#moth to flame fanfic

[melis-writes]

Victoria touching herself for Michael to watch. 😳

😳 😳 How many of us girlies can sit still while doing that in front of Michael Corleone…

‘God…’ With your head slightly tilted back and lost within self indulgence, your eyes remain half open while soft, hot breaths escaping your lips with each moan.

Michael’s plush, full lips wrap around the end his half-finished cigarette as he keeps his eyes scouring over your body in both entertainment and amusement; arousal pulsating over his body.

Kneeling on the center of the bed with your legs spread as wide as you can keep them, your fingers toy over your dewy clit—spreading your wetness over the folds of your pussy again and again.

Michael’s lustful gaze over you only intensifies your arousal pumping through you, rushing warmth to your skin as your breathing begins to hitch on and off.

Michael’s half shrugged off overcoat loosely hands over his shoulders and arms as he sits upon the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, facing you.

Michael’s tie is almost completely loosened; five of the buttons on his dress shirt undone to reveal a peek of his chest hair, his leather belt on the floor with one hand resting over his thigh while he smokes with the other in what one may describe as almost elegant yet cautious.

Not once does Michael take his eyes off of you or your actions, and while he watches you tease and please yourself, you feel his eyes directly locked with yours but over every inch of your body at the same time.

Michael notices the way your tongue wets your lips, how you squeeze your eyes shut when you edge off your growing orgasm and how the muscles in your body strain towards the rush of pleasure constantly hitting you.

“Perfect,” he whispers out, watching you slick two fingers inside of your pussy in and out in perfect rhythm; the sloppy sounds of your arousal’s lubrication being nothing but music to his ears.

“M-Michael,” you breathe, bucking your hips out of reaction as you feel more of your wetness begin to trickle inbetween your thighs.

“Good girl,” Michael comments back—speaking in a soft, ushered tone as he watches your thighs begin to quiver again. “Hold yourself back for me, again.”

You give a small, shaky nod as you continue to rub over your throbbing clit with your thumb; your fingers practically sliding over your pussy from how wet you’ve grown.

“You…” You moan softly, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief second, “love watching me do this to myself, d-don’t you?”

Michael’s gaze hardens over you at your question as he gives you a slow, stern nod—blowing smoke out towards you. “Are you talking back to me?”

“N-no, Don Corleone,” you whine, slowly beginning to add a third finger in.

Michael lowers his cigarette, putting it out upon the crystal ashtray next to him; noticing how your actions begin to slow down from an inevitable orgasm attempting to push through.

“Don’t,” Michael speaks out, gesturing for you to come to him.

“I was—” You pant quietly, moving your hands away.

“You’re not going to let yourself cum,” Michael states, interrupting you. “Come here.”

Blushing furiously, you slowly get off the bed and begin to get down on your knees; careful with your thighs shaking again before you look up at Michael obediently.

“You’re doing so well,” Michael purrs, reaching towards the fly of his dress trousers. “Come here. You won’t come without me this time.”

[eroselless]

MOTH TO A FLAME

Chapter One: The invitation

Chapter Summary: After starting a new job at a prestigious museum in London, you form a close friendship with Helaena Targaryen. You're surprised when she invites you to stay at her family's estate for the summer holidays. [1.4k]

[aegon targaryen x reader, modern!HOTD AU ]

masterlist

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language, smut in future chapters, and talk of bugs. If there's any I missed let me know!

note: this is my first story in a really long time, I hope y'all like it! also, I actually have no idea how curating a museum works, this is just a general idea of what I thought it might look like lol

You're running out of breath when you reach the back doors of the museum. Your skin feels moist from a mixture of light rain and sweat beading on your skin from your run from the station. You quickly plug in the code to the door and step through, quickly shaking off your jacket and putting your things in your assigned locker. You check your watch and wince at the time, making your way out of the employees-only area into the lobby of the museum. The museum always has a scent of dried paint mingled with a faint aroma of coffee emanating from the café at the entrance of the museum. 

You spot Helaena from a distance. She’s leaning against a pillar, fiddling with her key card that hangs around her neck.  As soon as she sets her eyes on you, her eyes light up. She straightens up and moves to meet you halfway, pulling you into a hug.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.” she laughs. You roll your eyes, fixing stray hairs. You can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face.

“I swear Ari has it out for me” you sigh. Ariadne was your Australian shepherd puppy. She was the cheekiest little thing, taking socks, shoes and now apparently your keys to play with. “I swear I’m always putting the keys in the key bowl when I get home but she manages to take them and hide them.” 

“Sure,” Helaena says, leading you into the Entomology department. “Blame it on the dog.”

You met Helaena when you started working at the museum three months ago. You had been job searching for ages and finally came across a job that happened to be in a country completely different than the one you resided in. You packed your bags and took a leap of faith, moving to London on your own, only accompanied by your trusty puppy. 

You had always loved the idea of working in a museum and hadn’t thought it all the way through so where you arrived you were placed in the entomology department alongside Helaena. Together, you carefully managed the ever-growing collection of beetles, butterflies and moths, dragonflies and damselflies. 

You settled into your respective desks, papers stacked high and your computer buzzing with incoming research articles and showcase preparations. Helaena sits across from you, fiddling at her own desk, pulling up her email. 

“Oh shit, did you see the new collection of dragonflies we have coming in?” she asked, fingers suddenly dancing over her keyboard. “It looks like they’re butterfly dragonflies.” She enthuses and you both gradually get lost in your screens.

After a couple of hours, the day slows down and starts to go by agonizingly slow. There was only so much excitement a small batch of dragonflies could provide and you found yourself mindlessly combing through different online stores. 

After lunch, you hadn’t much left to do anyway. Showcases were mostly set up and you had already sifted through and organized a set of potato beetles you hadn’t done last week. Your eyes flicker over to Helaena as walks back to her desk, sliding her chair from one point of her L-shaped desk to another. She’s holding her phone up to her ear, listening fervently to the person on the other side. She nods every now and then, letting out small mhms. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, her lips in a tight line as she uses her free hand to jot down notes on a pad. She nods one last time before bidding the person on the line goodbye and placing her phone down on her desk.

You watch her with your hands tucked under your chin, eyebrows raised as if to say sooo. She leans back in her reclining desk chair, stretching her feet out in front of her. She lets out a whistle and taps her fingers on the wood of her desk.

“You got anything planned for the holidays?” she asked, squinting at you, lips pursed out. You pretend to think for a second, eyes floating up to the ceiling before answering.

“I don’t think so. I don't have the funds to fly back home just yet so I’m gonna be here.” You state. A smile breaks out on Helaena’s face and she claps her hands.

“Great,” she begins, sauntering over to your desk and leaning over it. “Then you can come with me to the family estate.”

You blink, caught off guard at the invitation. “Your family’s estate? You’re sure I wouldn’t be impeding?” 

“Babe, no!” she says, shaking her head. “It’ll be a blast, the property is huge and I think my mom is even holding a gala or some shit.” Your mind races at the thought of spending the holidays with Helaena, surrounded by the English countryside and the hospitality of her family. You knew very little about her family, having only heard of her brothers in fleeting comments. You had briefly met her mother over the phone, having been at Helaena’s apartment one night when she face-timed her. 

“Okay,” you say, a smile growing on your lips. “I’d love to come.” Helaena’s smile only widens, her arms going around your shoulders in a tight hug. 

“I’ll let Mum know!”

The sun streamed through your apartment window as you pull clothes out of your wardrobe, tossing them at Helaena. She sits perched on the edge of your bed, gingerly folding t-shirts and pants into your bag. There were tops strewn across your bed, shoes littered all over the floor and small bags of toiletries and makeup set next to your nearly empty suitcase. You can hear Ariadne chewing on a shoe you gave up trying to get her to stop playing with. At this point, she only really played with household items instead of the actual toys you bought her. Helaena winces as you pull out a dress and hold it up to your chest.

“What about this?” you ask, swaying slightly. Her face stays in a slight grimace, shaking her head and laughing.

“We need to get you some new dresses, these look like they were taken off of a raggedy Anne Doll.” You let out a boisterous laugh, shoving her shoulder and you tuck the dress back into the wardrobe. She pulls a knitted sweater from the edge of your bed and tucks it tightly into your bag. 

Once your outfits seem coordinated enough, Helaena begins to place them carefully in your suitcase, making sure you have enough to last you all the days you’re there. She speaks up once you flip your suitcase closed, struggling slightly with the zipper. 

“So I know you sorta met Mum but I know you’ll love her now that you’ll be staying for a few weeks.” She states. “She’s been planning this gala for my father, for his retirement, for months. It’s going to be huge, my sister is even coming in from out of town with her children, everyone and their mother is going to be there.”

You let out a chuckle and bounce slightly on your suitcase, climbing over it, trying to press it shut with your knees. Helaena climbs on with you, raving about life at the estate, describing the sprawling gardens, her mother’s immense library of rare books and the little town that lies nearby.

“You know we could even get you a fancy dress from one of the shops in town, it's a tiny town but it has loads of shops.” you struggle but finally manage to zip up the bag, and you sit on top of it a little breathless. 

“Oh! Aemond and Daeron are going to be there too, though I’m not too sure about Aegon” she states, a thoughtful look on her face. It almost seems like she wants to say something more but waves her hand in the air dismissively. “But never mind that.”

You can't help but feel a flutter of excitement bloom in your chest at the thought of all that you’ll be doing. “I can’t wait for it all,” you say with a soft sigh, eyes shining with anticipation.

a/n: soo no Aegon quite yet but he’ll be appearing in the next chapter fo sho. I’m currently working on it but it’s hell week at uni right now so I won’t have too much time to sit down. If you guys are enjoying it, do not hesitate to reblog and let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter!

[theladyofshalott1989]

As a little treat to myself for the first anniversary of my Sebastian Sallow x m!mc series (Like Moths to a Flame [ Wattpad link ] [ AO3 link ]), I commissioned the absolutely spectacular @rhewart for a scene of Sebastian and Damien from chapter 34 ("Happiness, Its Gates Guarded by Dragons") of the sequel, Burning Bright, and boy, did she deliver (and then some)! My jaw is still on the floor. Happy one year, Sebastian and Damien <333 It's been such a joy writing you two.

[your-local-baguette]

Bllk boys x a skater girl

Pairings: bachira meguru, isagi yoichi

Warnings: not proofread, idk much about skating, isagi fawning over you

Listening to

Or

Must be heavenly while reading some skater girl brain rot

________________________________________

Isagi yoichi

It's your focused expression that gets him going...and your thighs. Like, it's around eight pm in the evening, barely anyone out in the street, his jacket hooked on your shoulders and gosh...you looked..

"heavenly"

You turned your focus to him

"did you say something?"

"no, no"

Your turned back, still balancing yourself on your skateboard. You swayed a little, going a little further than Yoichi, he sometimes jogged next to you. But he also likes to see you doing a few tricks or some grind. He's always praised you for this passion of yours, he literally adores seeing you fly through the wind with your skateboard. He loves seeing you with that small smile and the night sky behind you.

This is secret but he almost alway come with you when you go skating in the summer because he's fawning over your thighs

But isagi really wants to support you in your passion

Even if it was eleven pm on a week day, he'd come with you to the skatepark

He also loves seeing your hair flying in the wind

If you don't have hair or just short hair, he just likes seeing you spread your arms and and smile

He's so supportive

_________________________________________

Bachira meguru

Bachira just loves the way you laugh or smiles when your going fast. He's the kind of boyfriend that would learn how to skate to feel your joy and put a smile on your face. Bachira just loves your eyes, especially when you skate, because that's when they show so much emotions, you caught him multiple times smiling to himself when thinking about you skating. Sometimes even when he doesn't have his own, he propose to go skating, just so he can see your eyes light up. He's in love with them, he asks you to show him some tricks so he can get a glimpse of the happiness in your eyes.

He's alway messing around when you go out together, he usually walking and you're skating.

Sometimes he asks if he can do some, you usually let him, he isn't as good as you but he tries

Bachira could probably sit for hours, sitting on a bench in a skatepark looking at you having fun

Sometimes you're worried he's bored, but when you see the biggest smile on his face, that thought is out of your head in a second

_________________________________________

Kinda short but hope you liked this sweethearts!

Bye bye!

[acatalystrising]

SOOOO I have been on a ROLL with Moth to a Flame, and in a sudden burst of inspiration, I have chapter five already finished! Now we’re getting to the twisty turny fun of this story, but I’m only getting started. This one has much more angst then the previous chapters, so buckle up, buttercups…we’re in for a ride.

This chapter is rated MA for cannon violence, mentions of past trauma, and abuse.

Here is a link to chapter six!

Moth to a Flame Chapter Five

It had been many years since Boba Fett had awoken to a nexu’s distinct call, but waking up to a woman curled against him? Much longer.

In fact, he couldn’t recall if he ever stuck around long enough for any of his flings from his younger years to wake up the morning after. He’d been…different back then. Cold, selfish, and calloused. Uninterested in anything beyond an empty night of carnal pleasure.

Much had changed since those days - he had changed. Perhaps Fennec had been right - there was a chance he’d grown softer. But the years of a hardened life of bounty hunting would do that to anyone - especially to one who almost became sarlacc food.

He hadn’t intended to fall for anyone. Especially not now, heading a gotra, when he was arguably as busy as he’d ever been. Hadn’t ever thought he wanted or needed trivial things as romance. But you had ensnared him - smile as bright as the suns themselves, warming something in his heart that had been cold for so long. And he hadn’t been able to shake you from his mind, try as he had.

A weight of shame settled in his throat as you shifted with a soft groan, plush lips parted ever so slightly, blissfully asleep. But he noted with growing interest that you instinctively shifted closer, nestling yourself against his chest. You were so soft, small, and warm - the exact opposite of him; a man with more blood on his hands then you would hopefully ever know. And yet you trusted him enough that you invited him into your home, into your bed…such intimacies were foreign to him.

Your life couldn’t be more different than his - spending your days caring for others, for the animals so many ignored. It was so…sweet. Another thing he’d never expected his future self to admire in anyone, instead of scorn.

Yet he knew you had your traumas. Pain that had shaped you. There was a certain strength to you, hiding under that warm smile - a strength that only hardship and trials forged.

You shifted again, turning on your stomach so you were resting on his chest, chin tucked against his neck. He tentatively rested a hand on your shoulders and you mumbled something unintelligible, snuggling even closer. He couldn’t stop the small smile from curling his lips, equally unable to stop himself from carding his fingers through your hair. You mumbled again, slowly waking, and his smile broadened. Stars, you were so…perfect. His fingers brushed your hair away from your neck, and the moment it bared your skin, his smile waned, hand freezing in place.

Two long, silvery white scars ran diagonally across the back of your neck.

They were old, a testament to something that happened years ago - but it did not stop a nearly possessive rage from filling his chest. He’d been in his prior profession for many years. Long enough to know the marks of a collar when he saw them. Slavery? Empire? Something else?

Who, or what, would dare to harm someone as kind as you? He took a shuddering breath, willing himself to remain calm, even as his hunter’s mind already was calculating. Wondering who had hurt you. If they were still alive so he could exact his revenge. Because he would, without hesitation.

You only knew him as Daimyo, but Boba knew what he was truly capable of. And for the first time ever in his years, that scared him.

“Boba?” Your voice was thick with sleep, and he blinked, resuming his hand’s gentle caress through your hair as you shifted, blinking, sleepy gaze falling on him.

“I’m here, little one,” he fought to keep his tone soft, gentle. Pushed down the indignant rage he felt at your past pain.

There was nothing he could do to make the past hurt less. But perhaps he could do something, in his own way, to ease the pain of the present.

“Mm, you stayed,” you rested a hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his shirt in a gentle soothing motion. “Didn’t…didn’t wanna inconvenience you.”

Stars above, how could you ever inconvenience him? He chuckled, gathering you into his arms and pulling you closer. Your eyes widened a bit, but you stayed relaxed, leaning into him with a smile.

“You never could. This okay?” He watched your face for any signs of discomfort, relief flooding in his chest when you nodded.

He didn’t know what happened. Didn’t want to treat you any different. But he decided to keep his discovery a secret for now. At least until the time was right, if ever, to broach the subject.

“Mhm. You’re so…warm,” you closed your eyes again, that smile still gracing your lips, as too clung to him tighter. “Haven’t cuddled with anyone in so long.”

“Never have, so I’m not one to judge.”

The words left his lips before he had a chance to ponder them, and they made you start, eyeing him with renewed interest, as well as concern.

“Maker, Boba, I hope I didn’t…” you moved to get up, face flushing an adorable shade of red as you quickly became more awake. “I just…”

“Easy, sweet girl,” he guided you back against his chest, gently twining one of his legs with yours. “First time for everything.”

He didn’t miss the renewed blush that worked its way from your cheeks to your ears, and kept a mental note of that for later. It was interesting how…

“It’s okay, I really haven’t either…” you dipped your head, hiding your face against his neck. “Not like this, anyway. Thank you…for staying. It…means a lot.”

Your voice had grown softer, body language shrinking, as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. That simply wouldn’t do.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, mesh’la,” his fingers found your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. “No shame in it. We’ll just learn together, hmm?”

“O…okay,” you nodded, still blushing furiously, so soft and warm against him, it nearly drove him mad. “I…I’d like that.”

Stars, Boba wanted to kiss you. Kiss you senseless until you forgot about your insecurities and fears, your sole focus on him. He wanted to take you apart piece by blissful piece, make you feel good, feel safe…

Damn, he was in deep.

Before he had a chance to respond, a series of shrill yowls broke the silence, loud and demanding.

“Oh kriff. The loth cats…ughhhhh…” you groaned, face scrunching up in an adorable frown. “I don’t wanna get up…”

“Me neither, princess. But there are others depending on us.” Boba shifted, pressing a kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his hold, and as you sat up with a groan, he already missed your warmth.

Kriff. For the first time ever, in all the things he’d done and experiences he’d had - Boba Fett had never once been a sap. But, he wagered he’d have to listen to his own advice.

There was a first time for everything.

-

You hadn’t ever expected your life to amount to this.

You, taking a well-earned break after your breakfast rounds, a cup of steaming kaff in your hand…and the Daimyo of Tatooine in your kitchen.

He was back in his armor, though you now knew exactly how muscular he was underneath it, as you’d suspected - a fact that would trigger another blush if you thought about it for too long.

He leaned against your counter, gloved hands resting on the smooth stone surface, looking almost too casual for someone of his reputation.

“I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you have a lot to do.” You regarded him with a raised brow, finding something altogether fond in his gaze. “Normally I do. It’s just been a slow season.”

He nodded, clearly thinking, gaze almost lazily sweeping your kitchen. Probably a skill picked up from bounty hunting, you surmised, wondering what exactly could be so interesting in your small, humble home. His eyes drifted back to you and stopped, locking you in his gaze, the corner of his lip curling in a grin that was almost sinful.

“Perhaps you’d want to spend more time with the rancor? See how he’s doing?” His shrug was nearly boyish - quite ridiculous looking, really, for someone dressed head to toe in beskar. But his gaze never once left yours. “Sure he’d love the company.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you swallowed hard. He really, really liked you. Him. Boba Fett. Liked you. For some reason, this emboldened you…urging you on in this little game you two had found yourselves playing.

“Oh, just the rancor?” You dared to prop your hands on your hips, shooting him a wink. “Or do you just not want to take your hands off me?”

Boba smirked, pushing himself up from his reclined position, something dark flitting through his gaze. Maker, did he just growl? His approach was quick and near silent despite his broad, armored frame, yet another reminder of exactly who it was you were dealing with. You blinked, heart hammering loudly in your chest, as he stood behind you and leaned down until his face was next to yours.

“You’ve no idea what these hands want to do.” His breath washed over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Careful, little one. Before you bite off more than you can chew.”

Oh kriffing gods. Maker above.

Every damn curse your poor brain could conjure. You were in trouble. So much so, and you could already feel the heat pooling between your legs, assuredly soaking your underwear. Perhaps he was right…maybe you didn’t know what you were fully getting into, with a man like him.

But contrary to popular belief, you weren’t just a sweet, nice person - all bark, no bite. And he’d learn it, too, if he hadn’t guessed it already.

“I think,” you shifted in your seat to better face him, nearly losing your resolve when you saw the look of absolute hunger in his dark eyes. You swallowed and took a breath before continuing. “I’ll survive. How about this, I need to take care of some of the sick ones before I’ll be free, but I’d love to stop by later if that’s okay?”

Stop by. Stop by?

Sheesh, here you were, taking about visiting the kriffing palace like it was a daily house call. Anxiety wormed in you stomach as Boba regarded you with a smirk, capturing your chin in his gloved fingers and holding your gaze to his.

“You’re always welcome,” he turned to retrieve his helmet, shooting you one last smirk before donning it with practiced ease. When he spoke again, his deep voice was rough, rumbling through the vocorder like the thunder of a promising storm. “See you soon, little one.”

-

The suns were still high in the sky when you walked to the barn, a bucket of feed in one hand and a lead rope in the other. Hopefully your sick bantha was finally well enough to go out to pasture, making that one less thing you had to worry about.

You stifled a yawn as you entered, the familiar smell of hay, sunbaked sand, and the herbs you dried filling the air. The bantha lowed, the deep call making you smile as you saw her horned head peek over the massive stall you’d built for these occasions.

“Hey girl,” you placed the bucket down beside her stall as you looked her over before entering. “Feeling better?”

The bantha called again, shaking her head from side to side, horns rattling against the walls. You sighed, taking the lead rope in both hands, eyeing her with a small frown.

“I know, you want out. Work with me, and you’ll be there quicker.” You pointed a finger at her, pointedly lowering your voice to get the point across. “No bolting, understood?”

The bantha only lowed again, except this time, she shook her horns with a snort, banging the walls with a sharp cry. Unease twisted in your gut and your frown deepened.

“What’s wrong, girl?” You stepped forward, knowing the creature well enough to know something was amiss. “Something scaring you? It’s okay, everything’s alright.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

A feminine voice broke the silence, and a pair of hands wrapped around you before you had a chance to react, pulling you away from the stall and onto the ground.

“Stay down, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Kriffing hell, get off me!” You twisted against your attacker, managing to land a punch somewhere before your arms were twisted behind your back. Something slipped around your wrists with a mechanical click, and you finally screamed, lashing out with your legs.

The bantha shrieked behind you, and you heard the walls of the stall rattling as she tried to break free. Maker, was she trying to help? You were not going to go down easy. Whoever was attacking you would soon learn that. You’d been through too much to be killed by some mugger.

You rolled around with a grunt and grabbed the lead rope with your bound hands, readying yourself to spin into a swinging strike…

Until you recognized the person standing behind you, a vibroblade in her hand.

“Kali?” Confusion flooded you in waves, and you stepped back, giving yourself more distance. “What the hell? Is this some kind of joke?”

The woman only smiled sadly, something altogether cold in her normally warm gaze.

“I’m afraid not.” She stepped forward and you narrowed your eyes, gripping the lead rope tighter, grateful for the heavy iron hook dangling at the end. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. “What can I say…”

Something stuck the back of your head so suddenly, you didn’t even register the moment your body hit the ground. But damn, you felt the pain - cascading down your shoulder, aching in your spine…

Kali smirked with a dismissive shrug. “I tried to warn you.”

No. No, no, no…

Panic, true panic set in as another person stepped into your fading line of sight.

Not him. Anyone but him.

“You…” you groaned, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva, glaring despite the dread that seized your heart with terrifying finality. “You’re…dead. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Some of us don’t like staying dead,” the man in the clean pressed Imperial uniform merely chuckled, a thin, dry sound. “I’d think you of all people should know this…consorting with bounty hunter scum.”

“Go to hell…” you tried to stand, tried to fight, but he merely raised a blaster at your head with a smirk.

“Oh, you’ll be wishing you were there, soon.”

The muzzle flashed, and the man’s icy gaze flared red - the last thing you saw before your world faded to black.

-

“I’m sure she’s fine, boss.” Fennec’s voice was steady as ever as she strode by his side. “Maybe she just needed a night in.”

Boba merely grunted, taking the now familiar path to the veterinarian’s office. He was admittedly worried. He hadn’t heard a thing from you since the morning, and he did his best to push his fears down.

Had he scared you? Gone too far with the teasing? Accidentally triggered you? Maker knew what hell you’d been through…

“Just wanna know she’s safe.” He turned down the following road, your humble clinic appearing around the bend.

But all the lights were out.

A cold chill rippled down his spine, and he instinctually lifted his rifle, Fennec echoing the action. They slowly approached, looking for any sign of a threat, but nothing appeared out of place. That wasn’t always a good sign. He dropped his rangefinder and ran a thermal scan, looking for any sign you were inside…

But aside for the much smaller heat signatures of the animals, the house was empty.

Boba Fett wasn’t accustomed to panic.

He was the hunter, the one who made other people panic. He’d prided himself in his cool, calculated demeanor that had aided in earning his reputation. But this…this was new.

And this was one of the reasons why he’d never let himself fall for anyone. Every single person he’d even shown a shred of kindness too had suffered terrible ends. And the last thing he wanted was for that to happen to you, too.

“Check the barn.” He knew Fennec would follow, always watching his back, even as he nearly ran to the next building with bated breath.

Please be inside. Please be safe.

But even in the dark, he saw the barn’s double doors had been left ajar, the female bantha peering out at them with a lonely groan that nearly resembled a whimper. And he already knew, judging by his scanner, that there weren’t any other life forms inside.

“We’ll find her.” Fennec stoped beside him, but even her voice had dropped, twisted with unease.

“You’re right.” Boba lifted his rangefinder with a snap, gloved fingers nearly shaking as a rage filled his chest - a rage he hadn’t felt in a long time…since the day he’d lost the only other person he’d truly loved. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm, to remain in control.

To think like the hunter he once had been, and as fate dictated, would be again.

“I will.”

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Oh God. David Heard There's Room Service In Hell!!

Once again, I am testing my drawing ability by NOT doing any of the MANY illustrations I need, but I would've been sad if I couldn't finish an illustration. And look! I made it! I CAN DRAW! (And collage, obvs not my suitcase or BG, but all Public Domain)!! Well, my stylus needs a new battery, BUT, IN THEORY, I CAN DRAW! It's low res like all my test images, and I don't think I'm gonna put Vivziepop out of business anytime soon, but I'm fond of it.

That's why I'm so sad that it'll NEVER EVER HAPPEN. As a storyteller (albeit an obscure one) let me elucidate...

Strictly in terms of narrative viability, David hails from an incompatible universe. For an Invisible, he's middling. The Compelling Voice he's so fond of seems to be standard-issue, he's just more of an asshole about using it. In Tin Soldier and Soldier On, he's not all that hard to beat. Some people even have a natural immunity! He's only a threat in the first place because nobody knows what he can do.

But the minute he rolls up to the Hazbin Hotel, not only does nobody know what he can do, nobody has that natural immunity, and it would be hard as hell (haha) to beat him with their combat-friendly magic system. David isn't doing that Capcom-esque "freeze the enemy for a few seconds while they're looking at it" hypnosis. He's issuing unbreakable commands. If you're not deaf, the only way to beat him is to forget what he said. And that seems like it would be difficult, if not impossible, for most of the cast. Alastor certainly won't stoop to inflicting head trauma or hypnosis or amnesiac-levels of liquor on himself.

And that MIGHT not be a problem, except as soon as Dave meets Al he's gonna go from zero to nemesis in about three seconds flat. "Hmm, let's see. Neat freak, carefully-curated personality, perma-smile, never a moment's weakness... That's a pathetic little traumatized man-baby and I'm going to pull him out of his shell if I need to use a crab fork!" And, canonically, Alastor is also willing to make enemies that quickly. David has a sense of humour and no sense of self preservation, combat tentacles and veiled threats ain't gonna do it. Round one, David's gonna mop the floor with the Radio Demon.

...And by that, I mean he'd stuff Alastor into one of Niffty's frilliest little outfits and literally make him mop the floor, and even Charlie encouraging him to be a better person wouldn't get him to quit. Also, he'd be ignoring her and bending over backwards to get Angel's attention.

"Oh, listen. The man is over one hundred years old with zero interest in one-night stands or whirlwind romances. Prohibition isn't a thing anymore, drinking and dancing just doesn't cut it. Give him a chance to develop a fetish for something a little bit taboo..."

"I̸̠̤̐̄̄ ̸͕̝͙̌A̸̪̅M̴̭̰̙̎̓ ̶͓̻̐̉L̷̹͕̍I̷̯͗T̷̫̄Ȩ̶̾̋R̴̝̥͒A̷͔̩͋̃̕Ļ̵͗͜L̶̘̈́Y̵͇̓͗̂ ̴̼̪̘͠Ā̷̠̽̆ ̶͍͓̊̉C̷̣͕̺͆̃͝A̵͙̾̅N̶̥̬̮̄N̴̤̯̬̒̉̚I̴̩̜̍B̷͈̪̩̄À̴̝̦L̶̪͂͛͗!̶̟̆"

"That's not a fun night out. It's barely even a meal, what with the garbage they're feeding people these days. I imagine everyone tastes like a fucking 'Cool Ranch Dorito.'" [while making quote marks with both hands] "Isn't he from Louisiana? They invented spicy! Tell me, my deer fellow, is the cross-dressing and domination lighting up any dials?"

"Ì̴̗ ̶̧̫͓͋W̵͜͝Í̸̗͋L̴͔͆̊̌L̴̨̜͚͂ ̸͈̤́Ḱ̵̳̩͜Í̷̘̾L̶̨̫̬̉͋̌Ļ̵̱̗͐͊ ̴̧̣͊̄̈́Y̴̛͖̺͓̓̐O̶̢̦̍̀U̷̠̞͇̎ ̷̨̛̮̭I̷̙̜̽N̸̘̣͙̆ ̵̞͑͝Y̷̰̭̽O̷̟̘̹̓Ủ̶̢̏R̷͉͑̄̀ ̷̧̧̤̎Ŝ̶̱͈̃L̵̰͋Ȅ̸̜̗̙̊̍E̷͇̦̒P̷͈̝̅̆͌.̴̡͈̅͑̓͜"

"My good man, I have unlimited access to drugs and a fun new activity, WHY WOULD I SLEEP? What shall we try next? Do you have any drugs, Angel? Oh, of course you do! Do you think he's more of an upper or a downer person? I think a few muscle relaxants might loosen up that permanent rictus of social anxiety, but God only knows. You must be smoking a crate of cigarettes a day! Do you even brush? Your teeth, I mean. Do you suppose those lovely people at Lourdes make a mouthwash...?"

And Charlie would say, clasping her little hands, "Okay! What if we make some popcorn and talk about our childhood traumas? Yaaaay!"

But David would, inevitably, pass out. Most likely after binging and doing untold damage with Angel. And Alastor would kill him... And that's where we have the biggest fucking plot problem of all. Alastor's go-to method of disposal is tearing people to pieces while broadcasting it on the radio. And it seems like their screaming continues for quite some time, perhaps eternally.

I have expressed this in song form, because I have a weird brain and I couldn't resist.

Wait, wait, nevermind the eternal torment. Can these little hellions hear me? Test, test, is this thing on? Pardon me, could you quiet down a bit? I have a few things I’d like to… Will you stop screaming? Ugh. EVERYBODY SHUT UP AND LISTEN RIGHT NOW! That’s better. I have a little message for my executive producer. Well! I say! Colour me startled, you fulfilled your vow Think you’ve won? But I’ve barely begun! I’m always looking for new fans to wow Can you hear me NOW? [aside] Will you screamers sing backup if I command it? Can I get a little harmony? (We… can’t help ourselves?) I am eternal, and guess who’s just boosted my signal So I can reach all of you lovely new people? (We can’t help ourselves!) It’s your own Radio Demon! What was he thinking? (We can’t help ourselves!) What was he drinking? Ha! His dial must be twisted! Now I’m serenading the damned for my infinite span All according to plan! Am I a madman or a genius? I’m a pianist! Take that, FCC I’m a wonder, your saviour Please excuse my rude behaviour, (but the demon sure done fucked up!) Think he did me a favour? Silence my vocals? A failure! I’m louder and I’m certainly braver So crank the signal to the noise, and enjoy my compelling voice It’s nice to have all these new toys, (but our deer friend is annoyed) A Spirit of Radio beats a demon blow for blow This Invisible is crackling on the air! Well, one does like to believe Though you’re stuck, I’m almost free! That’s what you think! Your weak signal can’t compare Though you’ve had a little fun Your broadcast is done, and it’s time for your payback I’m in control Too bad you atomized my soul! … Not this attention-starved, brandy-addled, overgrown twink Guilty! What could be more absurd? A plagiarist bird Tweety-pie can’t even sing, his theft is pitchy You call that bitchy? I’m afraid that’s not entertainment! You're looking for a new twist? Then let’s remix the arrangement! Is Al as stiff as he projects? What sorts of kinks do you suspect? I’ve seen lacy details with my very eyes! He lies! And if I Tiked a Tok or two Well, there’s nothing he can do! A V̷̰͖̉̂͝İ̶̙D̵̛̻̮̙͛̕E̴̼̱̕Ŏ̷͆ͅ?̷̗͎̞̏̅! If I did, you can’t delete it That's the truth! When I find you in here, Ÿ̴͕̚Õ̸̠̝̕Ů̵̩̹Ŕ̸͔ ̸̬̋̂̔͜T̸̮̙͌̕Ő̵͔͕̑̄R̵̩̣̅͌̌͜M̷̝̹̾̏Ĕ̶̦͕̟Ň̶̮͊Ṱ̷̲̈̔̈ ̵̡̹̟̑Ẅ̷̝́͝I̷͉͋ͅL̴͎̞̎L̶̯͓͑ ̵̬͐͐͝Ḅ̸͚̬̅Ẹ̴̎̿͠ ̴̻͉̲̐̈́͠N̵̖̟̤͑̽E̴͙͎͘V̸̡͕̦̾̕Ė̵̝͈̀Ŕ̴̺-̸̡̱̇̾̉E̴��̣̊̐̋Ń̵͔̬̝̑D̴̡̬͙̓İ̴͔͋͊N̸̞̙͐̒Ĝ̷̼̺̐͆.̸̤̭́̐̅.̸̰̓͝.̷̤̬̌ #MaidioDemon is trending! Y̴̼̿͆O̶̟͇͊̏͜Ǔ̸͈ ̴̨̫͘I̷̡͓̜��̈́̽N̸̜̩̉̄͝S̵͚͈̭̅̓Ĩ̸̢̯͇͘Ṗ̶̩̭̦I̴̱͑D̷̨͖̚ͅ,̴̥͕̌̈̾ ̸̛̳̈́Ṭ̶̢̠͒Ė̸̱̼̕C̸̙̥̈́H̵͓̠̔̀N̷̖͝Ǒ̶̬Ć̶͔̃͘Ř̶͙͍͠Ä̴̟́̊T̴̳̉̊͜I̶̞̓͝C̵̢̨̲͐̇̎.̵̼̏͋.̷͎̆ͅ.̸̘̜̒ Darling, please, you’re lost in static One thing’s clear! You must be wishing that you took the L, you poor deer Say farewell. I’m very grateful that you gave me Hell Oh, this will be swell! [Vivziepop, distantly:] Fuck!

"Stayed Gone" is a patter song and I can't keep up with it as I read it, but I think the lyrical parts scan, at least. A-heh. Please excuse my hubris, but it's doubtful anyone will see this.

Of course, I would never torment someone with arguably GNC-phobic revenge porn, but that guy IS NOT ME. Your only hope for dealing with David is if Vaggie decides he's more of a threat than an amusement and straight up kills him, and that's not a plot, that's a cul-de-sac. So this little not-a-fic is all you'll get from me about this unsustainable situation.

...Alright, I might put Alastor in a maid outfit if anyone cares, but I really should be illustrating. I have precisely 13 to do before I can post more story! Unless I decide to post it anyway!

All apologies to Vivziepop, whom I've name-checked as one of a few creators I'd sell out or saw off my leg to work with. But - although I am tempting fate - prrrobably no one will see this. I'm just doin' a little practice and amusing myself.

Right, Tumblr?

[pupsclawz]

Enamoured

Summary: Enid and Ajax seem to be a perfect couple. A partnership forged from true love. What if one's heart isn't truly in the right place?

Ship: Wenclair, Enjax

AN: Inspired by the song, "Moth to a Flame" by Swedish House Mafia and The Weeknd

Like a moth to a flame

I'll pull you in, I'll pull you back to what you need initially

It's just one call away

And you'll leave him, you're loyal to me

But this time I let you be

Enid and Petropolus were at it again giggling and whispering about something in the corner of the library. Despite their efforts to be quiet, I could still hear them from the other side of the building. It sends a burning feeling up my veins, something I could not identify. It seemed to be jealousy? No, anger? It would make sense but no matter, research is more important.

I was lost in the paragraphs upon paragraphs of content this book gave me that I nearly failed to identify the pair of footsteps getting nearer and nearer. I looked up in time to see Enid and Petropolus standing side by side, cheeks flushed. 

“Hey, Wends! We were just going to the Weathervane. Do you want us to get anything for you?” Enid spoke with a dreadfully cheery voice. 

It disappoints me that the gorgon thought that this lousy excuse was enough to convince me of his actual motives. I expected more from Enid’s paramour but this could be blamed on Esther.

“What I need.” I started, gauging the pair’s reactions, “Is Enid helping me with my Werewolf research.”

Enid looked like she was about to agree as her smile widened a fraction, but a look from Petropolus told another story.  

“But,” I continued, interrupting Enid who was about to say something, “I would appreciate it if you could get me a quad over ice.”

The spark in Enid’s eyes dimmed a little but she nodded. I gave her a look that said we would talk later before nodding back and beckoning them to go already.

'Cause he seems like he's good for you

And he makes you feel like you should

And all your friends say he's the one

His love for you is true

I was sat reading at the most secluded spot at the Weathervane with the rest of the nightshade’s inner circle watching Enid’s “date” with the gorgon. A new wave of hushed whispers grew around me. I looked up to see the gorgon urging Enid to eat at least a bite more.

Oh, how your face says everything. He makes you feel wanted, loved, and how everything should be. A normal outcast mate for a werewolf-like YOU.

Someone nudged me on the shoulder before they whispered, “ They look so perfect, right?” The now-identified Yoko asked. 

The audacity of this girl… I looked back to the gorgon only to see him making heart eyes at her. I can’t help but grit my teeth at the genuineness of it all. With difficulty, I replied, “They do.”

But does he know you call me when he sleeps?

I was sitting at my desk, my hands gliding over each key of my typewriter as Viper goes through with her investigations. She was investigating a murder. The victim’s body was mangled and unrecognizable; Their limbs were strewn about the crime scene. Viper was alone in the forest where the murders happened, hoping to encounter the assailant. A piece of loose rope dangled from a tree. She was about to touch it when-

My head snapped towards the sound as my phone rang; The horribly annoying ringtone immediately told me who it was. I reached for my phone and opened it, noting the time: 21:16 (9:16 pm). I answered the call and held the soul-sucking device up to my ear.

“Hey Willa,” Enid’s voice sounded. It was soft and gentle. One reserved for our nightly talks. It all started the night after THE incident where Enid couldn’t sleep. It then evolved to an every night meeting, talking about our woes. 

“Hello, I was under the impression that Petropolus was staying with you,” I stated, slightly confused.

“Oh, he is,” Her voice perked up as if she just remembered. “He just passed out. Apparently, someone drugged his drink during dinner.”

“How unfortunate,” I replied, deadpan, not feeling bad at all.

Enid giggled slightly, “Oh! I was gonna ask you about that…”

But does he know the pictures that you keep?

 I was sitting on my bed, inspecting the black cat plushie that Enid had gifted me when I heard the familiar digital camera shutter sound coming from the wolf’s side of the room. I immediately looked up to see her pointing the brick of meaningless affirmation toward me. That was not acceptable. 

I stood up with the plushie still in my hand. Enid surprisingly hadn't noticed yet considering that she was definitely taking pictures of me. I walked up to her side of the room and it was only when I was right in front of her that she finally noticed that I’d caught her. 

The wolf yelped, falling towards the middle of her bed while clutching her phone. I held out my hand with my palm up, staring expectantly at her. The response I got? She just stared at me with a confused look on her face and her head tilted slightly to the side. By the gods, she really is a puppy…

“Your phone,” I elaborated. Still looking at her with an expectant look. My eyes were greeted with the reddening of my puppy’s face, knowing that I had caught her. 

“W-w-what? Why? Do you even know how to use it?” She asked, cheeks still red. Of course, I know how to use that wretched device, I’m not stupid.

“Because I said so. And yes, I do know how to use one of those. If you must know, I was the one that built and set up Pugsley’s ‘gaming setup’,” I answered, reaching for the phone that was still clutched to her chest.

Enid did not put up any fight when I pried the phone from her hands. I swiped up and was met with a password-protected phone. Good, at least my puppy isn’t that stupid. I thought of what the password could be before trying “Willa,” surprising me when it opened and showed me her home screen.

It was a picture of me holding my sword in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. It was after one of my dueling sessions outside when Enid heard an ice cream truck and asked me to get her something as she was about to duel someone… The things I do for this girl.

I opened the photos app after a bit of searching. Seriously, how many apps did someone need? I was met with neatly organized rows and columns of labeled folders. I clicked on the first folder named “Adventure” and saw hundreds of pictures from last year’s crackstone incident. I have to say that I absolutely have no idea how she got these, there was even a picture of me holding a sword facing Crackstone! She wasn’t there when that happened…

No matter how she took these. I exited the folder and scrolled down to the end of the alphabet and to the Ws and that’s when I saw it: A folder named “Wednesday.” I clicked on it and saw photos, videos, GIFs… etc of me. Just me… 

“La mia luna…” I whispered as I scrolled and scrolled, finding more and more pictures of me from the time we spent in and out of Nevermore. 

As I had yet to reach the end, I left the app and pressed the power button. I looked up to see my puppy sitting at the edge of her bed, her hands fidgeting at the hem of her shirt and her eyes pointed at the floor. 

“Sinclar,” I said, gaining her attention as she looked at me, “You may keep them BUT you mustn’t let anyone see it”

She squealed loudly before grabbing her phone back and engulfing me in a tight embrace. It was… Warm…

But does he know the reasons that you cry?

Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies

Yeah

You should be with him, I let you go from time

You should stay with him

A soft knock reverberated through my room, interrupting me as I read my favorite book. I looked at the clock hanging from the wall:1 am. Who could be at my door this early? I silently placed my book on my bed before standing up and cautiously padding to my door. Slowly, I opened the door only to see Enid, tear tracks lining her face

I opened my door wider in order to let her in. As soon as my wolf was inside, she held out her arms silently asking for permission to hug me. I, of course, allowed it and stepped into her space. Her arms wrapped tightly around me whilst burying her face into the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent. Who was I to refuse? Especially with my puppy being in such a state.

“What happened?” I asked gently, running my hands through her blonde curls.

That was the question that broke the dam as the pup’s body was wracked with sobs. I felt her tears hit the skin on my neck, some being soaked up by my shirt. 

“My mom,” she uttered between sobs, so quiet that I was barely able to hear it.

I just continued stroking her hair as I rested my chin on her head, whispering sweet nothings to her. No words were needed to convey how I feel about all of this. She already knew.

I don’t know how long we stood in that position but neither of us minded. It felt only seconds before she lifted her face up and looked me in the eyes. 

“I love you,” Enid whispered, not looking away from my eyes. I stared back.

“I love you too, Il mio cucciolo,” I whispered back, my hand reaching up to cup her face.

We stood for what seemed like hours, not wanting to let each other go. A bang and scuttling took us out of our trances as Thing walked in.

“I gotta go,” Enid uttered, “Ajax is probably looking for me… I kinda left him alone

I nodded, “Go, you should stay with him should an incident occur.”  before leading her to the door and letting her go…

'Cause he seems like he's good for you

And he makes you feel like you should

And all your friends say he's the one

His love for you is true (hey)

Today was the dreaded parents’ day. Luckily for me, my family had gone to visit a relative of ours in the Pacific, which means I don’t have to deal with their annoying overly emotional selves. 

I walked out to the front courtyard of the school which has been turned into a place for gathering. I sit at one of the tables closest to the school. To my dismay, it seemed that the Nightshades saw fit to join me without my permission. I allowed it only because it because they were watching and talking about mia lupa. 

I looked across the grounds and saw Enid’s family sitting and talking with the gorgon. Oh, how I loathe that boy. I tuned everything out and focused on your conversation. This was an ability I picked up from Uncle Fester, he’d always be on the run after all. 

She was refusing to eat stating that she wasn’t hungry. I would have fed you by hand but that gorgon managed to urge her to eat. Enid’s smile widened as a comment about a proper mate and a pack escaped Esther’s lips. That woman shall die by my hand.

“They look sooo cute together!” A voice I recognized as Divina’s, said.

I looked around my table and saw everyone agreeing. It was unanimous that they all thought the gorgon was the one for her. It was your choice and to my absolute resentment, I saw that whatever they both had was very real and he makes Enid feel like she belonged, especially within the traditional Werewolf packs. 

But does he know you call me when he sleeps? (No, no)

Waking up to a brick of soul-sucking technology blasting music was not the most pleasant feeling in the world. Although, it did help tolerate more of my surroundings whenever I venture out to Jericho. I sat up and picked said brick up. I opened it, the brightness of the screen temporarily blinding me before my eyes adjusted to the light. I checked the time. It read 2:17 am.

I rubbed my bleary eyes before unlocking the device and saw what had caused that abhorrent noise. It was Enid. She called. It was no more than 5 minutes ago when she last called. My mind immediately went on full alert before calling her back.

“Lupa?” I called as soon as someone picked up.

I heard a sniffle before what sounded like a teary response, “Hey Willa…”

“What possessed you to call at such an unholy hour?” I asked, wanting to get straight to the point.

“I- I was just gonna miss us, y’know? Tomorrow’s our last day.” She spoke, stuttering and pausing, trying to get through the sentence.

“Do not worry puppy, I will spend all day with you tomorrow,” I responded against my own will.

“Really!” Her voice, now more energetic, “Thanks Weds!” “I’ll always be there…” I said. My response was met with a dead line.

But does he know the pictures that you keep? (Oh)

I was helping Enid pack her belongings. This day will be our final day as students in Nevermore and I intend to savor it and make it the best for Enid.

I spent half the day listening to her babble about everything as we packed away all her belongings. The multitude of vividly colored clothes and items in a suitcase, although neatly folded and organized, looked a lot more like unicorn vomit than when I first saw her room. 

I walked back into her closet, looking for anything we missed. Finding nothing, I walked back to her room and checked under the now bare bed. There was a box tucked away in a corner as if it was deliberately hidden.

“Enid,” I called, still eyeing the box, too far under for me to reach.

No response. I looked around for her only to find a note that said she had to pick something up from one of her teachers. 

I shrugged before finally trying to reach the box myself. It wasn’t easy, but I finally got it. I had to crawl my way under the bed and I was luckily small enough to fit.

I lifted the box up into the bed before picking the lock that held the lid close. I wasn’t ready for the sight that greeted me. There were stacks and stacks of polaroid pictures of me scattered about the box. Same with the pictures on her phone, I did not know how she got these. As I was thinking of an idea, a devilish idea presented itself to me; An equally devilish smile formed on my lips.

I took one of the pictures and signed it before placing it back and snapping the lid closed. Very devilish indeed…

But does he know the reasons that you cry?

Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies

Right here with me, babe

Where it truly lies

My bed, babe

Where it truly lies

In my arms, babe

Where it truly lies

(Oh-oh-oh)

After helping Enid pack, we spent the day in Jericho. It was… tolerable. Although I had to stop her from purchasing more stuffed animals. It’s arguably more creepy to have so many of them than my collection of decapitated dolls.

The sun was setting when we arrived at my dorm. Enid had insisted that she walk me there.

“C-can I stay with you tonight?” She asked, hesitantly, holding onto my hand tight as she did so.

 I nodded mutely before pushing the door to my room open and walking in with her trailing behind me. I sat down on my bed, letting her sit beside me. 

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Enid inevitably lost it and began to sob. I put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, only to be dragged into one of her embraces. 

I don’t know what exactly happened but it was just about Midnight when I saw myself laying down with my arms around my puppy with one of my hands running through her blonde locks. 

Where it truly lies

Where it truly lies

(Hey)

Where it truly 

A big applause snapped me out of the memories as the people at the bar enjoyed the last words of the song. The Addams family had owned this bar for generations and I recently found out that people in this bar seemed to enjoy my music whether it be from my cello or my own voice. 

That doesn’t matter. What matters is why I couldn’t get her out of my mind. It has been 5 years since I’ve seen her and every single day of those years would always contain an aspect of her. It’s driving me insane. Maybe going insane doesn’t sound so bad.

I looked at the sea of people that enjoyed my performance. My eyes combed through different faces, normies, and outcasts. As my eyes reached the far corner of the bar, I came across something hauntingly familiar…

A distinct pair of clear blue crystalline eyes stared back at me that could only belong to one person…

[a-flaming-idiot]

Title: Chat Noir Cataclysms Hawk Moth's Balls

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: Teen & Up

Warning: No Warnings Apply

Chapter: Oneshot

Word Count: 4,131

Main Tags: Hawkmoth gets his ball obliterated, Trans Chloe Bourgeois, Identity reveal, crack fic, Nothing is serious, Nathalie doesn't get paid enough for this, a lot of dick jokes,

Summary: “It's what it says on the tin; Chat Noir castrates his unaware father. And at the same time, Gabriel hits a high C to shatter glass, Nathalie realizes she wasted her life, Chloe accidentally outs herself, Adrien becomes homeless, there are no more secret identities, Tikki thinks she's funny, Nino and Alya take what's their's, and Chloe finally respects another human being. And a partridge in a pear tree~”

[nestvrn]

but does he know you call me when he sleeps?

but does he know the pictures that you keep?

but he know the reasons that you cry?

or tell me does he know where your heart lies?

where it truly lies

the weeknd - moth to a flame

[idle-teen28]

Moth to flame (a michael corleone fanfic by @melis-writes)

Song : salvatore by lana del rey

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 42 – Matrimony.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 41 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You’re a Corleone woman now, after all." / “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

You married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949, binding the allyship of your two families together but sealing your matrimony with love, bliss and trust. Falling in love, compatibility, love languages and a change in your lifestyle met you in an instant, and being Mrs. Michael Corleone altered your life forever. You can still remember how you fell for him and every bit of affection and intimacy shared from the beginning. You remember; you remember it all, and as you look into the past to compare it to your present and expect for your future, you realize nothing remains changed.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of virginity/loss of virginity, nudity, sexual themes & depictions, heavy touching & kissing, fingering, mentions of pregnancy & planning for children, sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The first in-between chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II is finally here!! 😫🙏🏻 I'm sooo sorry for such a delay in posting this chapter, but life has been extremely hectic and busy. 😭 The Vichael girlies are going to adore this chapter is all I'm going to say! We delve into Victoria and Michael's marriage from the very beginning! 🤭❤️‍🔥 This is filled with romance, fluff and domestic wholesomeness. How Victoria and Michael fell in love to how their lives changed as husband and wife and more is all included. I wanted this to be very romantic and sensual before we dive back into the action of current day Moth to Flame! 😳

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

Bouquets of pink and white roses, white silk, lilac adornments, angel food cake, the lace finishing over your wedding gown, and the taste of Michael’s lips over yours; you married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949.

Planning for your wedding was one of the few and only times in your life when you felt you had a million things going through your mind at once. 

After weeks of careful planning, the hardest part—the wedding itself—came in bliss and resonated perfectly with everything you had in mind for your perfect wedding day. 

The colors you chose for your wedding ranged from an equal hint of décor in baby pink, lilac, and beige, whereas peonies, lilacs, and dahlias were your flowers of choice.

Silk tablecloth, handcrafted Italian furniture imported from Sicily, seven-tier angel food cake, seven varieties of cannoli from pistachio to limoncello, over a hundred bottles of wine—Grilo, Inzolia and Grecanico just to name a few—aged at least ten years, French champagne, little pastries of sorbets and mini cheesecakes served throughout and freshly squeezed juice from the fruit from the Corleone garden itself were just some of the highlights of your wedding day.

Even your wedding gown itself had been custom designed and tailored with the finest Italian silks and fabrics, following a lengthy session of perfecting your hair, makeup, and manicure with your mother, Mama Corleone, Connie, and Sandra down to rehearing how you would walk down the aisle to which sets of jewelry with diamonds and pearls suited you best. 

Everything was planned and executed to perfection—to say the least. Scarcely were there moments throughout the planning period where the wedding wasn’t mentioned in one way or another; it was the only topic on your mind for days to come.

Consummation of your marriage was expected next from all through tradition and customs, but it wasn’t a concept you and Michael personally believed in. 

Although you were a virgin before you met Michael, he most certainly was not. After his brief marriage with Apollonia, the concept of no intimacy until marriage let alone time spent together or some form of physical affection before marriage was seen and strictly enforced as heavily taboo in Sicily only reminded him of how backward he believed the concept to be, as did you.

Of course, you and Michael were both anticipating and thinking about the intimacy you’d share with one another after your wedding celebration, but not immediately after. That would be eagerly waiting for the both of you at the end of the night.

With the wedding cake having been cut, final drinks served and last dances shared, both of your families collected together all of the bridal gifts, thanked and said goodbyes to every guest they could get to while the wedding staff began to clean up.

Michael and you stood for more photographs by and with guests, thanking them for attending as well before you both made off with security to the vehicle that would take you to your first estate.

You’d both arrive at your new estate by the time security did a full sweep and search of the Corleone manor and all festivities had officially come to an end.

Before you and Michael would settle down for the remainder of the day after the wedding, you both went to meet with your families and new in-laws.

Tomorrow morning there’d be the wedding reception to look forward to after all, but there was more than enough for both you and Michael to think about and do before then.

~

Upon stepping out of your chauffeur’s vehicle at your new estate’s grounds, the first thing your eyes found were those of your bodyguards surrounding your new estate.

Noting the heavy yet inconspicuous security around, it was only a split second longer before you blinked and a warm smile crossed over your lips in reaction to Michael standing by your side; his hand laced with yours as you both began to make your way inside the estate.

Just a few feet from the front door you could already hear the cheerful voices and banter of your parents and in-laws in the foyer; you couldn’t help but feel your exhilarated mood amplify with excitement once more.

“Victoria! Michael! Sweetheart!” Your mother beamed, extending her arms out as she skipped over to the both of you.

Hugged, congratulated a dozen more times, and kissed by your parents and new-in-laws, happy tears are shed once again for you and Michael as a newlywed couple.

“Promettimi che mi chiamerai se ti serve qualcosa!” (Promise me you'll call if you need anything!) Carmela gently squeezed your shoulder after pulling away from a hug, smiling at you. 

“Home sweet home,” your mother cooed, bewildered by the grandiose luxury your new estate has to offer just by standing in the foyer alone. “How wonderful.”

“We’re looking forward to that wedding reception,” your father grinned, redirecting his gaze to Michael. “It’ll be an honor to dine in the newlyweds’ home.”

“It’s an honor to host,” Michael agreed, giving a small, quick smile. “I look forward to it, Don Ferrari.”

“Mm,” Vito nodded, approaching both you and Michael. “And the bridal gifts… I had them arranged to be placed in your guest room. Humble gifts as they may be from our family friends, but they’re close to overflowing.”

“A problem I’d actually like to deal with,” you giggled back. “Thank you, father.”

Naturally, the gifts you received from attending friends, family, and guests aren’t exclusive to gifts newlyweds would benefit from, but a wide variety of items ranging from cash bills to jewelry almost as if the givers were trying to appease you and Michael directly.

Without even having to look inside all of the bridal purses and open each individual gift, you already assumed to yourself there are thousands of dollars worth of gifts there alone waiting for you and Michael that may very well take days to completely open.

Your families deliberately didn’t stay for long to give you and Michael as much privacy as possible today, and you and Michael were more than happy to see them out with waves and smiles before settling down for the rest of the day.

“It’s not over for them,” Michael commented by the gates of the estate, loosening his tie.

“No, it isn’t,” you let out a light laugh, smoothening down your wedding gown. “Not until after the wedding reception, at least.”

Michael chuckled—a rare first time he’s in a somewhat lighthearted mood for the entirety of the day. “Do you need anything, darling?”

“No,” you blushed, gesturing down to your dress. “Only to get this lovely gown off of me in one piece and my makeup at last.”

Just a split second later, you both heard a sharp whistle come towards the gates of the estate which prompted you and Michael’s attention immediately. 

“Hey, Mikey!” Sonny hollered from the gates, leaning against his car and waving at both of you. “No invitations for Tom, Fredo, and I to see the new place, eh? Come on down!”

“I’ll be right with you,” Michael glanced back at you.

You nodded understandingly, relieved you’ll at least get the time to quickly undress and take off your makeup before finally getting to spend some time alone with Michael, and you’re more than happy to have Michael bond with his brothers before retiring for the rest of the day with you too.

The endless amounts of gifts and stuffed bridal purses crossed your mind once more as you entered the estate, imagining you and Michael would more than likely have to get Tom to secure any precious assets or cash bills while the other items remain secure.

You carefully slipped out of your wedding gown and let the lacy, tulle fabric pool at your feet as you grabbed a white, silk nightgown to step into; careful not to let any of your makeup smear against the fabric.

You’re not one to wear a full face of makeup on any regular day, but outings, special events, and evenings—especially your wedding—remain exceptions each time you enjoyed getting dolled up, but your daily beauty routine only consisted of your normal skincare steps, light eye makeup, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

Upon Michael’s return inside the estate and to the bedroom to undress and unwind, it was his first time gazing upon your face without any makeup as you cautiously stored your nightgown away in an empty closet.

You hadn’t even noticed Michael’s eyes on you at first but picked up on his presence immediately; right then and there, Michael had found himself admiring your beauty and looks, stunned by your natural appearance.

“More congratulations?” You smiled shyly, turning around to face your new husband.

“Something like that,” Michael answered, tossing his tie onto the edge of the bed. “Nothing we both haven’t heard enough of.”

You held back your laughter, “then I hope you don’t mind I retired my glamor for the night already.”

“Not at all,” a ghost of a smile crossed Michael’s lips as he slowly began to approach you. “I’m sure the bridal gifts have nothing but your name on them, after all. I don’t think I need to go and see for myself.”

“Oh, please,” you felt a blush stinging your cheeks as you gazed up at Michael.

“You look beautiful,” Michael murmured, tilting your chin up to face him. “You know that?”

Your skin gave a healthy glow under the evening light as Michael admired every inch of you from the shape of your cheekbones to the color of your eyes, the curve of your lips, and your body language towards him filled with desire.

You expected then and there for Michael to lean in and kiss you, and he did, but gently upon your forehead as he let his warm lips linger over your skin.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and embraced your husband, taking in the scent of his heavenly cologne as your heart began to race in your chest against his.

“You should expect all of this, you know,” Michael spoke to you in an ushered voice. “You’re a Corleone woman now, after all. Those gifts want nothing more than to appease and impress you, I’ll make sure of it myself.”

Michael’s intention is to spoil you to no avail and not only with material gifts but your every request; the luxurious lifestyle you can expect to live with him as Michael’s wife and the future mother of his children holds you on a separate pedestal next to being Don Ferarri’s wife, and Michael will continue to keep it that way.

The very gifts with your name engraved upon them awaiting you consisted of everything from cosmetics, luxurious perfumes, oils, and creams, full sets of dazzling jewelry set with diamonds and precious stones, congratulatory letters, towel sets followed by pacifiers, bibs, baby bottles, and cloth diapers that made you blush as you unwrapped them—knowing all would be expecting the news of your first pregnancy next.

An amused look crossed Michael’s eye as he wrapped his arms around you seeing you open the final present for today a set of two pacifiers, he saw a look of excitement over your own expression but also blush spreading over your cheeks as the two of you made eye contact once again, knowing the rest of the night began to the both of you. 

~

The first home you and Michael owned together and settled in was a grand estate in Long Island but outside of the Corleone mall unlike Connie and Carlo’s home and that of Sonny and Sandra’s that were inside the gated family community.

Still, your new home was not far from Michael’s family or yours, and you could make the commute in twenty minutes. 

The plot of land in which your new estate would be built was purchased immediately on the day of your engagement ceremony with construction where your father and Vito had given the green light for construction to begin the day of.

Normally for the size of your estate, it would have taken a good construction crew six months with daily work, but the home was completely finished in just one. Bringing in extra of the best workers and paying a premium always worked well in the end. 

Your grand estate stood at just slightly over five thousand square feet with state-of-the-art architecture, taking inspiration from Modern American design to Italian fixtures and marble imported from Rome. 

Your estate was two stories, finished with an attic consisting of a master bedroom with a walk-in closet designed to be almost the size of a small bedroom for you and Michael, a study that was half a private library, two guest rooms downstairs, a nursery upstairs, a wine room in the basement, full front and back yard, three other extra bedrooms, an office for Michael and four bathrooms.

A mid-sized swimming pool was built in the backyard where your home’s carefully curated and trimmed garden surrounded the sides and fences protected your family’s privacy so one could neither look into the estate grounds nor out of it.

Twenty-four-hour surveillance was always to be expected with varying bodyguards and a careful selection of specific windows—such as the ones in Michael’s office—were selected and built to be soundproof.

Your bathtub had 24k gold claw-finished, quartz countertops as well as in the kitchen, marble floors, a foyer in the front of the estate fit with a French handcrafted chandelier, a private exit to the gardens and plenty of storage with a full laundry room at the end of the hallway downstairs.

Crown fixtures adorned the kitchen and a wide spiral staircase decorated with a blood-red carpet led upstairs to where one of two hidden emergency exits only you and Michael knew how to activate could be found.

The price of your home came to a grand total of $250,000 and was exactly where you and Michael wanted to be; exactly where the two of you planned to start your family and raise your children.

Michael and you had both grown up in Long Island; meaning nothing short of symbolic with the feel of home settling into your first house in New York together.

You and Michael only had a brief discussion about where your first home could be since the two of you came to an agreement so quickly to choose Long Island to stay in.

At the time, thoughts of buying another home elsewhere or even moving in the future were not on your mind although Michael had begun to think of Nevada and a villa in Sicily almost immediately on; the latter being a familiar and mutually agreed upon idea to you.

Of course, both you and Michael’s family knew just as well as the both of you why you didn’t have a honeymoon after your wedding, and there were no questions asked or teasing to be made.

Going on a honeymoon with Michael after your wedding was in your mind just as much as your wedding was, but the same could not be said for Michael who was much too preoccupied with the danger and threat of another family war, especially with hostility coming from the Ricci family.

Going outside of New York—let alone going to Sicily—would paint a clear, red target over both your and Michael’s backs and especially create vulnerability within the Corleone family considering Vito was semi-retired at the time.

It didn’t matter if you and Michael decided to visit Rome, Venice, or anywhere else in Italy just for the sake of visiting home but staying away from Sicily; the mafia families including the Ricci’s still had power stretching there legitimately.

Naturally, both you and Michael yearned to take a true honeymoon trip to Sicily and Sicily only. Even with the rest of the world as a choice to visit, you would have rather continued to postpone your honeymoon until you could safely visit Sicily again without having to worry about anything but how to spend quality time with your husband.

You’d very well have your honeymoon with Michael a little after your first anniversary together, somewhat defeating the purpose of a true honeymoon but with the threat of your lives and your family on the line, it was all very worth it with a legitimate reason to delay.

In Michael’s second marriage now come hell or high water he would never risk a slight chance of you being anywhere where there’s a notion of danger, even if you begged him to.

“Well,” you bit your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m a little disappointed, but I understand.”

“I know, darling,” Michael raised his water glass to his lips, taking a sip. “I feel no different than you do.”

You brushed your fingers against the fabric of the window’s curtains and glanced over to Michael again. “They’ll know, won’t they?”

Michael’s eyes met with yours almost instantly; his expression appeared grim knowing you referred to the Ricci family, but with the Barzinis and Tattaglias to worry about as well.

“As they do,” Michael replied and set his glass down. “Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly,” you shook your head and faced the window—blushing as you felt Michael’s presence approach you from behind. “But it’s been on my mind again and again these past few weeks. I can’t shake it off.”

“And on mine,” Michael lovingly embraced you from behind and lightly pressed his chest against your back. “As much as I would like to degrade them to such, they’re not animal enough to disgrace a wedding, even without an invite.”

“They should know better,” you murmured under your breath.

“And they more than likely do,” Michael nodded and moved his hands down to your hips to tenderly caress them. “None of those men deserve further justifications, but above all, they’re curious about you, and just who you are.”

You placed your hands over Michael’s and gave them a soft squeeze as you remained quiet.

“If it’s about safety—” Michael began.

“I feel safe with you,” you told him as you turned around.

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours as he gave you a small nod; you swore to yourself for a moment that you could see a glimmer of a brief smile over his plush lips. 

“I do,” you continued, “always. And as you can guess…” You blushed sheepishly, “I was thinking about our honeymoon too, and we can’t even go.”

“We will soon enough,” Michael rubbed up and down your arms gingerly. “When we are able to and when we can. You know it’s not something I want to put aside to forget or neglect.”

“I know, baby,” you smiled back shyly. “I believe you.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Michael lowered his tone of voice and pressed a warm kiss over your forehead. “I promise I will. None of what our family is going through now will last. I personally guarantee it,” as Michael moved back from the kiss, he tilted your chin up to gaze directly into his eyes. “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

Blushing furiously and feeling a wave of butterflies rush to the pit of your stomach, you nodded at Michael before leaning up to give his lips a sweet kiss.

“I’ll wait until you say we can go,” you whispered against his lips as you wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders.

“Until then,” Michael murmured and closed off the distance between both of your bodies, ensnaring you in a deep kiss once more.

~

Michael’s changed lifestyle to a mafioso and your continued one as a mafiosa would never change. You both married one another knowing what your lives are and would continue to be, but also remaining unaltered.

You’re a lawyer, after all, and a skilled prosecutor with a name made for herself—reputation and all—in New York. Your career is more than something you see to corrupt and use for your “family business”, but is also a passion; something you want to continue doing until you feel ready to retire.

Michael was always impressed as to how you were able to find a passionate career that also benefited both sides of the family business. 

Through being a lawyer, you also bonded well with Tom and had another fellow lawyer as a brother-in-law to bond with.

Regardless of whether you and Michael choose to have one child a fear down the line or four back to back, Michael has no intention of interfering in your career or keeping you from it; the same can be said for any of your other passions and hobbies.

You already know your maternity leave from work and raising an infant will take priority in your life which will result in a break from work, but you’ve accepted it and will make it happen. 

Perhaps if you weren’t a mafiosa yourself from a powerful crime family, you would have fit the bill as a mafioso’s housewife better but Michael recognizes your true talents and abilities just as well as you know yourself.

Now married, you attend trials and continue with your cases at most three times a week. After all, you’ve always been careful in choosing which cases to get involved in while maintaining a flexible schedule for yourself.

You built a reputation with your prowess this far without Michael and his family’s influence, which begs the question of what Michael’s lifestyle has become after marrying you.

Michael is always working, even when he’s not. More than ever, Michael spends time with his father and brothers. Even when Michael is alone in his own office, he’s talking over the phone to his men or family and constantly keeping himself preoccupied until he’s with you.

Michael’s unwavering dedication to the family business, his loyalty, and his work ethic don’t bother you. As a matter of fact, it’s everything you expected from Michael and saw coming before you married him.

What you love about Michael’s work with the family business is that he can separate it and he will separate it very well from his personal life. 

Michael does not mention anything related to his work when he’s with you regardless of how casual the circumstances or if your own curiosity arises since your family is also almost always involved. 

You know then and only in those scenarios would you ask Michael a question if you had one and your family could not answer; you know your boundaries and where the line remains when asking Michael about his work.

To Michael, any mention of what he does and what he is outside of work is nothing but severely unpleasant and he would rather avoid it altogether; something you respect and agree with.

At dinner one evening, you saw Michael’s tension settled within him as he ate—sitting across from you in silence. 

Michael sighed quietly and took a sip of his red wine before his eyes met yours; seeing curiosity spark in your expression.

“Ready to settle down, baby?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Something like that,” Michael nodded, continuing to eat his risotto. 

“Everything alright with your father?” You asked and rose up from your seat to begin cleaning up. 

“He’s fine,” Michael’s answers were dry and to the point on purpose. “We’re working on it.”

“Alright,” you gathered a pile of empty plates, brushing off crumbs upon the tablecloth next to Michael.

Only a split second later did you look back up at Michael and catch his eye—almost feeling embarrassed for asking but you neither see annoyance nor discomfort in Michael’s expression. 

You understood Michael didn’t want to talk about this with you and you didn’t push it. You also knew last night he didn’t come home from his father’s estate until 2 AM, and you had no intention of bothering him about it now. 

You’ve always had more than enough to do for yourself and for the home regardless of how long Michael worked in or out of the manor. 

You’d have your own day to worry about; cleaning up after breakfast, prepping for lunch, tidying up the house, laundry if required, getting any other daily errands done, focusing on a bit of your own work projects, then relaxing with a good book or in front of the television with a glass of wine. 

You could step out into the garden for some fresh air, pull weeds, water the lawn, go for a walk or a dip in the pool; you balance your work and life well and you’ve never felt neglected or lost without a sense of purpose.

The compatibility between you and Michael is like none other and the two of you have always recognized this; there is no lack of transparency or intimacy, and there is no elephant in the room blocking the two of you from bonding with one another.

You and Michael could and always will make it work. 

~

When it came down to planning to start a family with each other, having children was brought up immediately between Michael and you; a crucial concept and the second step into a married life with one another.

Of course, the brief conversation that only consisted of asking one another if you wanted children when you and Michael had first met did not count as a real and insightful conversation, it did strike you that Michael was a mature and serious man, ready for fatherhood and expecting to start a family in the very near future.

Michael would not have minded waiting a year or two before having children, but he would personally not wish to delay it any further past that.

To Michael, it was as if he had an urgency of some kind to start a family but there was no reasoning behind it or pressure coming from anyone. Still, you came to appreciate how much Michael anticipated entering parenthood with you, regardless of his reasons.

Perhaps you did sense Michael’s urgency when he first met you and asked if you wanted to have children in the future, but you simply had brushed it off for all that it was—a simple question.

You were twenty-five years old when you met Michael, and you were the second youngest sibling in your family and the only daughter.

With your little brother Dante being fifteen years younger than you, you practically raised him alongside your brothers and because you came from an equally large extended family, you loved children for as long as you could remember.

Just as you and your brothers had grown up, you knew the importance of proper parenting and how love would mold a child’s life forever.

Michael believed children were the products of their parents’ discipline, love, and behavior, saying, “If adults can bring out the worst in each other, they can do the same for children”.

Michael himself was twenty-nine when he met you and neither of you had objections of any kind to starting a family immediately after getting married.

Coming from the families and reputations you both grew up in and had, things such as time and money would simply not be an issue for you and Michael.

It was more of a matter of readiness and active parenting heavily required from both of you equally, not just yours as the mother. 

You also knew Michael would be a stricter parent than you, but this did not imply anything harsh or along the lines of cruelty whatsoever. 

Michael is not the type of man to ever raise a hand against a child or even raise his voice; calm, and collected, and with thorough explanation comes discipline and understanding. Michael knows how a child’s mind copes and works. 

You are most definitely not the kind of parent to yell, threaten, let alone glare at children to have them respect or tolerate your fear let alone beat a child.

Neither Michael nor you ever faced such things growing up, but you both saw your fair share growing up with other children at school and in the neighborhood who did not have the same childhood as you two did.

Any type of abuse or psychological manipulation was a severe hard line; it was something you and Michael would never subject any child to, ever.

From being the only big sister to your little brother Dante, you knew there were a million ways around teaching and disciplining children without being physically, psychologically, or verbally abusive—even to children who have behavior issues. 

You and Michael had been stressing to yourselves subconsciously the need to be nothing but good, loving parents teaching your future children manners and discipline early on without fear of repercussions or pain, but simply just to learn and understand.

~

Just a week ago you walked down the aisle and faced your lover—for the last time only as a lover before becoming Michael’s wife, wedded as Mrs. Corleone.

Now as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the role of Michael Corleone’s wife had already truly embedded in you; seeing your husband clasping a new diamond necklace around your neck gently.

You blushed as you caught Michael’s eye in the mirror, placing a hand over your necklace carefully.

Michael admired the glistening diamonds over your neck; his eyes adoring the very shape of your collarbones before he leaned toward your shoulder and planted a soft kiss over it.

With a bit of arousal having flared up in you, you shivered from Michael’s warm touch as he let his hands linger around the back of your neck before he placed them on your hips.

“Mm,” your eyes fluttered shut as you took in the brief moment, feeling Michael’s breath over the side of your neck.

Michael’s hands slowly made their way over to your stomach where he rubbed tenderly, watching as your body language submitted to how good he was already making you feel.

“Are you late?” Michael murmured over your shoulder.

Butterflies churned in your stomach and blush stung your cheeks at the very question. “I think it’s still too soon to tell, baby.”

“Mm,” Michael nodded and began to massage your sides.

“Why do you ask?” You slowly opened your eyes and spoke to him in a soft, ushered tone. “Do you suspect I am?”

“Perhaps,” Michael answered, “I want to be the first to know.”

You cracked a shy smile, “and you will be without a doubt.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael took your hands in his, turning you around to face him directly before he pulled you into his embrace. “Although you never did tell me how many you wanted.”

“I can tell you now,” you rested your head over Michael’s chest and nodded. “Four little ones… That would be something.”

“Mhmm,” Michael kissed the top of your head. “A topic better suited for the future after we have our first.”

“Boy or girl?” You grinned and looked up at your husband.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael told you. “But ultimately a son somewhere down the line to succeed our family.”

‘Of course.’ You knew it must have been the same with Michael’s father as it was with yours; one son at the very least to carry the family’s legacy under his name. ‘Understandable.’

“If you’re not…” Michael’s hands touched your hips again; his eyes beckoning to you. “Then we can try again.”

“And again?” You teased back, giggling. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Michael murmured and pulled your hips into his.

“As many times as we need to, hmm?” Your breath hitched as you bit down on your lip.

“As many times as you want to,” Michael corrected before he sealed a kiss over your lips.

~

The intimacy and love continuing to blossom between you and Michael unfolded in feverish desire and yearning. Like the beginning of an eternal and dangerous addiction, neither of you could get enough of the other.

Michael knew your love language was physical affection and words of affirmation just as you knew he was spending quality time with you and touching. 

Michael couldn’t care less for material gifts and preferred experiences above all, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t care, enjoy, or appreciate either.

“Ah…” A breathy moan escaped your lips as your hand clutched over Michael’s back; feeling his firm, flexing muscle as Michael remained leaning down and hovering over your naked body.

Between the sounds of Michael’s lips leaving a trail of hot kisses over your neck, you heard his breathing hitching as his throbbing erection pressed against your stomach.

Barely a week into your marriage and filled to the brim with insatiable love and desire, Michael was unable to get enough of his new bride and her beauty.

“Ohhh…”

Inhaling deeply, Michael took in your scent as he nuzzled your neck; now glowing pink with the love marks he left behind as you had let your free hand roam through Michael’s tousled hair.

“Look at me,” Michael whispered against your lips as he grazed his thumb over your mouth, parting your bottom lip. “Look at me when I make love to you.”

‘Oh God, yes…’

The first three months of marriage may as well have been a fever dream for both of you. 

Of course, none would be surprised at the sudden stamina the new bride and groom have for one another although some teasing and a dirty joke here and there would be in order, but if it wasn’t a night out or quality time spent with the family, Michael and you were doing nothing else but getting lost in one another again and again.

You’d lay in bed naked with the blankets barely covering yourself as you’d watch Michael strip down right in front of you before approaching you on the bed, and Michael enjoyed every second of undressing you himself with his own hands; the way the curves of your hips and fullness of your thighs felt against his hand as your skin was hot to the touch, brimming with passion and your body begging for pleasure was nothing short of ecstasy to Michael.

With your bodies intertwined with one another, you could practically feel Michael’s heart racing against yours; nothing but toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and memorizing every part of each other’s bodies filled your evenings for days to come.

You woke an urge tailored to your pleasure inside of Michael he could not ignore. Even after a night of ecstasy, if you approached him half-naked in the living room and begged Michael to fuck you again, he wouldn’t say no. 

You straddled Michael’s lap and let your lace panties slip off your ankles as you felt the smooth, Italian silk fabric of Michael’s suit brush against your bare skin.

On his lap, you let out a whimpering moan as you pressed your hips against his and ran your hands up Michael’s half-unbuttoned dress shirt; his chest hair brushing past your fingers as you clutched onto his shoulders.

Michael leaned his back against his seat comfortably; his hands ran from your calves to your upper thighs before he cupped your ass and gave it a greedy squeeze.

Michael’s eyes expectantly looked at you. “You play the innocent, sweet role well…” 

“Mm—” You whimpered as you pressed your lips against Michael’s neck from him giving your ass another harsh squeeze.

“But I see right through it,” Michael whispered to you—his tone low and husky. 

“I…” You breathed shakily against Michael’s skin before planting a deep kiss over it; your free hand roamed through his black, silky hair.

You heard a barely audible, soft moan escape Michael’s lips which only intensified the feverish arousal coursing through your veins as you continued to hungrily kiss up and around Michael’s neck.

Michael wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his hand over your ass; his eyes half remained half-opened as he let you get lost within him, taking and getting everything you want.

Your kisses grew wet, hot, and sloppy around Michael’s jawline as you moaned through them yourself; severely aroused to the point where you thought your wetness pooling over the fabric of your panties was soaking through Michael’s trousers.

“Mine…” You cupped Michael’s cheek and turned his face to look him in the eye directly. “All mine…”

“Yours,” Michael said back before his lips sealed over yours in a crushing, needy kiss.

Your pussy throbbed from arousal over Michael’s knee; it practically had a heartbeat of its own from how horny you were feeling towards your husband—so much so that it was almost criminal.

“Look at you,” As Michael pulled away from the kiss, he gripped your throat with his free hand and let his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “Can’t get your hands off of me.”

“You’re mine,” you panted back and took Michael by pleasant surprise as you licked his thumb. “

“That’s right, baby,” Michael murmured before pulling you back to him by your throat to give you another wet, rough kiss over the mouth. 

As you fully straddled Michael’s lap and began to slowly grind your hips, gyrating them against Michael’s pulsating erection, Michael let his hands slip up through your skirt and play with the band of your panties.

Lost in insistent, passionate kisses, Michael pulled at your panties only to let it snap back against your skin as you were distracted between his lips.

Michael let his fingers go further, parting your dewy pussy lips to spread your wetness with one hand while squeezing your breast and massaging your nipple with his fingers on the other.

Aside from such fiery, mutual infatuation and lust, there was more; there was and always will be more. 

The love between you and Michael blossomed so naturally that it could never feel forced like it was some sort of obligation that had to be fulfilled.

In public, despite the two of you being not so fond of blatant displays of affection, held hands or had Michael wrap an arm over your waist in casual but adoring affection you craved and yearned for always.

Just one touch from Michael—let alone his presence—was more than enough for you. It did nothing but thrill you all the more knowing this man is yours and you’re his; you’ll have all of Michael whenever you want and however you want. 

Distance makes your heart grow fonder when Michael’s away on his business trips or doesn’t come home for a night. You’ve never felt insecurity, unsafe, or any sort of lingering sadness about Michael’s consistent absences to begin with.

Even at the end of a long night with little time to yourselves to follow another eventful one, you’d have just the same satisfaction in Michael’s embrace without the sexual intimacy. 

Some of your most loving, romantic nights with Michael were the two of you skin-to-skin on the rooftop, naked and exchanging soft kisses as Michael smoked a cigarette.

Saying, “Yes, I do” and signing your marriage papers, your legal name became Victoria Ferrari Corleone; a unique love and lover to Michael in the sense that Michael could never treat you the way he treated Apollonia or Kay, but exponentially more protective, loving, and open to you in all aspects.

Your compatibility with Michael only resulted in him being all the more open with you; not feeling obligated to because you’ll get upset or ask, but because Michael wishes to—because he wants to. 

There’s simply no entitlement; only love and caring. You could not describe your marriage to Michael Corleone in any other way.

[apatheticlexicographer]

It was a memory, Mike realized, his fingers smoothing over the arm of his basement couch. Probably a pretty old one, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on which. Was it before that November, or after? His eyes were heavy, the room around him fogged up like an unfocused camera lens and washed to sepia. He couldn’t make out enough detail to date it past the nebulous timestamp of sometime, ages ago. It felt like home regardless.

“Will?” a voice whispered into the umber gloom.

 Or; Mike has a dream.

hhahhahaah it’s here i did it i wrote it!!! the mike gets vecnaed fic!!! y’all ask for some fuckin uhhhh symbolism???

(this fic is me being mean to mike wheeler for seven thousand words. or rather; mike wheeler being mean to himself for seven thousand words. you have been warned)

ppl who asked to be tagged: @runninguplenorahills @willelfanpage @disco-phrog @schnappled @fluffyfangirl @nebula-speaks @queenofthearchipelago

@booksandpaperss @no-ordinary-demigirl u also seemed interested??? hopefully ur ok with being tagged—

[theladyofshalott1989]

Sebastian Sallow in my summer before Year 6 Hogwarts: Legacy Fanfic

Re: perusing Muggle medical books for a cure for Anne "Hmm, maybe the Muggles were on to something..." Re: 1891 Muggle London's attitude on same-sex relationships

"...Never mind." Re: the relic being destroyed "Hey, so...erm...about that..."

Re: his lover, Damien Evans

"You're mine."

Read "Burning Bright," the sequel to "Like Moths to a Flame" on your fanfic platform of choice: [ AO3 link ]

[ Wattpad link ]

"Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?"

Excerpt from "The Tyger" by William Blake

[h1mmel]

drunk at a party, or something

mobius x eden with mentions of outside relationships, featuring my autistic griseo headcanon and drunk flamechasers

--

Parties were a rarity in the time where the end of the world approached steadily. Still, that didn’t mean that occasional celebrations weren’t welcomed especially within the tired and well-worn members of Fire Moth.

This particular celebration was held to celebrate the one-month anniversary of the founding of the Flame-Chasers. It had been set up by Elysia, and while all of the other twelve showed up, there were quite a few missing from the attendants. Most cared not for the occasion; only coming to listen to the gossip or enjoy the food and drinks.

When Mobius and Klein first received the invitation, the green-haired doctor was not keen on going. However, her ELF assistant pleaded she come along, as Elysia had promised them a boost in the lab’s budget if Mobius showed her face at the party. So now, here she was, drinking expensive wine and watching the other members of her organization make a mess of themselves in the restaurant they’d rented out.

The lights were dim, and Eden was singing; though she’d had quite a bit to drink already, and wasn’t aware of quite how loud her microphone was turned up. It seemed impossible to hear oneself talk, yet everyone seemed to be chatting unbothered, spare for Mobius and the few others who cared to keep to themselves. The scientist noted with a thought of amusement that the ones who were most chatty were the regular members of Fire Moth, and the actual Flame-Chasers cared much more for having their own space.

Mobius sat near Griseo and Kosma, the former of which was currently working on some sort of drawing. Her sketchbook was propped up in her lap and she didn’t utter a word, eyes squinted as she perched atop one of the fancy chairs. Kosma was sitting beside her with their head rested atop the table; Mobius could not tell if they were keeping an eye out or if they were sleeping.

It was not hard to tell that Elysia was the heart of the party, with the way she bounced between group to group and occasionally joined Eden atop the stage with some less-than-elegant singing which was luckily mostly drowned out by the red haired woman’s more projected voice. Eventually, she stopped by Mobius’s table, propping her elbows up on the fancy tablecloth and crossing her legs.

“Hey, Mobi! How do you like my setup?” It was obvious from the slur in Elysia’s words that she’d had a couple of drinks already, but that didn’t seem to damper her energetic spirit in the slightest.

“It’s…loud,” the scientist shook her head with a look of distaste. “But I appreciate the funding increase.”

“Aww, you’re not having fun?” she made a pouting face, one of a falsified look of hurt that was quickly replaced by her usual grin. “Here, I’ll get you a drink. If you’re not having fun, it just means you're not drunk enough!”

Mobius rolled her eyes at the other woman’s words but didn’t object, watching as Elysia waltzed her way over to the bar and ordered something from the bartender. She came back with a satisfied grin and a green colored drink. Her steps were unsteady on the heels she’d worn and Mobius watched with amusement at the way Elysia struggled to maintain her balance with drink in hand before she finally plopped down in her seat again.

“Here. It’s a mystery drink. Tell me what you think!”

Mobius took a long sip in hopes that accepting the drink would make Elysia leave her alone. It was slightly sweet, but not unpleasantly so, surprisingly made to fit Mobius’s tastes.

“It’s… fruity.”

“It’s fruity and green! It fits you,” Elysia flashed a wink and was about to say something else before she was approached by Pardofelis, who came by and practically tugged her away by the arm insisting that Elysia had to come look at something. The meaning behind her words didn’t sink in to Mobius until Elysia had already been dragged away, and her lips curled up in an expression of amusement that was masked by distaste. Her gaze followed Felis and Elysia's steps to see a group of people had gathered around Kalpas, sans his shirt and doing push-ups on the ground while the onlookers cheered him on.

Embarrassing. Mobius looked away and was thankful that Elysia had been removed from the conversation, at least. Now that she wasn’t being watched, she took another sip of her drink and turned her attention to Griseo.

The pale-haired girl had set her sketchbook aside and was twisting her arm at a weird angle while staring at it intently. At first, Mobius wondered if she was looking at an injury, but it occurred to her that she was trying to model a pose herself with her hand as the reference.

“Hey, Griseo,” Mobius’s voice while addressing the younger girl had a much more gentle tone to it than it did when she spoke with Elysia. “Do you need help?”

“Mm, Auntie Mobius?” she dropped her hands and glanced back. “What?”

“You look like you're struggling to pose.”

Griseo’s brow furrowed anxiously and there was a few moment’s pause before she shook her head and then pointed to her ear to signify she couldn’t hear her.

Mobius had been talking quietly but not too quietly, but it hadn’t occurred to her that the room was loud and Griseo was easy to be overwhelmed by the general chatter and clamor around her. She didn't want to stress the girl out by repeating herself asking a question Griseo couldn’t hear, so she made a drawing motion in one hand to request a pencil.

Griseo passed her a pen and tore a strip of paper from a blank page in her book, passing it to Mobius.

Mobius wrote, “Need me to pose for a reference?”

The younger girl read the note twice over before nodding. She accepted Mobius’s offered hand and folded it at the elbow gently, then moving each of her fingers into the desired position. Griseo’s fingers were cold against her skin, and her fingertips were smudged with graphite.

Mobius held the pose while she sipped at her drink with her other hand. She watched Griseo return to sketching with an emotion visible on her expression that the older woman could not make out.

It was a few minutes before Griseo dismissed Mobius’s pose. She then took her time adding color to the drawing, knees curled up to her chest so that nobody could catch a glimpse of her sketchbook.

When the girl’s fingers had turned ashy and she’d used just about every colored pencil she'd brought, Griseo finally determined it to be finished. She stared at it for quite a while before glancing to Mobius, offering the sketchbook wordlessly to the older woman.

Mobius accepted it and looked at the drawing. She'd been expecting a drawing of a specific person, but instead was met with a headless body that was surrounded in abstract designs and colors. The body wasn't recognizable as any specific person until Mobius noticed the tattoo on the figure’s arm as the same one her mother Blanca had used to have.

She felt sick to her stomach and had to look away from the drawing.

Griseo looked unnerved at Mobius’s reaction and the green-haired woman quickly spoke up to make sure she didn’t get the wrong idea.

“It’s very beautiful, Griseo.” She wasn't lying. The colors the young girl had selected were very pretty and the anatomy of the figure looked as real as life. It was precisely the quality of the drawing itself that made Mobius’s heart twist.

She needed a drink to forget about this. Mobius reached for a sip, but her glass was empty. Fuck.

The green-haired scientist made her way to the bar and set the now empty drink on the counter with a request to the bartender for another. She downed this second drink much quicker than the first.

After a while, Mobius was on drink number three and the bright lights in the room were starting to make her head spin. She wanted to distract herself from staring at the counter, so she instead focused her attention on Eden who was still up front and center.

The red-haired woman was clutching her microphone like it was a lifeline, voice wavering with very dramatic emotion. She sang for a long time and Mobius felt as if she’d gotten lost in the woman’s voice before she finally had to step off the stage for a break.

Unlike earlier, Mobius was feeling in a very good mood. So when Eden disappeared from stage and a slow song came on and people found partners to dance with, the doctor hopped to her feet with an enthusiasm she hadn’t had in ages and headed off in search of Eden.

It took Mobius a second to find the singer, who was resting in the back with glass of wine in hand. Offering not an explanation, she took her by the arm and practically dragged her towards where everyone else was slow-dancing to the song that had been put on.

Only after Mobius had forced Eden to her feet and brought her out front and center did she realize she should ask the woman for permission.

“May I have this dance?” Mobius’s smile was uncharacteristic of her.

“Mobius, why, of course.” Eden wasn’t even the slightest bit startled from having been interrupted. Her gloved fingers found the other woman’s waist and pulled her in close, clasping their fingers together with the other hand. Mobius was much less steady in her movements and it took a moment before she got comfortable and rested her free hand atop Eden’s shoulder.

Before Mobius could even begin to initiate conversation, Eden’s face was pressed up against her shoulder as she pulled their bodies even closer. Both of them swayed off sync with the rhythm of the music and Mobius could feel her cheeks burning as Eden pressed up against her, humming loudly along with the music.

“Eden,” Mobius’s fingertips traced up and down the taller woman’s shoulder. “You’re-”

“-So beautiful,” the redhead interrupted her, voice muffled in her shoulder. “You’re so pretty, Mobius. That twinkle in your eyes is making me feel… melting a little bit.”

Normally Mobius wouldn’t have known how to respond to the praise, but the rush of embarrassment got to her head quickly and she found herself giggling. “Eden, you’re such a liar…. ahaha, you’re the prettiest girl here, you know!” she grinned and pulled the woman’s body closer. “And you’ve got such a pretty voice too. You’re the prettiest woman ever.”

Eden was close enough to taste the alcohol from Mobius’s breath and she gave a smile in response. “Do you think I’m pretty enough that you’d kiss me?”

Mobius replied without falter. “Yes, but,” she looked genuinely upset. “Elysia would have my head.”

“Oh, you’re so funny, darling Mobius,” Eden laughed. “Elysia wouldn’t care. She’d want to kiss you too.”

Mobius giggled as if Eden had just told the funniest joke she’d ever heard and put a little too much of her body weight against the other woman, making both of their steps stumble for a moment. They continued dancing in silence, Mobius’s mind distracted with buzzing thoughts and Eden looking rather tired as if she might drift off in her arms.

Aponia had taken Eden’s place on the stage and her singing voice was much different, lulling in a way that made Mobius’s eyes droop. But unlike Eden, who didn’t care to acknowledge it, Mobius cast a glare at the priestess on stage and fought to keep her eyes open. Aponia’s voice was potent even when she wasn’t using her abilities.

“Mobius,” Eden’s voice was soft and singsong. “The dress you’re wearing is just so pretty. You’d be such a good model for me to make dresses for.”

Mobius laughed and her eyes squinted. “Maybe you should. I have to resize my wardrobe every few months.”

Eden’s eyes narrowed in concern slightly, and there was a moment of silence before she spoke. “I’ve always wondered… what does it feel like? When you shed your skin, that is.”

“I don’t know,” the doctor shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m always unconscious when it happens, and wake up in a new body,” she giggled. “It takes a while to get used to the height adjustment, but I’m otherwise good as new.”

“Wow,” Eden’s words were very slow and slightly slurred. “That’s so cool… just like a real life reptile, shedding your skin.”

“If you envy me, I can try and find a way for it to work on other MANTISes."

The red-haired woman laughed and shook her head. “I’d prefer not to. While youth is a blessing, I like my current appearance.”

“A shame,” Mobius pursed her lips. “Maybe when you’ve aged more, you’ll change your mind.”

“Maybe I will,” Eden repeated in a singsong voice, a soft smile on her lips.

Mobius was about to say something in response, but Aponia’s singing in the background was starting to make her head hurt. She tugged Eden by the arm with a growing urgency, leading her towards the door to outside.

“I can’t stand Aponia’s voice. Let’s talk outside.”

Eden followed wordlessly and the cold air outside came like a shock to the both of them. The green-haired doctor hadn't quite realized how intoxicated she was until she felt the fresh air against her skin and realized her head was going in circles and making her stagger. The taller songstress was better at holding her alcohol, but there was still a noticeable flush to Eden’s cheeks.

“So Mobius,” Eden hummed. “What did you want to talk about?”

Mobius laughed, then looked at Eden, then laughed again. “I didn’t really want to talk.”

“Oh? Then did you want-”

“Eden,” the doctor’s hands found the other woman’s shoulder and pulled her close so that they were face to face. Mobius was in an older body currently, matching Eden’s age, but she still had to look up slightly to meet the gaze of the taller woman. It was very apparent from the way her lips parted slightly that she wished to kiss Eden, but she silently waited for the permission that she didn’t want to ask for out loud.

Eden was slow to process Mobius’s nonverbal request. It took her a minute to catch on, but her hand slipped down to the other woman’s waist, and she leaned so that their lips were nearly touching.

“Mobius,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Mobius’s eyebrows furrowed. She wanted to express her frustration, but couldn't think of further words to snap back, so instead broke the distance between them and brought their lips together.

Their kiss went from soft to messy very quickly. The doctor pushed Eden up against the wall with a gentle thump and Eden only pulled her closer with hands that roamed Mobius’s body eagerly. Her gloved fingers made a mess of the other woman’s green hair that spilled over her shoulders, undone from the bun it had been messily put up in earlier. Both of their lips were slick with each other’s saliva, sloppy kisses often missing each other’s lips.

Mobius was panting and slightly annoyed how Eden wasn’t at all winded. The singer clearly had strong lungs, either from using her voice often or kissing girls often, and Mobius suspected it was a combination of both. It was clear that Eden was experienced in what she was doing compared with the doctor’s more awkward kisses, but her drunken state made her messier. Mobius could taste the wine on Eden’s tongue and it was much sweeter than the drink she had been drinking earlier.

Eden pulled back to allow Mobius to catch her breath and saliva trailed down the snake-woman’s chin. Her snake-like fangs protruded from her lips, though the way her usually thinly slit pupils were widened in the dim light made her look more cute than intimidating.

“So pretty, Doctor Mobius,” Eden softly spoke.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” was Mobius’s mumbled response.

The night went on and eventually the two went inside and ended up sharing even more drinks together. By the time the party was wrapping up, Mobius was staggering and laughing and making a fool of herself in front of the others. Wrangling the snake woman back home whenever she was intoxicated had previously been the original Klein’s job, but luckily Mobius was drunk enough that she didn’t notice it was actually Su carrying her to her bed this time.

“Thanks, Klein,” she murmured sleepily to the greenish-colored blob as her blankets were tugged over her body. She was too tired to worry about why ‘Klein’ didn't reply.

[acatalystrising]

I have finally finished chapter six of Moth to a Flame! This chapter was a blast to write, and I’m not done with the story yet, but I certainly do hope you enjoy this next installment! I was inspired by a certain fun scene in Mando season two for this one, but with a different context… This one is more intense, so please mind the trigger warnings. Happy reading!

TW: panic attack/triggers, mention of past abuse/injury, interaction with former abuser, mentions of past sexual abuse/gaslighting, cannon violence, side character death, blood, injury, angst and hurt comfort

Moth to a Flame Chapter Six

Darkness surrounded you like an ocean of ink, black and cold, searing into your ragged lungs like hellfire. Desperate for oxygen, you clawed toward the surface, finding not water, but sand cascading between your scrabbling fingers.

You burst to the surface, chest burning, eyes wide, as you found yourself in the Dune Sea, burning sands raging like an ocean, the dunes crashing toward you, backlit by the twin suns that watched impassively above as nature itself rushed to deliver your doom…

Your eyes snapped open, and the first thing you noticed was that you were cold. Far too cold for a desert planet like Tatooine.

You were lying prone on what you surmised to be a cot, and you didn’t have to look at your hands to know they were clasped in binders. Kriff. The feeling of the metal against your skin sent tremors of terror washing through you, heart pounding so loud you worried it would burst.

Not again. Please no. Not him. I gotta get out, gotta get free, I can’t die like this!

The panic was sudden and unyielding, exploding in your brain and numbing your extremities. You tried to breathe, but your throat felt clamped in a vice, threatening to reduce the world around you to a dizzying blur. You took heaving breaths, desperate to wrestle your fear under control, hoping the tools you’d learned over the years would pay off now. You couldn’t lose your head. You’d need logic to make it out of this alive.

You ran a hand down the back of your neck, fingertips hesitating at the shallow grooves you knew were your scars. Stars, you’d wanted to forget them. Ignore it all. Disappear into the Outer Rim and never look back. But it seemed your past had finally come back to haunt you. Literally.

The compact room you were held in was dark and indiscernible, but your eyes were keen enough to notice one important feature, one that sent horror flooding through your chest. Grey, lifeless, durasteel walls. And that only meant one thing…

“Well, well. It was about time you woke up.”

You knew that voice. Hated that you instinctually stiffened. Loathed the paralyzing fear that threaded down your spine and locked you in place. It was a voice you thought you’d never hear again. A monster, back from the dead.

That monster stepped out of the shadows, sharp blue eyes locking you in place, scarred lip twisted in a victorious smirk. But you felt the scorn beneath the facade.

“You’re probably wondering how I survived.” He folded his hands behind his back, hands that you remembered. Instruments of pain and pleasure. Maker, why couldn’t he have stayed dead? “Surely you’re at least curious.”

You opted to remain silent, refusing to play his game despite the panic that welled in your chest, threatening to burst. You were curious about his fate - especially after everything you’d done to stop him. How the hell had he emerged unscathed?

“The silent treatment won’t work.” He raised a thin brow, lips twisting in a knowing grin. “I remember a time when you’d have come to me for anything. How many times did I hold you? Comfort you? All for your to stab me in the back.”

“That’s enough, Sterling.” Your words snapped from your lips like daggers, eyes narrowing at the figure before you. “You don’t get you talk like that. You betrayed me. I did what I had to do.”

“That’s Admiral Sterling to you.” His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Is that what you tell yourself? Pathetic.”

You mustered the courage to narrow your eyes in challenge.

“Why am I here?” You crossed your arms with a shrug. “You could’ve just killed me to take your revenge.”

“Kill you? Oh goodness no, you’re underestimating me again, I’m afraid. I’m not going to kill you. You were difficult to find, I’ll give you that. It took me much longer than I’d hoped.” Sterling crossed his arms, tone darkening, brows lowering in a glare. “The Empire is scattered across the galaxy, in shambles. And you’re going to help me rebuild it.”

“Why the kriff would I do that?” You narrowed your eyes, hoping you masked the tremor of fear that slid down your spine. “I nearly gave my life to the rebellion. You think I’d do anything for your empire other than burn it to ash?”

Sterling’s eyes darkened, but his thin lips curved in an eerie smile.

“Oh my dear, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” He approached and you flinched as he rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve already taken so much from you. But, let’s see…you do have a lovely menagerie on that desolate rock. Friends, I’m sure, who you want to keep alive. Maybe you’ve pulled together a family of sorts? It’d be a shame to have them all reduced to dust.”

Oh. Oh no. Damn it.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

I’ve been a fool.

You clenched your bound fists until your knuckles ached, the horrid metal pressing uncomfortably against your skin.

“You’re a monster.” When you finally spoke, your words emitted as a hiss, full of venom and rage.

Sterling only smiled.

“Your rebel friends said the same thing when I turned on them, you know.” He shook his head with a sigh, pulling away from you. “A small price to pay for the good of the Empire. And unless you want to add more scars to your collection, you’d best do as I say. You’re a brilliant scientist, you know. You shouldn’t let all that raw talent go to waste.”

Kriff. You bit the inside of your cheek and tasted blood on your tongue. He had to know you’d never stop fighting him. But what the kriff could you do, bound and facing the threat of the deaths of everyone you loved? For now, you opted to go for the best course of action - to wait. Be patient. And figure a way out of this mess.

Because he was right about one thing - you did have talent. And you’d use every bit of it to escape.

“Fine.” You locked eyes with him, glaring daggers that you wish could burn into his skull. “Under one condition. Leave them alone.”

“That’s more like it.” Sterling’s smile grew into a vile, victorious grin. “Now there’s a good girl.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your snarl wasn’t hidden this time, eyes flashing with rage.

“Cooperate,” his grin vanished, replaced with a sneer, “and I’ll consider letting your friends live.”

He walked out of the room without another word, and as the doors whooshed shut, you dropped your head to your chest, unable to stop the sobs from erupting from your throat, echoing on the empty, foreboding walls.

You were alone, yet again. And this time, there were no rebel friends to save you. They were long dead, and you wagered you’d soon be following them.

-

“There it is, boss. Looks Imperial.”

Fennec shifted in the copilot’s seat to sling her rifle against her shoulder, lips twisted in a distasteful frown.

“What the hell would an Imp straggler want with your girl?”

Your girl.

Boba Fett blinked, gaze still locked on the small shuttle ahead, cruising in Tattoine’s orbit. He hated the panic that had taken residence in his chest, threatening to claw up this throat. This was precisely why he never had entertained the notion of a lover - not when everyone around him ultimately got hurt or killed…or worse. And yet here he was anyway, trying to stop the same thing from happening to the one person who had become the exception to his rule.

“Well? What’s the plan? At least the bastards were easy enough to track down.” Fennec’s voice jarred him from his thoughts, and he grunted, glancing at her over his shoulder, grateful for the helmet that masked his distraught expression. “Probably good to stay out of their sights for now. Are we sneaking in or-”

“I’m commandeering that vessel.” Boba’s voice was cold, nearly a growl. “If they don’t cooperate, they will regret it. We will find her.”

Fennec’s brows lifted, and she crossed her arms with a sigh. “Sure that’s a good idea? These Imps are flighty. The minute they’re under attack, they’ll jump to hyperspace.”

Boba watched the ship with narrowed eyes, clenching his gloved hands to fists.

“I’ve caught bigger prey. Besides, we have the advantage,” he punched in some coordinates and launched into hyperspace, already preparing the return sequence. “They don’t know we’re coming.”

-

“I didn’t want things to go this way, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes as Kali walked beside you, nervously wringing her hands. She shot a nearly apologetic glance at you before quickly looking away, eyes fixed straight ahead. When she spoke again, her voice was much softer.

“I tried to warn you. But I couldn’t just tell you that I…”

“That you’re a double agent?” Your tone was low like thunder, and you clenched your fists despite the cuffs, but quickly relaxed your hands when your skin tightened against the metal. A shiver ran down your spine. “Why bother. Seems everyone on this ship is.”

“I…started to have regrets. You were kind,” Kali blinked, chewing on the inside of her lip with a frown. “But…”

“Yeah, yeah, it was that “for the glory of the Empire” shit.” You heaved a sigh as one of the guards roughly shoved you forward, and shot the man a glare. “I’m already walking, idiot. Dank farrik, I’ve heard all this before.”

Maker, you hoped they bought your act. Yes, you were angry. But you were absolutely terrified. There was no way to get off this ship unless you found an escape pod, and you didn’t have any backup to rely on. Kali wouldn’t be of any help either. Her betrayal wasn’t the first, and not the most painful by a long shot.

You were forced around a corner and through two massive bay doors, and found Sterling standing by the viewport, arms crossed behind his back. He turned upon your entry, lips curving in a cunning smile.

“Ahh, so glad you could join us,” he gestured toward a table that had been set up in the center of the command room. “Please, have a seat.”

As if you had a choice.

You sat, eyeing the man warily as he approached, sitting across from you and neatly placing his hands on the table. You were quick to notice his skin was marred with burn scars, the tissue still raised and angry despite the time that had passed.

“Imp stragglers don’t have enough bacta, huh?” You raised a brow, inwardly grinning when you saw the fury light in his eyes. “That’s just ironic.”

He sighed, lifting his hands and inspecting them in the fluorescent lighting, brows raised in appraisal.

“When you rigged the ship to blow, I nearly didn’t resist. You were fierce - willing to go to any lengths to stop me. I respected that.” His gaze met yours, that anger still there, but also a sadness. “I barely escaped with my life. There was an access shaft I climbed through, and got on the last escape pod before it was too late. But I didn’t…escape unscathed.”

You frowned, leaning back in your seat, wincing when the metal of the chair brushed against the back of your neck. Anger welled in your chest, threatening to burst, and you clenched your fists under the table as much as the binders would allow.

Was he kriffing serious?

“You think I’ll feel pity for you after what you did? You pretended to be my friend. I thought you were one of us. I thought we were close.” You took a deep breath, hands shaking, nails biting into your palms. “When we were captured, you were the only thing I had. The only reason I kept fighting. You comforted me, held me. I thought…”

Stars, you didn’t want to admit it. To admit that once, he’d been everything to you. And during that time, you’d only hoped that…

“You thought what? That I loved you? Oh my dear, it was merely a means to an end. You are a brilliant scientist, I needed you. I still do.” Sterling’s voice was cold, detached, his icy gaze locked on you. “That was always your problem. You’re too trusting. It’ll get you killed someday. But I will admit…the times we spent together of the more…intimate sort…are ones I think of often.”

Oh, of all the vile, wretched things to say…

You tried to stand, a cry erupting from your throat, but the guard behind you forced you back into your chair, hand digging painfully into your shoulder. Heart pounding, you glared daggers at the man across from you, biting the inside of your cheek with a sneer.

“I’ll risk my life as many times as it takes to kill you!” You strained against the binders, hair falling in your eyes, while he merely watched you with a smirk. “I will never stop. And I will never, ever, work for you. The Empire can go to hell!”

Sterling only sighed, shaking his head. He pulled a pair of gloves from his coat pocket and slowly pulled them over his fingers, gaze dropping to his hands.

“You want to pretend to be a hero? To be important? Fine. I had imagined my last punishment would have taught you your lesson, but clearly I was wrong.” When he looked back up at you, any sense of familiarity was gone - replaced with the cold, cunning gaze of a deadly enemy. He slowly stood, eyes narrowing. “Considering the scarring you have, you most likely won’t survive this time. But I will warn you, it won’t be a quick death.”

No.

He wouldn’t.

Kriffing hell, of course he would.

You hated how quickly you stiffened, an old ache resurfacing on your neck, making your scars tingle. You tried your best to look calm, to hide the fear, but Sterling was too clever for that. He merely smiled.

“Because of our past, I’ll give you one last chance. Cooperate, or-“

Alarms blared so loud you winced, and Sterling flinched as something slammed against the ship’s hull, throwing the man off balance and back into his chair.

“Sir, we’re under attack!”

You watched, wide eyed, as the personnel around you began to panic, running to their stations. The ship swerved, banking to the right, providing you a glimpse of Tattoine’s red surface in the distance. Ahh, so you hadn’t fully left yet. For some reason, that provided a comfort.

Sterling stood, glancing at you suspiciously before walking further into the room, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What are you waiting on? Fire!”

“We’re trying Sir, but the weapons are jammed! Nothing’s working,” one of the Imps frantically punched at the buttons, face paling. “Kriff. It’s an ion cannon, Sir. Everything’s down.”

You couldn’t stop the small flare of hope from igniting in your chest.

You peered out of the viewport, but saw nothing. Who was attacking? Were they pirates? Or had they come to save you? A small part of you allowed yourself to entertain, for a moment, that it could be a certain ex bounty hunter, but that would be too good to be true. Surely he wouldn’t worry himself with your fate. You were easily replaceable.

But still…

Another blast rocked the ship, sending blue electric currents coursing through the controls. Cries filled the air as another barrage nearly tipped the craft, and smoke flooded the air, filtering out the flickering lights.

“Whoever they are, they’re not getting what they came for.” Sterling turned, locking eyes with you. “Jump to hyperspace.”

“We can’t Sir,” the man sounded nearly sarcastic despite his fear. “It’s an ion cannon. We’re stuck.”

Sterling whipped out his blaster and shot the man between the eyes with a growl, face reddening as the others froze, eyes on their admiral, fear palpable in the smoky air.

“Well? Who’s next?” Sterling’s voice rang over the blaring alarms, rising higher in pitch. “Shoot any pirate that sets foot on this ship. That’s an order. And you…”

He spun on his heels to face you, nostrils flared, fury burning in his eyes.

“You‘re not going anywhere.”

You dared to stand despite the convulsing ship around you. Dared to lock eyes with your enemy as he approached. Dared to smile in his sneering face, inches from yours, as a familiar ship crested the viewport, one that could strike terror into every heart aboard besides yourself - as well as the equally familiar voice rasping over the intercom, gruff, commanding, rolling like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Lower your shields. Disengage your transponders. Prepare for boarding.”

-

“Sure you didn’t go overboard?”

Fennec’s helmet tilted toward Boba as she ducked under a loose hanging wire, sparks flaring into the smoky air. A stormtrooper rushed around the corner and she quickly took aim, dropping him before he could alert their position.

As if that really mattered at this point.

“Ship’s barely hanging by a thread.”

“They took her.” Boba was already moving, striding down the hall where he knew the control center would be located. “Their mistake.”

Fennec shot him another glance before following behind, rifle held at the ready, as they turned the corner and came across the massive doors. They were sealed shut. Boba groaned, anger flaring in his chest. He took a breath, clenched his hands into fists, and for once in his life, wished he had the powers of a kriffing Jedi so he could rend the doors asunder to get to the woman he…

That he…

Damn it all.

He’d grown quite fond of his little veterinarian. Loved making you smile, and relished in the fact that he could so easily turn you into a flustered mess. But he felt stronger for you then mere affection, didn’t he? Maker above, this was more than a crush.

Boba Fett, of all people, had fallen in love.

“I got it,” Fennec was already at the control panel, prying it open with her vibroblade. He blinked, grateful for the helmet to mask his contemplative expression. “Be ready. I’m sure they’ll be armed to greet us.”

Boba merely nodded, lifting his weapon with a roll of his shoulders.

“Affirmative.”

The doors swung open, and a volley of blaster fire immediately burst forth, spraying the walls with smoking scorch marks. Fennec ducked around the doorframe, picking the Imps off one by one, but Boba had a different approach in mind. One that had worked countless times during his bounty hunting days. It worked then, and it would work now. Time was of the essence.

The plasma bolts continued to cut through the hazy air, albeit a few less then before, but Boba didn’t hesitate.

He simply walked through the door.

The bolts bounced harmlessly off his beskar, and he took little time dispatching those closest to him with his rifle and gaffi stick. But as he carved a path through the smoke, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks.

“That’s far enough, bounty hunter.” A tall, thin Imperial man stood several paces ahead, pristine uniform standing out amidst the haze.

But that wasn’t what held his attention.

You were on your knees, trembling - a thick metal collar clamped tightly around your neck.

Even from the distance, he saw the probe droid hovering behind you with its hellish needles, one already glistening with your blood. This kind of torture…it was vile, even for the Empire’s standards. And they were using it on you.

You, who’d only ever cared for other living things. Who had chosen to trust him, befriend him, even love him…

And these monsters were tormenting you.

“You know what this is, of course. Take one more step forward and she’s dead. Say…did you ever see these in use during your contracts for the Empire?” The Imperial glanced between Boba and you with a smirk, his words twisting like knives in Boba’s gut as your eyes flicked toward him in question. “Oh? He hasn’t told you? He served the Empire back in the day. In fact, he probably would have turned you in if I hadn’t set you up myself.”

Oh, Boba hated this man.

Fear flared in his chest when you glanced at him, lips parting to speak, but both he and the Imperial bastard were entirely confused when you simply…laughed.

“Oh Sterling, you’re such an idiot.” You shook your head as much as you could, rivulets of blood running down your neck and dripping over your collarbones, finally landing on the floor. “I already knew he did. Everyone on Tatooine knows who Boba Fett is. Unlike you, some people change. Someone once told me fate steps in the rescue the wretched. But it won’t for you.”

Despite the situation, warmth flared in Boba’s chest, and he tightened his grip on his rifle. You remembered. And he wasn’t about to let this fool get away with his abuse. He wagered this was the same one responsible for your other scars…

The man called Sterling glared at you, gloved hands clenched to fists. His fatal mistake was obvious - looking away from the true threat. “I don’t think so. And I-“

Boba lunged faster than the man could blink, ripping his blaster away with his gaffi stick and throwing him to the ground, pinning him underneath his weight with a growl.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Unhand me!” Sterling flailed pathetically beneath him, eyes wide with fear. “Release me, that’s an order!”

But Boba saw the raw fear shining in his eyes. A fear he knew all too well. The same fear he’d seen in the eyes of countless others before this poor fool - a legacy and death and bloodshed he’d thought he’d left behind. But he remembered the scars on your neck, and tightened his grip on the man with an unseen snarl.

The man was terrified. He knew who he was dealing with, there was no doubt about it.

Good.

“Aren’t you listening bounty hunter scum? I said-“

“I am the Daimyo of Tatooine. You’ve taken someone precious to me.” Boba raised his blaster to the man’s temple. “You will never harm her again.”

“No wait, I-“

He fired the weapon with no hesitation, and the Imperial fell limp, smoke curling from the wound and wafting from the barrel of his blaster. The remaining personnel fled the room, presumably for the escape pods, but he didn’t bother to shoot them down. Silence fell, sudden and final. Boba suddenly felt old, much older than his years suggested, as he forced himself to turn and meet your gaze. Surely you’d be afraid of him, having seen him as the killer he always knew he was.

But instead, he only saw relief shining in your bloodshot eyes.

“You came for me,” a tear rolled down your cheek, and his heart nearly broke in two at the softness of your voice, the fire long gone. “I didn’t know…didn’t think…”

“Easy, my little one,” he knelt beside you, quickly working to remove the collar from your neck. “Breathe. I’m here. You’re safe.”

As soon as the collar was removed, you collapsed into his arms, curling against his chest in silence. He blinked, so taken aback by the gesture that it took him a moment to gather you in his arms, holding you as tightly as he dared, careful to avoid the new wounds marring your neck. And yet you kept your gaze locked with his, gratitude shining in your eyes.

You were the first person, he wagered, that looked at him in relief instead of fear when he walked into a room.

You’d probably be one of the only who ever did.

But right now, that didn’t matter. There would be time to handle the aftermath - time to talk, to process, to heal. Right now, he needed to get you to safety, and to medical attention.

He held you securely against him as he stood, keeping you close, nodding to Fennec who was already covering him for their exit. The ship could burn for all be he cared. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

“Rest, sweet girl.” He pressed his helmet against your forehead, voice soft, nearly a whisper. “Let’s go home.”

[queenofnabooty]

Illusio Insula (Masriel)

Prologue Up!

Trips to the abandoned chapel on Fair Isle. Before and after the scandal breaks.