderstar.”

Lavenderstar cast a glance back over her shoulder for only a moment, having to balance just right on the stones. Her paw pads ached from how much rock they’d had to cross to get here; she and the rest of her clan had come from somewhere lush and wet, somewhere with very little hard stone to scrape against your every step. It had made this journey all the more arduous, and then as she fixed her clanmate with what she hoped was an placating look, the throbbing of her paws and the ache of every bone in her body felt like a weight that just might break her.

Warmth pressed into her side, and Lavenderstar could smell the deep scent of clay and green growing things that clung to the edges of the marsh. When she turned, Furzefern stood beside her, pushing her shoulder and body up and into hers to help keep her upright. She looked up at Lavenderstar with a concerned but soft expression. Her fur was short enough to make her look thin and windbeaten when the rain drenched her like that, but her resolve seemed never to falter. “Need help?” She meowed, only just loud enough to be heard above the rain. Her eyes, like the bright blue sky in winter, glittered in the dark.

Lavenderstar silently set the kit- Bluekit, his delicate body marred by a still-healing wound on his haunches. -before Furzefern, stopping just long enough to let her lift him instead before she turned back and wove her way through the line of cats. They had crossed a wide open foothills, then up into the rocks and boulders, all in a single file line while the older cats took turns carrying the babies. The landscape around them was bleak, and some of their attitudes even more so.

“I feel like we’re being followed,” Shadedfreckle hissed under her breath, her pitch dark pelt standing out starkly even against the water darkened earth behind her. Her voice was like gravel clattering against the cliffs, the senior warrior being one of the oldest of them present. “I don’t like being this far from home, what if-”

“Don’t you understand?” Needlewave snapped, her bright pelt the polar opposite of her friend’s. Her tail, a deeper ginger than the rest of her, lashed back and forth behind her. “We’re not going home! Never again.”

“Needle-” Lavenderstar began, her voice rising before she could stop herself, before she was interrupted by Nightgoose shouldering his way between them. It felt a little unnecessary, but the black and white tom had a protective streak wider than Silverpelt. For some reason, it was centered on her. She tried not to take it personally.

Nightgoose went on, amber eyes flashing in the arc of distant lightning. “Listen to me, all of you. We don’t know what we will find here, but it will be better than where we’ve been. That is all I know, but Starclan still guides us even here.”

Lavenderstar felt her spine twitch and almost sat down reflexively in an attempt to hide it. A tell. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It would do them all no good to panic now. She nodded at Nightgoose and then looked at each of her warriors in turn. She lingered on Willowspeck, the exhaustion apparent behind her eyes even as she kept a hard grip on Chestnutkit, who wriggled madly in her grasp. Her deputy gave the barest nod, urging her silently to continue.

“We’ve been through a lot to get here,” Lavenderstar started, trying to smooth her frustration over with certainty. Thunder roared like some great beast, forcing her to raise her voice above the furious sound. “Our old home may be gone, but it was only a place. The true home is here, standing beside you. We are almost to our destination, I can feel it. I must ask you to trust me in this, so that we might find somewhere new we can live. Somewhere BogClan can thrive.”

Her heart pounded in her ears in rhythm with the rain as she considered her drenched clan and hoped she wasn’t just leading them to more disaster.

Starclan, please let me be right about this.