#i wish their relationship got fleshed out a bit more

[moonfruito]

el and nancy's experiences of girlhood being dichotomised in season one kills me. el looks at the pretty girl and the pretty pink bedroom and this life she's crafted that she parades in pictures and she craves it, so deeply, that she spends the whole season wearing nancy's old dress, this hyper-feminine pink thing, peter pan collars and frills. it sits on her so jarringly, resolutely at odds with her shaved head and death stare and face permanently stained with dirt and blood and tears, and mike's crumpled blue jacket doesn't match, doesn't fit, and she looks so small, but she wants to be the girl in the picture. she wants back the innocence that she never got to have, scrounges off the scraps of nancy's girlhood where she can find it, while nancy loses it at the exact same time. she loses her virginity and her childhood best friend and she ties her hair back and learns to shoot a gun and she learns, through the pain and violence, that her life as a small-town good girl behind a picket fence was lost with everything else that went that day, died with barb. she's a slut and a monster hunter and a woman at sixteen and now she's looking at the girl in the picture and craving her life too. she left her girlhood by the poolside, torn and bloodied and ripped fresh from her chest, and el picks it up, dusts it off, and wears it like armour.

[faetreides]

summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing. 

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face. 

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response. 

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail. 

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet. 

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it  falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face. 

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word. 

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze. 

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you. 

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?” 

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth. 

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two. 

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

[girlboypersonthingy]

crawls into ask box

hi can i request for sal fisher w a s/o who likes to trace his face scars with their fingers 😎

YES YES YES I want this so bad, I wish this were me sooooo baaadddddd 😮‍💨 thanks for all the Sally face requests I’ve been getting! I’m living for it. If you’ve requested, I’ll get to it soon. Promise ✨ enjoy~

Notes: established relationship, first time saying ‘I love you’, tons of fluff, short little drabble

TW: spit (Sal drools a lil 😚)

Sal x reader- Quality Time

After a long day of you working and Sal having class, it was finally late and quiet, finally time to unwind and spend some quality time with your darling boyfriend. You sat in his bed, playing on his gearboy to pass the time as he took a shower. Gizmo is cuddled up next to your thigh, softly purring while you play your game. As you were just getting invested in the hand held game, the door swung open and in came Sal with wet blue hair dipping onto his black over sized t-shirt, wearing just the shirt and a pair of baggy blue boxers.

“Feeling better?” You glance at him for a moment then back to the game. “Yeah, I’m tired now.” Sal replies as he rubs the excess water out of his long hair with his towel, quickly throwing it aside before climbing on the bed with you. He didn’t hesitate in laying on his back and resting his head in your lap, watching as you continue your game. Besides the intense music and sound effects coming from the gearboy, it became quiet between you two, pleasantly quiet and calm.

You were so caught up in completing the level you’re currently on that you didn’t even notice that Sal had shifted his gaze from the game in your hand to your face above him, taking time to admire it all scrunched into a focused expression. He stared up at you for what felt like hours, taking in the view of you licking your lips and raising your brows. Your face is so pretty, so soft and whole, pretty much flawless in his opinion. As a smile crept up his cheeks, it was his soft sigh of contentment that made you glance down at him. From your point of view, his bare face was upside down with his head resting in your lap and his hair all pushed back- nothing was obstructing your view of his messily scarred face.

Quickly, you found yourself locked into his gaze, staring back down at him as his smile got bigger, revealing his teeth even more through the missing flesh of his cheek. Now your own lips are spreading wider, a wave of butterflies coursing through your stomach as you blink at him. “W-what?” You ask in reference to his loving stare. Sal takes a moment to answer, softly chucking first when the sound effects of defeat come from the gearboy still in your hand.

“You’re just really cute.” He finally responds, making you toss the gearboy aside and fully focus on him. You’re smiling so big now, it’s hard to keep your eyes open enough to see him. “No, you are.” And your hands find their place on his cheeks, your thumbs gently stroking his uneven skin, making Sal’s eyes gradually close as he relaxes under your fingertips.

For what felt like hours, you stayed this way- your fingers gently tracing over every scar and every part of his face that had never healed back over. Finger tips lightly ticking his forehead, your hands softly rubbing under his chin before circling back to his cheeks, all the while both of your smiles are unchanging. “Feel good, Sally?” Sal hums in response, eyes still closed as he feels himself getting sleepy.

It was relaxing for both of you- the different textures of his skin felt so unique to your hands. His bright and shiny molars caught your attention as they peak through the gaping hole in his cheek. It was then that you noticed a bit of drool pooling on the side of his cheek where his teeth were exposed, his breathing steady and nearly silent now. He was falling asleep.

“I love you.” It leaves your mouth as a breathy confession, making Sal open his eyes, one empty socket and a dull blue eye staring up at you. His expression changes rapidly from a look of surprise and excitement to one of adoration and endearment. His brows relax, his face begins to turn pink as he shifts his gaze away. He hasn’t replied yet so you nervously open your mouth again, hands still resting on his cheeks. “Sorry, you…you’re j-just so gorgeous.”

Sal turns his head to the side fast, using one of his hands to cover his crimson face. A soft groan leaves him and he pauses before speaking. “Stoooppp.” You would stop if it wasn’t for his smile showing from beneath his large hand, you could hear the giddy smirk in his voice when he spoke. So you decide to keep the sappy romance going. Carefully, leaving him time to stop you, you pull his hand away and continue gently stoking his cheek again. Silence falls between you two for a moment before Sal turns his head so he’s looking up at you again.

“I love you too.” His eyes are closed now and he seems relaxed again, his blushing cheeks having calmed down a bit thanks to your calming touch. Leaning over him slowly, you let your eyes close as you go for a kiss. Sal opens up his eye for a second to see you leaning in and he sits up ever so slightly to meet you in the middle. Your lips slowly part against each other’s, moving in different rhythms but somehow matching up perfectly. Your hands slide from his cheeks to behind his head, fingers tangled in his wet locks as you’re holding his face up to yours. You both savor the moment, hearts starting to beat faster and faster. Seconds later, you part with a soft gasp coming from both of you.

Something about you complimenting his bare face while also touching it and telling him you love him…makes him wanna put a ring on that finger immediately. He never thought he’d find a love like you and while he isn’t totally sure what he’s doing here, he wants to be with you like this forever.

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin realising his feelings for his gn crush?

Warnings: mentions of Astarion's trauma. I added a scene that doesn't technically exist in-game to flesh things out a bit with Halsin.

Notes:  Please, Tumblr... More Halsin and Gale gifs pls My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

As we all know, it takes a long time for Astarion to be able to fall in love properly. His two centuries of having to seduce prey for Cazador have made it very hard to tell where the sultry facade ends, and the true him begins. He was meant to have seduced you for protection, to get you to fall for him and defend him should he ever need it. That was the plan, in any case. To him, it was fool-proof - he had never fallen in love with an object of his 'affection' before, so this should have been easy.

He was very wrong - though your do-good nature really irked him at first, it eventually made him want to be the same. Or, at least, similar. Part of him wished that he could have had someone like you earlier, to save him from the horrors he had seen under Cazador. Your patience with him, and your unwavering kindness got through to him, and he craved more - even if he thought he didn't deserve it.

He realised he loved you - truly, deeply loved you - when you and some of your group had infiltrated Moonrise Towers. You'd encountered a drow who was hell-bent on exploring the Sanguine arts, and had even started to press Astarion to bite her, despite his protests. You had stood up for him, told her to back off, and it was that moment that he had realised that his feelings for you were more than an infatuation, more than seeing you as something to use for protection, that it was love.

Gale

Gale had been fond of you since day 1 - though, being pulled out of a collapsing portal may do that to someone's view of another. Your views often aligned - though sometimes the means to achieve them did not - and that endeared you all the more to him. Even when he told you of the orb lodged deep within his chest, demanding he consume strands of weave, you stuck by him; and he hadn't entirely thought you would.

Being able to travel by your side and see all the good deeds you do is an honour for him - he'll often sit and think about how his life would have been had he not been snatched up by the mindflayers. He'd probably be in his tower in Waterdeep, with no one but Tara for company, and little to do besides wallow in his own self-pity. This was a much better alternative - even with the looming possibility of ceremorphosis.

His feelings first started when you said that you could stay with the group after he revealed the nature of the orb in his chest. It was only natural, after being shown such kindness. But the moment he really knew he loved you, was after Elminster had delivered Mystra's missive to Gale - about destroying the heart of the Absolute by detonating the orb in his chest. When you had gotten so uptight with the older wizard, telling him it wouldn't happen, that Gale wasn't going to die, he couldn't help but find you sweet. Though he had initially resigned himself to Mystra's demands, he couldn't deny it felt nice to have someone on his side.

Halsin

To begin with, Halsin admired you, but was not emotionally available enough to pursue any kind of romantic relationship with you - his mind was focused more on ridding Moonrise of the Shadow Curse. It was only really once that part of your journey had concluded that he could even start to think about that kind of thing.

You had proven yourself to be a person of your word, and that was something that Halsin always held a great amount of respect for. To find someone who followed through with the promises they made, let alone to be able to travel with them, was an absolute blessing - one that Halsin thanked the gods for every day. It was with your help the curse was dispelled, and the lands freed; that was no easy feat, and he couldn't have done it without you.

During the rather small celebration the party and a few others had post-curse, Halsin sat and thought to himself about all that you had done for him - all that you, hadn't quite sacrificed per se, but had given to help him. You'd taken many beatings to help him on his own quest, when it probably would have been more beneficial for you to pursue your own - which was arguably just as pressing, if not more so. Your courage endeared you to him, and it was as he sat there, amidst the celebratory drinking and serenading, that he realised he would devote himself to you as much as you had done to him; following you to Baldur's Gate, and facing whatever it was that was at the end of your journey.

[babygorewhore]

Scars. Kai anderson Smut.

Requested by Anonymous!

You have two dark secrets. Both of them you try and keep behind closed doors. However, your boyfriend Kai, knows something is going on and is determined to find out what it is.

Warnings: DARK! Eating disorder. Self harm themes. Virgin! Reader! Oral! Male and female recieving. PnV! Spanking. Do not read if these themes make you uncomfortable! A bit of a slow burn.

You shoved another piece of food down your throat despite you feeling sick. Kai chatted aimlessly with one of his members. Something you still weren’t used too. Members. It was a cult. Something he frequently denied.

You had never had a boyfriend before, just a few infatuations here and there as you grew up. The relationship was a jump start. He first kissed you last month after only knowing you two days. He somehow knew you were inexperienced. A virgin. You grimaced at the word.

Nausea grew in your stomach and you got up quickly, rushing to the downstairs bathroom. Kai watched silently as you closed the door. You only had a few minutes, you stuck your fingers down your throat.

You gagged before the contents came up, emptying your stomach as you held the toilet. Afterwards, you scrubbed your mouth clean and rinsed with mouthwash. You glanced in the mirror. Your cheeks were puffy. It looked like you cried instead of making yourself sick.

You hated your body. Hated the way it looked in pictures. You mostly hated your stomach. You gathered the flesh in your hands, wishing you could just slice it off. Could you? You thought about what you brought with you to Kai’s house. You didn’t bring any blades with you, since you didn’t plan on staying more than a couple of days.

A knock sounded at the door and you quickly smoothed your clothes. Opening the door, you found Kai leaning against the frame. “You okay, doll?” He asked.

You nodded rapidly. “Yeah. Just a little nauseous.” Kai immediately held the back of his palm to your forehead. “Are you okay? You feel a little warm.” His eyes swept over your face and you leaned away. Nodding.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Um…where am I going to sleep?” You felt stupid for asking but you were nervous. Kai smirked at you as he grasped your hands together.

“With me, of course.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, lingering on the spot before he let go. “Upstairs. First room on the left. Get yourself comfortable. I’ll be up later.” He gave you another kiss before he turned around. You sighed in relief before going upstairs.

His bedroom was big, his bed made and everything was organized. Except for the drawings and notebooks all over his desk. You glanced around, paranoid he would come in at any second. You crept forward, lifting one small notebook up and you read the contents.

‘She’s always wearing long sleeves. Avoiding questions. I can tell she has things she’s hiding from me. I’ll get it out of her. Eventually.’ Your stomach plummets as you put the notebook back where it belongs.

He was suspicious. You had to be more subtle with it. You subconsciously wiped your mouth, trying to make sure nothing was leftover. You were growing hungry again. Given you never kept the contents of your meals down. Your stomach growled as you miserably laid on the bed.

You were tired. You hadn’t been home all day. You were hot, it was summer and you were in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. You ignored the sweat pooling on your forehead as you turned over.

Somehow you had drifted to sleep but you woke to the feeling of lips brushing your nose.

Your eyes opened slowly, you found Kai leaning above you, his face inches from yours. He smiled at you as you woke up, the blankets wrapped around your legs. “Kai?”

“Mmmm, sorry it’s so late. Baby.” Kai captured your lips in a heated kiss. His hand pulled you from the back of your head, his tongue brushing against your lower lip, inviting him in.

“Kai-“ You spoke, trying to pull your face away. But Kai kept kissing you, pulling your lower lip with his teeth. “Kai- I’m not ready for this-“ You protested as his hand settled low on your hips.

“Shhh. I know.” Kai said as he deepens the kiss. He settled inbetween your legs, kissing down your neck as he sloppily sucked your pulse point. His hand drifted to your stomach and you froze.

“Stop.” He paused, leaning up to look into your eyes.

“Something wrong?” He questioned. You shuffled out his hold and pulled your shirt down, hating that you remembered what he wrote.

“I’m not ready.” You repeated, smoothing back your hair. Kai pulled back and you dreaded the next couple of seconds but he took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“I’m sorry, little lamb. I got carried away.” You gave him a small smile as he gave you another kiss.

“You’re so shy.” He chuckled and you looked away.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.” You sighed and he nodded. “I know that’s lame for someone my age.” You shrugged.

“It’s kind of hot. That no one else has gotten to do this.” Kai leaned forward to kiss you again. Pausing over your cheek. “It’s addicting. Kissing you.” He said.

“Really?”

“Mhm.” But he pulled away. Still holding your hand. “I really came in here to tell you. I’m going to be gone tonight. I have a message to send.”

“What kind of message?” You asked him.

“Mmmm. You’ll see. Soon,” He rubbed his nose against yours before exiting the bedroom.

When you turned on the news in the basement, two days later. You were shocked. A brutal slaughter of a couple. Stabbed to death. The smiley symbol. The same Kai was always drawing. You were cold as you realized how deep this really was.

You paced in the basement as the hours went by. He still wasn’t home. Your stomach burned from throwing up repeatedly today from stress.

Why could he be so soft with you, yet be such a brutal monster outside? The door opened. You looked but saw it was only samuels. Who sneered at you.

You couldn’t take it. The anxiety. The dread. None of it. You marched upstairs, to his bedroom before going to his bathroom. You opened the cabinets, relentless in your search before finding his unopened box of razor blades. It wouldn’t make a difference if you took only one. Just one would be enough to last you for a few days. Carefully tucking it back, you lifted up your scarred stomach.

You breathed heavily as you bit down on your shirt, wincing as the blade went across your skin. What you didn’t notice, was that Kai opened the door.

“Y/n!” He shouted and you jumped. Whipping around. Your eyes widened in horror as he rushed towards you. He yanked the razor out of your hand. Throwing it across the bathroom.

“What the fuck? What are you doing?” He snarled at you. You flinched back, intimidated by his anger. This wasn’t usually how he was towards you.

Kai went to lift up your shirt that was stained with blood but you leaned back, avoiding his hand. “Don’t.” You said.

Kai ignored your plea as he pulled your shirt up, revealing the new wound along with several old scars. You tried to shimmy away but he was stronger than you. As he held you still, his eyes raked all over your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, despite your protests.

He had never seen your body. Never outside of a oversized shirt. Leaving you in your bra. “Step out of your shorts.” He commanded. You shook your head wildly.

“I can’t do that.” He started to pull them down and you smacked his hands off.

“Stop it.” Tears welled in your eyes but you didn’t have any fight as he pulled back. Pointing to your shorts.

“Take them. Off.” He ground through his teeth. You shook as you got out of your shorts.

You were only in your bra and underwear. Exposing all of your secrets written on your body. Your stomach growled as he stared at you. You trembled as he reached forward, taking in your scars with his finger tips. You lowered your head.

“Mmm, my little innocent girl.” Kai tsked as he brought up your arm. His lips brushed against the biggest scar but you pulled back.

“What is going on? The way you run off to the bathroom. Hiding behind your clothes. This is it? You cut yourself?”

“It’s not just that! I-I don’t like myself.” You stuttered.

“What else? What else have you been doing?” Kai cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I- I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have a choice. Tell me. Right now. Or else you’re not getting these back.” He pointed to your discarded clothes.

“I throw up. I force myself to throw up after my meals.” Kai pales. Shaking his head, he cups your face.

“My little lamb, you’re in so much pain.” He cooes. “Is that why you don’t want me to see your body?”

You nod slowly, his thumbs rub circles over your cheeks before he leans back, taking in your figure. He spun you around slowly, before setting you straight before him. “You’re real pretty. You know that?”

You shook your head.

“It all makes sense now.” He said, his hands resting on your shoulders. “But you hurting yourself? It stops now.”

“What does that mean?” Kai wrapped his hands around your thighs, lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap them around his waist. You held onto him as he walked to the bed.

He laid you on your back, his hand trailing down your stomach over the scars. His knee separated your thighs, leaving you exposed. You looked at him with doe eyes, breathing heavily as his eyes devoured your body.

He leaned down, his lips lightly brushing against yours. You closed your eyes, ready for his kiss when you didn’t feel anything. You looked at him, he tossed over a long sleeved shirt to you. “You can wear this. I have some matters to discuss with my members. We can continue this…later.”

That was a few days ago. He locked the sharp objects away, as much as you hated it. And made you sit with him for at least twenty minutes after you ate. Something he no doubt read about online. But you boiled over at the loss of privacy. But that meant he cared. Right?

But one thing changed. You wanted him to take you. Despite your nervousness. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose. The lingering touches. The fleeting kisses. Everything. You wanted more. Craved him. It was a game. You knew that. But yet…you couldn’t help but wonder. How good would it feel? He was way more experienced. Something he talked about when you first met. So, in the meantime while he spent hours slaving away to his cause, you fantasized about him. Even dreaming about what it would be like. To feel his fingers inside you. For him to lower his mouth…down…down…but would he? He had seen your scars. Found out your deepest secret.

“Y/n.” You lifted your head, not noticing everyone was gone from the basement.

“Come here. I want to ask you a few things.” Kai was sitting at the table. The infamous pinky swear. Something you had seen, but never partook.

You sat across from him, and he extended his hand. Pinky up. You joined your fingers and he looked deep into your eyes.

“Tell me. What is your deepest desire?” You bristled. Knowing the answer. But you were embarrassed to say.

“And make sure you tell me the truth.” He added.

“My deepest desire is…to feel you.” You said sheepishly.

“I still touch you. You do feel me.” Kai said to you.

“Not in that way.” You whispered. “I mean…I want you to touch me. More intimately .”

“You want me to fuck you?” Kai still gripped your finger. You wanted to faint at his brass wording.

“Yeah-yeah I do-“

“Why now? You told me you weren’t ready.” His tone was still serious but you sensed a slight tease in his words.

“I-I wasn’t. But now…I think I am?” Kai nodded before glancing down at your lips.

“I want to fuck you.” Kai tells you simply. “I want to splay you out, right here. Right now. Get you on your knees like the good little slut you are. Watch you take me whole. Cover your face with my cum.” Your heart hammered as Kai tightens his grip on your finger and leans forward.

“But, I think you want to know also, what I would do for you? Isnt that right, little lamb?”

“Yeah.” You squeak. Kai loosens his hand and motions for you to come closer.

You do and he looks down at your lips. “I’ve been curious about what that wet, tight pussy tastes like. You know. The way your clenching your thighs together. Trying to make sure you’re not so wet? Is that what you’re doing?” You couldn’t answer as you watched him dart his eyes at your pants.

“You-you want that?” You asked him, still insecure of your body.

Kai narrows his eyes at you. “You think I care about scars?”

“They’re ugly. Why would you want to fuck someone like me?” Your question hung in the air for several seconds before Kai licked his lips.

“Mmmm. Scars are personal. They tell me things about a person. They tell me about pain. Suffering. And if there’s both of that, then that means I can show you how good it feels to feel my tongue between those legs. Why it’s so worth it to fuck someone no matter what you look like because at the end of the day,” Kai breaks the contact and settles his hand across your neck. “I want to make you scream. Beg. Crawl, suck. Are you going to be a good girl, and listen to me?” His voice grows quieter as he continues and your slick grows.

“Yes. Divine ruler.” The name came out of you without warning and Kai lurches forward, smashing his lips to yours in an rough kiss. You half moan half squeal as he yanks you into his lap, setting you right on his hard dick.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on the strands as he breathed you in, his own fingers pressing against your back as his clothed cock dug into you. You both moaned into each others mouths, he drove his erection harder into you as you felt his teeth pull on your lower lip. As if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Kai tapped your leg, signaling you to get down and you did, stopping mid kiss and he guided you on your knees. “Fuck, this is even better than I thought. You look so eager to please me, aren’t you little lamb?” He cooed and brushed his thumb over your cheek.

You nodded as he stripped down to his grey boxers. His cock hard, evident in front of your face. You licked your lips as he slowly peeled them down over his thighs, his red tip was leaking with precum as he gently stroked his length. “Open your mouth, princess.” He encouraged you and you obeyed him.

His coated tip ran across your tongue, as you hallowed your cheeks, sucking softly at him. He started thrusting his pelvis into your mouth, his tip reaching further and further to the back of your throat. He set his hand steadily on your head, gripping your hair as your eyes weld with tears at the salty taste. You sucked him, then ran your tongue over him and he lulled his head back groaning.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” Kai praised you. “You sure you haven’t done this?” You breathed out of your nose as your knees pressed on ground.

He went to your throat, causing you to gag uncomfortably and you tried to pull off. He held you, still thrusting as you couldn’t breathe normally. Finally, he released you and you doubled over. You wiped your chin as he shuddered, climaxing by finishing himself off with his hand. “Mmmm. You looked so fucking good choking on it.” Kai crooked his finger. “Lay down, open your legs for me.” He commanded.

You followed orders, laying on your back as you separated your knees. Kai crawled to you, looking at you with hungry eyes. “How does it feel? Seeing me on my knees for you?”

Kai wasted no time pulling off your pants and underwear, exposing your slick pussy. He brought you closer to his mouth by your hips, laying his tongue flat against your pussy. Your breath hitched as he kitten licked your clit, warmth pooling over you as he licked up and down before pressing his tongue inside. Your head laid back on the floor as he devoured you, taking every ounce of wetness with his mouth, his hand kept you from jerking your hips too much.

Pleasure grew in your belly, tightening in your lower half as he continued. He pressed two big fingers against your entrance, curling them deep inside. Reaching a delicate spot inside you. Snuggly fit in you. You moaned as sweat pooled at your forehead.

“I can’t- take it- I’m gonna-“

“Cum. I want you to cum all over my face.” He instructed before quickening the pace of his tongue.

You released then, rolling your pelvis up as you grew wetter, it trailed down your thighs. Your legs trembled as he pulled away, wiping your slick off his chin.

“Aw, your legs are shaking. Did it feel that good?” He teased.

“Mhm.” Was all you could say. Kai settled inbetween your legs, his heavy cock lining up with your pussy. He pushed the tip inside, you gasped at the sensation as he leaned down, pressing further as he sloppily kissed your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Kai breathed as he rutted against you, hands pining your wrists down.

You winced at the pressure inside you, it hurt because of his size but he showed no sign of slowing down. You wanted to reach down to your clit but he hands trapped yours tightly.

“I’m gonna need to go faster.” He grunted and you nodded, thankful that Kai released one of your hands, his own thumb reaching to rub circles on your clit. Your eyes rolled back as a greater wave of pleasure came, much bigger than before.

He increased his pace, his face buried in your neck. “Fuck.” His movements grew sloppy and your nails dug into his shoulders.

“I’m gonna cum-“ you said to him and he circled faster.

He gave one last thrust before he stilled, you felt your own release collide with his as warmth spread through you. And you thanked yourself that you went on birth control. Kai pulled out of you and gave you another kiss.

“You feel so fucking good.” He laid next to you, laying a smack on your ass. You gasped at the contact.

“next time you need pain, you’re gonna let me know. And I’ll make sure to pull you over my knee.” You reached forward to grab his hand and he interlaced fingers together.

“Did my scars bother you?” You asked him.

“No. But I’m still not going to let you do that.” He promised before bringing your knuckles to his lips.

@spill-the-t @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @demxnicprxncess @evanptrss @howtobesasha @randodummy

[reallyromealone]

MEETINGS

Dire Crowley x male reader

Bottom Crowley, top reader, smut, nsfw, biting, dirty talk, rough sex, sweet words

"hello again crowley" (name) grunted as he had the head mage of the night raven academies legs over his shoulders, thrusting into the others ass with a shit eating grin, the black haired man laying on his own mahogany desk crying in pleasure as the royal swords academy headmaster fucked him stupid "I missed you, did you miss me?" He teased as he kissed the others chest, dress shirt and best ripped open in the heat of the moment, leaving bite marks across his pale flesh as Crowley clawed at his back.

Crowley loved the feeling of (name)s cock stretch him out, shaping his insides to fit him as the other looked dishevelled as he focused his thrusts perfectly, Crowley never wanted it to stop as he felt his insides get rearranged.

He got very excited for (name)s "meetings".

"So generous of you to invite me to beild relationships with me~" Crowley couldn't get a word out as (name) moved him so he could hit his prostate better "ahn!" No snark or cheeky comments as (name)s balls slapped against his ass "god you're so pretty like this... Wish I could have you like this every day..." (Name) said kissing the other, mask long removed as their lips chased one another "you're so perfect... So wonderful..." (Name) loved praising the other, feeding his ego.

And Crowley felt on cloud nine as his beloved worshiped him, kissing him sloppily and whined as (name)s tongue slipped in and gently coaxed him to kiss back, the poor dark made struggling to keep up with the heat of the passion.

"Mmh!" (Name) swollowed moans and whines as he rubbed the others waist and the bruises he left from gripping particularly hard, shifting his thrusts to be a bit more slow as he pushed in nice and deep and swore he could see the outline of his cock.

(Name) let Crowley's legs drop to wrap around (name)s waist, the man pressing his hand against Crowley's abdomen and he could feel his cock go in and out.

"Do you feel that? My cock going in and out of your sloppy little cunt?" (Name) teased while licking at his nipple, Crowley arching his back as felt (name)s hot tongue swirl around his areola before biting at his nipple, (name) pulling Crowley close with one arm wrapped around his waist "don't worry my song bird... I'll take care of you" he promised as he fucked him well and good, stroking his cock in rhythm.

"Please... Fuck oh!" Crowley was such a sweetheart when fucked stupid...

He was so beautiful, sweaty and glowing as he let (name) use him like a sex toy... Maybe one day the fates would allow him to be with Crowley forever, bound by magic for eternity...

"Close...! Fuck (name)!" Crowley cried out as he bit into (name)s shoulder, causing the other to hiss as he picked up speed and left hickeys across Crowley's neck and shoulder as the other sang sweetly for him "so big..." Crowley whined as his body shook out an orgasm.

"I'll fill you up so well... Don't you worry my beloved..." (Name) would give Crowley his life if it meant his happiness would be fulfilled... But for now his cum would have to suffice.

(Name) kept his pace as Crowley's cum covered both their chests, (name)s eyes closed as he felt himself get close "so good, so fucking tight for me... God you're perfect... A perfect little hole for me... I love you" (name) confessed as Crowley looked for once out of words and pulled him into a greedy kiss as (name) came deep within him.

Slow thrusts as he rode out his climax before slowly pulling out his cock and cum dripping out of his ass "beautiful..." (Name) loved Crowley at all times, especially like this.

"I... I love you as well." Crowley mumbled while (name) waved his hand to summon a wash cloth to clean the dark mage "maybe next time I could take you to dinner for our "meetings", must keep peace yes?" (Name) asked as he crouched infront of Crowley to wash the sweat off his body.

"Since I'm so generous, I'll agree to your silly dinner"

"Wonderful"

They couldn't be together the way they wished but this was close enough, the two looking at each other longingly as Crowley put his mask back on.

"Now, be a good little mage and help me to the restroom, the least you could do for blowing my back like that"

[haechurch]

chef-d'oeuvre

jaemin x fem!reader

smut, minors dni, husband wife relationship, making out, oral (f receiving), grinding, nipple play, unprotected sex, breeding kink, kind of cockwarming idk, creampie? marking lol etc

2.1+k words

"Honey?" You called your husband as you walk into the bedroom, he was currently sitting at the edge of the bed, talking to his phone for a while before he hang it up, finally facing you.

"Yes baby?" Jaemin put his phone down on the drawer and replied. But you remained silent, apparent to unconsciously bit your lower lip. He didn't realize, but when he was on a call earlier and you waited at the door frame, you can't help but eyeing him from head to toe, how he looks so fucking good with his suits tonight.

Jaemin called again, making you pep up from your fantasy. He's not dumb and was aware of what's up on your mind just now, there's no way that he's missing out on how you staring at him with a lust gaze earlier.

He shifted on the bed, taking off his dark suits then manspreading in front of you. Both of his hands carried his bodyweight that leaned backwards. You pressed your thighs together when he give you the look, one of his eyebrow cock and he snickered at you.

Fuck this man. He's so fucking hot.

"C'mere." He spread his arms as he's welcoming you, and just like hooked on something, you obeyed and walked to him immediately without being told twice. Then you take his hands as he made you straddle his lap. Both of your legs folded against his thighs and you rest your arms on his shoulder, while he rest his hands at your back and hip.

"You can do whatever you want to me, you know?" He leaned in to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his lips ghosting to your skin ever so slightly that made you whimper, and you arched your back, indulging yourself to leaning onto his touch.

"Uhh i'm not saying anything." You play dumb and started to fumbling with his hair.

"But i know what you're thinking. You've been staring, baby, you think i'm dumb?" What he said just made you tuck another flesh between your teeth. And fuck yes you've been thinking of that since forever.

Without even saying a thing, you press your lips on jaemin's, the kiss was slow and sensual before it turned a little bit more passionate, tongue all over each other's with teeth clashing as you rolled your hips continuously that made him hiss pitifully. Jaemin's kisses traveled down to your jaw, neck, and collarbone, making you sigh dreamily at his doing. But then you remembered what you wanted to do with him just now.

"Jaem-" you stopped him by bringing his cheeks together. He hums sweetly, "hmm, what do you want baby?" He asked with such sweet tone and gaze. He's leaning onto your face, all smiling, sickeningly handsome, then gave your nose a little peck. All of what he did was making butterflies fluttering in your belly. "I just want to kiss you." You're being honest. He smiled sickenly sweet at your words and answered, "i'm all yours, princess. Kiss me as you wish."

You murmured "i fucking love you," before getting up and walk away to get your purse and pull your lipstick out, doing a pretty bold touch up with the red shade. You smile to yourself as you approached him again, neck bend down to match his face as his hands resting below your waist, and you started to slowly peppering kisses on his face. It begin with his forehead, his right cheek, then left cheek, and both the corner of his mouth. You already giggled at the sight.

Then you straightened up before doing the further ministrations, pushing him hard so his back was on the mattress with a bounce, and you started to undress him. You bend over slightly to grabbed his collar and unbind his black tie then tossed it onto the floor. Your hands pressed through his bulging chest and managed to unbuttoning his white shirt.

Button by button, he watched you carefully at your attempt to strip him in a slow motion, eyes locked at each other's. After you got his shirt loose and unveil the material apart, you put your hands all over his bare torso and crawling over him, then started to attacking his neck. You lick a long stripe up his throat, stopping at his jaw and giving them a wet kisses. You're not only marking him with your lipstick, but you sucked on the skin, hard. Intended to make a real mark that lasted for days on his beautiful throat. After you went from his neck you started to paint him more with litter of kisses all over his frame, down and down, with a painfully slow pace. It's making him losing his mind, the way you leave open mouthed kisses with some licks while got his chest all heaving, you know you're doing something to him, and it made you want to play even more.

You gave a chaste kiss next to his belly button before getting up, fully seated on his crotch, and meeting with his fucked up gaze while you sneered at him. Then you leaned down again to swirl your tongue against one of his nipples, letting a soft groan from him. You licked around the areola, and he won't stop grunting from there. You flick your tongue over his nipple again and again, switching from one to another. You lick, and suck, and swirl, and lick, and suck again, and you just got him squirming under your mercy. You felt his boner grazing over your thighs, and you cupped him by a hand, making him growl. 

"Shit, y/n." You chuckled as you continue to roll your hips onto him, your clothing now were formless, the hem of your silk red dress hoist too high from your thighs, giving jaemin an easy access to grabbed your thighs and pressed onto him even harder.

"Wanna be inside you." Jaemin said between panting. Why would you turn him down while he asked so desperately?

Nonetheless, you wanted to keep teasing him.

"Yeah? Show me how much you wanted me then." As you said that, jaemin suddenly sat up, making your back pushed against the mattress. He's on top of you, kissing down your jaw, neck, and above your cleavage. You arch your neck, giving him all access he need to mark your body, and he sucked hard, leaving a shady red mark on your skin that will turned purple later. He pushed down your bodice, revealing your bare chest. He kneaded one of your tits while he laps and suck at the other one, making you moan. He keep going on the ministrations, making you writhing under him and you can feel your panties were already damp with arousal.

"J-jaem-," your hands were all over his back of head, squeezing at the locks every so often. Finally he let go your nipples with a pop, hands still kneading around your breasts. "Revenge." He said with a devilish smile.

He went down and grabbed the back of your thigh, sucking hard on the skin that awfully close to your throbbing core. He marked your inner thighs-high enough to finally reach your pussy yet felt too fucking far-with some of bites and sucking, his teasing making you buck your hips in the meantime, desperately wanted to feel him where you need him the most.

"Jaemin, stop teasing," you cry, and he just laughed at your miserable state. The dress you're wearing tonight completely pooled around your waist. He then snug his nose against your clothed core and inhale harshly, making you gasped, "oh my god-," your voice came out shakily. "I really like your scent. You're so fucking sweet." You felt tears almost slip from the corner of your eyes as he yank down your panties and dive into your core, eating you out like he's starving.

"Fuck." You place your legs on his shoulder and back, you buckled around him while both of your hands grab a handful of his hair. "That feels so good. So fucking good."

Jaemin hummed as you continue to cry out the way he eat your pussy out, how he have always been good at doing the shit. He laps at your folds and suck on the clit softly, making you lose your mind to get some another pressure and so you pressed his face against your sex harder, and he suddenly flick your clit relentlessly before sucking hard at the bundle of nerves, soon made you come undone.

You moan and pant from the overstimulation jaemin gave you, he's keeping on sucking and lapping around your pussy until you heard him unbuckled his belt and yanked his trousers along with the boxers down, his shirt now long gone and his cock springing free against his abdomen. "Gonna fill you up now, pretty wife." You shut your eyes, bit your lip, and nodded at his saying.

"So cute." Jaemin drag his cock along your fold, lubricated it with your wetness before eased his length down your hole steadily until he bottomed up, making the two of you sigh in a bliss. You stayed in the position where jaemin was on top of you, not moving, just feeling content while you guys kind of cuddle for a while. (Jaemin was actually being considered since he's fucking big and let you adjust around his size)

"Jaemin, you can move." You coo and he nodded, then started to fuck you slow, before eventually finding a pace and rapidly hitting your walls in a perfect way that made you a moaning mess underneath him. "Faster, harder," you cry out, and jaemin sped up, grunting, he tip his head back, bullets of sweat running from his temple. "Such a good wife, aren't you?"

He fuck you so good it left you stoned, all you can do now is taking him, take him like a good girl wife you are. Your hands were all over his torso, nail scratching his skin deliciously that got him hissed, clearly gonna leave marks behind.

Jaemin felt you clenched around him and he huffs, "come on baby girl, come all over my cock," all while drilling into your hole relentlessly. That's when you snapped, back arched high from the mattress, your voice were high pitched while jaemin keep thrusting into you, catching his own release.

"I'm close. Want me to stuffed you full of my cum, angel?" You kind of feeling too wear out, but you managed to respond, "yes please-," jaemin groaned, "gonna put a baby in you. Gonna raise the fuck out of our kids." He thrust hard for the last time before he spurt his white and warm seeds inside you.

Heavy breathing and panting were heard all over the room until you broke the silence. "Jaemin, get off me." You chuckled as he stay still above you, you can feel his cock getting softer inside you. "Jaemin, you're heavy!" You tried to push him away and he finally get up, suddenly pulled you into him for another kiss. You reciprocate his kiss and properly straddle his lap, all while his cock still inside you and got his cums leak out of you. In no time you eager to catch his lips again, you leaned in until he leaned back, almost losing his balance so he put one of his hands to rest on the mattress to support the both of you.

You let your arms hooked around his shoulder, deepening the kiss as you grab the back of his head, tugging hard at his hair that got him groaning, you kiss him hard with purpose and all messy, your lipstick smeared all over his mouth, leaving your lips all smudged. Both of you making out until one another gasping for breath, and you deliberately clenching on his length, making one of his hands that rested on your hips grasping hard on your skin, a warning.

You broke the kiss first and when you found him chasing for your lips, you stared into his eyes, clearly both of your pupils were hazy with lust.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He's panting against your lips.

"You say that to yourself." You kiss him one more time before quick to leaning back as you were checking on him.

Hands clawing at his shoulder for a grip and indulged at the sight you just made, seeing jaemin all vulnerable while your lipstick prints (and hickeys and scratch marks from your nails earlier) were all over his face and body, some of them were all smeared and shapeless. It looks like someone just.. attacked him.

You jeered and hummed in satisfaction. 

"Masterpiece."

[impishjesters]

Little Thoughts

warning(s): suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideations, child neglect, child abuse, suicidal thoughts of a child, abuse, financial abuse, hurt/comfort(?), mentioned manipulation, casual talk about death/dying, pre-relationship, uncertain reactions (basically Jax nor you really know how to go about the situation), implied crush (both ways) A/N: This was written for myself, read it or don't, I don't care. I just wanted validation and acceptance from somewhere, even if it's fictional...

“Do you ever just wish you were dead?”

Jax slowed his oncoming approach towards you, blinking in confusion. “What happened to, hi? Hello? How are you?” He heard you scoff and crossed his arms loosely in thought. Sure, he was used to hearing some pretty questionable things from you, but you’d never flat out ask him—or anyone else for that matter—if they wanted to be dead.

“Well?”

“Uh, can’t say I do. Sure, this place sucks but think of all the entertainment I’d miss out on if I was, ya know—” he swiped his thumb across his neck and made a noise, “—dead.”

“You’ve been here longer. Aren’t you tired?”

What was this? Morbid fifty questions?

“You doin’ alright there sugar?” Jax circled around you, allowing you to see him long before he approached you taking a seat beside you. “I know you usually say some pretty…intense shit, but this is a little too intense even for you.”

You shot him a blank stare. Huh, you did say some pretty out-of-pocket stuff when it came to the dark subject—but to ask him flat out if he ever wanted to just be dead? That was new, but it was a valid question in your mind.

How could they choose to suffer instead of just dying?

“This isn’t anything new… I’m not like you guys. I haven’t been here for years on end gradually going mad.”

“Hey, rude. I’m not nearly as bonkers as Rags or King-face.”

He got a playful eye roll from you and that was more than enough of a win for his little joke. Sure it was a serious topic but he didn’t do so well during talks like this.

“I’ve always been like this… for as long as I can remember, as a child I thought it’d just be better if I was dead. That way my family could stop fighting, and I could stop being the rag doll in their arguments.”

As you spoke the grin that was glued to his face started to fall, slipping bit by bit until his lips ran flat. What child wants to kill themselves? He remembers his childhood not being the greatest but he never thought about death, that’s for sure.

“We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, they’d spend it on unnecessary stuff and worry about food and bills later until years of it caught up and put them in a bind.” Your gaze fell to your hands, fingers picking and peeling at the flesh. “Most would say I was a very spoiled kid, I always got toys and the holidays were jam-packed with even more unnecessary toys for a growing child to outgrow.”

He had a feeling he knew where this was going…

“But I didn’t want that, I didn’t want all those toys. Expensive or cheap, I never asked for any of them. If my eyes made contact with something and lingered just a second too long they’d buy it for me.” You sighed, looking up at Jax. “All I wanted was my family to give me the time of day, to play with me. To love me.”

“Fuck, I’m..” he hesitated, saying sorry felt pointless, that was ages ago and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t at fault but he couldn’t even imagine that—his own parents argued but they kept him out of it.

“It’s fine you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

He shuffled in place awkwardly, how are you supposed to respond to that? Luckily he doesn’t need to because you are already looking away and took a deep breath before continuing.

“It never got better, toys became electronics and games. Because of my family, I didn’t get to socialize growing up and I’d be quiet and withdrawn at school. The older I got the more vocal they started to get about me, even though they didn’t want me they kept me chained down and limited my ability to fight them.”

“What they lock ya up or somethin’?”

“They didn’t need to, I had no reason to leave the house. I didn’t have friends, we didn’t have stores or anything fun to do that wasn’t an hour’s drive away.” He hates the way you laugh so casually about it. “No, they’d limit any money I’d receive making sure I’d spend it instead of save it. I used to think it was their way of trying to make sure I wouldn’t run away, but even if I didn’t have savings that wouldn’t have stopped me from leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

“Why didn’t ya?”

“I was a coward.”

Jax snorted and caught your attention. “You were a child, not a coward.”

“Whatever, pointless to think about it now. Did me fat lotta good in the end anyways, here I am trapped in this hell hole where the closest thing to death is abstracting.” A dry laugh left you at the irony. “I can’t even fucking off myself properly.”

The two of you simply sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you seemingly aware of how to continue the conversation. There was no reason to give Jax the whole sob story that didn’t matter anyway, and he couldn’t think of a response.

Sure he wasn’t the greatest at times but he didn’t want you to just…die… but he wasn’t going to try and guilt trip you into living for him. Even if that outcome sounded far better than you dying, he could live with a guilty conscience—probably…

“You don’t have to worry about responding, I sort of just… dropped that all on you. It’s fine, it’s the past.”

“Still doesn’t change that ya still feel like ya should’ve died because your family sucks.” You shot him an unimpressed look and he shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, you were just a kid stuck with a shit family and should’ve been given help a lot sooner.”

“Gee, thanks—”

“I’m not done,” he used your name, no silly or insulting nicknames, “someone should’ve done something, I know people are stupid and think if they just look away it’ll be fine. But someone should’ve stepped in, it’s still abuse, it’s neglect.”

It went unspoken about how you clearly didn’t seek any form of therapy or help as you got older, he already felt like he was pushing it saying what he did.

“Look nothing I say is gonna make ya not wanna pop yourself, but it’s different now. Yeah, ya stuck here but you aren’t alone, and the others like ya.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” he blinked, you weren’t asking him if he…

“Do you like me?”

Jax coughed into his hand, casually turning himself to face the same direction as you. He refused to budge even when you turned yourself to face him, he was not gonna lose his cool.

“Ya alright, better than King-face and Rags that’s for sure.”

His answer pleased you enough to pull back but still face towards him. Occasionally, you’d see him peeking over to see if you were still looking at him until he finally kept his gaze forward.

“Thank you Jax.”

It felt wrong to accept your thanks, he didn’t do anything. But again you responded for him, as if knowing his plight.

“Thank you for sitting here with me, and listening… nobody’s ever listened to me before and not tried to justify what they did like I was the one at fault. You don’t need to feel like you have to have done something to be thanked.”

His shoulders shrugged before relaxing, his gaze that had glued itself to nothing finally turning to you. “Look just, promise me if you get those icky thoughts again you’ll come to me instead of stewing in them okay?” He saw you hesitate and cautiously reached out for your hand. “Promise me.”

You sighed. “Fine, I promise…” Ironically, you didn’t think you could trust anyone but Jax with this sort of information. Personal feelings aside.

“Good, now shut ya face and enjoy my presence and this beautiful moonlight night.” He threw his arm around you and pulled you closer, hand lingering at your side. He was going to make sure not to take advantage of this information, he wanted things to be genuine and not manipulated—as easy as it would be for him.

If the two of you were stuck here he wanted your feelings towards him, and vice versa to be genuine before taking the next step.

[okay-babe]

Dottie!! I just saw your post about preview requests and I'm frothing at the mouth excited rn :))))

Is there any chance you've got a preview to share of that southern gothic inspired fic you've talked a little bit about? I've been excited about it since you ran the poll for it weeks ago!

Ahh! Tysm, I am in love with ur writing!!!

The Hard Part - An Alastor x Reader Series Preview

synopsis: Sometimes, the decisions we make in life come back to haunt us even in death, and in this series, our reader learns the hard way that deals made with a beating heart must be tended to, even when the flesh has long since grown cold... tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, angst, childhood friends to lovers to wannabe strangers to ?, mentions of illness, mentions of discomfort note: Oh my gosh, Anon 😭 catch me openly weeping over how sweet this ask is, you're too cute! I have so much in store for this southern gothic series I'm doing (though we won't be able to get into that vibe too much until around part 2, unfortunately) and am so so excited to share it with everyone soon! Here's a little taste of what we've got going on so far :) For anyone who has an interest in learning more about this fic, feel free to check out some of the info about it here.

With a start, you shot up in your bed, hand clutched tightly to your chest.

From the depths of your stomach, you felt bile rise, nails digging into your flesh to help fight off the sensation of stifling nausea and chills.

This was hell. Literally and figuratively.

All around you, the air felt stifling and almost impossible to breathe, your lungs wheezing with effort at each futile attempt at an inhale.

"Everythin' alright in there, sweetheart?" A familiar voice called out to you from behind your bedroom door, the cheery tone unsuccessfully hiding the edge of concern that could be heard there.

You gasped around the growing lump in your throat, the strangled sound that followed just loud enough to be heard beyond your walls in spite of how hard you tried to keep yourself quiet.

You hated this part, the helplessness and anguish of it all always made worse by the fact that you were almost never allowed to just go it alone.

There was always a witness to your suffering, someone to see you crumble to pieces before their very eyes.

Your heart lurched uncomfortably within your chest as the door flew open just as you knew it would, the small woman standing on the other side standing there with shadowed and fearful eyes.

She hated this part just as much as you did, but you supposed in a few ways she might have even had it worse.

What in hell would she do if you died under her less than watchful eye?

How could she move on?

What would she ever tell your husband?

"Aw shit, doll..."

She muttered under her breath, the panic in her expression enough to make you wish it were possible to console her around the choking mass in your lungs.

She hadn't signed up for all of this, at least not entirely willingly.

It broke your heart to see her so very afraid for you, your life half clasped within her own typically careless hands.

"It's gonna be alright, I'm here."

[mahiiimahiiii]

the less i know the better

Cw/: hurt & comfort, sloppy “I’m sorry for being rude” sex, service top gale, body image issues, shapeshifters and enchanters have some things to discuss, multiple orgasms, some crying, taking care of each other, piv, durges previous encounters, mentions of durges necrophilia, gortash ruins relationships like no one’s business, mentions of squirting and intense orgasms, durge is in they feels.

a/n: i would like to have a big bath, like swimming pool sized. we didn't get a beach or bathhouse episode so i took it upon myself.

what do we want??? Service top gale!!! When do we want it?? At a decent time!!!! I’m pretty sure I pinched my shoulder at the gym and it stingssss. Please play the world’s tiniest violin in my honor. I love bathhouse scenes, so I hope y’all enjoy this one.

(durge is a wood elf storm sorcerer, once again they are brown with loose curls at chin length hair)

(read on a03 or below the cut!)

(if you like what i write- please consider donating to my ko-fi!)

“You could’ve told me that one of your alias’s was lady gortash sooner.” Gale’s voice soured slightly, as you shuffled back into the tiled specialty changing room. You dispelled a few things, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“How was I supposed to know.” Your steps are a bit shorter as you step out of your boots. Hair once silver returning to a charcoal black. The crimson left its stain on your eyes, its color pulsing with every anxious heartbeat.

“You didn’t know what? You’d think something as important as being spoken for would be remembered.” His back turned to you as he worked on un-buttoning his robe, the stiff white collar of his shirt slowly revealed.

you held your head in your hands, rubbing the khol around your eyes. Your previously too perfect features dissipating, revealing the molted and decaying flesh underneath. As you stared at your own face in the mirror, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, you blinked them back. “It’s not…it never was like that.” Your voice warbled more than you thought it would. The reflection that stared back at you in the large vanity mirror looked pitiful.

“Oh.” His tone softened, “Avi…I didn’t mean to push.” He turned around, hesitant to approach. His eyes were round pools of emotion. Your ears twitch at the sound of your own chosen name, one gale insisted you find- he qualified his nagging on saying ‘the dark urge isn’t a great name for such a gorgeous person.’  

“I didn’t know it would hurt this much, I felt… a stinging loss when I saw him. It got worse, when I got called that. Urgh- I don’t like this very much. Feeling like this. Unhappy.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks staining your skin with dark burgundy and black smears. You wiped them on your robe’s sleeves, setting your head in your hands again.

He placed a warm hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok to cry, I do it a lot.” He chuckled softly, kissing the crown of your head. He inhaled your hair’s scent, draping himself over you. A few tears trailed down your cheeks, you buried your head into your arms.

“You must think me weak.” The steaks of enchanted silver that danced in your hair faded into deep brown. Your ears shortened their length not as elegant, bones popped and reshaped, freckles and moles began to fade onto your skin. Scars, and marks and all. Your hair returned, short curly and shaggy, you looked now like a typical wood elf. What you were bred to be. Unremarkable.

“Not at all really…” he curled a strand of hair behind your twitching ear, the pads of his finger ghosting the fragile flesh. “Let me embrace you fully, it’s what you deserve.” His breath brushed against your ears; your skin itched under his touch. “It’s my apology.” His voice was light, “to show… my devotion to you.”

“You needn’t do any of that.” You chided, pushing in the chair, your robes hung off of you slightly. “I don’t wish to become another idolization, I’m but a mere mortal.”

“Nothing but mere, and anything but mortal.” He twirled a curl of yours, fingers braided in your hair. He cups your chin, tilting his head his pupils wide. His lips curled up into an easy smile. “You are mine, despite having… a rather unfortunate birth parent.” He giggled. He led you to the chair that draped his clothes, you curled up, embraced by his cloaks scent. He unlaced his sleeves, and the side of his shirt, finally tossing it at your head. You tucked it behind your head, watching his nimble hands remove his taught pants, the golden buttons glinting in the light. He stepped out of them, his calves flexing as he moved. It left him in his bloomers, which shimmered and crackled with weave. You had seen him in this state of undress multiple times before, every time it felt like the first, a breath of fresh air, an embrace, an urge much sweeter than the ones embedded in your flesh and crawled along your spine. He hummed, unlacing his underwear, again throwing them at your head. Should you be gross? You held it to your nose and inhaled, a rumble rising through your chest. a sound akin to a moan rose from gale’s throat. They smelt of sweat, ozone, and rosemary oil.

Of course, he applied rosemary oil to his crotch. He stretched, bending over as his bones stretched under his skin. “Come, sit up. Let me help you.” You followed his command, he worked diligently to unlace the corset that held your robes together. “I do rather like this look on you. Plum is such a becoming color.” His lips tickled your neck as he placed a knee fearfully close to your slowly heating core. “You look gorgeous, like this.” He kissed a mole on your cheek and another on your forehead; “much better than pretending to be something your not.” He removed the corset with ease,

his fingers hooking under your robe. He wiggled it over your head, a similar wrap shirt that he wore clad your shoulders. He sharply inhaled at the realization that that you didn’t wear your usual camisole underneath. Your breast peaks and nipples erect. “Oh, my love, what you do to me.” He kissed up your chin to the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the sides of your shirt to loosen the wrap.

You exhaled, leaning into his touch. Perhaps this was the one person able to make your urges feel at bay, to feel safe. A thought creeped into the back of your mushy skull, what if he wasn’t. The easy smile the lord held, his posture- warm and inviting. The sweetness he held in his eyes, how his hand caressed your shoulders, fell at your hips and drew you in. You could taste him, you could remember his scent, embedded in every primal part of your head. He smelt deeper than gale, whiskey and crude oil, musk and amber. Your skin itched to taste his sweat, and the coppery tang your tongue knew so well.  to trace the bites of the blade along his hips and stomach, the almond scented paint that clung to your hair. The clench of his thighs along your shoulders. You felt disgusting, fantasizing about another man’s touch in the presence of the one you loved.

“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I’ll depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair. You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of

the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.

The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.

“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partner’s ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”

“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”

“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.

You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you. Your dreams, or what you could call them flitted with the same images of the man, contented to a stretch within your core- they filled you with bliss. His voice moved against your senses like molasses, crashing wave after wave as his blunt nails dug into his skin. He smelt of crude oil again, wearing a black undershirt underneath his overalls that hung off the dips of his hips, the pale skin contrasted with dark moles on the edges of his thighs. His

nose was buried in your neck, one of his hands covering your mouth and nose the scent of gasoline making you lightheaded.

Keep quiet his voice hissed in your recesses, you bit down on his hand, drooling onto his fingers like a fool. Another snap of his hip’s heaven sent to your core.

He suggested a bath after making a mess of your temple attire, his warm hands scratched your scalp in the cool night of the moon.

His poor bhaalist, his assassin, right hand to the tyrant, his.

You slept on the cool bed curled up on his chest, nose crested his sternum listening to his sighs and mumbling as he slept.

But that was under the moon, you lived in the sun now,

You stretched your legs out a pinging pain setting off in your calf. he muttered, adjusting his body to snuggle closer. His legs intertwined with yours, a throbbing heat coming from his crotch, you could feel the weight on your thigh- a gentle twitch now ang again.

“Gale- “you whisper.

“Mmph.” Was his plain response, rolling over to face you, his eyes closed shut. He had a slow and easy smile on his lips. Rain began to patter on the big glass roof, the vibration of the droplets making small ripples and rivulets from the puddles that gathered. You traced the curve of his chest, your fingers knitted through the hair on his skin.

“Do you love me, gale.”

An eye snapped open. He began to laugh, loud and throaty his cheeks pink. “what a silly question!” His tone changed, one more serious and concerned. “Is something troubling you? A thought deeming you not worthy of my affections?” He raised his brow.

“More memories.” You rub your eyes, “the lord permeates most of them, I feel… disgusting to say the least.”

“it’s not your fault- “he rubs your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft scars from your flaying. “You had no memory, and frankly that was previous- you don’t mind my discussion of Mystra, so I won’t mind your discussion of… gortash.” He pauses, chewing his inner cheek. “Tell me about him, little love.” You were the one to pause, closing your eyes, searching for the best recollection. “His skin was warm, for once. It made an aching difference in my heart. The only flesh I’ve touched was to consume, or in an act of kill. This was even not to say- that those I’ve killed were simply safe in death. I’ve rutted against and filled with- the same cooled flesh. Malleable,

stiff to the touch. Cold.” You shiver out of instinct. “He liked how I looked without the glamor; he said I was beautiful. He told me I was pretty.” A tear pricks at your eye, you warbled slightly continuing your thought. “no one has told me that before. A part of me felt- that glamor was the only way to command respect. Who would respect the most common creature? Not gifted with power and strength like Sarveok, or fantastic shape changing like Orin. A part of me thinks he’s lying, as is his nature. But Enver- Gortash, I know he was hurting too. It makes it worse, those shared moments we had.”

“You were gifted with plenty more than your family ever will have. Orin isn’t the least bit as beautiful, in my frank opinion. I never liked the silver hair on you, clashes too much with your eyes.” He cups your chin, his thumb stroking absently at the sides of his chin.

“Tell me how I look then, in this form.” You plead softly.

He sighs dreamily before beginning. “What I see is a witty and intelligent person. their skin dotted with freckles like the night sky. A mole on the most kissable spots on their face. Pretty and rosy cheeks, greater in hue than any in a garden. A voice like a ringing bell, or the clink of a crystal goblet filled with wine. Their skin as brown as a deep butterscotch, its taste smoother than any whiskey. Don’t get me started on your scent- “

You giggle, kissing his lips sweetly. “No- do, I’m enjoying it.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “oh I will, but if you insist…” he kisses your nose, rolling you onto your back, your thighs seated on his low hips. He bent down adding kisses as emphasis with his words. “you’ve always smelt like the weave- fresh and bright like citrus fruits.”

“Must be the oranges I eat for breakfast.”

“Oh, hush you- “he kisses you, his hands wrapping into your long curly locks. His lips trail down your chin to your neck, he inhaled deeply. “One thing I do not like is your adult name you chose, with your 50 years of living and you chose ‘Avrice.’”

“It sounds nice- “you insisted. You were 50, which was around late 20’s early 30’s for a human.

“My sweetest love- do you know what ‘Avrice’ means.” He asked within your neck, to this you shrug. He snorts within your skin, placing small kisses on the alcove of your neck. “It means greed.”

“Explains a lot. I’m certainly greedy for your affections. I’m greedy to not be known as just-another-bhaalspawn. I am more than bountiful in company- I lust after all that life has to offer.”

he laughed again, his voice like the warm roar of the hearth, “indeed you are my love, indeed you are.”

“Can I try… something else, I’m in the mood, I think.” He hummed; his gaze soft.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You replied sarcastically, shifting your thigh up. The pressure earned a soft groan from him.

“You know how I don’t last as long as you? I have a small idea on that end. Perhaps I start you off sooner, if that makes sense.”

“I’d be up for it- as long as you are gentle.”

He hummed again, this time in acknowledgement. His movements were slow, deliberate. A quick cast of buzzing mage hand, which busied itself on uncorking a bottle of oil.  It scooped some of the liquid out spreading the lubricant out on its fingers. The oil smelt of jasmine and tropical flowers. He helped your legs into a bent position before seating himself on your waist, you felt one of the soft buzzing digits braces against your opening. Gale cupped your cheek bowing over for a kiss, his hands reminded you of the branches of a willow tree. His hips gently rocked against your torso, a slow and satisfied grunt drawing from his lips. He kissed you again, showing a devotion to the way your lips felt on his. Then you felt it, a soft buzz underneath a bulb of spongey tissue, the incorporeal hand must’ve entered quite easily into you for you not to notice. The thumb of the spell pressed against your clit, enveloping around it slightly. A warm heat spread steadily to your core, not enough to be considered stereotypically pleasurable, but quite lovely, nonetheless.

You wound an arm around him, your hand rooting itself in his curls as his thighs and calves spilt off your body onto the sheet below. He smiled between kisses, wanting your other arm around him. His beard scratched at your skin in a nice way. Your hands navigated to his hips, letting out a low gurgle when one of the fingers drew circles inside of you. He chuckles lightly as your hip bones tap his stomach. You felt it fleetingly, a little burst of flame that made your chest tighten. How quick was that? He could tell too, a peck to your nose before the intensity of the spell picked up, the thumb against your clit lightening up for a moment- before engulfing you again.

“That is one then, hm?” he smiled sweetly, combing a hand through your hair. “I shall make my way down- unless you have any objections.”

“No- “you murmur softly, scratching the back of the wizard’s scalp, a contented rumble emanated from his chest. with your legs lowered his sat back on your thighs He palmed your chest, the pads of his fingers grazing over your nipple. He gently pinched the flesh, hardening it between his fingers. The other neglected nipple went into his mouth,

his lips encompassed the flesh of your chest. he sighed, a happy one at that, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

The other hand not in use went to his groin, cupping and palming his balls quite gently. His hands traced the seam of his perinium, pressing up into the sensitive tissue just below the skin. His mouth and hand switched, leaving blooms of bruises and bites in his wake.

He began to mark the skin of the other breast, his tongue swirling around the pebbled nipple, eliciting a soft groan from you.  He began to kiss lower, his lips hovered over every freckle. Every mole was cataloged and memorized by his kiss, every scar traced and groped.

You admired the soft dip of his stomach, full of soup, he would always say. The warm curve of his hip, and the twitch of his ear. How his brow furrows, and the sunspots on his cheeks. The crinkle next to his eyes, and the smile lines and dimples on his cheeks. What a gorgeous man you’ve managed to acquire, you were more thankful every day.

He spread your legs like softened butter, kissing down your calves and thighs. He settled back onto his knees, his joints popping underneath the weight. The fingers curled inside of you, a stretch warming up your walls. He braced the sides of your legs, bowing his head to hover over cunt. He stretched his leg out, laying off his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your legs locked his head in place, spit dribbling off his tongue. The pressure lightened off your clit, the tip of his tongue tracing anxious circles. His lips covered the sensitive nerve, providing ample suction. The transparent fingers lovingly stroked your insides, cramping down on them ever so slightly. His lips were downy and soft, her eyes pools of deep dark brown. They gazed at you through long brown lashes, they fluttered every so often.

“You are a treat- “he was almost breathless, enraptured with your pleasure. His tongue was warm and thick against your folds. His kisses against your clit were sloppy and wonderful, drool and slips of tongue, his beard scratched your inner thighs deliciously.

You bucked your hips against his nose, to this he squeezed your thighs to stay still. He removed himself, sweeping down quickly to your inner thighs. He quickly bit down; his teeth left indents.

You groaned again, your abs tightening, you felt a quick forced rush like a cramp in your lower abs. Gale chirped in surprise, a wide smile growing on his lips.

“Aha! I have turned on the tap it seems.” His tongue memorized the outlines of your folds, sweeping up the salty ejaculate. Your face burned. Gale’s gaze turned quizzical “this hasn’t happened before?”

“No- not really.”

His eyes widen, and brows raise. “The child of bhaal I know very well- that has done heinous things that in the eyes of any a god would have them hell bound, hasn’t had their tap turned.”

“there’s only so much you can do with a corpse.”

He huffs, a slight frown at the mention. “Not even your noble friend?”

“No, no- I suppose not. I received pleasure- yes, but not that. It feels odd.”

“it’s completely normal, don’t worry your head.” He stroked your thigh, shifting his weight back to his haunches. “Is this position ok?” he slid his knees under your thighs,

The hand dissipated inside of you, another jingled into life to grab the bottle of lubricant. He poured it over his hands and shaft, lubricating it. he smoothed the rest of the hydrating oil onto your knees, giving both a peck.

He lined himself with your entrance, holding your hips before leaning forward into you. His head bowed, lips grazing yours as he let out a slow and shaky moan. He hit hilt, a tight squeeze forcing a rumble from his chest.

“Gods- “he hissed, “look how tight you are now- for me- so sweet like this.” He nestled his head into your neck, pulsing slow shallow strokes into you. “My pretty star, hm? Does this feel good?”

“Quite lovely- thank you” you gasp out, pressing him closer into your skin. Your toes curled uncomfortably, yet your heart sang. The buzzing returned to your clit, the sounds from your cunt were absolutely sinful, wet and erotic- followed by the steady slap of gales thighs against your ass. Again, you felt a taught pressure in your groin, catching gale off guard. Moans fell from his lips, as he canted his hips into you. You could feel his cock head nestling near your cervix. Your eyes clamped shut, your thighs steeled around him. He let out another happy groan, buried now balls deep inside of you. You rocked together in earnest, happy sobs leaving your lips as a sweet numbness spread throughout your body.

His breath was warm against your neck, leaving scattered kisses along the alcove. His thrusts became languid, like ocean waves, another orgasm crashed through you. Gale let out a louder hiss, his teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck.   “At this rate. I’m about to break- can you cum for me once more?”  he whispered against the cusp of your ear. You nodded feverishly, your hands scratching up his spine, he lifted your legs over shoulders using your thighs to brace and stabilize his weight. His thrusts now were sloppy and excitable, kissing your calves and knees.  You reached for him, holding his

hand. His breaths puffing out, as he rutted into you, your knees folded back as he found a rhythm. He began to sputter out, kissing you sloppily, his mouth hot and tongue needy. He cried out, buried deep within you. You felt a warm rush as he rode out his orgasm, another snap within your core had you shattering like a mirror. Another warm rush cascaded around you, dripping down and around his crotch.

“The tap turns!” he exclaims breathless, seated within your heat. He softens inside you, turning you to the side, and flopping next to you.

You felt fresh in your newly laundered robes, they smelt like roses. It seems the bath had a similar effect on your companions. All left contented, a flush of alcohol on their cheeks, and a pep in their newly shiny step.

You held hands with Gale taking your leaves, the less they knew the better.

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [6]

description: Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.

word count: 14.5k

trigger warnings: gore/violence (as per) blood, nakedness? Fear of drowning. I have said this before, Dove has a dark past with themes that include abuse in a relationship (torment, manipulation, prostitution etc) drug use, please do not read this if this is not okay with you. Inspired by Last Night in Soho (dir. Edgar Wright) which is rated 18.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“So? What about the other gods?” Marc asked, witholding a heavy sigh as he looked over at Khonshu, Dove still nestled into his chest. The vibrations of his words rattled against her forehead, and she wished that for just a single second she could get a fucking break from the life she lived, from the virus that seemed to spread to every area of her life, from knowing the only denominator that linked every awful thing brought upon herself was her.

If it wasn’t her every waking moment spent pining after any scrap of kindness Marc could give her, then it was wishing Steven was here to talk to. He always knew how to make it better. How to cheer her up. He was a lot like Grace in that sense, that he knew exactly which part of her brain was troubling her and managed to weasel his way into the darkness, draw out the sickness and replace it with only good. And if it wasn’t wishing Layla would understand she was not a home-wrecking mistress, then it was her dreams being riddled by Grace, the one sore spot in her heart that seemed to never heal.

She was starting to forget what Grace looked like, she’d realised with a numbing pain. Started to forget where her freckles were, the way she smelled, the shades of honeycomb blonde in her soft locks. She was forgetting, an ailment no amount of healing armour could eradicate.

She’d rather be ripped to shreds all over again if she could see her in the flesh just one more time. Even as a ghost, even as a mirage, she’d take it all again.

“Are they just gonna stand by and allow someone to unleash Ammit?” Marc asked his keeper, his large hand still resting on her crown with a warm softness. She sniffed, pulling away from him with a troubled frown.

“To signal for an audience with the gods is to risk their wrath,” Khonshu explained, resting his goliath form in an oddly casual sprawl on an abandoned car.

“What’s the worst they could do?” Dove asked emptily, her tired eyes catching sight of the dead bodies for a split second before she quickly looked away, pretending her stomach didn’t lurch at the puddle of red sap that pooled beneath them.

“Anger them enough and they’ll imprison Seth and I in stone,” That had her head shooting up to the bird-like god, brain whirring at the golden ticket out of this whole mess.

“What?” She asked, stepping towards him, “You mean they can do that? They can relieve us of duty as your avatars?”

“See how you fair against Harrow without the protection of healing armour, little mutt,” Khonshu snapped, and the girl deflated on the spot. That was something she hadn’t thought of. Even if she were no longer Seth’s avatar, Harrow would still be planning on eradicating innocent lives. It was too late for taking back that duty now, she was in far too deep to bury her head in the sand now, no matter how much she’d wanted to.

How many moles had Grace had? Four, in a horizontal line from her ribs to her spine, or was it five? Fuck, what colour were her eyes? Blue, she knew, but what colour exactly, what shade, what hue?

“Alright, so what?” Marc bit back, throwing his hands up in defeat. He, too, had had the fleeting jump in his chest at the idea of being free from his servitude. “You got any good ideas?”

The god thought for a moment, his skeletal chest taking a deep, weighted breath behind its linen robes. A sigh of dismay.

“I have a bad one,” He said, and with a small movement he disappeared into the cool breeze passing over the two of them, as if he were nothing more than a pile of ash, or a thought thrown to the ether.

The two of them spared a glance at one another, Dove’s demeanour still shaken when Marc surveyed her with a soft, cocoa gaze. The wind picked up around them before either of them could speak, Dove’s hair whipping around her sticky face, catching on her cheekbones, the need to peel and scratch and gnaw at her skin overwhelming her with the texture, anything to get the damned blood off.

“What is he doing?” She asked, her hand subconsciously reaching out for Marc’s when the world around her began to darken. But not just for herself, she realised, but because the sun was disappearing.

No, that couldn’t be right. Throwing a squinted, pained look at the clear blue sky, the smell of the metallic tang on her skin slapping her in the face. Her eyes locked on the white orb in the sky that was indeed being devoured by a slightly smaller black circle moving in front of it, the moon. Khonshu was creating a solar eclipse. Switching the light out on an entire section of the world, drawing far too much attention to himself than would be allowed by the gods.

“Sending the gods a signal they can’t ignore,” His deep voice echoed around the clearing, the wind carrying the sound to their sensitive ears.

She felt Marc take her hand as darkness swept over them, unnaturally fast for any solar eclipse, tugging her back towards the town where cries of startled citizens were beginning to meet her ears.

“Come on,” He murmured, his warmth grounding her astonished mind, her eyes quickly adjusting to the shadow that swallowed the sands.

“I don’t know whether to applaud him for the guts or curse him for putting you in danger,” She mumbled, not missing the way their hands seemed to gum together from the equal amount of ichor on them. She didn’t miss the way Marc’s knuckles were blown open, the flesh around them sore and sliced from his fist fight with the mercenaries. She made a note to fix them later.

“That tends to be the way with Khonshu,” Marc replied sourly, the two of them taking a long set of old sandstone steps back down to the city.

She huffed, more agitated than he had ever seen her with a solid frown on her normally gentle forehead.

“Well maybe when all of this is over, we find a way to get rid of them both together?” She proposed, and he couldn’t help but lurch at the fact she saw a together for the two of them after all of this. Not together in love, he chided himself, but Layla had been the only other person to ever see him as worth sticking around for. It was nice to have Dove too.

Flashing her a barely there smile, he squoze her hand lightly. It fell the second he caught sight of the bird headed god and his jackal like companion waiting for them at the bottom of the steps as if they heard their devious little plan.

“That was abit over the top, don’t you think?” Marc sassed, keeping hold of Dove’s hand and steering her away from Seth’s looming gaze, even if to hold off his intruding presence for a second longer than necessary.

“Hurry, they’re gathering their avatars now,” Khonshu demanded, the two of the goliath gods trailing behind their own minions.

“Aren’t they scattered all over the world?” Marc asked, and Dove was glad he was here with her at least, she was sure by the way her stomach was twisting so painfully she would have retched her breakfast by now. She was going to have to meet more gods? Not just any but the Ennead, the effective high council of Egyptian Deities and plead their case to the ancient beings? The current track record set by the Gods she had met had caused nothing but misery for her short life, so the idea of introducing eight more to that mix sent her chest pounding.

“Yes, but for a meeting with the Ennead, a portal presents itself anywhere,” Seth cut in, halting the two humans in their step. His face, his presence, was not one that they simply could get used to. A chill ran down both their arms, and she felt him tug her just a bit closer to him.

“Okay, so where’s ours?” Marc asked, and as if to summon the portal in question, a low rumble only they seemed to notice rocked the earth beneath their feet, though it seemed too delicate to be an earthquake, too harsh to be oncoming footsteps. It was then that bricks in the nearby building began peeling away, crumbling in on themselves to form a long archway corridor. The walls were lined with hieroglyphs she was certain wasn’t part of that building, more likely wherever it was the portal led to.

“Last time I spoke to the gods, they banished me,” Khonshu spoke solemnly as the two of them stepped towards the doorway. A faint, amber light flickered against the symbols etched into the stone walls, illuminating them with a golden glow that reminded her of Seth’s staff.

“Join the club,” Seth growled with a bitter chuckle, and Dove fought the urge to point out the sheer amount of times he had slaughtered his own brother for power that had led to his banishment, but she thought better of it than to be the one receiving his wrath. “Our case against Harrow must be indisputable,”

The two of them hesitantly stepped forward, Marc subconsciously moving in front of her as if to want to head in there first, check if it was safe. But there was no time for heroics, and he didn’t doubt Seth wouldn’t have her defend herself if things started to go south. Hearing the two gods retreating behind them, Dove whipped around to see the beasts slinking off through a nearby street.

“Aren’t you coming?” It was perhaps the only time she would ever want the God of Death there to support her case. Though, upon thinking about it, she guessed Osiris seeing his killer may not go down well considering the god’s reputation.

He snickered darkly, throwing a glance to her over his muscled shoulder that rippled with corded tendons with every movement.

“You know I love a family reunion.

Dove’s jaw slacked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. They were so fucked.

Marc huffed, and the two of them stood looking down the long corridor with a shared hesitance. Once they went in, they were going in blind. Into a space where there were beings even more powerful than the gods they were bound to. Who knows what the Ennead were capable of, whether they were known to hold grudges around two exiled gods and the humans they deemed worthy of their service. Would they see right through her? Right through this innocent little marionette she played every single second. Would they see her for exactly who she was, would they see the chaos festering in her heart? The rot eating away at her bones?

“Ready?” Marc whispered, the sound barely meeting her ears. He looked over at her gently, eyes wide and anxious, though he seemed more worried about her than himself. Her eyes were glazed over, tired. Her hand was cold in his palm, yet she gripped onto him tightly as if he were the only thing she had to ground herself. She looked back at him, though he could tell she was far away, she wasn’t here with him, the same as this morning in the room, when her smile had cracked for just a single second and he saw the sadness behind her eyes that rarely appeared. He hated it.

She didn’t speak, just nodded and it was enough for him to draw her even closer, hold her hand even tighter.

The two stepped into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing down the long chamber, engulfed in a cloak of darkness from the lack of sunlight. It certainly wasn’t a new building they were entering judging by the erosion on the crumbling walls, though the hieroglyphs were surprisingly well preserved. A light flickered at the end of the passage, the only thing giving them any idea where to go as they clung towards one another. A large figure of a head came into view, starting small but the closer they got it became clear the figurine was actually huge, large enough to tower over both of them ten times over. She guessed by the head piece and the jewellery they were royalty, or at least the spouse of a pharaoh, well respected. Revered. A tomb for an esteemed member of Ancient Egyptian society.

She remembered Steven showing her a special edition guide to Egyptian myths they had in stock just three weeks ago, how he’d been waiting for them to get the shipment in for months since it was so low stocked everywhere else. He’d nudged her every chance he could get when they finally got to take their lunch break, turning his new prize to her to show her every diagram or photo or excerpt he could, telling her more facts that he’d read in other books, talking her ear off the entire train ride home too. She thought him the smartest man she’d ever met; thought his intellect, his sheer excitement to share his interest with her was the sweetest and most attractive thing she’d ever seen. He certainly didn’t make it easy for her to not kiss him silly right there on the spot.

Two more figures came into view, two behemoth statues flanking each side of the head, one a falcon, a distinctive crown atop his stone head, the other a woman with two large ostrich wings as her arms, curled around herself.

“I can’t believe it,” Marc’s head whipped to the side, Steven’s face reflecting in the polished golden engravings on the stone walls, his chocolate eyes lit up in wonder like a boy on christmas. His hands clasped together in front of him nervously, though his mouth was pulled into a gobsmacked smile, his gaze flicking around the enormous expanse of the room as if to take it all in at once. “Oh- my days. We’re inside- we’re inside the Great Pyramid of Giza,”

Marc’s head flicked to the room that opened up into a colossal square, unmistakably a pyramid built for the worthiest of pharaohs.

“Steven said we’re in-” Marc started, his voice low, gentle as if to not alert whatever it was waiting for them at the end of the corridor, only for her to cut him off with an equally hushed tone.

“Great Pyramid, yeah” She nodded, her eyes stunned and overwhelmed. Nodding towards the Falcon statue, she pointed with their joined hands, “That’s Horus wearing the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt.”

“God of Healing and Protection?” Marc asked, recalling the few things he knew about the other gods. She nodded, her eyes never ripping away from the expanse of priceless relics in front of them.

“As a man, yes. Horus as a Falcon represents Kingship,” She explained, watching his eyes trail over her face with a strange look, softening just a touch more if it were even possible. Turning back to nod towards the other statue, “The woman with the ostrich wings is Ma’at, judge of the hearts of the dead. She represents justice and order, balance and morality. This was a Pharaoh who wanted the greatest of respects and fortune in his afterlife,”

Marc’s jaw slackened at her brain, practically seeing the cogs turning in her bright eyes, the flame from the torches dotted around the tomb giving her face a beautifully warm glow. She looked divine, as if it should be her with statues erected in her honour, as if she were the one who deserved a wonder of the world in her name.

“I think I’m in love,” Steven’s besotted voice came from the reflection behind him, feeling the alter’s eyes enraptured with her face just as much as he was. Marc nodded once, ripping his gaze away from her to focus on the unfamiliar territory ahead.

Now was not the time for childish feelings, he chided himself, though Steven’s words had cut him deep, confirming for Marc something he already knew. It wasn’t just a little crush he was in the way of - Steven was in love with this woman. And he was wrecking it, he was simply a wall in between two gentle creatures that deserve nothing else but each other.

He always knew he ruined everything.

A frown settled on his face, avoiding her gaze with a sneer as they ventured forward into the tomb.

“Come on,” He murmured, unclasping her hand and quietly stepping into the cold catacomb.

“One evening,” He had said, waving his finger in her face at the door like a master scolding its pup, “You girls can have one evening out,”

It was probably because the neighbours had started getting suspicious about the two girls that would sit in the window but would never leave, or perhaps it was a treat for being such good little victims and remaining complacent. They didn’t know. At first Grace had said it was a test, a test of loyalty. It wouldn’t be unlike him to give them a sick game to test if they really were faithful to his command. But perhaps it was a treat? After the two years they had remained in that house, remained together, this was the first time they were allowed outside that wasn’t the garden.

They were ecstatic.

Don’t be fooled, he was sure to collar the two of them before they could step foot out the door, his fingers squeezing just the slightest bit to tell them exactly what would be waiting if they were to run or go for help. Don’t be stupid, now girls, he reminded with a low grumble. And they were gone.

It had started with a brisk walk down the street, past the abandoned hotel that sat opposite their bedroom window, its welcome sign springing to life every evening even after its years out of business. The girls had a prance in their steps, truly with no idea where they were headed since they couldn’t see past a certain point from their spot in the window. Once the road turned into a long slope down, the houses getting bigger, the yards getting greener, the road getting quieter, was when it settled in that they were outside again.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Grace whispered, her head tipped to the heavens, the crease on her brow ironed out. She took a deep breath, her mouth pulling out into the biggest smile she had ever mustered, Dove swore she could count every single one of her teeth. “We’re fucking OUTSIDE!” She yelled, no doubt waking up the neighbours. It was dangerous, drawing attention to themselves, but Grace couldn’t care. The Summer breeze filled her lungs, the seven o’clock sun fell over her face in full force, the feeling seeming to be extra warm than what she was used to. Because there was no window there. Because they were free.

Until eleven, in four short hours, but they were free nonetheless. The birds had never sounded louder, the air never tasted so sweet.

She couldn’t help but join Grace in taking a long, deep breath, a laugh bubbling out her throat, loud and joyful. Perhaps the happiest she’d felt in years. Like slipping out of a cage, a bird with its wings spread. She rose her arms to her sides, feeling the wind whip entirely around her middle, and suddenly the two of them were running. The street was empty, save for the two sets of footsteps slapping against the concrete as they sprinted down the descending hill, their fingers brushing against each others every now and then before Grace reached over and clasped her hand tightly against hers.

They were free.

It wasn’t long before they’d reached the beach, the one mother showed her as a child, the one she’d been to when the boys were little. It was nothing spectacular, nothing like they’d see in a foreign country. The sea was cold as anything since it was still England after all, the sand was mostly rocks, but the sound of the waves rolling in on their little slice of heaven.

The two lay on the hard sand, shoes kicked off and fingers buried into the course grain, just feeling. The sea was far from lapping at their feet; though ice cold, they wouldn’t find it in themselves to care anyway. The freezing water would barely even scrape the surface of the elation they felt now, there truly wasn’t anything that could simmer the way their hearts pounded in their ears.

“Three hours left,” She reminded, only to have Grace tut her and swat at her arm.

“We won’t be late, stop worrying,” The blonde chided, sand sticking to the side of her cheek as she turned her head in the sand to see her companion, “Just breathe,”

She knew she’d meant ‘breathe it all in’, the day, the feeling of their cage door being blown open, but she couldn’t help but do as Grace had commanded and take a deep salty breath in.

The sun warmed her as the shore breeze cooled her. A balance. An equilibrium. Her mind was blank for the first time in a long time. The waves may as well have been the thoughts ebbing and flowing from her mind.

“In some other universe, this is our life every single day,” She finally muttered, as if too scared to speak it into existence and risk waking up from whatever dream they were having. Grace snickered, their fingers meeting once more. Grounding. Warm.

“Do you think so?” Grace asked, her cornflour eyes squinting in the sun, watching the way her friend’s eyes remained closed, soaking up the entire thing. “You think we’re together in other universes too?”

“I hope so,” She responded, her toes sinking into the warm sand just a touch more, clinging to the back of her bare calves. “I hope I’m with you in all of them,”

Grace smiled, and her eyes opened then, meeting the sky with a tired blink before she turned to where Grace was staring at her. The two simply looked at one another, as if looking in a mirror of themselves though their shell was entirely different. Like their souls had met an equal in their gaze.

“I don’t care which one I’m in as long as I have you,” Grace whispered, clenching onto her hand with a soft desperation. She sighed, turning back to stare at the sky, a new openness at the difference the vast blueness held from her bedroom ceiling.

“I hate that house.” She confessed, though Grace already knew she did. “I feel like I’m-” She welled up, and Grace shifted to rest her forehead on her shoulder, “I feel like I’m in a coffin. Like I’m in a tomb. Like I’m screaming and banging on the door but everyone assumes I’m dead already,” Her brothers. They never responded to her letters, texting was too risky. But the envelope with the money made it to them once a month, she always sent it with the hope they would understand, understand she hadn’t left, that she wasn’t gone. But perhaps she was. She felt already gone. Felt like a corpse walking. “Maybe I already am dead,”

“I would never let that happen to you,” Grace whispered, nuzzling her face into her bare shoulder, “Me and you in every universe, right?” She asked, nudging her arm against hers to make her point, “Cage, house. Beach, tomb. I’m with you in every one of them,”

Dove’s breath was caught in her chest when she saw the sheer size of the pyramid. They didn’t call it the Great Pyramid for no reason, she supposed, but the sculptures alone were some of the biggest pieces of art she had ever seen, larger than any relics they had at work.

Marc took a slight lead, heading towards the centre of the room, where the floor lowered into a pit-like square, the floor a cold stone and undisturbed. Nine smaller, seated statues lined the steps down to the trench, one for each of the Ennead they guessed quickly. Eight doorways, similar to the one they had just exited from, dotted the remaining walls. A slight flash of light came from two of them, where a young woman stepped through the door to the close right.

She was beautiful, Dove noted immediately. Her sepia skin glowed in the dark lamp light, her midnight black hair silk over her shoulders. She was effortlessly graceful, beautiful gold jewellery winding over her wrists and neck, her eyes fox like yet gentle as she peered at the two newcomers.

“Khonshu’s antics are unparalleled.” She said with an accent Dove couldn’t place other than the melody it spelled over her every word. “You must be his avatar,” She said with a glint in her eye Dove knew was not just from the fire light. She was only a single pace behind Marc by the time he reached the bottom of the steps, yet she felt entirely lost, as though she were just floating her way down to where the woman met them, her legs jelly and wobbling.

“And who are you?” Marc asked politely, though she could sense the wariness in his tone. Untrusting. Ready to make a run for it if it came to it. She saw how his shoulders held the tension he rarely seemed to displace, she wished she could simply shove her face in between his shoulder blades, hug him like she had in the room. Feel him relax under her touch. She wished they were anywhere else but here. Anywhere but where the walls seemed inevitable, seemed to seal in around her, their very purpose to keep the dead inside.

“I’m Yatzil, Avatar of Hathor,” The woman announced, nearing the pair with a smile. Friendly, Dove noted, but she saw the way Marc tensed even further as she reached them, a look of plain fear flashing over his expression, as if she were about to be snatched away from him by the relatively kind looking woman. “Goddess of Music and Love? Surely Khonshu mentioned her,”

Marc shook his head slightly, a grimace on his battered face, “The gods aren’t exactly his favourite topic,”

“Not even when they are old friends?” Yatzil pushed, and Dove straightened up when she saw the playful way the avatar studied Marc with. Something boiled in her chest, something hot and sour, like her lungs were trying to choke her from the inside out. She didn’t like the way she was looking at Marc. To say he was hers only to look at drew even more tumultuous feelings in the pit of her stomach, but unlike Layla, who could barely stand the sight of him without steam blowing out her ears, she was interested. She was flirty.

She wanted out of this sinking ship already before she did something she would regret.

The woman looked over Marc’s shoulder then, only just noticing the shadow that seemed to peak from behind him, her eyes wide yet calculating, a vast contrast to Marc’s furrowed brow that glared at everything.

“And who might you be?” Yatzil’s voice was mellow as she took in the new figure, her gentle gaze never wavering. Perhaps she wasn’t so much flirting as she had guessed, and she wanted to chide herself for getting so worked up so quickly. Maybe she was just overly friendly to everyone, being the Goddess of Love and all that.

She was almost embarrassed with how quickly she had become possessive over Marc. It was hard not to when she was accompanied by an extremely attractive man that seemed to draw eyes everywhere he went. She thought she had enough trouble with Steven and Dylan, let alone a Goddess.

Chancing a look at Marc, the two of them agreeing solely with a single silent exchange, she told Yatzil her name.

“I’m Avatar of Seth,” She confessed, not missing Yatzil’s face tightening, her smile becoming a tad more forced. Her once gentle eyes became intrigued, looking the girl head to toe, before turning back to Marc.

There it was. The turn. The moment she realised she was not to be trusted. That she was rotten to her marrow.

“I did not know Seth had a new avatar,” She said, all traces of warmth gone as she surveyed the younger woman with a new suspicion, “How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Marc cut in, sensing Dove’s anxiety by the way she fidgeted with her fingers, grabbing her hand back into his own to stop her from picking at the skin around her thumb. He hated it when she did that, saw how sore it made her digits, how she would bring band aids with her in her bag in case any of the scabs broke skin, “It’s not why Khonshu called this meeting,”

“Yatzil,” A voice called down to them, and it was then that the pair realised the rest of the avatars had made it, standing behind each of their podiums that represented their gods. They looked like regular people, though she supposed so did she and Marc. That was the point of them. It made Dove wonder if there were hundreds of them out there, if she had walked past them in the street before, thinking nothing of them.

Yatzil gave them a strained smile, leading them towards where the four other avatars stood, waiting to pass conviction on the two of them. She couldn’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter after that stilted introduction, as though they were heading to a chopping block with cuffs and a bag over their head, the avatars facing them all judge, jury and executioners.

Her trial was over before she had opened her mouth. Just the very sound of Seth’s name had set Hathor on edge, let alone when she faced the god Seth had repeatedly assassinated. His own brother, Osiris. Or even his sister, Isis.

“Have they told you how this works?” Yatzil asked calmly, heading to the steps towards her own podium, where Hathor’s proud statue watched them approach, a pair of long cow horns straddling a large sun disk signalling her seat.

“Not really,” Marc answered for the two of them as Dove naturally fell behind his shoulder, gaze flicking to the new sets of eyes that peered down on their lowered figures. She hated the way they picked her apart with their unfriendly glares, vultures circling a carcass waiting to dive in and clean her off to the bone. They would have her for breakfast any second now. “Is there somethin’ we should know?”

No, they wouldn’t. Marc would never let that happen. Marc would protect her. She trusted him with every fibre of her being, trusted him as much as she trusted Steven. He would protect her.

“I try not to fight it, it’s a strange sensation but you’ll get used to it,” Yatzil said vaguely, bunching her rust coloured dress in her hands to ascend the ancient steps, her satin-like hair rolling down her back as she turned away from them. Her head flicked back jarringly, Hathor’s spirit consuming her body smoothly, as did the other avatars, the humanity flickering from their harsh stares and swirling into a bright white, the gods taking place in their vessels.

“In attendance,” Yatzil’s voice was still the same, though it held a new level of power, a confidence that only an other worldly being could carry, the clarity of a creature that had seen the earth for thousands of years, “Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Osiris, and Hathor. To hear the accounts of Khonshu and Seth,

A cold spread down her spine, minimal compared to the other few times Seth had taken her body as his own, gentle almost. A soft whoosh of power flooded through her vertebrae, spreading up her neck and through her throat, releasing through her lips as a small sigh. It was benign, as though there was simply a hand stroking down her back compared to the leg numbing force he usually took her with, the kind that made her head dark and fuzzy, the force of being locked out her own body, this felt nothing like that. Perhaps Seth was on his best behaviour in front of his older brother who they both knew could exile the God of Death to stone.

Tormenting and breaking a young girl's mind did not send the message of urgency the four of them needed the Ennead to understand.

She felt Marc’s hand twitch in her own, causing him to drop her palm once more, and she guessed Khonshu had also taken his place inside his avatar. Yatzil would have had a heart attack had she been put through what Seth had tormented her with if she thought this was a ‘strange sensation’.

The weight of Osiris’ glare fell upon her shoulders, and it became clear there was no love lost from the God as she looked upon his frown.

“Brother,” The growl emitted from the human man’s throat, a sneer tugging at his lips, “I trust this is your doing, you and your newfound play thing,” He eyed Dove’s cowering body with disgust, a calculating scowl on his relatively young face. The man couldn’t have been older than thirty five, dressed in a smart business suit and a face that not a single laugh line marred, as though he hadn’t smiled a day in his life. Fitting, she thought snidely, for a god so serious.

Yet those thoughts felt like Seth’s. And with it brought a new wave of peril, unlike the one that came after she would black out. Could he hear her thoughts? Had he buried herself into her head, her only place of solitude? Or maybe was her brain just that cruel all on her own?

“You should be on your knees thanking me, brother,” The words spewed from her chest unprompted, and it took everything in her not to clasp her hand over her mouth to stop it. It felt like someone had reached into her lungs and dragged the accusation up her oesophagus. It was a clap of thunder that echoed around the enclosed chamber, a dark cry that met her ears, leaving her gobsmacked that that was her voice.

“And why is that, brother?” A woman to Osiris’ right, his sister-wife Isis, snarled. Dove wanted to sink to the floor and beg for forgiveness from the two deities that looked at her with a disdain that tainted her skin. She wanted to plead for them to send her home, send her away from all of this mess, just please stop, stop looking at me like that. But instead what came out was the voice, his voice, ripping from her throat with a ferocity that was nothing like hers.

“Were it not for me, dearest sister, and Khonshu, we would not be here meeting to discuss a matter that threatens us all,” Seth’s growl seemed unnatural coming from such a small creature, her eyes wide and afraid as she cursed at the gods with his tongue. Whether it were Seth speaking or not, she was the one they looked to with hatred.

A slender, dark-haired man flanking the other side of Osiris, undoubtedly their son Horus, snorted bitterly, his eagle eyes gazing down the steps to the woman whose head snapped to him.

“You threaten us all, Set. You and your chaos. Your need for vengeance.” He spoke with an Irish lilt, his mouth sneering just as well as his father’s, “It is clear by your actions there is no end to the darkness and turmoil you wish to cause mankind, as well as to your own kind.”

Osiris raised a hand to his son, taking over the brunt of the reprimanding. Dove didn’t doubt this had been what it was like for centuries, she knew the pain of being the oldest and having to mother her own brothers. Though, exiling them to a stone for all eternity for endangering lives was a new concept even for her.

The eyes narrowed in on her as Osiris puffed out his chest to speak, his voice a calm command that rattled her bones.

“It is our job in these vessels to remain unseen, to keep the peace between our world and the humans,” He was rather quiet despite the petrifying effect he held over Dove, the way his and every other god sized her up as she quivered in her place. “Do you not hear how they cry out? That is fear. You scare them, brother, for your own personal enjoyment. We have long since understood you love the taste of their horror. Imagine the hatred they would feel if they saw what lay beneath that young flesh.”

Dove’s eyes lined with tears. She knew the insults were directed at her counterpart that could hear them just as well as she could, that she felt bristling uncomfortably in the back of her mind at the sound of the offence, yet the darkened eyes and sneers they accounted her with churned her stomach in guilt as if this were her own trial. Her own sentencing.

They would fear her if they knew who she really was. What she really was. And the sick part of her knew the darkness had laid under her skin long before any of this. She choked on the words Seth tried to force out of her, gritted her teeth for him to keep quiet, to just let the onslaught end. Let her sentence be carried out, let her be hung, drawn and quartered under their resentful gaze even if to let the pain end, just let it end, just let me go, release me from this life-

“Alright now-” Marc’s voice was fuzzy behind her, the slightest step he took forward towards the gods was stopped by Osiris’ angered voice, a firm look snapping to the new culprit.

“And you. You’ve been banished once for nearly exposing us Khonshu,” Just like that, their attention had been stolen from the pitiful girl that shook in her spot as if no more than a street dog, mangy and yet guilty looking. “And you know we despise your garishness,” He continued, Marc stopping in his place to hear what the high immortal had to say, “Your showy masks and weapons. But manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone.”

“Spare me your self-righteous threats,” Marc’s voice was a strained call of anger. Clearly Khonshu had a lot to say to the council, Dove mused to herself behind a weakened expression, “I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you,”

“We have not abandoned humanity,” Horus chimed in, a pinched glower on his young face, “They abandoned us. We simply trust our avatars to carry out our services without calling undue attention to ourselves,” His eyes shifted back to the young woman who gulped under his fire. “Is this why you’ve resurrected the one who caused them so much pain? In the name of aiding the humans? Look at the bloodshed that has already been drawn under her hand,”

He nodded to the state Dove was in, the gummy redness that stuck to her arms, that buried under her nails, that smeared across her face. There was no denying that she had caused such a massacre. There was no running, no hiding from their judging eyes.

“Avatars are not enough! We need the might of gods. Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm. Seth has been the only one brave enough to unleash his strength on those who deserve it,” Marc jolted back as Khonshu left his body, a deep draw of breath expanding his lungs. Dove’s eyes flicked to him in sorrow, seeing the toll the god was taking on him, even if just for a second, the urge to bury her face into his arm and ask to go home overwhelmed her.

“The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe. We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man,” Osiris spoke calmly, though the order was clear. The two of them were to submit, to yield under their commands.

“We will decide our best course of action,” Tefnut cut in, under the guise of a glamorous earth-brown woman, her shirt a pop of reds and oranges that brought out her hooded dark eyes even in the lowlight of the tomb. Her gaze was just as intimidating as the others, though she looked at Dove with something more akin to understanding than the rest. The eyes of an elder, who had seen more than the others. A wisdom that only came with thousands of years on the earth they deemed unworthy of their protection. “Speak your purpose,”

“We call for judgement against Arthur Harrow,” Her own voice constricted at the rage that had now overcome Seth’s words, the vitriol that settled under her skin, that boiled her blood for a fight that was not hers.

“The charges?” Came Isis, in the form of a placid, moonlight woman, her doe-like, hazelnut stare serene yet piercing when accompanied with the disappointed purse on her cherry blossom lips.

“Conspiracy to release Ammit,” Khonshu’s exclaim ripped its way through Marc’s chest as a single tear dropped down the man’s tawny cheek from the effort in which the god tore at his psyche.

“That is a heavy accusation, Khonshu,” Osiris said seriously, bringing his hands together as if to search himself for guidance. The man took a deep breath, a silence settling over the room for a moment, the five avatars awaiting to hear their superior's judgement.

She practically felt Marc’s heart pounding in his bones, heard the way the deep breaths rattled his lungs, how his chest burned with effort. She was glad for them at least that Seth had listened to her plea to hold his, her, tongue, allowing Marc to take the brunt of the conversation. She knew the recklessness of the god would only dig them their own grave, that they would be left with little to no hope of taking on Harrow without his help.

Osiris sighed, looking to one of the smaller doorways burrowed into the side of the pyramid. “Let us summon the accused,” He ordered, an orange flicker of light emerging from the catacomb. Dove felt her chest seize at the whoosh of fresh air that came through the doorway, hearing two weary footsteps making their way towards them, scraping against the sand that dusted the hard, stone floor.

And with them, Arthur Harrow appeared.

Handsome for a man of his age, yet his eyes were soulless blue pits, little to no remorse for his schemes behind them. Instead, he seemed to be excited, jumping for the chase, the cat and mouse game the three of them had going. He seemed almost animated to see their newest intervention to halt his plans as he stepped into the tomb, a fake look of bewilderment on his older face.

His hair was greying wisps around his jaw, his suit a plain mahogany two piece that dragged against his espadrilles. He slowly stepped towards them with a cold stare, his jaw clenched in a hidden smirk as he sought the attention of the Ennead.

“So I see from Khonshu’s current makeshift avatar, the purpose for this meeting must be nefarious,” He said plainly, the false innocence in his expression causing a hot anger to wash over Dove’s face.

This time it was her own. Seth was still there, dormant behind her cranium, still seething from his reprimanding from his older brother, twisted with hate at the sight of Harrow, but the overwhelming feeling of outrage was hers.

“Not to mention this poor little soul Seth has taken as his own,” His blue pools of nothing slid to her, the dare to retaliate set and matched in his eyes, “The young one knows nothing of the trouble she’s causing, this is business well beyond her understanding,”

A threat. A call for a challenge. A taunt for her to show what she hid from the world, what festered inside her this whole time. What he had seen with a single touch of her wrist the first day they’d met in the museum.

There is a darkness in you.

And then it was that night all over again. It was the screaming, it was the pure, visceral hatred she had felt for him, for the man that had put her there. It was knowing she was never going home, that she was never going to see her sweet niece grow up to run rings around her teachers. It was knowing her brothers wished for nothing to do with her. It was knowing every one of her letters went unanswered.

And chaos, oh there is chaos,

It was remembering Grace’s laugh through a sob and the fact she would never hear it again. It was the way the light from the abandoned hotel sign next door lit up her room with red, something she had always hated, she could never sleep for the brightness of it. Then again, she struggled to sleep anyway. It was the red of the shoes the girls wore, the other girls, the others from the club. The emerald room, the way they watched her dance like a puppet on a string before things truly went wrong.

Something wicked this way comes.

It was knowing her brothers couldn’t stand the sight of her because of him, because of the choices she’d made for him. For love. She wanted to scoff. It was the men that came at night, the ones that she saw in her dreams even now, the ringleader of them all being the one to tell her what a good little lapdog she’d been for him. The one she’d called boyfriend.

It was the knife, it was the blood. It was the body that burned as she’d torched the house in her escape.

And I see you are truly something wicked.

“You know exactly why we are here,” Khonshu cried from behind her, though Harrow took no notice of the call, his mouth twitching to fight off a smirk as he saw the way her chest deflated at the sight of him, knowing he knew her. He knew her, the way Seth knew her.

The way she was terrified even now that Marc and Steven would someday know her.

“Rip his tongue out,” Seth hissed into her ear, chomping at the bit to be let out from the slight control she had over him in front of the Ennead.

“I must admit I do not miss the sound of that voice.” Harrow turned solemnly to the gods, the nervousness falling over his face like a performance. “But speak, old master, to the point,”

“Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?” Khonshu accused, Marc’s body being seized by the god’s might. Dove grabbed his wrist in her own when she saw his chest heaving heavier by the moment. The man looked as if he might throw up any second from the weight of it.

“I was in the desert, but if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the nile” Harrow said calmly, his hands weaving together in front of him to solidify the guiltless ploy he was giving, “Khonshu has searched for Ammit’s tomb since he ensnared be into his service. His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia and his-”

“COWARD,” Seth struck her chest with a lightning bolt of fury, the growl drawling from her throat in a volume that made her jump, Marc glancing her way when he felt her fingers clutch him ruthlessly, “Filthy, conniving CRAVEN,”

“Do not trust the word of shamed gods,” Harrow countered, turning to glare at the pair that looked at him helplessly, their chests pounding with the strain of a deity overtaking their vocal chords, “These two are unhinged, as willing as one another to cause destruction in the human world. And as for their avatars themselves,” Harrow huffed, though a smarmy smile shadowed his face as he looked between the two of them, “Well, they are about as unwell as the gods they serve,”

“How do you mean?” Hathor asked, a small frown scrunching her gentle almond eyes.

Harrow considered the two of them, his piercing gaze falling on the young woman first, a hint of malice flicking over his face as he watched her squirm under his ruthless stare, as if waiting for the killing blow, waiting for him to run a sword clean through her sternum. Get it over with, her eyes pleaded, let this be done, shoot me between the eyes and set me free.

“This girl,” He began, her breath catching in her lungs, “She seems innocent enough, what with the crocodile tears and the deer in headlights look about her,” Harrow gave her one last sneer, before turning back to face the gods with a faux woeful look plastered on his face, “But this fawn is in fact the hunter with a loaded rifle. I have seen what she is capable of, the anger and vengeance the tortured soul wishes to unleash on those who stand in her way, the corruption in her heart- it’s no wonder Seth found her suitable for his needs,”

Her mouth had gone dry, she realised as she swallowed roughly, tears burning behind her eyes, she felt Marc staring at her. Fuck. He saw her, he saw right through her. And if he saw her, then what would Marc think of her? What would he see if he were to crack open her muddled little mind and peer in? He would hate her. And oh god, Steven-

Her throat bobbed with a silenced sob, her chin wobbling pitifully.

“And as for him- This is a man who literally does not know his own name.” Harrow continued his onslaught, making Marc clear his throat uncomfortably at the fact his biggest wound was bared open for the taking, the scar that wouldn’t close having salt poured into the crevice. “He has a marriage certificate under the name Marc Spector-”

“LIAR!” Khonshu’s agitated attempt at regaining composure was thwarted by the glisten in Marc’s lost, cocoa eyes that seemed to do nothing but watch as his chest was pried open.

“Employment records under the name Steven Grant,”

“Stop,” This time it was Marc speaking for himself. His voice hoarse from Khonshu’s yelling, yet it was more of a wounded yelp, a plea for mercy from the man who knew everything about him, knew all of his darkest corners, and threw it out in the open for them all to see.

“I have seen him speak to himself-”

“Shut up,” Marc yawped, an animal in a cage yowling for release.

Dove felt the anger begin to rev under her skin once more. Marc had been immovable since the moment she knew him, the moment she saw him in her bedroom stiff as a rock as she’d hugged him. Had rarely shown anything but a cold indifference, if not the occasional smile. He had been the only thing keeping her sane between the entire situation, the one person she trusted to quite literally drag her back from the depths of death a thousand times over. Because, while he was a moody sod most days, it was Marc. And Marc would fight tooth and nail for her.

“I have no idea how many personalities he must possess,” She felt Marc weaken under the hold she had on his wrist, “The man is clearly insane,”

It was happening in slow motion. Just as Marc crumbled into a disheartened sigh, the frustrated tears welling in his eyes, the final chord holding together her growing temper snapped. She felt her vision blacken for a moment, as if she had taken a long blink, which she wished she had in hindsight, she’d read on the internet closing your eyes and taking a deep sigh temporarily relieves stress. Something about giving the synapses a moment to process information. But she hadn’t. And neither did she feel the imposter crawling up her spine the way she did when Seth wanted her body as his own. No this was her, this was her entirely alone.

By the time she had come to, she had taken two quick steps towards the snide man, fingers outstretched for a sharp slap across his high cheekbones when she felt five metal claws hugging her fingertips, the razor edge of each enough to take a sizeable chunk out of his face had she made contact.

But she didn’t. Because no sooner had she gotten an inch away from doing so, her hand was stopped by a cerulean ring cuffing her hand mid air, preventing her from moving in the slightest.

Osiris. His hand held the same bluish-grey energy between his two fingers as he seethed down at his younger brother’s avatar.

“We will not tolerate violence in this chamber,” He bit, forcing the girl to her knees to face him, her head hung to the floor. She felt Marc’s eyes burn the back of her skull, his legs itching to approach, to wrap her up in his embrace, if only to protect her from Osiris’ hate. She chewed her cheek in guilt, when a thought quickly struck her as she looked to her knees ashamed.

Her suit, the one Seth usually donned her in. She was in her suit. She had never summoned her suit before, had steered clear from the fact entirely actually, yet the material was stretched comfortably over her skin as it was all the other times Seth shoved her consciousness aside to make room for his own deeds.

But she had summoned it herself.

“It brings me no pleasure to tell you these are two deeply troubled individuals. Khonshu is taking advantage of him the same way he abused me, the same way he aspires to abuse this court. As Seth is preying on a chaos-filled, young woman whose only goal is nemesis. Take action before it is too late,”

Dove tuned him out, her own internal crisis weighing far heavier than the insults Harrow was hurling to her. She had brought out the Hellhound herself. Not as Seth’s puppet or as his doll for toying with but as herself. As a reflection of what she wanted to do to Harrow.

For the first time in almost a decade, her body felt like it was almost her own again.

“Let us speak to Marc Spector. He seems the more reasonable of the two,” Horus ordered, and Marc almost scoffed at them had he not been so hurt by Harrow’s words, not been so defeated by the doubtful looks the Ennead had in their once cold glares now that his illness had been revealed. “Are you unwell?”

It was direct. Inescapable. And yet he didn’t care for their judgement anymore, just the fact she seemed uncomfortable being forced to her knees so harshly, a mongrel forced to sit quietly for a bone.

“I am.” He breathed hoarsely, “I am unwell. I need help. But that doesn’t change the fact that this man is-” Marc could barely finish his sentence without trailing off in angered tears as he glowered at the floor, knowing there was very little he could say to change their minds, “Would you just let her go? Please?”

“This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu-”

“This is not about my feelings, I am not the one on trial here, nor is she. It is him,” Marc seethed at Hathor, Yatzil, who’s pitiful eyes bore into his skin, flaring his anger, god would he just let go of her, look how her head hung low, how her knees pressed painfully into the cold floor, how she was forced to submit, “This is about how dangerous he is if you would just listen for a second,”

“He has committed no offence,” Osiris ruled coldly, tired, as if the situation bored him completely. “This matter is concluded.”

And that was it. The bonds that held Dove into low obedience were ripped away from her, her hands finding the floor gently as she stayed there, her head dipped to glare at the stone, the anger ebbing and flowing at her hot face like the banks of the Nile.

“And brother?” Dove’s head perked the slightest amount, though it was not her, but Seth responding to his counterpart on his behalf. She looked up at the god through broken, reddened eyes, a tear glistening on her cheek that she let fall to the ground with no fight. “Cause chaos like this again and you’ll be begging for a ushabti when I’m finished with you,”

With that, the avatars were returned to their bodies with moonlight white eyes, a jolt in every one of their spines, before they began heading back to their portals with not a single word uttered between them. As if Marc and Doves lives hadn’t just been raked out for all to see, all to judge. All to sentence.

Walking past the girl still crumpled in defeat on the floor, her heart too heavy to lift herself, Harrow watched Marc’s angered eyes carefully, a final sneer on his shit-eating expression.

“I’d leash that bitch of yours before she hurts anyone else, Spector,” He murmured, loud enough for the two of them to hear, not loud enough to cause a scene.

Like a dam breaking, her shoulders sank in on themselves, Marc quickly rushing to meet her on his knee, a warm hug wrapping around her where he could, just as she expected.

“Hey come on, we need to go, princess,” Marc whispered to her, and she could do nothing but give a sad nod, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, a sob crawling up her throat that felt even more present when she saw her clawed fingertips staring back up at her, “I’m sorry I tried, I tried to push him down, I-”

“Shhh,” Marc soothed, nosing her hairline, “It’s alright, it wasn’t your fault,” He murmured, hands going under her arms to lift her off the ground carefully. She stood, not without clutching onto him, gently of course since her suit and weapons made it difficult to not hurt him, and the entire idea that she had conjured it herself seemed tainted by the way they had looked at her. The way anyone would look at her if they knew.

“Marc,” A voice whispered, but Dove was too lost in her own self pity to take note. She felt as if she was back on that beach, her eyes lost in a canopy of blue, the wind cold on her skin. Lost in the world, yet seen, too seen, by those gods, by Harrow. Too trapped in her past, in what she’d done, knowing there was nothing stopping what Seth wanted her to do. Feeling for the first time, with the suit around her that she had summoned, she had ownership over herself, feeling as if she entirely wanted nothing to do with it.

Release me, release me from this wretched body, release me from this head, take me from this pain with a quick death.

Yet.

Keep me here, grant me control, let me greet my own demise.

An equilibrium yet to settle. A scale tipping to and fro, a puzzle with no solution. A set of coordinates with no longitude. Continuing. Unanswering. A person missing half their soul.

She, impossibly so, felt worse than she had when she woke up.

She found herself again laying back on the hotel bed, staring at the white, plaster ceiling. After Marc had spoken with Yatzil about a possible solution to finding Ammit before Harrow and his followers, the pair of them had headed back to the hotel in silence. Well, Marc had attempted to make conversation as he led her to the taxi, but it was clear from her lack of response, only broken by the occasional sniff or nod of her head, that she was in no mood to talk.

Taking a deep sigh from her place on the cot, she lifted her hand to run over her tired face when she was stopped by a crusted sap rolled up between her fingers at the touch, and she let out a clear gasp, jumping up from the sheets.

In the daze of it all, she’d forgotten she was covered in blood under her suit that she coaxed into disappearing before the taxi pulled up. Her face, hands, legs, all smeared with the sticky substance that now stained the white duvet.

“Fuck, oh fuck, for bloody fuck sake, fucking shit-” She swore violently, bunching her fingers into fists at the sight, Marc ducking into the room from the small balcony faster than she could let out another curse.

“What’s going on?” He took one look at her sad eyes, the way the redness smattered over her face, guilt flashing in her expression as he saw the mess on the sheets.

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll have my guy tip the cleaners, it’s no biggie,” He brushed off, taking a step towards her, attempting to uncurl her fists manually with his much larger hands that had just as much blood on them. Though, it was mostly his from where his wounded knuckles were now weeping. “You should probably take a shower though, we’ll raise too many questions looking like this,”

She barely nodded, eyes glazing over as she understood what he was saying. Clean yourself up, you’re scaring the locals.

“They only have a bath,” She murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes, scratching at the blood that quickly dried on her arms, picking at it like the glue that stuck to your skin as a kid making crafts, coming away in thin, onion peel layers.

“I’m sorry if it’s not the nicest hotel around, but my guy did his best-” Marc snipped slightly, watching her face scrunch up in frustration.

“No, no, not that, it's lovely, I’m just-” She took a deep breath in, her lungs rattling, her throat constricting with the secret she’d never had to tell. He’d think she was ridiculous, a woman of her grown age. “I can’t take a bath,”

“Of course you can, I’ll go run it for you now,” Marc headed for the bathroom, sick of this back and forth. He just needed her clean, needed to get that shit off of her, get rid of that guilty look in her eyes, needed to fix everything-

“No, wait,” She stopped behind him as he turned the brass tap, hot water gushing into the luxurious, square bathtub that had been built into the nude marble, stacks of ‘freebies’ and candles lining the edge. This was definitely meant for a honeymooning couple wanting a sexy week away under the Cairo sun, banging in every room, not two people who were barely friends possessed by gods and racing to stop the end of human lives. “Wait, Marc,”

“What?” He barked, turning back to face her with the first annoyed glare he’d given her all day. She knew the pair of them were at the end of their tethers, and that he was trying to care for her in the way Marc always did, the kind that only half the time involved actual any affection. “Look, I know it’s full of rose petals and shit, but I’m trying, princess,-

“It’s not that it’s-”

“I know it’s shit but it’s the best we’ve got, and I know Steven would have gotten you somewhere better-”

“I’m scared of water, Marc,” He shut up at the sight of her deflated expression looking at him through embarrassment, shut up at the sight of her squirming on the spot at his irritated rant.

“Huh?” He hissed, utterly thrown off by her words, feeling as if he hadn’t heard her correctly, “You’re fine with water, you’ve showered at Steven’s before. Is it me? I can go if you want privacy-”

“No, Marc just stop, please,” She mewled, turning her head to her hands ashamed, picking at the skin that had come loose, no matter if it pained her so. “It’s not you, I- I can’t be underwater, like under under water, not like showering when it’s only there for a second, it’s more drowning than anything, so baths are just a no go,”

But she sounded far away. Because the realisation for Marc had set in, the understanding of being scared to be held down, to feel the water rising up your legs, past your knees, up into your lungs. And then he was back in that cave again, he was feeling the water trickle in, he was screaming for RoRo to talk to him, to take his hand, he was hearing his brother’s little body splashing, hearing the water crowd his throat, drown out his cries for help. He was climbing out of that wretched cave soaked and running back home to tell his parents what had happened.

Taking a laboured breath to remind himself he was in the bathroom, with her picking at her nails, the tap running being the only sound between them for a moment. Sighing heavily, he fought the tears that burned behind his nose, forcing them to be swallowed down in the interest of helping her.

“What if I stayed?” He asked, her head shooting up to look at him in shock, mortified he was being so brazen. Rolling his eyes at her naïveté, he continued, “I’ll turn around and just sit on the toilet seat, but I’ll stay. Make sure nothing bad happens,”

She went quiet for a moment. She needed to get clean, get this forsaken muck off her, it was driving her insane. The smell of it alone, fermenting under the hot sun, was turning her stomach, not including the fact she felt rotten every time she thought about where it came from. Those bodies, that boy.

She nodded, the hot water steaming up the window by the time she’d decided.

“Okay, yeah. I suppose that would be okay,” She murmured to herself, fidgeting nervously. “You’ll just sit right there?”

He nodded gently, his hands coming to pull her fingers from mauling themselves, “Absolutely. Right there.”

“And you won’t look?” She asked shyly, eyes batting up at him through tired lids, to which he smiled slightly.

“Not a peak, now come on, bath’s almost full,” He ducked out of the bathroom to allow her to get undressed, not missing the way her fingers seemed to cling to his hand for as long as possible before he left. “Call me when I can come in,”

“Okay,” She replied through the thickness of the door. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her clothes into a neat pile under the sink, despite the fact they were wrecked with the same red gunk she was going to have to scrub off her skin. Switching the taps off gently with two squeaky turns, she held onto the bath edge with a deathly tight grip. It was only a foot of water, and Marc was right there. He wasn’t here anymore. Bath’s had once been her favourite part of the day. She loved a bath, had never felt so relaxed. She wanted to scream at the way her chest locked up as she stood in the water.

It was piping hot, scalding her skin, and maybe it was the punishment she deserved for all the blood she’d shed. Maybe it was the toll she had to pay to get clean.

Sinking to her bottom, she couldn’t help but clench onto the side of the bath for support, eyes locked on the way the water swayed towards her. It was just a bath, she’d had one millions of times before him, he wasn’t here to-

“You can come in,” She called, conscious of the way her back was to the door, swishing some of the french lavender bubble bath in to make the water milky, obscuring any sight of her body he would have caught a glimpse of.

Not that he would try. Marc was much too respectful for that.

He came in wordlessly, shutting the door behind him to keep the warm air in the bathroom. Plonking himself down on the toilet seat, he saw her hair spill over the lip of the tub edge in his peripheral vision, but little more.

For a moment they were both silent, uneasy at the new atmosphere created. The humid air was thick in their throats, the excuse they gave themselves as to why they weren’t talking. Marc inhaled the sweet vanilla and floral notes of the bubble bath, cursing himself when his mind ventured as to that being what she would smell like all evening.

“I’m sorry the room is so…” Marc trailed off. What was he to say, so clearly meant for two people on a nonestop fuck-a-thon? Aside from the fact the minifridge was stacked with whipped cream and chocolate spread, not for breakfast he’d had to explain to her, the bedside table full of condoms, the bathtub filled with rose petals, it was very obvious they stuck out like two sore thumbs with their rare and short affections in a place like this.

“What? Straight out a porno?” She quipped, earning a short laugh from him, symphonying the splash that came as she began scrubbing at her arms finally.

“A high end porno atleast,” He corrected, the tension in his shoulders loosening when he heard her giggle.

“Right,” She drawled, leaning over to grab the chamomile scented soap, “No one’s getting stuck bent over a tumble drier any time soon in a place like this,”

Maybe it was the fact she couldn’t see him, or it was the least shitty thing that had happened all day, but Marc couldn’t help the way a laugh, a real, chest tightening laugh, spilled out his throat. It was completely out of character for his glacial demeanour, usually the best she’d get is a smirk he’d try to hide or a huff through his nose. But it was a true, amused laugh. She smiled, despite the water coming away pink in her fingers as she scrubbed.

A brief moment passed over them where the only sound came from her hand dipping in and out of the water. This wasn’t so bad, she supposed, if she ignored the way her stomach rolled with bile every time she felt herself slipping further into the water. The milky pool itself wasn’t what scared her, it was the waiting to be pushed under, held under despite her clawing and scratching at his arm. It was his way of keeping her in check, reminding her even in the bathroom she was not permitted to privacy, to her own thoughts. She still felt his hand weaving its way into her hair, shoving her down until the water rushed up her nose, the gasp she’d let out choking on the exotic scented liquid. It was all just another one of his little games, and when she’d resurface, spluttering and clamouring out of the tub, he’d simply laugh and tell her to stop locking the door.

She hated the smell of that soap anyway. Too rich, too perfumed, too fake.

“I used to bath my brothers when I was younger,” She said after a while. She didn’t know why, or what had made her think about it, or why Marc needed to know, but she said it anyway.

“Yeah?” He replied, sounding distant as he picked at the blood under his own fingernails. “How many?”

“Four, all younger,” He blew air out of his cheeks solemnly, “We didn’t have much money, it was just my dad and he could never keep a job to save his life. I tried getting a job but turns out minimum wage for thirteen year olds is pennies,”

Marc stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. He had yet to ever hear her talk about brothers, or parents, or anything other than Steven and how much she wished he was here. That and of course why James Bond is a chauvinist, though he knew the first one was much dearer to her.

“Sounds rough,” He bit out, feeling the need to remind her he was still listening. He saw her shrug from behind the curtain of hair that fell behind her, obscuring his view.

“We got by. I was hungry some nights, but we were happy. They were happy. That’s all I cared about,” Marc felt a guilt gnawing at him. Sure, after RoRo passed his mother became a beast that had yet to release him from her claws, but they had never worried about money. Their house was easily three stories high, he had a meal three times a day, Elias always took him out to buy a new toy when Wendy had been particularly cruel. Birthdays, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, he always had whatever he wanted. Anything, except his mother’s love, but that couldn’t be bought, could never be earned back for what he’d done.

He felt disgusted with himself for being so self piteous about his childhood when Dove had barely afforded to eat at risk of her siblings going hungry.

“I used to get Matty in there first, he was the oldest. Only a couple years between us but he loved when I would give him his toys the others weren’t allowed to play with. We used to have to share everything, clothes, toys, school books, so having his own boat in the tub made him feel special.” A smile, achy but good, passed over her face, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the thought of the life she hadn’t had in so long. “He knew he had to be quick because there was only one tub of water to last all five of us, so we used to play ten rounds of I-spy and then he’d have to get out. Eventually he’d pick the most difficult thing to spy so I’d never guess and he’d get to stay in longer.”

Marc stopped then, watching the back of her head with a silent stare, quickly understanding she was in her own world entirely. “Then it was Sam’s turn, he was a year younger than Matt. He hated getting shampoo in his eyes so insisted I washed his hair for him, even though he made me swear to never tell his friends because it would damage his street cred,” She chuckled to herself, sounding far away from where Marc cracked a small smile, “Kid was seven years old and thinking he was tough enough to take on the world.”

“The other two?” Marc prompted with an ache, a need to know more. More about the little Dove that tended to her hatchlings, to her nest, whose voice sang with something he had never heard from her, a sad kind of happiness he never thought possible.

“Joey was next. He’d start to complain that the bath water was getting cold by this point so I’d sneak some water in from the kettle. He was a little younger than us, I think mom and dad had thought three was it for them. But two years after Sammy, out popped Joey. Fattest baby you’ve ever seen. Refused to speak until he was three, and then suddenly he was blurting out full sentences.” She smirked, eyes glazed over as the pink swirled into the water, beginning to run out of where it dried in clumps in her hair. She would need to wash properly, she realised. Wetting a flannel, she held it behind her, careful not to get any droplets on Marc’s leg. “Marc?”

He snapped out of the reverie he felt he shared with her, his head filled with the image of four little boys, a mirror of her. Maybe their noses were a little bigger, their jaws sharper, but their hair would fall over their shoulders the same way, unless she’d trimmed it for them. He pictured her running ragged after them, reminding them to floss, to tidy their rooms, to do their homework.

“Yeah?” He asked, taking the cloth from her hand.

“Would you be able to get the…” Blood. Blood. Blood. “Stuff out my hair please? I can’t get my head under but it’ll dry soon if I don’t get it now.”

“S-sure,” He said softly, almost caught off guard that she was inviting him to get even closer to her nude form. Setting a towel on the floor, he turned the small bin over to give himself a seat as he gently ran the wet cloth over her locks. He would need to use shampoo probably, there was some on the side of the sink but he refused to push her. “What about the youngest?”

“Micheal,” She said, her voice pure with sweetness. “He was definitely a surprise. Came three months early, came out kicking and squealing like he had a vendetta against the world.” She chuckled to herself. “He was so tiny I could get away with washing him in the kitchen sink. Matty would say we could peel him and put him in a stew with the rest of the potatoes. But he was so good, he would follow me around when I got home from work, even when he turned into a teenager he would never leave for school without hugging me and making sure I had lunch. I never did, but I would lie because otherwise he would worry too much about me,”

The crimson seeped out of her hair with every brush of Marc’s hand against the locks, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up hearing her bliss. She was different like this. Yes, she was usually happy, bar the few times she had gotten teary over the blood and gore, but speaking about her brothers made her glow with something new. A bliss he hadn’t seen in her yet. One he wished he could cling onto with everything he had, keep her wrapped in like a bubble of her happiest memories.

“By the time I got in the bath it was cold, like fully cold. And the water was dirty, I tell you three boys and a baby get into so much mess than I’d give them credit for,” She continued, her eyes fluttering closed at the way he gently stroked her head, stopping every once in a while to re dampen the flannel in the water. There was no way he could see anything since the soap had made it so cloudy, but she didn’t think she could find herself to fully care with how loose her body felt, floating under the heat. She found herself trusting him enough to lean back into his hold, relax under his touch instead of flinch. Because it was just Marc. And Marc would never do that.

She tipped her head back to give him an easier access to her scalp, sighing when his fingers seemed to pick at a clump, removing it manually when it wouldn’t release with the cloth alone. Her stomach flipped as to a guess as to what it could have been.

Flesh? Brain matter? You tore those men to pieces like the savage you are, it’s no wonder Osiris said the people were scared of you, you’re beastly, disgusting loathsome creature who deserves every bit of pain Seth gives you-

“Four brothers and a father? You and your mother must have been ripping your hair out in testosterone,” He said, gently smoothing the tangles out of her tresses, continuing to wipe at the tangles until the water ran clear.

“Just me. Mom ditched when Mikey was born,” She said calmly, though she felt his hands stutter as she did. “It’s fine. She believed that giving her son’s biblical names meant god couldn’t see her drug benders. I think she forgot her kids could though,”

Marc hesitated. Words, some that he couldn’t fathom putting together, caught in his throat. He hated the pity people would give him whenever he were to divulge his own secrets he kept hidden in the dark rooms of his mind even Steven had no access to.

“Please say anything except I’m sorry, otherwise I may have to give you a big wet slap across the mouth,” She quipped, relieved when she heard a small snigger, finally. She’d hate to lose that calm, carefree version of Marc she’d had this evening. Hate to scare him off like the spooked rabbit he was, send him racing down into his dark burrow again. “But yeah, it was grisly being the only girl until Billie was born,”

“Billie as in another brother?” Marc asked with a confused frown.

“Billie as in my niece,” She replied, making a gentle start to clean the gummy resin off her face, “She was named after Billy Joel when Matty lasted all of one week being sixteen and got a girl pregnant. Girl bailed on the kid as soon as she was born, Matty felt like he could do a better job of it than our dad could, and Billie was family. Although she somehow got it in her head that she was only allowed to listen to Billy Joel since that’s where her name came from,” She snickered, remembering the countless mornings she chased the naked toddler as she screamed ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’.

“How old is she?” Marc asked, the water running mostly clean now, yet his gentle pawing at her hair had yet to stop, more for his own state of mind now than her own. She was so soft, soft everywhere. Even the way she sighed into his touch, the few times his fingertip had met her neck, met the top of her spine. Soft, warm; inviting, addicting. Clean, good, pure, god she was heaven on earth. Fixed, he could fix it, fix her hurts.

“She’s…” Dove quickly counted in her head, coming up with a thick throat when she figured the answer. “Nine. She’ll be nine now,”

Nine. She’d missed so much of her little life, she’d barely been at school when she’d left home. Missed her losing her first teeth, missed her learning to ride a bike, missed moving to bigger school.

She’s better off without me. Dove chided sourly, though tears built in her eyes.

“You see her much?” He prompted, letting the short bout of silence settle over them as she rinsed her face carefully.

“No, I uh-” She cleared her throat, her head tilting down to play with her fingers, picking with her thumb nail under the rest, “My brother’s don’t speak to me anymore,”

Marc froze. This, unlike the other time he’d been ready to apologise, felt like dangerous territory. While her mother walking out had felt like passing news to her, this felt like a rope unwinding thread by thread, getting ready to snap in his face at any point.

“Oh,” He eventually came up with, stuck between wanting to ask more and wanting to keep his distance. A tug of war between himself and wondering what she wanted him to do. What Steven would do. “How come?”

“Just you know, life got in the way. We all said some things, did some things,” She sniffed, her eyes closing as she skirted around the truth, “Truthfully I don’t deserve their forgiveness even if they did want to talk,”

“Come on now,” Marc reasoned, his eyes filling with a softness only she saw, his fingertips caressing her scalp with a gentleness he didn’t know his battered hands could muster. “I’m sure that’s not true,”

“It is,” She cut him off definitively, “I think, sometimes, maybe I was just born wrong. Like I just came out the womb rotten. Like I deserve the way the gods looked at me today, like I’m every bit as revolting as Harrow says I am,”

“Hey,” Her head flicked over her shoulder at the anger in his tone. She hadn’t meant to spill, hadn’t meant to overflow her brain like that, have the words jump right out her throat. Maybe she was too relaxed here. She expected judgement, or disgust, or pity. But no, Marc just looked pissed. “That is not true, do you hear me? Everything he said about you is wrong,”

“But if he’s wrong, then why does all this happen to me? Why does it happen if I don’t deserve the badness?” She asked him quietly, because Marc knew all the answers. Marc knew everything, always knew what to say even if he didn’t realise it.

He took in her damp, clean face that stared up at him in naive grace. Her eyes gazed right up at him into his soul, seeing past every defence he had tried to throw up against her, everything unintimate between them gone as she soaked away the blood.

“Sometimes these things just happen to people. Sometimes there is no deserve,” Marc said after a moment to chew on his words. His hands cupped her face gently, her eyebrows furrowing as his thumb wiped the wetness from her cheek that rolled down in a couple glistening bubbles. “You are amazing, do you hear?”

She was silent.

Marc, in what was possibly the most tender thing he’d done since he’d first met Layla, slowly leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed, a held breath exhaling on his clavicle, cold unlike the warmth of her cheeks.

He drew back, the scent of french lavender and vanilla invading his lips, tasting sweet on his tongue.

And yet the pit of guilt only sank in Dove’s heart at the gesture. The pit that devoured her every second of every day. She didn’t deserve his kindness, his sweet words or his saccharine kisses. Marc would hate her if he found out what she was, who she was. If he knew the reason she left home, left her brothers.

If he knew she was a murderer.

MCU

@blackcat420---69

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

@shirukitsune @s-u-t @ahookedheroespureheart @willowseason @imonmykneessir @acceptedbyace @broadwaytraaaaash @mythicalmo @stevenknightmarc @avery8895-blog @fandombrackets @thelostlovedone @raythecomputerart @nyctophile-moon-child d @unknownduck0 @emily-roberts @cheshirecat484 @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo @sxftie-mari @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @seraphimcollections @katboops @kmhappybunny240

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae @lou-la-lou

[pineappleciders]

omori spoilers// (death and hanging and stuff yk the drill)

i feel like mari is always dumbed down in the fandom,, like i understand that she didn't get as much character development or chance to show her personality as she only appears in headspace (not including her ghost) but we do know a lot about her from photos, the characters, her ghost, and how sunny perceives her in hs

cute heromari edit? top comments are all jokes like "hahah mari is DEAD his girlfriend is DEAD shes HANGING 6 FEET UNDER" like mari jokes can be funny sometimes but cmon. it's just so shallow to make every mari appearance or smth about her death

and also heromari, it feels like some people only see mari as a plotline for hero angst. or even other character angst. it's always how it affected hero and the others rather than the fact that she was killed at 15, before she got to live out any of her dreams, and how she probably hated herself and her relationship with her and sunnys parents.

i do wish that they fleshed out mari's personality a bit more😓 i understand why they didn't but yk, i think she has a lot of potential but everything anout mari is either her death or about heromariidk what im talking about

[magicalqueennightmare]

Little Witch (Pt 1/5)

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

You've been with Klaus through a lot. Proving yourself through Hayley's pregnancy to not just be a common witch the hybrid falls for you. What happens when it appears you've betrayed him?

Warnings: cursing, mention of sex, cheating but not really?

You laughed as you tried unsuccessfully to squirm free of Klaus’ grip on your waist. You'd made the mistake of stepping into the room that had been turned into his art studio to let him know you'd be out for a few hours. That had somehow ended with you in his lap as his hands roamed your body, mouth savoring the soft flesh of your neck and the sounds he could elicit from you at even the simplest of touches.

“I've got to go Klaus” you tried but the moment you spoke he bit down on your pulse point which made a moan slip from your lips that was borderline pornographic. He pulled back to smirk at you, eyes dancing with amusement “Doesn't sound like you want to leave me love”

You shook your head with a laugh “Remember the faster I meet Elijah and we pick a gift out for his and Hayley's anniversary, the faster I get back here” you rolled your hips against his before adding “and the faster you can do as you wish to me”

He damn near growled at the promise in your words, leaving another kiss against your lips “Fine, leave me to spend the day with my brother” you crawled out of his lap and shook your head “Don't you dare make it sound like that. You know I love you Niklaus Mikaelson. Besides we're shopping for Hayley who happens to be Elijah's girlfriend, my best friend and the mother of your child”

He grinned as he stood up “A bit unorthodox when you phrase it like that isn't it?” You leaned up to brace your hands on his shoulders before catching his lips in a searing kiss “Almost as unorthodox as Klaus Mikaelson being with a witch yet here we are”

He nipped at your bottom lip “Go ahead and leave now little witch before you make it impossible for me to let you walk out of that door” you smiled slightly “I love you Klaus. I'll see you a little later” “I love you” he watched you walk out of the door and before it closed behind you the sound of his footsteps told you he was going back to the sketchbook he'd abandoned when you walked in.

As you walked to meet Elijah your thoughts slipped to Klaus. The relationship that had spawned between the two of you hadn't exactly been a love at first sight thing. He was an original, the first hybrid and you a witch. He despised witches and you had known a healthy avoidance of anything that was older than you and as powerful as his family.

—--------

What had thrown you into the Mikaelson's world fully was when Hayley called you. She was pregnant by Klaus. It was a miracle baby, one that shouldn't exist and that some supernatural beings didn't want to exist. She needed help and you gladly offered yours.

You'd known Klaus and his siblings in passing. You weren't as old as they were but you didn't exactly have a human life span either. The day you walked into New Orleans you knew people would be after your head. The line in the sand had been drawn and you chose your side.

—--------

The new few months passed with fight after fight happening. You knew Klaus didn't trust you but his siblings started to and Hayley did fully. The day it seemed his feelings truly began to change was when you took on your former coven by yourself, standing between Hayley and them.

You'd been bruised and bloody after that fight but it had ended with Klaus acknowledging your strength.

—---------

The amusement Rebekah had shown from the sidelines as she watched Elijah and Hayley orbit towards each other while you and Klaus fought your attraction tooth and nail.

You didn't want to want him, nor he you. Yet when an option was given more and more the two of you chose each other. Hope was nearly ten months old when you and Klaus finally acknowledged there was something between the two of you.

The sex had been extraordinary from the start. Klaus brought new heights of passion to you and he swore loyalty to you, claiming no other lovers. For a while you assumed that was all it would be until Klaus asked if you'd like to move into the compound.

When you questioned his motives he'd smiled “My little wolf and my littlest wolf is safe under Elijah's watchful eye. I'd like to have my little witch close at hand also. Better to make sure you're safe, I know you can protect yourself but I'd much rather protect you”

—-----------

The day Klaus told you he loved you was an ordinary day. Hope was with the two of you and you were sitting on the floor of his art studio with her. You and her were playing with finger paints, a canvas in front of you as you helped her smear the colors across. She'd learned your name alongside the usual mama and dada. Of course she'd also had Lijah down and Bek.

You sat with her in front of you, using your power to see the image flash through her mind of what she was trying to get the painting to look like and when it began to take shape she let out a giggle that brought a smile to your face “Look at that Hope! You're an artist just like your daddy” you cut your eyes up to see Klaus watching the two of you with a smile, you returned it with one of your own before turning your full attention back to Hope.

After you'd laid Hope down for her nap you'd found him in the courtyard. You'd noticed he'd been quiet since that smile you'd shared and wanted to make sure he was ok. The moment you approached him he turned and smiled, quickly crossing the space between the two of you. He pulled you into a kiss that made your head swim. When you shot him a questioning look he'd simply said “I love you”

You'd of course returned the sentiment, long since having accepted the feelings on your end but not wanting to push him away.

—-----------

You shook your head to clear your thoughts considering you'd already made it to the coffee shop you'd told Elijah to meet you at.

You walked in and spotted him. He smiled when he noticed you, easing his way through the crowd and you saw a cup in his hand despite the fact that he normally didn't drink coffee. He followed your line of sight and held it out “I called Hayley to find out what to order you”

You took it with a smile “Such a gentleman, aren't you” he shook his head with a laugh “Where should we begin?” You grabbed his arm, looping yours through it “Just hold tight Mikaelson and have your wallet at ready”

Hayley was beginning to worry, you and Elijah were supposed to meet her over an hour ago. She checked her phone again for texts as Rebekah and Klaus walked into the door of the place she shared with Elijah and Hope.

“What exactly is going on?” Rebekah asked first, eyes wandering around the room for her niece. Hayley motioned to the stairs “She's taking a nap” then looked at Klaus “They were supposed to be here over an hour ago. The plan was for them to go shopping for me then Elijah would come with Hope for us girls to go out for dinner”

Klaus nodded slowly and pulled his own phone out to see he hadn't received any texts or missed calls from either of you. “We'll go check the stores she frequents in the french quarter. Should anything have happened though we know those two can handle it”

Hayley nodded, her mind already drifting to what could have happened. Memories of you on your knees, enduring the spell meant to rip Hope out of her womb flashed through her mind. “I'll get a few wolves out looking for them too”

—----------------

The french quarter had been exhausted. Your scent was picked up near one of the cemeteries then lost. Davina couldn't get a feel of your magic either. Klaus’ anger began to flare with every moment that passed without you in his arms. “If something happened to either of them..” Hayley finished his thought by saying “I'll help you tear this whole damn city down while your sister gets Hope out of it”

One last thought occurred to Klaus. If you were in danger and had the slightest opening you'd go home, in search of him or one of his siblings for help. “Let's circle back to the compound. Call your wolves in but tell them to stay ready”

Hayley nodded, feeling a pull herself to check the Mikaelson compound. Maybe it was just Klaus wanting to check or her hoping that you two were there? She loved Elijah but the thought of losing you broke her heart as well.

Klaus walked in with Hayley behind him in case there was a danger she was better protected. Nothing looked out of place as the two of them headed for the stairs leading up to everyone's rooms.

They checked the bedroom you and Klaus shared, his art studio and Rebekah's room to no avail.

Klaus was headed for Kol's room when Hayley called his name. When he looked back at her she motioned across the walkway “Elijah's old room is open” that was unusual.

—------------

He nodded to her, moving in front of her as they approached the room. The sound that hit his ears was one he was all too familiar with. Your moan circled around him, encasing that beast that laid just beneath the surface of his skin.

Hayley fell away in that moment as did everything around him. He pushed the door open silently to see you on the bed, bare from the waist up save for the black lace bra adorning your breasts. Your jeans were unsnapped but still in place. Elijah was on top of you, his shirt discarded on the floor, your legs around his waist as he kissed your neck working the sensitive skin there as his hands roamed across what of your body was already bared to him.

“Elijah” a breathy moan fell from your lips which Elijah met with one of his own, a moan of your name.

—-----------

Hayley and Klaus spoke at the same time, yours and Elijah's names falling from them.The heartbroken tone of Hayley's voice was plain to anyone listening while Klaus buried his beneath anger.

The two of you froze on the bed and looked at each other then at the door before falling away from each other.

“What the hell?” You spoke scrambling for anything to cover yourself with and Klaus laughed humorlessly “Sorry to interrupt love” your eyes found him and he could see them widen as you looked from him to Hayley then to the state of undress you and Elijah were both in.

—----------

You weren't sure what happened. One minute you and Elijah were walking out of an antique store and the next you were hearing Klaus call your name while Hayley called Elijah's.

The darkness burst around you and you felt a weight on your body. You looked up to see Elijah hovering over you, the confusion in his eyes matching what you felt as the two of you looked to see your lovers at the doorway and fell away from each other.

“What the hell” you whispered, pulling the sheet up to cover your chest and trying to snap your jeans. You heard a bitter laugh before Klaus said “Sorry to interrupt love”

You looked up and met his eyes, feeling your heart break at the pain you saw there. “Klaus this isn't..” “You having sex with my brother? That's indeed what it appears to have been leading to” He turned and walked away. You stumbled out of the bed looking around frantically for your shirt. Elijah held it out as he'd already found his own. He was careful to not meet your eyes or touch your flesh.

You slipped it over your head and paused long enough to say “I'm sorry Hayley” before running after Klaus.

—----------

You caught him in the courtyard and grabbed his arm. “Klaus please” he spun around to face you and a chill of fear went through you when you saw his eyes had changed. “Get your hand off me witch”

You dropped his arm as if it burnt you. He hadn't called you just witch in a long time. His little witch, yes but that was affection. The same line of him calling Hayley little wolf and Hope his littlest wolf. This time you knew he meant it as a curse. “Klaus you've got to know Elijah and I would ever hurt you”

He shook his head “Get out” “What?” He motioned to the door “GET OUT AND DON'T COME BACK HERE” you'd never been afraid of Klaus until that moment. A thought of Elijah's wellbeing went through your head but he was old enough to take care of himself.

You nodded and walked to the door, pausing to snatch your purse and jacket off the floor. You didn't even remember how they got there.

You looked at Klaus but his back was to you. You'd lost the man you loved and your best friend in one moment and you weren't even sure why. You'd never looked at Elijah like that nor he you. You'd find answers one way or another. You walked through the door letting it slam behind you. Fear and sadness wouldn't serve you in that moment. You needed anger and revenge to be what flowed through your veins. That was the only way to get answers.

[ceapa-mica]

The First Date 💌 - a Thrawn headcanon

I got so many views for my NSFW alphabet, I couldn't keep myself from writing another Thrawn headcanon! 🤗

This one is SFW, there's no mention of Reader's gender.

When Thrawn tells you he would like to get to know you better and asks if you want to spend the evening with him you agree without having to think twice.

Later you find a box on your bed containing a beautiful dress. Somehow it's exactly the right size and in your favorite color. You never told Thrawn either and are not sure how he could have known.

There are two places where a date with Thrawn could take place. One being his quarters on the Chimera and the other a not very well known city on a backwater planet.

Let's start with the scenario on the Chimera.

Your dress turns some heads on your way to Thrawns quarters. It's not regulation after all and the entire 7th fleet will gossip by the time your date is over.

Thrawn wants his private life to remain private. Unfortunately for you, that means lots of secrecy. He won't share words of love and affection in public, no physical touch beyond what is considered ‘professional’ either. You keep a strictly professional relationship during working hours.

Tbh either way, your relationship will be the biggest open secret aboard.

Thrawn assumed the dress would suit you well, but when he sees you wearing it in the flesh his heart skips a beat.

He ordered the good food, none of this mess hall mush, and a large portion too! It's the best food you've eaten since you joined the Imperial Navy. Along with that a bottle of fine Alderaanian wine he kept for special occassions - the expensive one!

Thrawn is suave af, and sincerely interested in you. When he said he wanted to get to know you better he meant it.

You are the first human he ever dated. It's a new experience for him and it fascinates him how different it is from dating a Chiss. Humans are just so much more expressive with their emotions. While this could be seen as a weakness by others of his kind, he admires it. He admires you.

You tell him about your life away from duty. Your family, your hobbies, your dreams and aspirations.

When, in return, you ask him about his life he starts talking about art. His favorite artists, art of cultures he admires etc. You're a little bit disappointed he leaves questions about his family and general heritage unanswered and skillfully turns the conversation back to your interests or his interest in art and warfare.

This is your first date, what did you expect? Thrawn has a mysterious aura for a reason. For him to tell you about his home you need to establish a relationship first.

It was a pleasant evening. He insists on taking you back to your quarters.

When you arrive at your door and make sure it's just the two of you, he leans in for a sweet kiss.

His lips are softer than you imagined. He tastes like the dinner you just ate and like something that's so distinctively him.

Being so close to him, you notice for the first time that under the scent of standard issue Imperial soap™ and aftershave lies his very own musky scent. He smells different from humans, somehow crisp like a winter breeze.

That moment of closeness passed too quickly for your liking. You wish each other a good night and he leaves you alone in your quarters.

Let's say you won't be able to sleep for a while, his kiss being the only thing on your mind for the rest of the night and the days after.

Now let's look at the other option - going out with Thrawn - a date away from the Chimera.

You meet at a small shuttle at the Chimera’s hangar. You notice it's the first time you see him unaccompanied by his death troopers outside his office.

You blink in astonishment at his attire. Instead of his pristine white Imperial uniform he wears a black civilian suit without the chest candy indicating his rank.

He refuses to tell you where he wants to take you. It's a surprise, but a welcome one.

The city he visits with you is only a short hyperspace travel away. The planet is relatively unknown, but it's rich with culture.

Before you leave the shuttle he takes out a pair of green shaded sunglasses. It takes everything in you not to laugh at his appearance.

He explains that he wears it for safety reasons. Leaving the safety of his fleet puts a target on his back, and being seen in public with you puts one on your back as well.

He takes you to a picturesque part of town to a small restaurant where you sit in a dimly lit corner.

You chat about basically everything I have already named above.

The food served in the restaurant is exotic, unlike anything you've ever tried before. You and Thrawn choose anything that sounds delicious from the menu. The food is better than anything the kitchen droids on the Chimera could ever cook.

Thrawn tells you he heard of this place’s excellent cuisine last time he visited the planet incognito to attend an art exhibition.

Slow jizz music plays in the background and it feels like time has stopped completely, at this moment it's just the two of you, you've only got eyes for each other. (He took off his shades since the corner where you eat is quite secluded) Thrawn feels the same and it intrigues him.

You're a little tipsy from the wine by the time you leave the restaurant. The date night is far from over though.

He takes you to a historic building that houses an art gallery.

It's the middle of the night, but Thrawn notified the owner, who he knows due to his past visits, and they let you in. You have the entire gallery for yourself with no prying eyes.

He explains different art styles and points out details you wouldn't have noticed without him.

You eventually come across a painting by an artist you've never heard of. You love the style, the image itself and how the colors compliment each other. It speaks to you in a way you can't explain.

Of course Thrawn knows all about said painting and answers all your questions.

You wonder why he has become a Grand Admiral and not an art critic.

You tell him how much you appreciate spending time with him. For once not occupied with destroying rebel cells, you get a glimpse of the man behind the stoic facade.

Your words mean so much to him. There's a romantic tension in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Once the chance presents itself, he pulls you into a dark corner behind one of the large curtains, your faces are close, his gaze wanders from your lips to your eyes for consent.

As soon as you nod, his warm soft lips are on yours, the kiss gentle, but it quickly turns passionate as he deepens it, his tongue begging for entrance.

His hands start roaming your body. It feels like he's everywhere all at once, his unique scent surrounding you and his taste on your tongue. He's respectful though, keeping his hands away from intimate areas. It's your first date and you're still in public, remember?

During your little makeout session you lose your sense of time.

Tbh you wish this moment would never end.

Once you separate for air, he caresses your cheek. For a fleeting moment there is a softness in his scarlet eyes you've never seen before.

From that moment on he calls you 'ch’eo ch’acah' when you're alone with him. You don't know what it means at first. One day he will tell you, and it might be just the first of many Cheunh phrases you will learn from him. (it means 'my darling/beloved')

The evening went by way too fast for your liking. You both agree though that you enjoyed yourselves and want to go on another date in the future.

You return to the Chimera and he drops you off at your quarters before heading to his own.

You don't know where this blossoming relationship is going, but it definitely feels right.

Please keep in mind that Thrawn keeps your relationship secret to keep you safe from harm. Only at the point where your relationship is serious enough (like engagement) will he admit to it to others.

One more thing: A few days after your first date in the city you receive a package. It contains an exact replica of the painting you liked so much. It comes without a note, but you don't need one to know that your feelings for the Grand Admiral are in no way unrequited.

Let's visit a Thrawn relationship headcanon next time! This was only the first date.

Feel free to add to this headcanon! ❤️

[wen-kexing-apologist]

I know the show is on going but I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on Phaya and Tharn from The Sign? I'm a huge sucker for soulmate stories so I'm willing to overlook certain things just to get my fill of queer soulmate stories

Hmmm you know I haven’t actually thought about my relationship to Phaya and Tharn as a ship. Ignoring the issues I am having with some of the story structure and editing of the show, I do genuinely really love Phaya and Tharn as a couple. I am always a sucker for the loud and proud simp who is comfortable with not only their sexuality but with actively acknowledging their feelings for their crush. I love that we can also tell from the beginning that Tharn reciprocates his feelings for Phaya, and I think those types of dynamics where both characters are aware of the other’s feelings can add an interesting layer of complexity to the hidden feelings, sexuality struggle that is more often present in BL. (Side note I think this is also why I was really interested in Jim and Wen’s relationship in Moonlight Chicken). I like when there are other external pressures or internal traumas outside of sexuality that prevent two people from being together, even as or after they have admitted their feelings. 

I have not read The Sign the book, but I did see a post floating around that described the backstory of the naga and garuda’s life and I am unfortunately much more interested in the dynamics that I heard about from that book description than what we got in the show. i wish they had fleshed their backstory out a little bit more, I don’t mind soulmate plots but I think that La Pluie did such a fantastic job with their soulmate subversions in 2023 that I have been a bit spoiled around other types of soulmate dynamics. 

I like the way The Sign is loudly proclaiming verse rights with Phaya and Tharn always paralleling the other’s actions. I love the way the show has decided to visibly demonstrate their desire through the colored lighting and the bokeh effect. I like that we have gotten to see them playful with each other and gotten little details like them bickering quietly while Tharn was on the phone with the abbot. Those types of moments in shows really sell the feasibility of a relationship for me. I believe Tharn and Phaya work well together as a couple and I think Billy and Babe have incredible chemistry. I loved Billy in Secret Crush on You but this is Babe’s first acting gig and he is going toe to toe with Billy and doing a lot of incredible subtle work in his portrayal of Tharn. 

Now I just need Phaya to get railed by Tharn like he so clearly needs and wants. Thanks for the ask!

Send Me a Ship And I’ll Share My Thoughts

[white-poppie]

Racer Mikey x reader a little bit of age gap?!? And idk like she's an University student

𝐎𝐇𝐌♡𝐌𝐈!

Synopsis: Racer!Mikey takes you on a date, a special one where he teaches you how to ride a bike

Pairing: S.sano x AFAB!reader Genre: Fluff SFW TW: Age gap, sexual tension WC: 1k Song rec: OHMAMI by Case Atlantic

A/N: Also check out: If we live 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱, let us die 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤’ (How being in a relationship with Racer!Mikey is like)

Twenty minutes...For twenty minutes you have been waiting in front of your university gates, the harsh summer sun shining overhead, making sweat run down your makeup that you had recently fixed in the washroom.

The familiar rev of the engine made your ears perk, looking towards the source of the sound that had the entire country turning their heads. The sight of the onyx locks of asymmetric hair, that flow backwards in a dance with the wind. His piercing eyes almost devouring your being in the most achingly pleasant way possible as he rolled down the tinted windows.

His slender hands clad in finger-less leather gloves that gripped the steering wheel of his car with the same ease as he gripped the handles of his bike.

"Manjiro..." you deadpanned and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

Mikey chuckled softly, hint of pearlescent teeth peeking through his chiseled mouth. He reached downwards and pulled out a bouquet of gorgeous, white lillies.

Your frown turned into a gasp and then a big smile and you looked him.

"Sorry baby, was getting these ready for you, the fixes in my bike took more time than I planned so I got late in coming here," he said with a soft smile and and gestured you to come sit on the seat next him.

You open the car door and sit beside, tucking yourself with the seatbelt.

"Thank you, 'Jiro," you say with a flustered grin, holding the the lillies and sniffing their saccharine scent.

Mikey smiles and looks at you briefly squeezing the flesh on your thigh as he returns his eyes on the road, driving to the location of today's date.

"How's college been going?" he asks calmly, eyes focused on the road. The corners of his eyes, decked with fine-smile lines.

"It's been going..." you sigh tiredly, "I'm just really tired."

"My poor girl," he coos at you with a playful, little smile, his fingers trailing up and down on your thigh, "so much stress they put on your little shoulders, tsk." He mutters, "I would've helped you, but I was never the studies-kinda guy."

A flash of an idea comes into his brain as he looks at you, "I should just get you tuitions, huh? That would make it so much easier for you, and you'll get more time to spend with me."

Your eyes widen at the tempting proposition, "No, Manjiro, I can manage, really!"

Mikey raises his eyebrows as he hears your answer, but decides not to speak anything at ruin the mood for the date, "your wish, although the offer stands forever."

You nod and smile as you see the Mikey's bike garage approaching, this was your idea for the date: Manjiro teaching you how to ride a bike and Mikey was more than happy to indulge, ready to spend some quality time with you. Mikey had already gotten a spare bike from Draken's shop for you, although he insisted that you should learn on atop quality bike, you were scared to touch that thing with your rookie skills, much the less drive it.

Mikey opens the car door for you, as you smile and get up, and walk towards the bike, a little hesitant.

He puts on a helmet on you, tightening the strap around your neck and checks its sturdiness, before taking one step away, "there you go."

He walks alongside you and guides you to the bike, "alright, lets start with the basics, push the stand up, but keep holding the bike from its handles, else it will fall."

He says and you nod, easy enough, you push the stand, up with your foot, while holding the bike with your hands.

"Alright, next, plant your feet sturdily and mount the bike, easy enough." He says and stand behind the bike, just in case you lose your balance, "keep your body straight and your grip on the handle tight, just mount it like a bicycle." he explains calmly.

You take a deep breath, apprehensive, its quite different from a bicycle, but nonetheless, you follow his instructions and successfully mount the bike without falling, your feet planted on the ground.

MIkey smiles and moves towards the front and leans close, patting your head, "Good job." He says raspily, as he teaches you the basic controls of a bike, the gears, the acceleration, the pedal, the buttons.

His voice is all low and concentrated when he explains things to you. One hand on the small of your back, another on the handle, his minty breath tickling your face.

Its so difficult to concentrate at the proximity, your eyes occasionally wander to his face when he explains and you just nod.

He looks at your reaction to see if you understood or not, he chuckles when he notices how your gaze is on him instead of the bike. Leaning close to your ears, he whispers, "focus, baby." He says and you flush completely, biting your lips as you look back at the bike.

"I-I was focusing!" you retort, embarassed.

"Sure you were," he says with a laugh, his eyes moving as if he is undressing the very bits of your existence, "pay attention to me sweetheart, we wouldn't want you getting hurt when we do a little test drive tomorrow, yeah?"

You nod, softly as he explains again, this time actually paying attention.

"Phew, alright we're done for today," he says with a smile and stretches his limbs with a breathy groan, his leather jacket rising up a little.

"Alright, wanna get something eat now?" he says and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, "my treat for you being such a nice student, such a good girl." He whispers and leans in to capture your lips in his.

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