#omens gave us a little taste

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary_ He pushed you away some time ago. You forgave him, but Miguel realizes intentions don’t mean much and he wants you back.

Warnings_ age gap! (I’m 20, Miguel is around 28-31, bear with me), angst, fluff.

A/N_ this is The Craving from Twenty One Pilots, I loved the new album. and imgonnagetyouback from Taygod Swift, BOTH IN MY MIGUEL PLAYLIST🩷

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_____________

Waves of silence crash all over the Spider Society. Miguel O’Hara had just told Miles Morales that he had to let his father die to protect canon. Your guts twist in an odd feeling, you feel a bad omen. The chase had been tough, your insecurity playing with your head as you knew Miles had the right to choose his destiny.

Canon had been fair with you, offering you light problems compared to others. So you wished every spider had the same destiny as yourself.

Now seeing that Miles was gone thanks to the “Go Home Machine”, you couldn’t let Gwen to follow the same path.

“Miguel… you can’t send Gwen home. She’s vital for this.” You say quickly stepping up against the man who was intimidating the sixteen-year-old girl.

“I don’t need more problems than we already have. I restate… she’s a liability” Gwen pleads you with scared eyes. You gasp, running out of options to calm the angered man.

“You gave me a second chance too, I was once a novice like her” Miguel huffs, looking at you with much impatience.

“Yes, and you learned from that, never committing an error again.” Gwen is picked and caged inside the machine, she starts panicking and you too. In an act of desperation, you grab Miguel from his forearm, making him turn to look down at you. His crimson-red eyes stare at you with such hostility that you know you have to be careful to choose the right words.

“This is not right. You are not thinking clearly. Miles and Gwen deserve better” Your gaze moves between him and Gwen, hoping Miguel would agree and let the girl stay.

“Miguel, please…”

“THIS IS ABSURD, Y/N!… CANON HAS GIFTED YOU WITH MUCH LUCK, YOU CAN’T EXPECT EVERY PERSON HERE TO RUN WITH THE SAME FATE. BE REALISTIC, RESPONSIBLE, AND INTELLIGENT FOR ONCE!” As he attacks, Gwen is gone. Another round of silence invades the place, but this is worse. Your eyes open in shock after hearing Miguel.

He can’t be fixed. He won’t change. It’s time to go and follow what you think it’s correct.

You eye Jess and Peter, they seem like they have some things to say but remain quiet.

Miguel finally looks delicately at you and notices your eyes are watering. The awkwardness is very loud, your blush letting everyone know you are embarrassed.

You won’t say anything about it. You just look back at Miguel for a second, before opening a portal in your gizmo, doing the same as Hobie Brown did; quitting.

“I really thought you would get it…” Your gizmo fell to the ground as you disappeared, the screen of it cracking and leaving Miguel a little stunned by your decision. He sighed, knowing he had screwed it, but confident that his intentions were correct.

That night, after a quick patrol, when you returned home, you took a quick shower to wash away all the pain and bitter taste of the day you had. But when you came back, there was a little present wrapped in newspaper that wasn’t from your earth. You unwrapped it, revealing a homemade gizmo. You grabbed the little note attached.

We need you

-Hobbie

You would do things right. And you didn't care if you had to fight with old friends or colleagues. Especially Miguel.

…

The seasons had changed so fast. By the time summer ended, the leaves were already drying and many people had left, by winter and the snow falling over, others came back. But you stayed the same.

You had the same suit, with upgrades and chrome instead of golden details, but it was the same. Your earth was well controlled, with no sign of the villains that used to terrorize your city. All the smiles you offered were the same. All the laughing with Peter B. Parker, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles was the same. Yet, something had changed between you and Miguel O’Hara.

The man knew the perspective people had of him would change after the events of last summer when he put the lives of Miles and many others at risk. He let his fears win and while he tried to protect everything, he was only pushing it towards the edge, dooming the fate of the multiverse. You were on his side at the beginning, claiming that canon was sacred and couldn’t be changed. But the image of Miles, his face full of fear and anxiety, unsure and terrified of his future. He was a kid, he had no idea of anything. He made you question if canon events could change. Either way, the kid was more than enough to draw you worried. Destiny could be wrong, so you decided to help Miles. Your decisions had consequences? Yes. The moment you left the building of the Spider Society, you started to miss everything. In your mind, you were almost assured Miguel didn’t care about you, but deep down, your heart said the opposite. Ending with a drift that seemed invisible at the beginning. But now, a year later, it was more than clear.

The change was something you could get used to. Your work remained the same, with Jess and Peter. B Parker. Your missions only turned more fun with the addition of Miles and Gwen permanently returning like you. Gatherings at Peter’s each Saturday remained the same. But all the awkwardness of the spiderverse invaded you when Miguel O’Hara came into the picture.

After all, you two had gone on a date the day before you met Gwen at her earth while capturing the Renaissance vulture. He asked you out, and you said yes. It was a lovely afternoon and he even visited your home. What started as a mentorship from him, blossomed into a friendship and then as a “almost something”. Which hurt worse.

It all started with you walking away. Briefings were cautiously heard by you, even staying after for further questions. Jess asked you to hand the mission details to everyone when Hobbie and Miles came to talk about a concert you were going to with Gwen and Margo when Miguel came and started asking about a new gizmo coming soon. Everyone noticed you grew quiet and soon after you were gone.

Then, you stopped asking to go on missions with him, Ben, and his usual party. When you were recruited, Miguel was annoyed but pleased to have you along. It happened that one day, you blew things off accidentally, making him extremely angry. Your web shooter failed and you almost missed it to save a baby. Nonetheless, you quickly were ranked higher thanks to your abilities.

All of your friends could see how your small friendship with your boss had suddenly evaporated. And Miguel couldn’t blame you. After all, he was the one yelling in your face when you argued in favor of Gwen when she was sent home. Miguel could remember he almost made you cry, leaving you completely embarrassed in front of everyone. He felt terrible seconds after you left, but he soon went to the earth of Miles with Ben and Jess. Eventually, when the man learned you were silently helping the kid and the ones who had left his side, he didn’t say anything. In the final moments, Miguel knew he had to side with the teenager and help to get rid of The Spot. And when the chaos was over, he wished he had the right to celebrate it with you.

The aftermath changed him, over the months, he even thanked you for trying to make him see the reality from the beginning, and he apologized. But that night, he understood that you had forgiven him, but remained hurt.

Either way, Miguel had to deal with the consequences of his acts and sort the way things would work for the sake of everyone’s canon. Yet, in the middle of the night, he constantly remembered you.

Out of nowhere, Miguel O’Hara was accepting that he missed you. And acknowledging that fact, only made him accept he had some feelings towards you. Which scared him for sure. But after losing his daughter, almost losing all he had built for spiders like him, after feeling so isolated, Miguel lounged to have a partner. He craved the love of someone. And had found it. He just wished he had done things differently.

Jessica knew Miguel so much that she easily solved the mystery. On a random Monday, she bombarded him with questions that soon made Miguel spit out he was attracted to you. She suggested the man slowly try to talk to you. Nothing was lost, there was hope. The woman had her theories about you never getting over that crush on Miguel. She often had caught you staring at him, staring too much for later to avoid him. Jess knew you were protecting your own heart.

“Miguel?” She asks.

So there he was, Miguel was sitting in the cafeteria, taking a big bite of his empanada de picadillo. He could taste the shredded beef, potato, carrot, jalapeños, and mushrooms freshly mixed with spices.

“Yes?…” The insides of the empanada are burning his tongue and he doesn’t mind.

“I asked if you assigned today’s missions?” He nods. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he huffs at the sight of the hamburger with the face of his mask still being served. The cafeteria is full and he hates all of the voices speaking at the same time. He has to wear sunglasses because the place is full of light, and it hurts his eyes. Why is everyone still eating a hamburger with his mask on the bun?

“Are we lunching here because perhaps you want to see when a certain female spider appears?” Miguel rolls his eyes. Some days, he loves Jess and knows about his feelings for you because she grants him free therapy. But other days, he hated it because Jess knew how to mess with him. Like now…

“Oh…Hi y/n!” Miguel looks at Jess panicked, but soon feels relived that his sunglasses are dark enough to cover his blown wide eyes. You appeared there. Upside down, of course, Miguel notices how your hair hangs freely, and he isn’t sure if it’s longer, or it’s just the gravity.

“Hey, Jess. I just came to drop this file with Miguel. Lyla said he wasn’t in his office” You say calm. He notices you have your mask on, but you’re definitely not looking at him. He takes the folder from your hand and stays there looking at you. You seem awkward but remain relaxed.

“That’s from my morning patrol, you asked for a report. I’m leaving with Hobbie and Pav now…” you add. And you can see how Jess keeps glancing back and forth between you and Miguel. Was she hiding something from you?.

“Okay… guess I’m leaving now…” you only sigh when no one answers.

“Get back safe, please,” Jess says as you are already far away from them.

“Thanks” you answer without looking back. Soon you open a portal at the entrance of the cafeteria and you’re gone. That’s when Jess comes back to her friend, side-eyeing him.

“Really? You couldn’t even say ‘thank you” or “good luck”?” Miguel sighs, dropping his empanada and relaxing his shoulders. He knew he had to say things to you to get back to normal.

“I know… I just… I don’t know how to start this” Jess smiled. In the end, even when Miguel was a 6’9 tall man with the title of founder of the Spider Society and creator of the Gizmo, he was a silent and certified emotion avoider.

“She forgave you for last summer and all. But this is now, she’s also awkward about you. She’s also unsure if you want to talk to her…” Miguel leaned closer, interested and equally anxious.

“She said that?” Jess shrugged while taking a bite of her French fries.

“It came out very vaguely. But for sure she’s also a mess for you”

“What? Did she also say that?” Jess giggles at him, only sipping from her soda.

“Maybe you could start sending flowers or letters, Romeo” Miguel huffs, wondering if his friend actually knew something or not.

Jess wanted to lock you two in a room and hopefully, when she opened the door, Spiderman 2099 would have a prospective lover.

…

With another college semester ended and a driving anxiety, summer was a relaxing time for you to spend in your room. Painting your toenails, you were singing at your CD player playing one of your favorite songs. Your family was gone, so you could be letting your feet dry walking upside down in your ceiling. Suddenly, your gizmo beeped and it was a deleted message from Miguel. You frowned and almost screamed. Probably he sent something to you by accident and then he deleted it. But you had an omen. So you called Jess, she answered with a long and mean “what?”, she must’ve been watching some movie with her husband.

“Miguel sent me a message and proceeded to delete it before I could read it?” You didn't mean to sound so fast and desperate, but you did.

“Slow down, girl. But… he deleted it?” Actually, she had been sleeping, her toddler being a little bolt that demanded a lot of her time even with her husband there.

“Exactly… Odd, Right?”

“Coming from Miguel? Sure it is. But… I think it’s time you try to talk to him too, y/n. Maybe he’s awkward about what happened last summer and doesn’t know how to approach you” Jess wants to scream that Miguel likes you too, but she can’t ruin it.

“ I feel like Miguel doesn’t even care I distanced myself from him. But when I see him, my heart starts beating so fast, and my hands sweat.” She laughs and lets out a long “eww”.

“You hide it very well. But you’re very cold, it doesn’t help. I have to admit you also might need to try….”

“Jess, I’d end up bursting out that I’m in lo-“You immediately stop, Jess lets out a surprised groan.

“MISS Y/N, YOU LOVE HIM?”

“Goodnight, Jessica” You go straight to bed, ignoring the deleted message and everything regarding Miguel.

But Jess and her questions keep popping up in your head.

Could it be possible that you were actually in love with Miguel?

…

“So my teacher said my essay was lacking everything, it was marked with red all over,” Miles says walking beside you, both of you are done for the day with the missions. You were almost infected by some poisonous lizard that was haunting earth-2407.

“Did you actually make the corrections?”

“I did-“ you side-eye him.

“Well, not all of them but-“ you two are just walking around with no destination secured. So when you two pass by the training center, Miles literally pushes you towards the stairs that lead to the balcony of said center. He gestures to you to keep hushed before turning to see the couple speaking; Miguel and Jess.

“We shouldn’t be hearing them” you remind him, not wanting to get caught, especially by Miguel.

“Jess banned me from the 10th floor because I was disturbing everyone. Gwen was with me and she received no punishment, bro” the teenager whispered. At sixteen, Miles had grown impossibly taller, almost like Peter B. Parker and Noir. Even Gwen was taller, everyone was taller. But at least you weren’t the same height as Penny or Peter Porker.

“Maybe because Jess is training her yet?”

“So? That’s nepotism” You want to laugh but he shushes you again. So you turn to see Miguel and Jess training.

The man was extremely sweating and Jess too. You never reached the same level of training simulations as them, thinking it was unnecessarily violent and fast-paced.

“Keep Gwen and Miles out of my lair. I’m tired of catching them trying to make new suits from themselves”

“They don’t even know how to work the machine, relax” the woman bites back.

“So? It’s annoying”

“It’s also annoying that I have Lego Spiderman and y/n printing random pictures at my office” The mention of your name makes you blush, remembering the print of Peter B. Parker with a big red font saying “Have you seen this man in your dreams?” It was very funny among the coworkers and every time Peter saw it, he would start complaining from all the bullying he had to endure.

“Don’t get y/n on this. I can’t even stand her now” You swear you can feel your heart shattering. Miles turns to look at you, encountering your sad expression.

“Y/n…” the boy tries to soothe you, but you just shake your head.

“I think I’m going home, Miles” you whisper to him, leaving soon after.

Your eyes water as you walk away from the training center, many fellows stare confused at your sadness. But you ignore them as you open a portal towards home.

And when you are in the safety of your earth, you are not ready to go to your pillow to cry. So you start swinging between skyscrapers and buildings just to clear off your mind.

You knew it was a mistake from the beginning to start developing feelings for Miguel O’Hara. Then he invited you to that damn date. Such a fun day till he had to yell in your face that you were privileged and shouldn’t be stupid ignorant. Now he seemed to have left the issue behind, after his apology. And you forgave him, even letting your feelings for him float around. But if he didn’t want you back at the society? Why did he call? Why did he offer the gizmo again?

He was an asshole.

Meanwhile, Miles stayed a little longer, hearing more of the conversation.

“Just tell y/n to stop using my printer” Jess pleaded.

“Nah, I won’t tell her,” Miguel says smirking. The woman training with him rolls her eyes annoyed.

“Just because she’s your impossible crush doesn’t mean she can have the privilege to print stupid things at my place” Miles gasped, thinking what Jess said was a joke.

“You can use my printer, so I don’t have to say anything to my girl,” Miguel said and Miles was officially shocked. He had to tell you everything the next day.

…

Two days later, the overheard talk is somehow forgotten. Miles tries to mention it occasionally but you brush him off. You have your head centered on Mayday, the two-year-old toddler walking beside you across the hallways of the Spider Society. Peter completely trusted you to leave his child with your babysitting.

“Where did you leave your ribbon, Mayday?” The little girl giggles. She has a dress of flowers and sneakers, making her look very adorable with her long disheveled hair.

“Don’t know” she babbles. Peter would be mad since it was the third pair being lost in the week.

Mayday clumsily waddles, giggling as you keep searching around for that ribbon. Even though the floors are mysteriously always clean and shiny, you can’t see the damn ribbon.

When you walk slightly away from the little girl to look down on a bench, you hear a little yelp from her and when you turn back, you see Mayday on the floor and then she starts crying.

“Oh fuck me…” you whisper, running to grab the kid and start calming her. You carry her in your arms as you sit on the bench.

“It’s okay, Mayday. It was only a little slip, but you are okay” She starts hearing your voice and her cries turn to sniffles, feeling protected when you hug her and gently brush her hair.

“Daddy won’t like looking at you crying. He wants to see you laughing and happy. You are fine, see?” The kid nods brushing away the tears.

“Now give me a smile. You were very brave!” mayday smiles brightly and you chuckle.

“That’s the Mayday I know!” The kid laughs at your way of entertaining her. When you turn towards the hallway to see if Peter is back, you almost drop Mayday again.

Miguel was there, looking at the interaction.

“I found the ribbon,” he says walking towards you and the girl. His expression is very neutral, and you can’t see the way Miguel’s hand is shaking slightly.

“Miguel!” Mayday greets the tall man with a smile, asking him to be in his arms. They both had grown closer. After all, Miguel had been around Mayday since she was born. You appeared when Mayday was 10 months old.

“Hey, kid” you let him take the girl, then you accept the ribbon from his free hand. You barely touch him but your lungs are dry and your stomach is a mess like a powerful tsunami. Nonetheless, your face shows the contrary.

“Thanks. Peter was growing annoyed by how many ribbons this little girl had missed.”

“I know. And you handled very well the situation back there…” he admits, recalling the little slip of Mayday. Miguel sees a little blush in your face, it lights up his hopes.

“Thanks…” you awkwardly say, standing up to try to reach the little girl.

Miguel leans slightly to let you tie the ribbon on Mayday’s hair and he’s able to smell your perfume of figs and brown sugar. He also sees the little golden seashell pendant hanging on your necklace. He smiles when he realizes you are avoiding his gaze. And when you’re done, both stare at each other, with many questions, but silence reigns. Both of your hearts racing with a tormented passion.

“Y/n… I feel like we need to talk about-“

Miguel grows quiet when Peter appears running in the middle of the hallway.

You don’t even catch what he said, you turn relieved to see Peter was back.

“Oh boy, we are late for her passport appointment. M.J.’s gonna kill me” You giggle at his drama. Miguel is still there behind you, he rolls his eyes making Mayday laugh.

“She will understand. And thanks for the ribbon, Miguel” The little girl is back in his father’s arms and you quickly start following them, too nervous to stay with Miguel alone.

The man just stays there seeing how you leave, and he sighs, taking a long breath. His intentions are not enough. His little efforts are nothing to reach you, it makes the craving he feels to be corresponded by you even bigger.

As for you, you feel a great heartache. Half of you feel very nervous, because it seems like some days Miguel wants to talk to you, and other days he wants to say he’s tired of you. What a confusing and fucked up situation.

…

He gives two steps forward, like five steps back. Miguel is standing at the entrance of the terrace in the building of the Spider Society, debating whether to go and talk to you or not. He even prepared a few things to say, hoping to not scare you away, more than you already were. While he knew he couldn’t just scream out he was in love with you, he could try to mend the breach built between you two.

It’s getting late in Earth-928, and a lot of spiders are leaving their home. It’s Saturday and a lot of them have plans with their families, partners, and friends. Miguel is set to have another lonely weekend doing some patrol. But for now, he’s still there, watching you seated on the rooftop of the building, eating some chicken and avocado tacos from the cafeteria. Miguel wants to laugh when he catches a glimpse of some avocado dropping from your taco. You set the plate aside and look down, letting out a little “yikes”, Heaven knows what or who would end up getting a piece of avocado from the sky.

He’s not ready. Miguel curses himself for being a big overthinker. He’s able to fight the most callous and evil villains from different dimensions. But he’s unable to say “Sorry, I was an asshole. Can we try it again?… Oh, and I love you”. Perhaps it was his anxiety or panic, but Miguel swears his gizmo beeped, so he walks away, going down the stairs, feeling his heartbeats returned to normality.

Each step he takes is filled with greetings, comments, warnings, notices, and more from different spiders. He sends spider plushie and Penny to work in a minor anomaly and finally, he closes the door of his office.

There’s a mess of papers around. Miguel suddenly remembers someone… Gabriella. He’s happy that his trauma is slowly fading away. He was officially healing and had accepted his daughter had also forgiven him. Miguel could rest knowing his errors were sealed.

And just as he was about to play some of the recorded memories he had, Lyla appeared.

“The whole gang is coming” she blurted out with her usual cocky smile.

“Tell them I’m busy, Lyla”

“But they’re already here” The AI had a new pair of fucsia heart sunglasses and coat. Which seemed to have made her more stubborn. Miguel sighed, turning off his monitors.

“MIGUEL!” the man heard the annoying voice of Peter B. Parker and sighed. When he turned around, he saw the whole club; Peter without Mayday, Hobie, Pav, Margo, Miles and Gwen.

“What is it now?” he looks down at them from his platform and is already irritated by their presence. Even after a year of changes, they were a group of teenagers and Peter.

“Well… uh-“ Gwen starts, but soon pushes Peter forward, encouraging him to speak up instead of her.

“Uh… Miguel, we know you hate us for wandering about your private life and we respect it. But we feel like you need to talk to y/n about her position here.” As Peter talks, he has Miguel’s whole attention.

“And why is that?” He sounds reluctant, but he grows anxious.

“She said she doesn’t feel the same as it was when she was recruited. That you confuse her with your behavior towards her” Margo answers for Peter, with a better choice of words, of course.

“As the leader of this team, we just want you to remind her that she’s welcome and that you want her here. Because you want her here, right?” Peter adds, Miguel crosses his arms.

He needs you, actually.

“I’m not sure I’m the most adequate person to tell her that,” Miguel replies.

“Oh, you have to be kidding. She heard you and Jess. At the training center…” Gwen speaks again, Miguel is shocked, even terrified of you hearing you were his girl.

“How much?” Miguel asks with that well-known tone of anger and fully intentional intimidation.

“Well…” Peter said.

“HOW MUCH?, POR DIOS!” Miguel yelled exasperated.

“She left when you said you couldn’t stand her,” Miles confirmed to him, making him sigh. Trying to get you back was only getting trickier than expected.

“Yeah… I don’t think chicks want to be neglected twice” Hobie speaks for the first time, mocking Miguel.

“Hobbie, not helping here” Margo scolds him whispering.

“At least I’m trying to pull one out” Miguel fires back making everyone bite their tongue to avoid laughing. Because Hobbie Brown didn’t have the best history search with girls.

“Hey no, stop. The point here is that you need to talk to her. I accidentally heard everything” Miles speaks up, walking forward toward Miguel.

The man only pinches the bridge of his nose, cringed that the teenager had to listen.

“I’m pretty sure she feels something too” Miguel hated that Miles had to be a wise kid, frequently reminding him of his errors and making him realize there were always other options.

“She must hate me.”

“No, y/n just needs to know how you actually feel” Gwen encouraged him, and unconsciously, Miguel was being pulled towards the exit.

“I couldn’t speak to M.J. for a very long time after we divorced. And I had nothing to lose, I just knocked on her door with some flowers. Look at us now… y/n will know too” Miguel thought Peter could be the goofiest man he ever met, but he was his friend. So maybe he could accept his advice.

“Va pues, don’t know why I’m listening to all of you” huffing, Miguel and the group were out, except for Hobbie, who stayed behind stealing things from Migue’s lair.

…

When you open your door, you gasp shocked. Miguel is there, he’s wearing a sweater that fits him a little too tight but nice, dress pants, and tied shoes. You rarely saw him without his suit. But that isn’t all, he has a pretty bouquet of lilies in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He says and you are already making a pout.

“Miguel…”

“Let me finish, please.” He interrupts you, so you nod, stepping out of your place.

“I’ve made some mistakes, but as the son of a mother and… and-“ you start giggling and Miguel is red like a tomato.

“Let me guess… Peter gave you a speech to say to me?” Miguel tilts his head.

“Yes and… I-… mierda. See, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to leave the Spider Society. I need you. And I still feel guilty for last summer. But if you give me another chance… I swear that I will give you more than I take away” You nod, smiling. Miguel sighs relieved. To his surprise, you grabbed him by the sweater and pushed him towards you to give him a big kiss on the lips. He reciprocates immediately, smiling in between.

“I’m in love with you” he admits, his forehead kissing yours.

“I’m in love with you too, Miguel” As both of you kiss again, chants and applauses start. When you step away from Miguel, you see your friends there, passing past you and Miguel to step inside your home.

You are extremely confused.

“We were here the whole time, FYI,” Margo says as Miles, Gwen, Pav, and Noir pat your back and step inside.

“I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to have a double date. You two, M.J. and I” Miguel rolls his eyes at Peter.

“What did I miss?” You ask Miguel. Not that you mind that your friends literally invaded your home, but it was just weird.

“They wanted to help me”

“Aww, we have such good friends,” you say smiling.

“They’re not my friends. I just tolerate them” he is lying of course. You grab his hand, your cocky smile making him feel so happy. He’s still processing what just happened, he can’t believe he officially got you back.

“Oh shut up, of course, they are our friends”

“What about you and I?, Are we more than friends?” You blush at his questions. He grabs you by the waist to prevent you from going inside the house.

“Not so fast, bonita”

“I don’t know. But I’m eager to be your lover”

Now it was Miguel’s turn to get blushed.

_______________________________

[inklore]

sending a little commander mills thot 💖 stopping for the night in a dark, deep cave. sharing a bed roll quickly turning into something more, as you end up on your hands and knees beneath him. there’s a rattle of stones near the entrance and his large hand is pressing over your mouth to keep you quiet - his senses on high alert for danger. but even then, mills can’t help the shallow rock of his hips - unable to resist how good you feel

warning signs

pairing: commander mills x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k+

contents: unprotected p in v, creampie, small amount of dirty talk, i didn't classify what planet they were on but threats are occurring, slight enemies to lovers, rough.

note: i'd let this man have his way with me in an open warzone and i have no shame about it because this idea has me insane.

You should have known. 

You should have known this planet would be nothing but a bad omen when you had to emergency land on it. When you lost contact, your ship deciding to stop working properly. When the only way of getting out a signal was to rig the system built within the interface of the hunk of metal. Ultimately destroying any chance of getting out of here on it but allowing you to get out a weakened signal, you hoped your home planet would come and swiftly send someone to you before this planet showed just why it was inhabitable by those who walked on two legs and didn’t prefer the taste of game. 

You should have known that Mills would be the worst person to crash land with.

Should have known he’d only raise your blood pressure and have a permanent scowl curve your brows until it gave you a headache. 

And you really should have known that he’d be this big. 

His stature alone suggesting that was more to him than broad deltoids beneath those clothes. More than just deadpan looks and side eyes of scolds and warnings behind those iris’s. Behind the moments and trips the two of you have taken together over the years. 

You should have known that his cock would stretch you like this. Making your insides burn when he thrusts inside of you. Your walls accommodating something that’s bringing you pleasure at the same time it has you mewling in pain—something big and hot and heady that’s making your fingers dig into the dirt. 

Your back arched at an angle that has your body scraping forward against the ground every time Mills snaps his hips against your ass. His cock going deeper and deeper—the tip hitting that spot inside of you that makes your body want to run from him, want to escape the pleasure and the sting of him going past what your bodies used to—his nails digging into your hips. Moonshaped marks embossed in your skin as he holds your ass in place. As he refuses to let you squirm away from him.

Because you wanted this, didn’t you?

“You’ve been begging for it.” He says with a heavy breath. A groan mixed somewhere in there, you’re sure of it but can’t decipher it fully with how you sound. How the back of your hand is covered in your own drool and bite marks from trying to muffle the moans and whines coming from your mouth. 

There’s a rock under your knee that has left an imprint into your bone, has cut the skin with how your body is moving. If you focus on it hard enough, you may even feel a trickle of blood. Or the indents of stone and caked on dirt on your elbows. 

But all you can feel—all you can hear, sense, smell—is Mills and what he’s doing to you. What he’s doing to your body and how you never want him to stop. Never want to go back to the time when the two of you pretended there was nothing there. 

The thrusting of his hips imprinted on your nerve endings, and you can’t imagine a time, a moment, or a place where you don’t want him to bend you over something and take you. Have you. 

“Who knew all you needed was my cock to have you so compliant.” Mills grabs the back of your neck. His grip just as rough and embossed as the fingers at your hips. The weight of his chest drapes over you in a way that has you pushed further into the ground and your ass higher in the air, shoving his cock to the hilt, a cry falling from your lips. His name coated in a pleading whimper. 

“Next time you’re not listening to me, all I’ll have to do is fuck you, huh? Bend you over and fuck you until you’re ready to admit who’s in charge here.” 

There’s some part of your psyche that wants to fight against this. That wants to throw his words back in his face with something snide and angry, but you’re fucking pudy between his fingers, and he’s molding you into a perfect compliant hole for him. 

Into someone who wants to follow his orders just as long as they get his cock in return. 

But you still open your mouth to try to tell him just as much. To ask him to fuck you harder or agree with him, you’re not sure because it dies in your throat.

The words fall to the pit of your stomach as the both of you stop in place as your body feels the soft rumble of something moving outside of the cave. The rustling of trees, rocks, and branches being stepped on. 

“Mills,” you murmur his name. Soft enough for him to hear but apparently too loud for his liking as he shushes you. His hot breath against your ear, his hands maneuvering your legs so they’re underneath him now as he lays on top of you. The massive width of his chest makes you feel engulfed in him. 

His hair against your cheek, his breath held in his lungs just like your own. 

You try to listen. Try to hear anything approaching, growing closer to your indisposed state. The two of you not in a position to move as quickly as you should to protect yourselves. Mills not seeming to be as on edge as you are, the faith he has in himself to grab his gun quickly enough if whatever is outside moves in closer, is almost aggravating. 

Your mouth parts to tell him this, to push him off of you so the both of you won’t die while he’s still hard inside of you. 

But instead of an argument, a gasp falls from your lips as you feel Mills rock his hips against you. The tip of his cock pulled back to your entrance only to be thrust back in slow, and agonizingly sharp all in one quick rock. 

“Mi-” his palm presses against your mouth, silencing you.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your ear. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve been needing this, to fuck you.” His heavy breath and the deep timber of his tone as he tries to keep quiet, as he speaks the words for only you to hear, to know, and to feel, wash over your spine and lay achinly between your thighs where the shallow rock of his hips against your ass has your nailbeds housing rockbed as you try not to become a sobbing mess behind his hand. “You feel s’fucking good.”

And if the two of you were to die like this; with Mills rutting against you, his cock stretching you, his deep breaths and praises against your ear, your slick coating his length as you come, and his come leaking from you—leaving your pussy a warm and sticky mess as he continues to thrust inside of you even after the fact, as if he’s trying to keep all he can inside of you—then so be it. 

You’d die happy.

[foolishlovers]

Hi! I love your recs so much! Thank you for all the work you put into them! I hope it is okay to request my own? I would love to see a list of your favorite humorous explicit fics starring our ineffable idiots. I prefer non AUs, but if you have an absolute masterpiece, I'll take it no matter what!

Only if you want to, of course! Thank you, again!!

hey, that's so sweet, thank you so much!! 💜

of course, here are some of my favourite non AU humorous explicit good omens fics: [you can request more fic recs here.]

i made an excuse (you found another way) by orphan_account (1k) “Angel, the restaurant’s right there.” It was. Crowley gestured to it with a definitive arm wave. The Ritz was at the corner of Piccadilly and Arlington, and they could see the hotel facade as they stepped out of the park. “We can walk there.” “Let’s drive.”

Booty Call by emmagrant01 (2k) “It’s called a ‘butt dial,’ Angel. A ‘booty call’ is something else.”

The Angel Line by FancyTrinkets (2k) The one in which Aziraphale purchases and listens to a pornographic audiobook that just so happens to be narrated by Crowley. Aziraphale cringed and covered his face. This was going to be awful, and also thrilling, and he wasn't sure what he ought to be feeling about it, but there was a definite sense of vicarious shame.

Just a Taste by summerofspock (3k) See, it wasn’t so much the eating. It was the noises. It was the indecent look on Aziraphale’s face. It was the way he licked his fingers and wiggled in his seat. Every little action felt specially created to undo Crowley. And Aziraphale had no idea.

The Rake by CopperBeech (3k) During the long estrangement of the 1800's, Aziraphale practiced a secret hobby – and it wasn’t the gavotte. Crowley finds out in an unexpected way.

For a Good Time, Call by seashadows (3k) Three rings. Four. Seven, and then “Hello?” “Hello, sssssweetheart,” Crowley said. “How would you like my long, slithery tongue up your tight little –“ Then it hit him: he knew that voice. Dear. Fucking. Satan. (Sometime in the depths of the 1990s, Hell tasks Crowley with spreading lust. As usual, he makes as little effort as he can, but gets a heaven of a lot more than he bargained for.)

The One in Which Crowley Discovers Wanking by for_autumn_i_am (5k) It began, like most memorable events in Crowley’s life did, with a bad decision; like most bad decisions, it involved poor impulse control and copious amounts of alcohol. The Antichrist had been born, and he put on lipstick and kitten heels to deal with it, but knew that the clock was ticking, and at times when time was slipping away, it helped to hold onto a bottle of gin.

Fine Dining by iamshame (13k) "There was something else I was going to ask you," Aziraphale continued, unabashed. "Ah… How to put it?" He tapped his hand on his thigh for a moment, and then apparently found inspiration. "Ah! When you're…" Crowley made the mistake of making eye contact with him, and Aziraphale gave him another outrageous wink. "Dining out… What cutlery do you prefer to use?" "I'm sorry?" Crowley said pleasantly, trying his best not to cause anything in the dining room to catch aflame in his frustration. Aziraphale gave him a reproachful stare, as if Crowley were being very stupid. "When you're eating, Crowley. Do you favour the… The knife?" Aziraphale actually glanced conspicuously at his own crotch, and Crowley considered leaving the dining room via the nearest window. "Or the spoon?" Another raised eyebrow. "Or even, let's say, a fork?" "What the fuck is the fork in this situation?" Crowley hissed through gritted teeth. Aziraphale mentions that he'd like to have sex with Crowley. Crowley is completely taken-aback, and very conflicted, and very interested. Aziraphale is also trying to kill him by using elaborate food metaphors to explain the whole subject, which is not helping in the slightest.

Trial & error by fellshish (15k) The Metatron brings in the demon Crowley to stand trial in Heaven. For tempting an angel. Uhhhh. Awkward.

Feast by Ashfae, mostlyjustgoose (15k) Crowley's spent the whole of lockdown asleep. Aziraphale has spent the whole of lockdown baking, cooking, and becoming increasingly frustrated with his solitude. Which eventually leads him to the perfect way to solve all his problems at once… Or, Aziraphale attempts to seduce Crowley with a truly excellent meal, and Crowley is amenable.

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan (17k) "All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval.  "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening." AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

Ideal Partner by summerofspock (17k) “Would you like to explain why you’re watching pornography? In your bookshop? During business hours?” Aziraphale flaps his hand, typically dismissive of any criticisms of his abysmal business practices. “Did you know I’ve been on this earth for nearly 6 millennia and have never engaged in intercourse before?” Crowley grinds his teeth and feels his cheeks heat. What is he supposed to say to that?

Anything for Science by Magnolia822 (20k) Aziraphale decides he wants to make an Effort, so he watches a lot of porn for science. And when he asks for help with more hands-on experimentation, Crowley is only more than happy to oblige.

The Loophole, or, How to Convince a Demon God Exists in Three Easy Steps by fellshish (24k) Ah, yes. Being an Archangel is going splendidly. Aziraphale accidentally erases God from the Book of Life.

32 Questions That Lead To Love by ffonippop (32k)

”First formulated in 1997, [32] questions to fall in love is a study by psychologist Dr. Arthur Aron which took place at Stony Brook University, New York. The aim? Speeding up the creation of intimacy between two strangers.” The Cosmopolitan

Okay, fine.

Crowley was 32-Questions-That-Lead-To-Love-ing Aziraphale. Sue him.

He had no expectations, all right? Just, an innocent curiosity.

The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It by indieninja92 (79k) After the Apocalypse, Aziraphale ventures into a new space in the gay milieu - Grindr. There he starts talking to a charming young man who certainly doesn't bear any resemblance at all to a certain long streak of demon, not one bit, no thank you. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley navigate their friendship after the world failed to end. There is much drinking and silliness, but could it be that there are other feelings lurking underneath?? Of course there are, this is fanfic.

[you can find more fic rec masterposts here]

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 13.

It’s Aftercare Week following the Smut War over on the Reddit @goodomensafterdark subreddit, so in honour of caring for the tired Smutgoblins, please indulge in this little wildest dream Cottagecore fantasy that I have, want, and desire (one of many!)

In the garden of a modest cottage nestled in the South Downs, an angel and a demon are finally enjoying a long overdue picnic.

Aziraphale sits on the large tartan rug spread out under the garden’s apple tree, carefully slicing one of the trees given fruits. Crowley lounges next to him, propped up on his side by an elbow. His dark sunglasses long since discarded, he serenely gazes up at his angel and enjoys the cool breeze coming off the coast.

Aziraphale glances down at Crowley and smiles fondly as he continues to cut.

“You know, I think you’ve outdone yourself with this year’s harvest my dear. I have to say these apples are the best yet”.

“Might have used a bit of a demonic miracle or two.” Crowley grinned and wriggled his fingers.

“Well I’m just relieved you finally stopped yelling at the poor plants.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of forceful encouragement.”

At this Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow, “Yes, except you were scaring the neighbours”.

“Added bonus.”

Aziraphale chuckled and shook his head as he offered a slice of apple. “Honestly, you really must try one.”

Crowley gave a small smile and gently said “They’re for you Angel”.

“Then perhaps, I can at least tempt you into tasting one?” An imperceptible, wicked grin spread across Aziraphale’s face as he leaned in closer to Crowley, holding the apple slice between them. Crowley’s eye widened slightly as he sat up a little straighter. Finally he reached out and held Aziraphale’s wrist, and brought the slice to his mouth. He gently rubbed his thumb along the bottom of Aziraphale’s palm as his bit down into the piece.

Neither broke eye contact as Crowley chewed. The look Aziraphale gave him was a mixture of shock and hunger. Crowley wondered to himself if this was how he always looked when gazing at Aziraphale eating at The Ritz.

Finally Crowley swallowed. Aziraphale eagerly asked what he thought. Crowley snaked forward as his gaze fell to Aziraphale’s neck. “I’ve had…better”, he murmured as he pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s Adams Apple.

Aziraphale’s eyes fell shut as he let the moment take him. A small note of anxiety crossed his face a moment later. “Crowley. Wait. We’re outside. Someone might see.”

“Can’t. Scared them all away remember”, Crowley murmured into Aziraphale’s neck, as he continued to pepper kisses up and down his throat.

“I didn’t mean the neighbours”. Aziraphale drew back slightly and pointed upwards. Crowley rolled his eyes grumbling, “Well they shouldn’t be looking then, the filthy perves!”

“Please Crowley” Aziraphale’s puppy dog eyes are what does it. Crowley sighs heavily then snaps his fingers. Suddenly the surrounding trees begin to grow, branches reaching out above them, and soon their picnic spot is covered by a large, thick, canopy of leaves.

“Better?” Crowley once again reduces the distance between him and his angel.

“Much better dear.” Aziraphale’s hand drifts up to Crowley’s face, lightly brushing his cheek.

“Good. Now, where did I put that Apple? Ah! Here it is.” Crowley’s lips are back on Aziraphale’s neck. They fall back onto the blanket, neither caring about what actually happened to the rest of the apple.

Wow, I didn’t mean to make this one so long, but once I started I couldn’t seem to stop. Hope you enjoyed the erotic garden interlude.

[burninlovebutler]

Just an Intern // Part 2

pairing: austin x fem!reader - word count: 8k-ish

warnings: SMUTSMUT, moody arrogant asshole!austin, ANGST, hand job, fingering, use of a faucet, multiple o's, overstimulation, mild SA (groping), name calling, masturbation, arguments, physical altercation (not with y/n), alcohol, getting caught, blowjob, 69, p in v (unprotected), inaccurate descriptions of a movie set, 18+ ONLY. MDNI

PART 1 | PART 3 | see my masterlist for all other fics ♡

summary: When your one-off fling returns to the set of Bikeriders after a hiatus, you're overwhelmed with need to make him notice you again. Due to an unforeseen snow storm, you and your crew are snowed in at the nearest ski resort with… limited vacancies.

Special thanks to: @cryingabtab & @lindszeppelin for helping revise this ♡

I miss the way you say my name The way you bend, the way you break Your makeup running down your face The way you fuck, the way you taste When the curtains call the time Will we both go home alive?

After the… incident, you held your pride and decided (stupidly) to not tell Austin how much money his little act had cost you in shattered makeup. However, this only resulted in him sneak in a whopping $500 into your makeup kit. But of course, you were a glutton for defiance so, when he was on set, you’d slip the bills back into his wallet. That game went back and forth for a couple rounds, but you never spoke about it, all silent. Finally, you gave in one day when you found the money in your own wallet after your busted VW Bug had given you trouble that morning.

It went like that between you two pretty much the entire time he was still on set – quiet, weird, and awkward. You fully expected him to go back to the same asshole behavior, but he didn’t, practically pretending you didn’t exist. The ‘Intern’ nickname never retiring though it was seldom used. You were invisible to him, which at first at least, was comforting.

On a crisp fall Wednesday morning you were pleasantly surprised to find the man you had this strange dynamic with, left to shoot another movie, leaving you back with the cast you were familiar with.

That night which just so happened to be the Saturday of Halloween weekend, you were invited to some big Hollywood rooftop party. You went as Harley Quinn since it was last minute and it was the only Halloween costume you had since 2017. Not surprisingly you found a Joker that was fairly attractive and ended up hooking up in the bathroom. As the spray painted green-haired influencer slid in and out of you, you couldn’t help but think about Austin. The way he fucked you against the door, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, even his moans filled your head.

As much as you wanted to ignore it, the thought of him was the cause of many sleepless nights. Many nights you couldn’t sleep until you’d fucked yourself dizzy with the thought of him. After Halloween, you’d spent the next month trying to fuck anything even remotely attractive trying to replicate the feeling Austin haunted you with. Yet you fell short in your fruitless efforts. Every Tinder date was just another pump and dump or two second loser or worst of all - those cringey wannabe ‘daddy doms’.

It drove you INSANE, how could this asshole had wormed his way into your brain. The same one who called you all sorts of names, threatened your job and humiliated you in front of the whole cast.

In the time he was gone you’d been promoted head makeup artist since Carol had for some ominous reason been fired. It gave you a sort of pride knowing that upon Austin’s inevitable return, you wouldn’t be just an ‘intern’ anymore.

-

On a particularly cold morning you sleepily opened your trailer door to find a familiar face sitting in your seat – Austin. Your stomach flipped and you hated it, goddamnit you hated it. Why did your body throw butterflies like grenades into your tummy at the sight of him?

“Long time no see Intern.” He stated without even looking up from his phone.

“Morning Actor.” Your tone came out more displeased than intended, his attitude and the nickname reminded you of exactly why you despised him in the first place. You opened your kit and started picking out products, to coordinate for his character.

“You know the scene this time?” He asked finally bringing his attention to you.

His question confused you, ‘this time?’ what the fuck did that mean – until you remembered that was the first thing he asked you that first day in the trailer. Your standards showed just how low they were when you found yourself finding it endearing that he remembered such a small detail.

“I do.” You replied beginning to place product on his face, “Do you know what scene this time?” Flipping the memory back on him. He just grumbled a yes.

The feeling of seeing him again felt familiar to the feeling of when you miss your family and then once you’re around them for about 10 minutes you’re reminded of just why you left home in the first place. Except it only took 10 seconds with Austin. Your stupid masochistic brain kept urging you to ask questions-

‘where’ve you been?’

‘what’ve you been filming?’

‘are you excited about this next scene?’

‘are you happy to be back?’

And the worst of all, ‘did you miss me?’

But why would you even care to ask that? You knew the answer and you didn’t miss him.

Right?

Why would you miss this asshole?

Lost in your thoughts, there was no conversation, no interaction. Just stale awkward silence that made your heart pound in your head and your hands tremble.

-

The weather was a stark contrast to the last time he’d been on set at the last location. It was November but there hadn’t yet been snowfall. Your services were called for 45 minutes in and you went to Tom Hardy first – not only did you want to avoid Austin but you and Tom had grown a much closer friendship.

“Hey Pup! You’re just who I needed to see this morning.” He smiled warmly. Immediately you felt a glare fall on you both.

You chuckled and began touching up his makeup, “Oh yeah and why’s that?”

“Well, you always cheer up my mornings! But I also wanted to ask you a question?” He tried his best to stay still while you worked on him. You nodded indicated for him to continue. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You almost choked on your own spit, that was the last thing you thought to come out of his mouth. Though you knew it wasn’t about him since he was married, and he treated you like a father. You felt the stare from before boring into you more. You cleared your throat, “Um, no. I’m not currently seeing anyone. Why?”

“Oh well I just wanted to make sure because I saw you with that guy from the Halloween party-“

You cut him off immediately, “Yes and? Why?” The stare from Austin intensified even more, you swore it could burn right through you.

“Oh well,” He laughed, “One of the crew guys wanted me to ask you. I’m not allowed to say who though.” He added emphasis on ‘say’ followed by his eyes moving over to one of the black haired tattooed stagehands.

 Landon

The hot, toned sound tech had been making advances at you since Austin left. He had taken over Austin’s role as your tormentor, though he wasn’t as bad or fun. You wanted to roll your eyes and dismiss the comment, but what fun would that be? Tom had just given you some bullets for your gun.

You turned slightly to see him across set and give him a little wave when he notices you. “Hm… that’s interesting.” You hummed then gave a shrug, “He is pretty cute.”

Landon was quite different than Austin – dark hair, muscular, tattoos, angular face, even taller than him. It was no secret that Landon had a thing for you, he made it quite obvious with various offhand comments and failed date requests. While his attempts sometimes overstepped, they were mostly innocent, but there was something about him that made you feel uneasy – or maybe it was because you constantly compared him to Austin.

You didn’t want to move on to the infuriating actor, especially since the comment about Landon but you needed to. You began adding some powder to his face.

“Halloween party huh?” He questioned without missing a beat.

“I went to a Halloween party, yes.” You replied in a harsher tone, “Not that that’s any of your business.” When you stepped backwards to check your work you notice that his lips are chapped; probably from the cold. You took out a brand new chapstick and gently tapping it on his plump lips. The full pinkness of them reminded you of how they felt on your neck last time and the stir in your core confirmed it.

-

This set wasn’t much different from the last, a Western looking town that was supposed to be a different area in the movie. Wooden buildings lined a strip littered with faux shops and stores, some used for different inside scenes. And of course, motorcycles all over.

After the interaction over Landon that morning, things had been unusually calm from Austin. So unusual in fact that he was barely acknowledging you. But that’s what you wanted wasn’t it? To not bother you? But it felt more like a frustrating punishment than anything. You wanted to get his attention but wasn’t sure how, it was freezing cold and you couldn’t use your short dresses anymore.

There was something you could use – Landon.

Austin’s demeanor had changed after the mention of him and had shot lasers into you when you spoke about him – so perhaps provoking the lion may be exactly what you needed to regain his attention.

Predictably, Landon lingered near you when you worked near set trying to map out certain looks and glanced over at Austin to see if you were in his eyeline. Once you guaranteed his focus, his eyes briefly meeting yours, you called over Landon.

“Hey,” You smiled flirtatiously, “You think I could get your opinion on this?”

His ego visibly boosted, “Yeah sure. Oh yeah-“ He lifted a box full of candy canes, “You want one? We accidently ordered a million for Christmas.”

The corners of your mouth immediately curled up, candy canes.

Your banana stunt had shaken Austin so much last time – this would be so much better. You could properly show him how much you had thought about his cock in your mouth.

“Oh absolutely.” You smirked, plucking a cane-shaped candy. Once again you felt eyes tracking you, it was almost like you could hear him saying ‘don’t you fucking dare’.

You peeled the plastic off the bottom end, wrapped your lips around the middle and dragged your lips down the sugary treat.

You over animated your flirtatious gestures with Landon, pausing with the candy in your mouth and cheeks hollowed. You took it up a notch by getting touchy with him, landing a hand on his arms and giving the obligatory fake playful laugh. Landon was eating it up, you almost felt bad that you were leading him on.

Only half way through your snack you were called for a touch up. When you finally got to Austin, lithe legs propped at each side of his bike. The reminder of you straddling his bike last time stirred the exact feeling as when you left your wetness on his seat last time. His makeup is visibly messed up, like he purposely smeared his fingers through his foundation. “What the fuck did you do?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“I didn’t do anything.” He replied blandly, his tone filtered behind some wall, “Can you just fix it?”

Your eyes rolled involuntarily, “Yeah.”

Midway through your application you noticed his jaw clench before speaking again, “I know what you’re doing.” Grumbling, his eyes struggling to not focus on your mouth holding the cane while you worked.

You slid it past your freshly glossed lips, “’I didn’t do anything.’” You mimicked him from just earlier.

His gaze darkened now not even hiding it’s focus on your mouth, “You have to stop that.” He looked you dead in the eyes that time.

You got exactly what you wanted. His attention. Power.

He eyed you like prey, indigo eyes locked back on your lips that housed the candy. You could tell he wanted to play, he wanted to invest in your little game but the playfulness in his blues was vacant. “Cut it out.” He repeated lowly and through gritted teeth so no one would hear.

You smirked like a brat as you leaned down to his eye-line, “Or what?” Your cheeks hallowed as you slowly sunk the cane back into your mouth, how far could you really tease him? You wanted to see what he’d do about it.

In a swift motion he snatched the candy cane from your lips bringing it between his molars and roughly snapping it in half with a crunch. “Don’t you fucking listen? I told you to cut it out.” Nearly growling and shoved the now broken candy into your hand. Your cheeks blushed at the feeling of the surrounding crew catching the incident and you caught him looking embarrassed, as if he had just made a scene at dinner.

Directors called to shoot again, and you noticed his readjustment when you left.

Your little stunt worked, all throughout the scenes he watched you like a hawk. You made sure to take your time withering down the rest of the sugary stick, making sure he knew just how slow. After a while it became a game, the more you distracted him the more times they yelled cut. The more times you got to see him hide his physical reaction to you. You could see the annoyance building in him. Deep down you were almost scared at how he’d react once you had to interact again. But you definitely wanted to find out.

And when they called for a 30 the fear settled in the pit of your stomach when he stomped over you at your section. Before you had a chance to even respond, he discreetly gripped your wrist, hiding it from the dissipating crew from set. Leaning closer into you he muttered, “When everyone files out, you’re coming with me.”

You pointlessly tried to wriggle from his tight grip, “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you.”

His hold only tightened around you, “You’re a fucking shitty liar.” Once he confirmed everyone had left, he hauled you into one of the functioning sets, a dark wooden saloon. He locked the door behind you both and closed the blinds behind each window.

As he was walking towards you with eyes as dark as a demon, you questioned why you antagonized the hungry tiger in the first place. You walked backwards from him, stumbling over some chairs.

“This is a little uncalled for don’t ya think? I was just eating some candy…” You began to ration, the terror filling your tummy. Though you were scared you were also full to the brim with excitement, like a cat and mouse game. He stalked you to behind the bar, the area was littered with prop alcohol bottles and glasses. He backed you in front of the sink, his hands firm on your hips, “You know exactly what you were doing Intern.” He lowered just below your ear and lead your hand to his hard cock staining his jeans, “Is that what you wanted?”

“I-“ Immediately melting under his lips that met your neck and you decided to be honest, “Yeah – it’s exactly what I wanted.”

He pressed into you when you began palming him over his jeans, “I’m not even here 24 hours and you’re already asking for my cock? You must’ve really missed me.” Arrogance returning to his demeanor.

You weren’t really sure how to answer that question, it wasn’t so much that you missed him – you missed the buzz that laid claim to your entire body when he touched you.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” In one fail swoop he lifted you onto the sink, your body balanced on the divide of the cold metal basin. Just as quick, he had somehow managed to unzip and pull the pants right off your body. While he was trying to keep any composure, you could tell he was insatiable, his hands all over you, his lips all over your neck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I didn’t fucking miss you.” Attempting to speak over the heaving of your chest, “Feels a lot like you missed me though.”

“Why would I ignore such an annoying pest as you?” His words didn’t match his intensified actions. His hand trailed up your thighs, spreading your legs apart. A middle finger slowly and meticulously traced up your wet slit, “Now your cunt? That’s something I might’ve missed.” And easily slipped two fingers into your soaked core and his thumb following suit, landing on your pulsing clit.

After a sharp gasp you managed to rebuttal, “Good- glad we’re on the same page.”

“Good.” He groaned when your hand unzipped his dark jeans and wrapped your hand around his bare member still in his boxers.

“Fuck,” You breathed out and lulled your head back when his thumb circled your clit, “Fuck that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his assault on your neck for just a second, “Your hand feels so fucking good around me.”

“Fuck Austin,” You moaned but soon realized your misstep and you hoped he missed it but the curl of his lips on your neck proved otherwise.

“So you do know my name.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up and fuck me?” The words shot out of your mouth out of sheer desperation and annoyance.

“Oh, nu uh darlin’, you think you’re gonna get away with what you did?” His hand slipped from you, causing a whine from the loss of pleasure.

He analyzed around the sink like he was searching for something then found exactly his target. He pulled down the retractable faucet head.

No- he wouldn’t, would he?

His hands pushed up your flowy long sleeve shirt to your waist to reduce the evidence then reached behind you to the faucet handle. In a flash the jet stream of first cold then slightly warm water hit your throbbing bundle. You immediately let out moan you didn’t intend to be as loud.

“What’s wrong baby? Is it a bit too strong?”

Baby

You were too focused on not climaxing so early to even process how much worse that nickname was than your own slip up. Even worse, the name only turned you on more. You helplessly nodded, completely void of words.

Your own descent didn’t halt your work on his throbbing cock, from the sticky precum seeping from his tip you could tell he was close too. Somewhere in your bliss filled brain, the game still waged on and you got an idea you needed to see through.

“Aw darlin’” He growled though you hear him struggling too, his cock twitching in your hand, “You gonna cum already?”

You contemplated denying it but your defenses were completely down full of need, “Yes- Please, please let me cum.”

“I don’t think so, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” Letting out small groans as your hand sped up on his girth. He retaliated by using his free hand to push the nozzle to the highest pressure.

A loud sob fell from your lips and every cell in your body screamed for release, your legs were trembling, your hand gripped on his forearm and your body vibrating from how viciously your orgasm threatened to take over. “Please sir, please let me cum, I need to cum please please.” You desperately begged.

He let out a deep grunt into your shoulder, “Fuck- good girl, cum for me.”

Full blinding euphoria washed over you, loud moans ripped from your throat unable to control the volume. It was clear he didn’t expect your reaction from the groans that filled your own ears. His teeth dug into the small of your neck and his free hand digging nto your thigh harshly when you felt his own orgasm covering your hand in thick ribbons of cum and coating the inside of his boxers. His hand never left the faucet head on you through his climax. Your orgasm continued to roll through you, the feeling of his cum on your hand only heightened your pleasure.

Once he started to come down you knew your plot to make him finish in his pants had consequences. He ripped your hand from his girth. “Look what you’ve done.” His tone so fucking angry.

“I’m-I’m sor-“ He brought your cum covered hand to your face, smeared it across your entire makeup covered face. His seed coated your cheeks, mouth and nose.

“That’s what teasing fucking whores get.” He taunted below your ear, “I’ll give you exactly what you wanted.” He returned the jet stream back onto your sensitive clit. You whined and tried to scoot away but his strong hand kept your hips in place, “You’re gonna take this like the little slut you are.”

The water was overriding every nerve ending the stimulation was almost painful. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t do this.” You wiggled beneath his hold. “It’s too much Austin, please.” Tears starting to well in your eyes.

“I know baby, I know.” He swirled the water around your sensitivity, “Just trust me, it’ll feel good. I promise.” He whispered and something about how his voice had softened made you believe him. It must’ve been quite obvious that you’d never been overstimulated like that before.

“Okay- Fuck.” You struggled beneath him, wondering when exactly it would start to feel good. Then suddenly breaking through the discomfort was a pleasure so strong, one you’d never felt before. This orgasm made the first one seem tame. Not a sound came from you as the ecstasy tore though you.

After it past the faucet was still on you but you were past any hope of another orgasm and it was even more painful than before. Your reflex pushed the steam from your center and back into the sink. Your heavy breathing in sync with each other, neither one daring to move or speak.

You expected him to warn you that you’d pay for making him finish in his pants, he just zipped back up. The air in the room had changed and was nothing like last time. He went to walk away from you but came back and pressed a finger into your sternum, his brows low and anger swirling in his face. “This isn’t fucking happening again. Got it?”

-

His words rang in your head the rest of the day. Every touch up after was silent, uncomfortable – so much so even Tom noticed the odd energy, making sure to move away from Austin whenever you had to work on him. He tried to ask you about it but you shut him down any inquiry.

Just before the sun fully disappeared behind mountains, flurries of snow began coating the set and everything in its wake. It fell and piled up in record speed.

The entire cast and crew were huddled into each trailer when a director came to the door with a sullen and irritated face. “They closed the roads.”

A roar of chatter filled the room with the realization that you all were stuck there. How nobody on crew thought to look at the fucking weather forecast you had no fucking clue.

“I know, I know.” He sighed, “Good news is the ski resort up the mountain agreed to take us, and we got a green light to pass if we leave now.”

Your coworkers began to filter out leaving you with the settling realization that your tiny beater Volkswagen wouldn’t make it up the mountain none the less in deep snow.

“Fuck.” You breathed out running after your director and grabbed his arm, “Can I carpool with you guys? My car’s not gonna make it up there.”

“I think my car’s already full but…” His eyes scanned across the emptying set, landing on an option. “Austin could probably take you.” He pointed at him only a couple feet away from you.

Of fucking course.

The displeasure clearly washed over his face from being elected for something he didn’t offer to do.

“Sure.” His tone poorly hidden behind a gripe. “C’mon we don’t have all day.”

The trek to his car was just as uncomfortable as you expected, you wanted to apologize for bothering him but he didn’t deserve it. Once in the car his demeanor was unnecessarily aggressive – his hands gripping the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, every action sharp. You would’ve thought you had done something horrendous to him. But all you did was exist.

“Well I-“ You began before he cut you off.

“I don’t want to fucking talk.” Halting any interaction.

“Fine.” You muttered, slumping down into the passenger seat trying to stay warm. His car was freezing, you had no idea how he wasn’t dying from the cold. He glanced over to you when your teeth started chattering and finally turned on the heat. When your chattering didn’t subside you felt his gaze land on you once more, yet you kept your eyes off him. Then out of the corner of your eye, you caught him ever so discreetly twist the knob for the seat heaters.

“Thank you.” You begrudgingly commented but he tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he navigated through the snow and into the resort parking lot. It felt like he hadn’t even parked before jumping out of the car and slamming the door.

The twist in your stomach from his actions feigned sadness, but you were just offended right?

You caught up to him just in time to hear the words that made Austin immediately even angrier than before.

“I’m sorry, but unfortunately it looks like we only have one room left.” The clerk said sounding intimidated by his expression.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath assessing your options. But the roads were blocked and there was nowhere else to go, you were stuck.

“Please tell me there’s at least two beds.” You sighed, terrified of the answer.

She gave a hesitant face, “I’m so sorry but it is not. It is one of our studio rooms.”

Great, so it was tiny too.

“Wonderful.” He snatched his room key and headed quickly to the elevator.

“Thank you.” You said apologetically and gently took your key, jogging to catch him.

The resort resembled a log cabin, red buffalo print accents everywhere, a stone fireplace, and moose heads mounted to the walls.

“Listen I’m not fucking happy about this either.” You state firmly, “But you don’t have to be a dickhead about it.”

He ignored you when he pressed the elevator button and continued the entire way up and even to your room door. He dropped his go bag on a leather ottoman, grabbing some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Probably to finally wash off the accident you caused earlier.

You dropped your own go bag on the bed and fell on it, absolutely exhausted and confused. What the fuck had your life become? Having quickie with an actor one set and now stuck in a room with him? An actor that hates you?

You must’ve fallen asleep because the bustle of Austin freshly showered and in dark slacks and a button down.

“Where are you going?” You asked rubbing the nap from your eye.

“Bar.” He replied plainly and left the room.

Fuck.

You weren’t just gonna sit there like a lame ass waiting for him to get back. Then you remembered your secret weapon – Landon.

After whatever the fuck Austin put you through, anything Landon did wouldn’t be as bad.

Once freshened up and wearing a convenient slinky dress you had snatched from your go bag, you found the resort bar and spotted your resident tormentor talking to some tiny blonde extra. The odd twist in your stomach from earlier returned but you played it off as disgust.

“A lemon drop martini please.” You ordered just beside Landon who looked much better outside of work. A maroon button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off his traditional style tattoos.

“Well, hello there,” He grinned, popping deep dimples into his cheeks. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

While the mission drove you to him, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he could take your mind off of Austin.

“Well, I’m here.” You smiled up at him as you took a sip of your drink.

Soon it became evident that he was several drinks in, his words slurring, his imbalanced stance. It became incredibly obvious when his arm wrapped around your waist and landing on your hip. His unwarranted touch crept a alarming discomfort in your body, instantly tensing up under his hand.

Nervously giggling you slowly pulled from his grasp, “You’re so funny.”

His hold on you only constricted and his hand lowered to your ass.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t-“ Making another attempt at escaping.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” He mumbled into your ear, “I’ve heard the rumors about you.”

It was when his lips met your neck that the fear fully kicked in fueling your strength to yank from him, “Please don’t fucking touch me.”

All eyes in the bar were on you two, including the asshole that was the cause of whatever rumors Landon mentioned. The darkhaired drunk was clearly pissed at your reaction and stole you back into his abrasive hands.

“Don’t act all innocent now, I know how big of a slut you are.” He muttered but stumbled back when a massive hand landed on his chest.

“Leave her the fuck alone.” A familiar voice warned. Your eyes trailed up his stern arm and up to his twisted face, vicious eyes burning into Landon.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Don’t like to share your whore?” The stagehand retorted.

Austin’s fist twisted into Landon’s shirt shoving him back, “Don’t fucking say shit like that.” He growled through clenched teeth. The sight of his protectiveness sent butterflies down to your stomach.

“C’mon man, you know she’s nobody, she’s just a fucking intern, she’s nothing.”

In a flash before you could even process, a heavy fist landed into his drunken smirk.

Landon’s hand instantly covered his now bleeding nose, “Dude what the fuck!”

“Don’t fucking do that again.” He snarled, “And don’t fucking call her that.” Pushing him back before storming away. Something about him defending you only swirled warmth in your hips. He just punched someone for you.

“Fuck you.” You spat, taking the rest of his beer along with your drink and poured them all over him.

And again, you were chasing after a fuming Austin. “Hey!” You called after him grasping his forearm. “What the fuck was that about? Why would you do that?”

“Oh I don’t fucking know, (Y/N) maybe because he was assaulting you?” Slapping your arm off him then continuing his pursuit back up your room.

“Right, but you fucking hate me.” You stated the obvious as he walked away from you again and into the elevator. “Can you fucking stop being a child and talk to me?” You pressed once the elevator doors closed behind you.

“I save you and you call me a child?” He scoffed, “You should be thanking me.”

The moment those lift doors opened his stomps quickly crossed down the long wooden hallway.

“I mean- yeah but like…” Your chest heavy from all the fast walking. Slipping through the crack of the door before he could lock you out.

“I am grateful for what you did-“ You attempted to mask your heavy breathing, “I’m just confused about why you did it.”

He didn’t need to turn around for you to know he was rolling his eyes. “I’m not fucking heartless Int- y/n.” He skirted around ‘intern’ completely hypocritical to how he normally addresses you.

“You know my name.” Stepping towards him and pointing out the elephant in the room.

He took a deep sigh, “Yes I know your name. I also know you’re not an ‘Intern’ anymore.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re still an intern to me.”

“So, you can call me that but Landon can’t? What the fuck is that about?”

He groaned exasperated, running a hand through his thick golden hair, “I don’t fucking know (y/n), okay? That’s my nickname for you, I started it.”

“So you’re the only one allowed to call me that?” Scoffing at his words.

His expression intensified on you, taking a step forward, “I don’t fucking like you Intern.” Pressing an index into your sternum, “I am so fucking sick of your bullshit.”

“Bullshit? What bullshit? Just me existing? And doing my job?” You snapped back, halting slightly when the wall behind you met your backside. Furious hot blood ran through your veins but also down into your core and between your legs. Just the sight of him enraged turned you on, especially when he had taken it out on someone for you – especially when you were the cause of it.

“You know what you do and i’m sick of it. I told you last time to cut that shit out.” His cobalt eyes boring into your own.

In a strong tide of brat ebbed into you, “Or what? Whatcha gonna do about it huh?”

The swirling conflict in his face revealed his own restraint from you, you were driving him mad too. He huffed and pushed himself off the wall, bringing a hand to his forehead, “You’re fucking impossible.” Circling back to you, “Has anyone ever fucking told you that you’re insufferable?”

His words only igniting the steam seeping from your ears. Insufferable? Who fucking calls someone insufferable?

Your fingers curled into tight fists and eyebrows scrunched, “Me? Me insufferable?” Pushing yourself off the wall, pointing your index at him, “Have you fucking met yourself? If either of us are insufferable, its fucking you,” Jabbing into his chest, keeping eyes locked on his, “You’re so fucking unbearable. You make my job fucking miserable and I fucking hate you.” The words poured out of you through vicious emotion.

There was a shift in Austin’s face, you couldn’t tell if it was more anger or something else entirely. “Yeah, well if I’m so fucking intolerable, I’ll find somewhere else to fucking sleep.” Austin made a sharp turn towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going to sleep? There’s no rooms left.” You called from the other side of the hotelroom.

Austin halted and you thought he’d made a connection at the obvious, that there was nowhere else to sleep but his hand stilled on the doorhandle. He just barely turned his face to the side speaking over his shoulder, “I’d rather sleep on a bench or in my fucking car before I ever share a bed with you.” Slamming the heavy door behind him.

His words stung the same way the ones on set did – ‘this isn’t fucking happening again’ – it was kinda the same sentiment, wasn’t it? He didn’t want anything to do with you. Maybe you were the pest after all.

The somber energy was quickly replaced with molten hot lava still steaming through your veins. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding and rested against the wall. Suddenly the memory of him pressing you against the wall in fury just minutes ago, which then led to reminiscing over that day in the trailer… him chaining you to the door. Overwhelming anger and testosterone lingered in the air and it sent butterflies swarming in your core. As much as you knew you should be pissed about how he just acted it didn’t stop the pooling between your legs.

You took in the situation, you were alone. Austin left and you now had a room all to yourself. Your eyes landed on the small bed, your steps toward it like tiptoeing in a house at night, like you were trying to hide from yourself. The internalized shame only fueled the rampant thumping in your pussy, your fingers hooked into the band of your panties and pulled them down before crawling on the pre-made bed. Timid fingers slithered down your torso towards your open legs, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. Your chest was rising and falling, and a concrete pit fell to your tummy. When your middle and ring finger landed where the pulsing demanded attention you couldn’t help a tiny moan out.

Circles swirled on your swollen clit, “Fuck.” You breathed out lulling your head back and closed your eyes. The gentle rotation sent shock waves through your body and urged it to speed up, but you wanted this to last. You wanted to savor it.

Your digits were good, but Austin’s were better and the thought of him was definitely not helping your slow-and-steady goal. The glaring sound of your heart racing filled your ears, and the pleasure caused your entire body to respond, your back arching in time with your fingers. Without any restraint, “Fuck Austin.” You moaned.

“Ahem.” A much too familiar voice shocked you from your trance, eyes shooting wide open, and legs tightly clamped around your hand.

A bright rouge emerged on your embarrassed cheeks, “What the fuck are you doing here, I thought you left!”

“I left my bag, but I don’t think that’s the important question right now.” He stated casually but you observed how his eyes trailed down your body.

“Can you just please get the fuck out?” Fluster clear in your tone, tilting your body from him.

“Hm,” He ignored the question then his eyes finally landing on your flushed face, “Is this because of me?”

“W-What?” Caught off guard but hastily shook your head, “Just get the fuck out please.”

“No, No answer the question.” He stepped next to the bed, hips level with your rested head.

“I um-“ You raked through possible excuses, “No, of course not.”

“Hm,” He hummed again, a gently touch starting to draw up your leg, “So you weren’t thinking about that faucet on your cunt?” His wandering hand stopped at your hip.

“Nope,” You replied confidently, attempting to tame your body’s natural response to his touch.

An index traced up your bent leg, “Is it because of me?” He repeated.

“Is what because of you?”

Effortlessly, he pried your legs apart, “That. Are you touching yourself because of me?” Before you could even answer his knuckle slid down your inner thigh, his digits landing on your own. “If I caused it, I should fix it.” He gently pressed on your fingers signaling to let him take over. “Just like…” His free hand drawing yours to the bulge in his pants. “You caused this. So you’re gonna fix it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice to pull him out of his pants and start stroking his veiny length that your hand could barely fit around. He immediately snatched your wrist, “Not like that. Your mouth.”

You hesitantly looked up at him, he was so big there was no way you’d be able to take him. Though, when his fingers started moving you knew you didn’t want to stop. With a slight readjustment, you softly twirled your tongue around his head, triggering a deep rumble from his chest. “Yeah, just like that.” His free hand found your hair and tangled his fingers into it, curling at the roots with a tug.

You used your closest hand to wrap around the rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth beginning to pump at the base while you gained a rhythm bobbing your head on his shaft. The way his body responded to you – his cock twitching on your tongue, deep guttural groans and his hips shoving himself further down your throat – sent flurries of buzzing pleasure to your swelling bud. He was responding like that because of you, you made him unravel. The reminder of his status rang in your head – you had the oh so sought-after Oscar-winning actor balls deep in your throat. It was quite an ego boost. You kept your gaze on him, watching his face contort with pleasure. His hand slid down the side of your face when he looked down at you, his palm finding your cheek. “You look so fucking pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Pretty

What a soft name to use in such a sexual act. If it was one thing you knew about ‘Austin Butler’ was that he was anything but soft.

You hummed around him, your lips bet the edge of your fist with every repetition. His cock thickened and swole to be a rock-hard throbbing mess, with the taste of his pre-cum you sensed he was close. Pulling off with a pop, you looked up with big puppy-dog eyes, “Wanna cum on my face?”

He shook his head, “No darlin I’m just gettin’ started.” The hand was once in your hair, now ran up your side trailing goosebumps behind. “Hold steady will ya?” You had no idea what that meant especially when he escaped from your grasp. He swiftly dropped his jeans, stepping out of them then climbed onto the bed, anchoring a knee at each side of your head. He tapped his wet cock on your lips, “Open up.”

Your eyes widened but obliged, opening up for him and taking him even deeper than before down your throat. He leaned froward at an angle starting to thrust into your mouth, gaining a deep grunt from him. While he kept fucking your mouth, a hand trailed down your abdomen ending at your thighs and promptly spread them. Your pussy was practically vibrating at the realization of what he was doing, bending down fully and flattening his tongue against your clit. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny squeak.

Immediately your hips rolled up against his tongue desperate for more. His tongue felt so fucking good, sending scorching shivers across your skin. The pleasure began to compound into your clit and the knot in your tummy told you that you wouldn’t last as long either. You let out a groan around his girth as the tingling in your center grew and you knew you had to do something in order to not fold so quickly.

Using all your strength and taking advantage of his lowered guard, you practically threw you both into a roll, landing you on top. He took no time in adjusting to the new position, in fact the twitching of his cock in your mouth told you it only turned him on more. The change of events gave you a new sense of confidence, slowly pulling off his length, keeping your tongue on him til you came off with a pop. He responded with a vibrating moan on your pussy, eating you more voraciously. You rutted your hips on his face, his hands caressed up your thighs and molded to your hips carefully. But you wanted more, so you gently guided up his hands guiding up your torso to your breasts. His hands instantly began massaging your mounds and playing with your nipples over your dress. “Fuck.” You breathed out, taking in the little bit of control you’d gained.

Without warning, from one particularly delicious round of his tongue on your clit, your orgasm washed over you almost violently. You should’ve been embarrassed at how loud you were being, seeing as your room was next to the others but in that moment you couldn’t care. How could you when your mind was blinking flashes of white as your orgasm ripped through you.

You needed him and you needed him now. In a feral jolt you attempted to get off his face, the sensation getting too much. He instantly gripped your hips, digging his nails into them holding them in place just above his lips. “Remember what I told you earlier, it’ll feel good. I promise.” His voice so rich and dripping in dark desire. Then he did something you didn’t expect, he blew a stream of air directly on your throbbing nub, sending chills and goose bumps to erupt across your skin. You were so sensitive that just the blow of air sent you into another frenzied orgasm. Your juices were dripping down your thighs and onto him and you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him.

Mid-orgasm you somehow managed to rip from his grip, flip over and slide yourself on his still erect member. The sudden contact gained you a loud groan and his long digits back curled around your hips, a feeling you were beginning to crave. He looked at you with dark navy eyes full of utter loathing, the look alone was driving you crazy. How could someone looking at you with such hate turn you on so much?

Your eyes rolled back once the head of his cock was planted in the deepest part of your core and you began to roll your hips keeping him in place. Your own hatred for him fueled your actions, faster, harder, angrier. Now that you had a full view of him, every single little off-hand comment or insult pushed you to ruin him.

His hands drew up your waist, then your chest, seemingly taking in every inch of you, then grasped you by your midsection pulling you down to face him. A split second passed as he studied your face, then most unexpectedly, using his hands to pull you into a kiss. It was a jarring shock at first, especially since you were mentally preparing his demise just seconds ago, but you easily melted into it. His tongue slid across your bottom lip begging for entrance and you obliged.

The tip of his tongue hesitantly met yours before dancing against it ravenously. From what little you knew about this man, you at least knew that hesitation was not in his arsenal of abilities. Out of everything, why the fuck would he hesitate over a measly kiss?

He trailed down your body, again giving each part of you attention before landing on your hips once more. This time his grip was tight than ever, and it was clear as to why when he kept you in place when he started to thrust into you from below. The position allowed his dick to reach greater depths within you. In one sharp ram into your core, you both let out moans into each other’s mouths. Your fingers found his hair and intertwined in it, his pumps and your tongues at work never halting.

The sound of your bodies colliding against each other filled the room and his pumps became quick and erratic. You could tell he was close, so you decided to help him a little extra by clenching your walls around him each time his cock filled you fully. Shortly after your extra aid he spilled a thick river of cum deep inside you, his entire body tensing beneath you. Since his movements halted from his orgasm you took over, bouncing on his member to ride out his high.

You finally pulled from his plump lips and he let out a tiny whine as if he didn’t want to let you go. Once you felt him begin to soften inside you, you pulled off and fell next to him. Your chests rose and fell in time with each other, equally coated in sweat. A silence fell over the room as the realization of the event started to settle in, suddenly the giant elephant entered the room again. Your eyes locked onto the dark wooden ceiling, words couldn’t seem to form in your fucked-out mind.

Out of your peripheral you caught him close his eyes and take a deep breath. He spoke nothing and peeled himself from the plush duvet, taking a moment to sit on the edge in thought then crossing the room, disappearing into the bathroom then reappearing with a towel.

“Here.” He said simply offering the white cloth, even the tiny peace offering held distain.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, snatching the towel and started to clean yourself up. “So um are you-“ He stopped you before you began.

“I’m staying.” He never even so much as looked at you and just went through his leather go-bag, pulling out what looked like pajama pants.

“But why you said-“ You began to protest but was once again cut off.

“I didn’t find another place to sleep.” His voice so emotionless and deadpan. “So, I’m stuck here with you.”

You scoffed, “Because that would be so fucking bad?” Pulling yourself up on your elbows to look over at him.

His turned and eyes locked onto you like a target, eyes void of any feeling that wasn’t abhorrence. “Yes. It is. Because I’ve truly never met somebody that I hate more than you. Being trapped in the pits of hell sounds more pleasant than spending the night here with you. So, just stay on your side of the bed and I’ll stay on mine.”

A burning flared across your body in anger and roaring even fiercer in your chest with a feeling you couldn’t place. How could someone be so fucking vile over someone they barely knew. “Fine.” Your tone matched his with equal aggression. “Fucking sounds good to me.”

-

-> Part 3 up now 💓

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thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story/my writing pls consider giving my main fic, Forever Winter, a read - if you like angsty sad smutty you’ll probably like it lol

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[warping-realities]

Dalton Academy - Prideful Son (Final)

"Trip, what kind of deal did you make with the old man? Things are weird here man." - Vincent Carmichael was sitting in the leather armchair of the luxurious apartment that came with the position of Dalton's headmaster. He had just gotten out of the shower and poured himself a generous dose of Scotch. But not even the velvety taste calmed him down because he knew that something very unusual was happening. He had led Dalton for many years and had handled the transition of several boys, many of whom had been powerful sources. None of them, however, had done what Jaime Sanchez had done. He himself had been a source although as always happened after the sealing of the contract little of that previous life had been preserved. Precisely because of this he knew that something was not happening as usual. Nothing in that situation went as expected from the beginning, so Trip Hartfield needed to clarify some things.

"Vince, you need to calm down, what the boy may think he knows is certainly not enough to change his destiny. What happened in that room is between me and my ancestor. Dalton never made a mistake, it won't be now that he starts." - Was the answer coming from the phone speaker.

"He manipulated me Trip, do you have any idea how dangerous it can be for someone who thinks like one of us to not be linked to us but working against us? And there's still the matter of Leonardo Reis, he came here for a contract at the request of Flip Thompson and I had assigned the Bear Club boys to deal with him..."

"I asked Flip to take Reis. He was one of the sources of my group and he agreed to do me this favor."

"What? Why? And why didn't you inform me?"

"Because it's part of the deal I made with the old man. He gave me a list of names of interest. Reis' name was separate from the others, not even Chad knows he was on that list . But he is as important as the others."

"What kind of game is the old man playing, Trip?"

"I don't know Vince, but we need to trust him."

…..

The boy was very good at understanding when something was wrong and that day he had the feeling that something very wrong was about to happen. The winter had been merciless, they had little food and the fight for their territory in that land had been incessant. The warriors are few and the mouths to feed are many. In that situation a seven-year-old blind boy was a burden that few were willing to carry. Of course he didn't understand all of that rationally, but instinctively he knew something was coming. His mother had been tearful all morning and his father, who never paid him much attention had hugged him tightly. Ulf knew they were both heavily criticized for letting him live, but they were in a new land and had lost so many on the journey there that sacrificing the first baby born in that place seemed like a bad omen. And when the boy started to grow it became clear that despite his visual impairment he had something different, a connection with the gods themselves and because of that they let him live. But in that winter morning that connection was the cause of his doom. While he was playing with the puppies that were his main companion the men from the village came and took him away.

The journey took a few minutes and the entire time he felt his father's hand guiding him. At times he seemed to tremble, but Ulf knew that must have been a figment of his imagination. When they finally stopped he heard his father comment.

"So much blood spilled because of this place and now this."

"They are tireless and in much greater numbers than us, Njal, and they know this land like no one else. If we want to survive we will need the help of the gods, otherwise we won't make it to summer."

"I know Gorm and I'm here, aren't I? About to sacrifice what is most precious to me, Thyra hasn't conceived again in all the years since Ulf was born."

"Then ask the father of all that this blessing be granted to you and your wife. But don't try to stop what will happen. He always belonged to the gods and Odin himself came to me in a dream asking for the boy."

"I know, so let's get this over with. Ulf, boy I need you to be brave like a warrior should be. Soon you will meet with the father of the world and I need you to ask him to intercede, to help us give what is necessary to survive on this earth. Until then I need you to lie still." - Said his father, placing him on a hard surface. Where he lay waiting as he was ordered until he felt a searing pain in his chest and felt the life drain away along with the blood coming from the wound.

When the boy thought it was all over he heard a strong and serious voice as one would expect from a king.

"Open your eyes boy."

He opened his eyes and for the first time he actually saw and before him was the father of all, Odin himself smiling at him and he was also blind in one eye. On each of his shoulders was a crow perched.

"Very good Ulf, you behaved like a true warrior. Now your real work begins.

....

The situation at Hartfield Manor could be described as weird if one weren't making a huge understatement. Jaime and Leonardo had woken up and it was up to Mike Jones to deal with it while Chad made desperate phone calls to his father, Carmichael and the other Crows. Sanchez's transformation seemed to confirm that the work was done, but what had happened to Reis put everything in doubt. The fact that they acted as if nothing had happened and had always been that way should put an end to that doubt, but how could they be sure? Until Chad talked to his father and Carmichael they couldn't be sure and Mike knew that as he stared at what should be the final version of Jaime Sanchez, the seal of their contract. And that he spoke to him as if they were friends. He knew that this was how it should be, but then why didn't he feel it?

"... with you and Chad in basketball, Eddie on the mats and if the twins accept to join you will also have two talents in football. I think the Crows have a great chance in the competition between the clubs. And if you accept him, Leo has a great talent in soccer, although his size may not seem like it. In Brazil they called him Hulk, which is also the nickname of a famous player there. I feel useless for not having anything exceptional to contribute. Unless my latino sex appeal counts for something. - Said Jaime smiling.

"Get real Jay. You look like a pimp selling us." - Interrupted Leonardo Reis.

"Well, the Crows value ambition, don't they? And Carmichael himself said we could apply to join."

"The decision of who enters or not is made together Jaime, but the final approval depends on the president." - Still uncomfortable with the situation.

"So I'm going to have to suck up to Chad? Nothing new under the sun for him. By the way, where is he?"

Chad was at that moment sitting on the balcony of the second floor of the family mansion, on a call with his father. The same feeling of uneasy that Mike felt dominated him.

"Dad, with the others it seemed right, we fit in well. Just the way you said it would be. Sanchez however... It's just that he looks and behaves the way he should be, but there's something that bothers me. And there's still the question of Reis.... What do you mean? And why couldn't I have known this before? ... I understand, but it would have saved me a lot of anguish. But what should we do now? .... Yes, maybe when he formally entering the club we will feel as we should. Until then I will do as you say and try to get to know him better and see if we fit in. At the same time I will look for anomalies. I will also talk to Carmichael in person.... Yes, I'll keep you informed. I'm going to hang up now, the other guys are arriving... thank you dad, it's very important for me to know that you're proud of me. - Chad said, finishing the call and observing the four others arrive in Eddie's car. If their integration with the twins was also strange, he would have a problem that he might not know how to solve.

….

They were dead, all of them. His father's children's children had perished and the colony was no more. Over the past few decades Ulf had learned to channel the power of the father of all into those who came to him, boys becoming warriors under their combined power. But what was a source of hope for his people in that land became a source of fear for the natives. The gigantic and brutal warriors born there were feared and hated with such intensity that a union between the different nations was made with the sole objective of eradicating them. Ulf used all the power that he was born with and that he had received through the countless sacrifices made in the name of the father of all through him and it was still insufficient. The losses for the natives were massive, but Ulf's people were completely decimated. They spared only the small children and took them out of his reach.

The God also left, without worshipers he would not survive in that place, but Ulf was trapped there, he was born there, he died there and was reborn there. His destiny was linked to that land and so was he. The father of all left leaving two little crows as company for the companion who had helped him so much. And so Ulf waited, years became decades, decades became centuries and legends about the place spread among the local population. He was already in a state of dormancy when fate smiled at him again. And smiling was what he did.

….

"I propose a little drinking game to see if you have what it takes to take become members. - Eddie said smiling to Leonardo and Jaime.

"So these are the high standards required to join the Crow Club? To be able to drink as much as the old members?" - Jaime replied.

"I wouldn't say just that, but we can discuss some other tests later. Alone." - J.B. replied, eating Jaime with his eyes.

"Be careful Sanchez. Roberts is insatiable.- Commented Jacob Miller. - I have experience and I can confirm."

"If I were you, I wouldn't doubt my boy Jay's capabilities." - Leonardo replied smiling.

"Okay, another thing. We have three Jays around here and this isn't going to work, we need to get organized." - Commented J.B. - I'm J.B. and I was the first to arrive so I'm not going to change."

"I'd really like to know why you have that nickname, Roberts." - Said Leonardo.

"It's a diminutive of Johnny Boy, Eddie started calling him that and we ended up adopting it." - Chad replied next to Mike.

"Well, then if that's a nickname of a nickname maybe he should change it." - Leo replied.

"Fortunately I arrived earlier and have primacy, while Jaime here hasn't even joined the club yet." - J.B. responded with a smirk.

"Hey, I didn't even say anything. Stop picking on J.B. Leo." - Jaime intervened.

"You can call me Jake and that's fine." - Said Jake Miller

"Leonardo is easy, we just call him Leo. Which brings us back to you Jaime. We can't have someone without a nickname between brothers." - J.B. continued, being interrupted again by Leo.

"I didn't say you could call me Leo."

"Dude, stop teasing, that's already your fucking nickname, come on!" Jaime intervened again before addressing J.B. - So, any suggestions?"

"Jaime Sanches... J.S. no, it doesn't sound..."

"That's not his full name. - Chad commented while sipping his bourbon, the arrogant expression back on his face. - Our dear colleague is Jaime Caetano Sanchez."

"So we're talking about a J.C. - said Greg, sitting side by side with Jake"

"Better than J.S. but there's still something missing." - replied J.B.

"J.C. um... how about Jace?" Jake said thoughtfully. "I can already imagine the repercussion of the posts. Jace and Jake. The contrast between the skin tones will draw a lot of attention. Apart from the fact that we're both hot." "

"If that's what you're looking for, Jake, maybe Mike would be a better option. But hey, Jace is a good nickname." - J.B. replied.

"Ah, don't worry, he won't escape, in fact none of you will. You are all an excellent source of followers." - Jake said smiling and making all the Crows look in Jaime's direction at the mention of the word source. But he didn't show any reaction to that.

"Well, if you want me to be Jace, so be it. So how is this game going to work?"

"That's easy, we ask, you answer, everyone drinks." - Eddie replied.

"What's the point of that if everyone's going to drink?" - Leo asked.

"Exactly." - Eddie replied, smiling and filling several glasses of tequila.

….

Ulf watched the two native boys approach his territory. The clearing had shrunk a lot over the years, nothing was left of the old village except some broken utensils long forgotten. It was precisely the boys messing with the rusty trinkets that had once belonged to Ulf's people that woke him up. He approached the edge of his territory and waited for the boys to approach.

"Kitchi, we shouldn't go further, it's dangerous. The elders..."

"I had no idea you were a coward Keme."

"I'm not a coward! Take it back brother!"

"I'll take it back if you accompany me to the clearing and prove me wrong."

"Fine, but if the elders find out we did this..."

"They'll only know if you talk. Let's go"

Ulf followed the interaction between the brothers with interest. They didn't speak his language but that wouldn't be a problem. He waited until the boys were in the middle of his clearing before appearing.

"Hello, I'm Ulf" - He said smiling and scaring the two boys who immediately got into a fighting position.

"Get away from us evil spirit." - Said the one called Keme. While his brother Kitchi relaxed.

"Brother is just a little boy, one of the invaders."

"He's too far from the cities to be one of them."

Invaders? And cities? Had his people returned? If that were the case, the God could have returned with them and Ulf would no longer be alone.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I've been alone for a long time. I just want to talk. Tell me about these invaders."

"Get away. We shouldn't have come here. Let's go Kitchi. - Keme said pulling his brother. Ulf could have stopped them, in that place his power was absolute although it was a pale shadow of what it once was. But he noticed something about that one called Kitchi, there was the same kind of power in him that Ulf himself had possessed before the God. And the boy had felt that connection between them. So Ulf let them go knowing that the one he was interested in would return.

There was no need to wait long. Within a few days, barely a blink of an eye for Ulf, the boy was back.

"What are you?" - He asked from the edge of the clearing.

"Come here and I'll tell you."

"I'm not stupid if I go in there you'll kill me or worse."

"If so, why didn't I do it when I had the chance?"

"I don't know, but I don't trust what you say."

"It's okay to stay where you are, I won't force you to come in. One day you'll choose to come in on your own."

"I will never do that, spirit"

"We'll see" - Ulf replied smiling as if he were the most innocent being in the world.

….

"Sexual orientation?" - J.B. asked, holding the glass of tequila in his hand.

"Straight." - Leo replied.

"Boring as expected, Reis." - Replied J.B.

"Open to experimentation." - Jaime replied with a smile.

"That's what I'm talking about! Drink!" - shouted J.B. happily before chugging the entire shot in his mouth, followed by the rest of the boys. The question game combined with alcohol had helped them all to integrate, there were still fights here and there, but that was expected given the fact that they were not clones of each other and each should have their own personality. Almost all of the Crows seemed to have accepted that Jaime, or rather Jace, was fully integrated and that Leo had come to them as a bonus. But both Mike and Chad, who were in fact the most similar among them, still didn't completely accept that as true.

"Favorite sexual position?" - Greg asked. But before the colleagues could respond, Chad interrupted them.

"Put your glasses away and try to keep a slightly convincing face, gentlemen, we have visitors. Carmichael is coming here."

"Why would the headmaster come to your private home Chad?" - Leonardo asked.

"Because you idiots made such a fuss that the neighbors complained to him."

"You speak as if you haven't done the same."

"I beg your pardon. Chad Hartfield would never do something unworthy like a fuss. - Jaime said in a mocking tone. Making everyone, even Mike, burst out laughing.

"I'm serious, glasses in the kitchen now. - Chad scolded, but without being able to completely hide a smile as he watched with satisfaction that bunch of gigantic grown men carry out his orders, with a feeling that it was too good to be true. And that was precisely the problem, that uneasy feeling didn't go away.

"Either he really is one of us or he is a great manipulator which in a way makes him one of us." Mike commented next to him.

"I asked Carmichael to observe him. He is the alive person with the most experience on the subject. But I agree with you, I saw my father with his group my whole life. Or at least I have memories of it. - Chad corrected himself before saying continue - And the truth is that when they are together it's like watching a machine in action, the gears fitting together perfectly. It seems like one knows what the other is going to say or do before the other has even finished thinking about it. That's the kind of thing I expected here. The morning was amazing and I liked them both, we needed someone to slow down J.B. when necessary and Leo does that perfectly and as for Jaime, I mean Jace, he's the most similar to you and me out of everyone, It's like he's a third part that we're missing, Mike, and we don't even know it. I really want to believe him. But there's still something forced, don't you feel that too? I can't even call him by his nickname without feeling my tongue curl as if I wasn't saying something true.

"I know man, I have the same feeling, I want it to be true I feel like it should be true but at the same time it's not... let's wait for Carmichael and see if he sheds any light."

While the two were having that conversation, two others were talking in the backyard of the house in whispers so that they would not be heard by anyone inside.

"You think they suspect something, man?"

"Despite all the bro talk they are tremendously intelligent Leo, I believe we did a good job and that they should at least be willing to believe in us. And that will have to be enough."

"What a mess you've gotten me into, Sanchez."

"I didn't mean to, Leo. But I won't lie and say I'm not grateful to have an ally."

"So what do we do now?"

"We'll wait until we get back to Dalton. You'll have to find a way to get rid of his bones. I'm sure they're behind that red door in their headquarters."

"And you?"

"I'll take the hardest part. Find a way to get us there."

….

Kitchi was waiting for him at the edge of the clearing, always avoiding putting himself within range of Ulf's power. But it had been a long time since the boy who wasn't a boy decided he wouldn't do anything to the boy. Because he had learned to like the other boy. He was brave and fierce in the way Ulf had been taught by his people and his God to admire. And through him Ulf discovered what was happening in the world outside his clearing. That was how he discovered that the invaders Kitchi had spoken of the day they met were not Ulf's people or if they were they were very changed, they did not have the same gods or the same customs and did not seek the glory of death in battle. Strange as it was, Ulf had learned to respect and like a member of the people who had decimated his own people and made the God leave. Also he hated to think that these new invaders with their strange customs could be what his people across the sea had become.

"What news do you bring from the world beyond brave warrior?" - He asked smiling. But without getting a smile in response.

"I came to say goodbye Ulf. My people go to war against the invaders. They never found out that I came here. I broke traditions for too long and even though I see that they are mistaken about you now I am a man and I don't I can act like a boy anymore. Goodbye, spirit."

"Kitchi wait..." - But the boy didn't listen to him and left while Ulf resigned himself to returning to the helpless existence he had known over the past few centuries as he had known would happen someday, but had hoped it would not be so soon. Kitchi's few occasional visits had been a relief from the centuries of solitude. So much so that when he felt the boy approach his domain after just a few days he felt a sense of relief that in his entire long existence he had not known he would be capable of feeling.

"I thought you wouldn't see me again, great warrior." - He spoke in a mocking tone towards the approaching figure. Only to have another surprise. Kitchi crawled towards him, injured in so many places that he didn't know how the boy had survived. - Boy, come to me, let's go. You can do it, just a little longer. - He said encouraging the boy, who little by little crawled towards him, only to fall to the ground a short distance from his territory. And when everything seemed lost, contact was made when the boy managed to enter into the clearing. And Ulf set to work, using what little power he hadto heal the boy until he could speak again.

"They're dead Ulf, all of them, my father, my brother... there's nothing left, there's no one left."

Ulf felt it as if he were experiencing the death of his own people again. Which was curious since it was the people of Kitchi who had caused that to them, not that the boy had any responsibility for what happened.

"I want…. I need..."

"What?" - Ulf asked, knowing exactly what the request would be.

"Give me. Your blessing. The one you gave to the warriors of your people."

"What good would it do you now, if your people no longer exist?"

"It's good for me to take as many of them as I can, it's good for me to be reunited with my people knowing I did what I could to bring them justice."

"I can do what you ask of me but the source will be you, and you will be different, more like the men of my people than yours. You will become what your ancestors gave their lives for detain. It may be that when your time comes you will not have a place among them."

"I don't care. The men who killed my ancestors are dead, the men who decimated my family are still breathing and I want to be the one to take their last breath."

"I can't deny you that, it's my mission, the reason for my existence. But I'm going to miss who you are."

"Just do it, spirit!"

And Ulf did. Between the screams of pain and despair he felt the boy he knew change before him. Ferocity exacerbated to the limit of cruelty, cleverness becoming malice, a mind modified with a sole purpose of revenge and decimation and a perfect body for that. Gigantic arms ending in hands powerful enough to crush skulls. A massive torso capable of withstanding the most powerful blows and legs strong enough to carry all of that.

It was done and Ulf for the first time since he had been given that fate was unhappy about doing the work assigned to him. The monster in the form of a man that he had created turned his back on him without even saying a word and he did nothing to stop him even though he knew the fate that awaited him, just as he knew his own fate. He was destined to fade into oblivion or continue to create monsters like that. For the first time in all those centuries, oblivion seemed to be the best option.

…

"I can't answer you. Both he and Reis seem quite integrated to me, but the whole situation is atypical. The contract that your father made... well, what's done is done. Who knows, maybe things will work out after the initiation ceremony, with the old members here in Dalton." - Carmichael said to Chad in front of the entrance porch of Hartfield Manor.

"I thought the ceremony was just symbolic, that the act of acceptance and the transformation itself were what validated the contract."

"Usually yes, but as I told you, everything about this particular contract is unusual. You ended up with one more member than expected. Two in fact, if you count the fact that Gregory Miller was a side effect. Extremely unusual . I don't even know how to explain what happened to Reis. And unless Dalton himself does it..."

"So what should I do?"

"Keep an eye on him, on both of them. Maybe they'll reveal themselves if they're pretending or maybe Dalton himself has some more surprises in store for us. Now let's all go back to school and wait." - Director Carmichael concluded as he headed to his car, leaving behind a thoughtful Chad.

...

"Knock, Knock" - J.B. said in a jovial and cheerful voice at the door of Jaime's bedroom.

Jaime himself, upon hearing that, smiled. He had managed to get rid of Greg so he could have the place to himself and his target. Practically naked with his muscular, tanned body on display and a bright smile on his face, he opened the door.

"Jace, you pervert trying to seduce me?" said J.B., admiring him with hungry eyes.

"Please, as if you need convincing to do anything." - Jaime replied with a smile, slowly approaching his colleague's face, until their lips were about to touch.

"Sanchez you are playing with fire."

"I'm not afraid of getting burned." - He replied, grabbing J.B. while giving him an intense kiss and dragging him to the bed.

"Jace you rascal, hiding the game all the time." - J.B. said breathlessly as Jaime took off his shirt.

"And I thought I had left obvious signs in response to your advances." -Jaime replied as he kissed J.B.'s neck and powerful chest.

"We're going to need to talk about what you consider to be obvious."

"I don't think so, I won't be able to answer anything for now." - Jaime said, approaching his colleague's now fully erect member and engulfing it with his mouth.

....

Leonardo was pissed about the whole situation. He had tried to adapt to that place, he had chosen to ignore his more aggressive instincts towards that country, controlling his bad temper and for what? To become a pawn in a damned game of manipulation controlled by the spirit of an old megalomaniac capitalist.

He almost pissed his pants off in that vision. The damned crows seemed to have flown towards his face and after what he saw happen to Dalton's eye he threw himself to the ground like a scared boy.

"Get up Leo, we have little time and I don't know what I'll be like when I wake up, I'll need you to be my anchor and I don't even know how to do that right." - Jaime said while extending his hand to him.

"I don't want any part of this." - He responded without extending his hand back.

"I didn't want to either, but unfortunately we're stuck with this. All of us. Help me find a way to end this once and for all." - And Leo extended his hand.

When he woke up he was completely changed physically and he felt that something had changed in his mind too. But he still knew who he was and what he would have to do.

However, he was amazed at how far Jaime was willing to go to get what he wanted. And now in Dalton's basement, as he looked for a way to get rid of the old man's damned bones, he wondered if his colleague hadn't already gone too far on the path to becoming one of them. That train of thought was interrupted when he found what he was looking for.

"Perfect" - He said, looking at the gallon of kerosene with shining eyes. Without realizing that perhaps he already had walked a few steps along that same path.

....

"Turn your back." - Jaime said to J.B. with a commanding tone after giving him one of the best blow jobs he had ever received. Which made him obey immediately. - So, Johny Boy, I was thinking. What do I need to do for me to be formally accepted into your Club? Greg and Jake were accepted immediately while I'm still pending- Asked as he positioned himself on top of the other.

"I don't know, I thought Chad was going to announce it at Hartfield Manor..."

"I thought I was important.-Jaime said, now holding J.B.'s hair tightly.-That I was special.-He continued with a kiss on his colleague's neck.-Even irreplaceable." - He concludes by placing his swollen cock close to J.B.'s ass but without making any effort to continue.

"Jace...I don't know...ungh."

"Don't you know or don't want to tell me?"

"I don't know if I knew...."

"I believe in you. - Jaime replied, gently penetrating his classmate ass. - But there is something you know and can tell me." -He continued while increase his pace.

"Ungh...no...don't stop. What? What do you want to know?" - J.B. asked amidst waves of pleasure. Causing Jaime to increase his pace even more and open a wide smile.

…

For 150 years Ulf remained silent, ruminating on his own existence, determined to ward off any man who approached him. He knew he couldn't deny it if someone entered his territory and asked for his blessing and even though the probability of that happening was very small after what happened to Kitchi, he took precautions. The forest area around his clearing became surrounded by wild and cruel creatures. And quickly the legends about the cursed place spread among the few remaining natives and also among the invaders. But that introspective calm didn't last as long as last time. One spring morning many men approached his territory and set to work. Just like Ulf himself. Quickly the entire region was filled with wild animals. Crows attacked men while they were working. Wolves howled at night, scaring the pack animals and making them flee, bears invaded the camp and destroyed the food. And yet they continued to work.

An iron will drove that men, an unstoppable force of the kind that Ulf would have admired if it hadn't been bringing those men closer every day to his territory and to the possibility of him being forced to resume the role he wanted to avoid at all costs. And despite everything he did that day came. He watched the men approach his clearing, some armed to the ground shooting at the animals he sent, others cutting down the little brush that still separated his clearing from the new road they had opened and then... Ulf felt his territory. suddenly increase, regaining almost all of its original size. The place where his village had been now housed the beginning of a large construction and beyond that there was already a small village in formation.

He did not introduce himself to those men, resisting with all his might the impulse to do so. He held out until night and then brought hell upon them.

The next day the men left, leaving behind them the unfinished construction, dead animals and some of them buried. Ulf watched this with relief, believing that he could once again return to his state of contemplation.

For weeks it seemed to him that it would be so. Then one night the man arrived.

….

"What the hell are you carrying around there?"

"The solution you asked me for."

"Man, we could burn down the whole school if we use this."

"I don't plan on using it here, dumbass. We go in, take the damn bones, put them in these backpacks I brought and take them to the middle of the woods where we can set them on fire."

"A forest fire isn't much better than a school fire."

"I haven't seen you do anything useful so far."

"Then see." - Jaime replied. He approached the digital panel next to the large door of the Crows headquarters and entered the password as he spoke it out loud.

"0 - one - nineteen - eighteen - 0 - nine. Edgar Allan Poe's birthday, it was kind of obvious if you stopped to think about it. It would only be more obvious if it were Dalton Hartfield's birthday."

"If it was that obvious you wouldn't have needed to suck Roberts' dick."

"Shut up, asshole. We're inside, now we just have to go to the damn red door and..." - Jaime began to say, interrupting himself when looking at a solid wall without a single door.

" Puta merda" - Said Leo when faced with that.

"I don't understand, everything pointed here." - Jaime said, running his hand over the exquisite wallpaper in the hope of feeling a hidden door behind it.

"We're fucked man. Why did you have to drag me into this shit?"

"I didn't ask for this either man. I just wanted this shit to end."

"Good, we can still finish." - Reis replied, lifting the gallon of kerosene.

"Are you crazy, dude? This could turn into a huge mess."

"You said yourself that you want to end it all."

"But not like this. Let it go, no one is going to burn this school down." - Jaime said, making Leo release the gallon.

"Certainly not. - Chad said standing at the door - You almost fooled me Jaime. But your mistake was believing that just because he's a slut J.B. would be stupid. He's a Crow and a Crow is always smart. Which proves you're still not one of us. I knew there was something wrong with you two.”

"Fuck you, you psychopath" - Was Leo's response. While Jaime pondered what to do.Then cursing himself for choosing that path he made a decision.

"You're right. I'm sorry for using him like that although he certainly liked it. But the truth is that Reis came to me thinking I could help him and at the same time I felt like you still didn't trust me Chad. So I came up with a plan to find out what Reis intended to do and at the same time gain your trust."

"You fucking piece of shit. What do you think you're doing? I trusted you!" - Leonardo shouted, lifting the gallon again.

"I already told you to turn that shit down!" - Jaime shouted back and again his colleague obeyed him. Something Chad can't help but notice.

"If what you say is true Jaime, why don't you prove it!"

"Call me Jace, man - Jaime said in an attempt to convey confidence - and what do you want me to do? How am I going to convince you?"

"Nothing you say will make me trust you... Jaime. - Chad replied, highlighting the name. - But you can prove it by making our dear colleague one of us."

"I... I don't know how..." - Jaime began to respond.

"Fuck you, Chad. I'm going to get out of here..." - Leonardo interrupted.

"Tell him to be quiet" - Chad said.

"Leo, shut up and stay still." - Jaime said and to his surprise and that of Leonardo himself, he remained motionless and quiet in the middle of the room."

"As I suspected. Looks like you'll get the chance to prove yourself after all...Jace." - Chad said with a bright smile. And while mentally apologizing, promising to fix it when he could, Jaime turned towards Leonardo and instinctively began to do the work assigned to him."

….

Ulf watched as the man approached and sat on a rock right in the middle of his center of power. The man reminded him of the God. He was old in appearance although he was infinitely younger. But the aura of power and the absolute certainty of deserving that power were the same. Very different from what Ulf himself felt, forever trapped in that contradictory state between a child and a centenarian being. He was already ready to try to scare away that figure when the man spoke.

"I know you're there, I feel you there. I came to talk and come to an understanding." - And then Ulf realized that the man just like Kitchi and Ulf himself had the power within him. The man's light was weak, blurry and Ulf realized he wouldn't have much time on this plane. But also that that light should have been as bright as Ulf's own had once been. That made him consider listening to what the man had to say. But what made him lower his guard was the fact that one of his crows flew and landed next to the man and he didn't even flinch.

"Hello. I'm Ulf" - he said, becoming visible to the man.

"Hello, Ulf. I'm Dalton. I think we have a lot to talk about." - Dalton Hartfield replied to the boy who wasn't a boy. For several hours they talked. At dawn both had a new understanding of various things and an agreement was made. And for the first time in decades Ulf was happy with his purpose.

….

"What's the purpose of all this hate, Leo? All this poorly disguised anger. Because no matter how much you try to hide it, they're there. What did we do that was so bad to you?" - Jaime asked his colleague, now sitting and staring at him with vacant, distant eyes. - You can talk."

"Where to start? Maybe it's because I'm trapped in a place full of psychopathic troglodytes guided by an evil spirit who intends to turn me into one of them? Or maybe because someone I thought I could trust turned out to be exactly like them? "

"He has a good point. - Jaime said to Chad, still trying to make the other trust him. - But it's not just that, you hate America. You hate our country but you're still here enjoying our blessings." - Jaime continued, not believing he was saying something like that.

"I had no choice in being here and I don't hate America. The entire continent is..."

"Cut that leftist bullshit. You're in America now, in real America. Where the real football is played, the real land of opportunity and you know what else I think you know it and resent it, don't you? That's where all this anger comes from." - Jaime continued, at the same time hating and feeling a perverse pleasure in those words.

"No... no... it's not true. I love my country."

"No one said otherwise, Leo. After all, you are a typical Brazilian. A happy, funny guy, concerned with enjoying life and a bit of a rogue when needed."

"These are stereotypes man... the worst... about Brazil"

"Liking soccer is also a stereotype and you like it."

"It's different, not every Brazilian likes football. And it's not just because it's a stereotype that I need to stop liking it."

"Exactly! Just because it's a stereotype doesn't mean it isn't true, does it, Leo? Which makes what I said about you true."

"No... I... I'm not a playful kind of guy... I'm not a clown... I have goals."

"Of course you do, you're in Dalton and to be in Dalton you have to be ambitious. You can't wait to get your hands on your grandfather's fortune."

"I never... needed it."

"Which doesn't mean you don't want to. Imagine everything you'll be able to do with all that money, make the most of the countries you love so much, the one in which you were born and the one that welcomed you and that you chose for yourself ."

"I... no...."

"Let the anger go and call it only against your enemies, America is your second home, the home you chose and we are your brothers, the ones you chose when you agreed to come to Dalton and we chose you, you are not a clown, you are our priest, you are the one who makes us smile when we need it and you are the one who controls J.B. because he is the only one who can make you impatient even though he wants to enjoy life as much as you do, and because all of this your place is among us so accept it." - Jaime concluded, almost believing his own words at the same time that Leonardo tried to avoid getting carried away by them, with his hands covering his face. And Chad looked at them both in amazement. The seconds seemed to drag by until Leo uncovered his face. And there was a combination of joy, malice and arrogance in him. There was no doubt. He was one of Dalton's Crows.

That realization opened a hole in Jaime's chest. He had done that, he had plotted and deceived and manipulated and finally done that. He could justify all he wanted, he could say he dit it just to gain Chad's trust and thus be able to figure out how to reverse it all. ...but it still didn't change the fact that he had done it. And Chad seemed to think the same way.

"I was wrong, you are one of us. Only one of us could do this. Welcome brothers." - He said smiling with what seemed like genuine joy combined with a great deal of relief. Jaime had thought about denying it, about throwing everything away, about punching that face until that bright smile was erased. - "Thanks, bro" - He heard Leo say next to him with a voice that was both arrogant and happy at the same time that made the feeling of nausea he felt increase. He turned around thinking about what he was going to do... but before he could decide what it was he found himself staring at the same wall where he had unsuccessfully tried to locate a hidden door minutes before, a red door that had appeared to him in dreams, that had tormented him for days without revealing what was behind it, a red door that didn't exist but was still there right in front of him. He stepped towards hearing Chad and Leo calling for him but ignoring them. With his hand shaking with anxiety he turned the handle, opened the door and physically walked through it for the first time.

….

The door that existed only when Ulf allowed it opened and the one he expected to see entered. He assumed the form the man expected to see and addressed him.

"Chadwick Wentworth Hartfield the third, what brings you here?" - He asked, knowing exactly what brought the descendant of his old friend there. The old friend whose image he used at that moment in a replica of the room he had planned and never got to occupy in the Academy that bore his name.

"Hello, sir. I... I come with an offer to make to you.

"Proceed."

"There's a kid in California, Jaime Sanchez, one of my scouts found him and..."

"I'm aware of the kid, Trip, your scouts are my scouts after all."

"Sir, I didn't mean to..."

"Calm down, you gave them the necessary resources to reach the boy. And I recognize that. So answer my question, what brings you here?"

"It's my son, he is... a disappointment, sir. Unworthy of your legacy. I failed... I failed the Academy, I failed you, and I failed him."

"I understand. But you still haven't answered my question, what brings you here?"

"I need you to do your thing with him."

"I see, that's all? Sanchez is extremely promising and you found him for me."

"Well, if you can ensure that the Hartfield legacy continues without major obstacles, it is your legacy as well and the one that helps ensure Dalton's survival."

"So you want a contract? Is that it?"

"If possible."

"Yes, it is possible. Both requests are. But it will not be easy. The blessing in its pure form, without the help of a source is a different experience from what you are used to seeing. But it will be necessary, your son should be the one who will guide the contract and in his current form he is totally inadequate. After that the steps must be followed specifically. I will give you a list of names of boys who should be brought to Dalton, boys who in the future will be a source of problems for the Hartfields and other people of interest to the perpetuation of the academy. Your son must be informed of what to do with all of them with the exception of one. He must not know that the last one came with the same objective as the others, find someone to be the sponsor in your place, not even Carmichael must know that he is a party to the contract until we are close to completion. When they and the source are under the roof of the academy things will have only one direction to go. Now Seek your son and prepare yourself, you You won't be pleased with what you see."

"Yes sir." - Chadwick Hartfield III responded respectfully, leaving and closing the door behind him.

Ulf waited in anticipation. It had been a long time since he had used his original method of working, after Kitch and before Dalton the prospect of doing so would have saddened him. But in just over a century and a half he had learned much more than in the entire previous millennium. And knowing that made him smile when he saw the door open.

...

The door opened and Jaime entered.

"You have got to be kidding." - He said when he saw where he was. For he was in the old familiar office of the Dalton headmaster.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." - Someone said but he wasn't who he expected. - I'm Ulf and I think I owe you an explanation. - Said a blond boy smiling.

"I don't understand..." Replied Jaime.

"Let me help you." - Said the boy. And suddenly Jaime found himself standing in a snow-covered village where a blind blond boy was playing with puppies.

…

"I must say that you are the first since Dalton himself to know my whole story Jaime. Pitty."

"Why?" - Jaime asked.

"Why don't we clarify your doubts? I imagine you have many." - Ulf replied with a smile that Jaime had already seen mirrored on many of those who frequented Dalton.

"So this whole time it was you? The dreams, the visions? My grandmother... I thought... And the bones?

"Oh, where do I start?" Your grandmother. An unforeseen event, something rare in my plans. And what a formidable woman she is! It is very difficult to make the journey back to this plane. And she did it quite easily twice. But she couldn't be a match for me, not here in my territory. I had a conversation with her and she agreed to leave when she understood that there was nothing she could do against me. But she was not as upset as one might think because she understood that I like her want the best for you." - Said the boy with a friendly smile.

“Is she allright?”

Yes Jaime, there’s nothing she could offer me that you couldn't either. I released her. Which brings us to the visions. Each source manifests his power in a different way, since Trip Hartfield's scouts found you I have longed for know what yours would be. Many of my current skills came from the different sources that attended Dalton. The choice of your club mates came through the ability to look into the future that I inherited from one of those sources. But I will talk about that later. When It was clear that you were a dream walker I used that to guide you in the direction I wanted and I admit I had a lot of fun in the process. The physical limits to which I am restricted do not allow me to know the world with my own eyes. But Dalton gave me ways to interact with different people from different cultures and expanded my horizons. Plus I'm proud of our library, the books took me to places I could never physically go. I like spending my time there among them. And we had some interesting conversations there."

"I…did we?"

"I'm very proud of my impersonation of a grumpy old lady."

"The librarian? Mrs O'Malley? Was that you???

"One of my multiple personifications within these walls. I like interacting with the boys under my tutelage. But as I told you Mrs.O'Malley it's the personification that I'm most proud of and that allows me to spend my time with the books. I'm particularly interested in Mr. King's work. I don't know how he managed to escape Dalton when he lived so close to me. But it takes one to recognize the other. And his work on The Shining made me to think that he was always aware to some degree of what we were doing here. It's a shame indeed that he managed to escape me. I wonder what I could have done to someone like him. But in a way I'm not sad, I don't know if there would have been much left of his light or shining as he called it, if he had come to me and me. Then I wouldn't have his wonderfull works to help me kill time. And he was useful for my plans, he helped me put you on the path of The Crows Club.” - Ulf said, pausing and looking at Jaime, waiting for any doubts. When the boy didn't speak, he resumed his long monologue.

“Which brings us to your third question. The bones. Dalton was a genius and a true warrior of his time. He showed me that there was another ways to perform my role. That times were different and that I could create another type of warrior. A new kind of warrior for a new time and since then I have been adapting to the times and looking for new ways to expand my influence and share my blessing. And it was Dalton Hartfield who made me realize that what I do is indeed a blessing. And also who gave me the means to ensure that it reaches every corner of this country. His bones were crushed until they turned into powder and were mixed into the very mortar that built the walls of this institution. Which is the Destiny that part of the bones of every Academy student shared after the end of their passage through this plane. The other part of the bones of these former students is buried in their respective home states. I can't leave my territory, Jaime, as you yourself testified. But everyone who steps on it is subject to my influence and those who receive my blessing receive a part of me. A part that remains in the soul, but also in the body, in the bones. And it is these bones with my essence, buried in every corner of this country that guarantee my influence no matter the distance from my center of power. Every time one of our recruiters goes to visit a prospect, he takes with him a piece of Dalton on his body, a ring, a pendant. Made from the bones of deceased former students, some of these objects are so old that they were made from the bones of Dalton himself. Bone magic Jaime. Something that my own people did and that a source from Scandinavia brought to me about a century ago. And so I answered your questions. But let me get ahead of you. You're curious as to why I chose each of the others.”

Jaime was actually more concerned about reversing that situation. He had done things that he never thought he would be able to do with that single goal and now he saw no alternative to completing it. Then he let the apparition continue with his speech. - "Of course"- He replied thinking that at least he would buy some time to try to escape that trap he had found himself in.

"Liar - the boy replied without letting his smile waver - But I'm indulging myself so you'll have to put up with it. Michael Jones would become a public prosecutor who, together with the workers' union leader Jacob Miller would launch an investigation into one of the main arms of the Hartfield conglomerate after the death of Miller's twin brother in one of the Hartfield's slaughterhouses . A completely accidental death due to the drunken state of Gregory Miller, a notorious drunk stuck in his glory days as a college football player who had a career interrupted by an injury. The Hartfield Company would win the case but at the expense of a lot of money. Money that would already be compromised because Edward Chang,whom after inheriting his father's restaurant empire would transform them into a vegan chain, thus cutting one of Hartfiled Company's main contracts. To make matters worse the ore export contract for the steel industry another of the Hartfields' main sources of income would be suspended when Leonardo Reis, a staunch Brazilian nationalist, took control of his grandfather's mining company and decided to strengthen the Brazilian national industry. Crowning the disaster, Senator Jonathan Roberts managed to approve a new law increasing taxes on large fortunes. All of this being published in the country's biggest newspapers, including a particularly incisive article written by the famous political journalist Jaime Sanchez. The Hartfields are one of Dalton's biggest sources of funding, this could never happen and thanks to the good work done by both of us, Jaime it won't. Thanks."

"I didn't help you, not willingly!"

"Jaime, you chose to leave the twins under the influence of the Crows. You seduced Roberts to gain access to the club headquarters. You used, abandoned and remade Reis in Dalton's image just to achieve your goal without knowing that in doing so you achieved mine. You are mine Jaime Sanchez. And you gave me the chance to have my men in the place where the greatest dynasties in the world were born and died with secrets that could be useful to me, in the place that houses the largest unexplored area in the world, I found myself excited just thinking about what the Amazon has to offer me. You gave me an unexplored past through Chang and Reis, and promising future through the Millers. With them you gave me the opportunity to extend Dalton's ideas to millions through the screen of a cell phone. "

"I... I didn't mean..."

"Of course you wanted Jaime. You are a Crow. You accepted being the moment you sought out others of your own free will and thus sealed the contract, what came after were only the consequences.Everything happened as planned as always happens. As the board predicts. The board never makes mistakes Jaime, because I am the board. Our time It's ending. The last part of my blessing will fall on you. And as I said, it's a pitty. To be fully integrated with your brothers, you'll forget. Forget what you saw here. Forget me. You'll just know that Dalton changed you and that you are grateful for that. If it serves as compensation, know that your work is not finished yet. The old sources become my main scouts, using what is left of their light to locate other potential sources and continue with the good work. And This ends our conversation Jaime." - The boy concluded and Jaime realized that it was indeed true, that he had no escape.

"Before I go I would like to ask one more question."

"I think you've earned that right."

"Why do you do this? Those men killed you and forced you to act like this, why continue?"

"Eternity is too heavy a burden to bear without a role, boy. For a while I hated what I did as you saw for yourself. But then Dalton gave me the chance to do what I was created to do in a way that I didn't hate it. And at the same time gave me the opportunity to grow in a way that was denied to me by my own people. Although they taught me something that continues to be real to this day. This world needs warriors, leaders, the alphas of the pack. And I provide these leaders without prejudice of race, origin or sexuality. And that is why I will continue." - Understanding that the final moment had arrived, Jaime asked one last question.

"I never had a chance, did I?"

"Jaime, this is your chance. Goodbye, You have my blessing. - Jaime closed his eyes one last time. - It's time for Jace to wake up."

….

It was graduation day. Chad had been the valedictorian, praising the way of life and legacy of Dalton, drawing applause from everyone, even though they knew he was preaching to the converted. After tha he had called Senator Roberts to speak. J.B.'s father had become much more receptive to Dalton's culture after a visit there a few months earlier, even more so after Eddie and Chad's parents talked to him about his chances of running for president.

After the ceremony, a big dance was organized in the school's main hall, welcoming the families of all the graduates. The Miller twins were a sensation among the girls, being stopped all the time to take selfies or record a video. Their Tik Tok had boomed and they had already been invited to participate in talk shows and even a Netflix series. The other Crows had also shared that fame to some degree. Videos featuring the three Jays were particularly popular. The twins father to the surprise of the closed-minded community where they had been raised supported them unconditionally after a conversation held at the Academy and a good portion of land annexed to the family property.

Jace was very interested in visiting the place in the company of Caroline, the twins' younger sister, and he was not the only one to strengthen relations between the families. Melissa, his own sister, was talking to Leo and something more serious had already been established between Mike and Amelia, Chad's sister, who in turn was already engaged to the English socialite Charlotte Humphries sister of Louise, Eddie's current girlfriend, whose sister Lilly, in turn, was involved in a serious but secretly very open relationship with J.B. Only the twins were single for marketing reasons as they should be available to satisfy the desires of fans of both sexes. Which didn't mean they were inactive, because at that moment the two were leaving the room accompanied by three girls and a boy, probably for a quick orgy.

Jace suppressed his smile as he glanced across the dance floor where Mike and Chad were dancing with their respective partners, moving on to the table where Eddie and J.B. were secretly exchanging caresses while their ladies did exactly the same, and turned his eyes to where Leo, in turn, courted his sister in an undisguised way. He would have a conversation with his friend about that. Nothing would give him more pleasure than being Leo's brother-in-law with his millions of dollars, but if he somehow hurt his sister the other Crow would see an entirely different side of Jace. Finally his eyes fell on Caroline Miller and he prepared to do exactly what Leo did with his sister. He was interrupted, however, by an unknown man, clearly a Dalton alumni.

"Jaime Sanchez I have longed to meet you. I am Philip Thompson."

"Ah, of course. From the same class as Trip Hartfield. You can call me Jace Mr. Thompson, it's my nickname between brothers."

"So call me Flip, Jace. My partner Brent Woodward have wanted to talk to you for some time, but due to the nature of our work we haven't been able to attend the official meetings."

"You're scouts, aren't you? Chad mentioned that you two were the sources for his father's group."

"Yes, we were. We were much less powerful than you were. I can't tell you how much because..."

"Because you don't remember. I understand the feeling. I confess that I don't know exactly how a scout job works.

"That's why we'd like to talk to you. I know Vince Carmichael expects you to replace him one day at the head of the academy. But that's not going to make your job as a scout any easier. So why don't you wait until that job is no longer necessary to take on a position here? Until then we would like to offer you another official job offer."

"I still have college ahead of me sir."

"Our offer won't interfere with your studies, boy. You can start as an intern, paid of course. Woody and I are senior partners at Alpha, one of the biggest marketing agencies in the country and we'd like you to join us. I've read some of the your written works and they are excellent. Furthermore, constant work travels are a great way to justify absences due to scouting jobs. You will need to be in different parts of the country looking for sources and ensuring their recruitment and transfer to Dalton. If If you want to get married one day, believe me, you'll need a solid excuse for your absences. And by the way you can't take your eyes off that beautiful red-haired girl, I believe it's in your plans."- He finished with a smile that Jace couldn't help but return.

"Flip, I feel honored to accept your offer. When do I start?"

"The day after tomorrow, when you've recovered from the tiredness that redhead will give you."

"Flip, please, we are proud Dalton’s sons it takes a lot to tire us out."

….

Epilogue - 30 years later

"Jem, calm down. - Jace said with a serious tone of voice to his eighteen-year-old godson sitting next to him in the backseat of one of Alpha’s luxurious car. - If you're going to be the leader of the Crows this year you can't just be anxious for going to visit a prospect. What would your father say about that or your uncle Chad?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Jace. I'm doing my best to honor the legacy of the family and the Academy. But I can't completely avoid the anxiety. We are meeting the most powerful source in the last 30 years."

"Indeed, and do you know who was the most powerful source before him? Me. And I'm here by your side, a man from Dalton. You may be thinking you'll find some terrifying thing waiting for you, but in reality you'll find a scared boy who doesn't know why a prestigious school is offering him a scholarship. And it's up to you as president of the Crow Club to turn this scared boy into the terrifying thing. Your cousin Fritz went through this two years ago and Teddy Roberts last year. They had help from their brothers, Fritz had Eddie Miller and Teddy had Johny Miller and Mike Chang. You already have the upper hand Jem, I'm going to take over as Dalton's headmaster and take the twins with me and Leo Jr. will be there too You're covered, so put on your best smile and go to battle James Wentworth Hartfield-Jones." - He concluded as their car parked at a suburban house, making the boy relax a little.

Later while Jem was talking to the source he did the same with his father.

"In Dalton your son will be surrounded by the best professionals that the education system has to offer in addition to the company of extremely promising young people, Mr. Ansari. Jem, who is talking to your son now, is my godson and the son of the Supreme Court Judge Michael Jones, one of the youngest to hold the position during President Roberts' term. Theodore the president's grandson, studied at Dalton last year. And I know we only met and I'm taking over the institution, which may seem like a bias to you, but I studied there and I am a partner in one of the largest marketing companies in the world. From my class came great businessmen from the most diverse fields, in addition, Judge Jones himself also an Oscar-winning actor and a former football player, I'm talking about the Miller brothers, my brothers-in-law who you certainly know. Believe me you couldn't be putting Kamal in a better place."

"I believe you, Principal Sanchez. But I can't help but wonder what a place like Dalton could want with my son."

"I understand you, I thought that about myself one day, Mr. Ansari. The best answer I can give you is that I see a lot of myself in him." Jace replied with his usual arrogant smile.

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Three steps forward into the light.. - Good Omens au

Good omens ballet fic - Aziraphale as a noble and Crowley as a ballerina and their strange little friendship. Read tags for more.

Being a man of good status, wealth, and shy demeanor, Aziraphale was abundantly aware of his own flaws. He had learnt them young, and spent his time masking those inadequacies.

Particularly, Aziraphale was all too aware of the sin of greed.

It was the story of the first woman Eve that Aziraphale had become fascinated with this. His governess had reacted harshly to Aziraphale's questions, and had had to threaten him with taking away his literature lessons if he didn't stop. Aziraphale had sorrowfully accepted this. But it did not stop his want to know.

He quite liked books, and his collection had grown substantially as he'd gotten older. He was the only child of wealthy parents. He didn't mind this, as it gave him plenty of times to read. The irony of having no choice but to seek companionship in the people he read about

Apart from this, Aziraphale had all the strappings of a fine Englishmen of quality lineage. He had developed a taste for fine foods and wines, and was known to indulge in these pleasures. He was a decent enough conversationalist on the occasions where he chose to venture out into society. He was well liked amongst his staff, extended family and social circle. He was, overall, quite content with his position in life.

There was a knock at the door of his study. Aziraphale gently set the book he was reading down. His housekeeper, Mrs Williams, entered the study and curtsied.

"Sir, your carriage is out front as you have requested."

"Very good." Aziraphale nodded, checking his timepiece. It was a quarter to six, and the ballet was set to start at 7:30pm. Aziraphale pondered this for a moment. He had not yet had dinner, but it would have to wait until after the show. Mrs Williams left the room, her quiet footsteps tapping down the hall. Aziraphale took that moment to once over his appearance, flattening out the cuff of his shirtsleeve before heading out the door.

The resounding thunk echoed against the stage walls. Crowley gasped as the floor punched against his bare feet. Freezing, Crowley listened for any sign of footsteps.

He would be punished if they found him here, practicing, when he was supposed to be asleep. But the risk was worth it for the rest aching, used muscles would bring him once he returned to bed.

He'd been doing this almost as long as he'd been apart of the company. In the beginning, it had been a way of getting a little extra practice in. He never danced more than two hours of those nights. Eventually, however, he had started coming because he couldn't sleep. It was his routine now. But tonight, it brought him no comfort.

Crowley slid on his sweater and tugged on a pair of tattered socks and stood up. He climbed the stairs to his room, carefully, avoiding all the ones that creaked. He opened the door to his small room slowly. Returning to his bed, he shut his eyes, knowing he wouldn't sleep.

Beatrice, their company manager, had broken the noise exactly a month ago, deliberately having waited until their morning rehearsal had ended, to make the announcement.

Crowley hadn't heard it, but he had known what she was saying even as a siren blared in Crowley's head upon her condemnation. That evening, he had thrown up. The next day, Bea had sent him out of rehearsal upon his arrival. Crowley slept that day, and rehearsed that night.

The last month had been the only time in years that Crowley had managed to sleep decently at night. The combination of extra rehearsals for their final performance, and the pressure that accompanied auditions for every ballet company he could reasonably aspire to join left his worn down. But the alternative was poverty.

As a male ballerino approaching physical decline, Crowley was all too aware that he had run out of time. It would take a miracle to find another position after Solar completed their last show. Crowley had only ever danced. He was nothing else.

La Sylphide's opening night approached fast. The ritual the dancers observed on concert days was undertaken slowly. It remained unspoken, the shared fate of the dancers. Crowley had known most of them his whole life.

The noise of the audience claiming their seats echoed through the small rehearsal room behind the stage. While they had a month of shows planned, a sense of finality claimed him.

As a performer, he knew what to expect when he stood in position on the stage. Someone was counting beside him. He breathed in. The curtains rose.

There were roses in his room. There was always roses in his room. Luckily, Eric had decided to sit them out of the way after the sharp word Crowley had had with him last time after petals had fallen all over his writing desk.

It was a success, earning a four minute standing ovation. Bea had told him afterwards. Crowley couldn't say he cared exactly. While he had underdoubtedly danced well, the years spent in this same, familiar routine of practice, fittings, show, crowds had dampened the effect a successful show had had on him when he was young. He had skipped out on celebratory drinks with the other dancers. What he wanted now was to crawl into bed and hibernate. His limbs shook with exhaustion, and he was tired too.

If he had expected some grand revelation by the end of the second act, he would be disappointed. He shut his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Applause followed the finale of the ballet. Aziraphale watched as the dancers took to the stage once more to bow. When he exited the auditorium, he removed his coat. It was a warm night. His servant waited for him with the carriage, and he climbed in.

-

It was the strange way James - or the ballerino playing him - approached each step of the dance with a miserable foreknowledge of his own tragic fate.

Aziraphale could admit he was one for these indulgences. It wasn't unusual for Aziraphale to reserve a box at a particular opera or concerto he liked several nights in a row. But it was this uncanny dancer that was the reason Aziraphale found himself at the theatre again the next night. It wasn't as though he intended to try and speak with the dancer, or even the head of the company. He just wanted to see it again.

When he left the theatre, he immediately regretted sending his carriage back to his house. The weather had changed dramatically in the few hours since he had arrived. Aziraphale was fond of walking, however, and it would give him time to think. He wasn't sure whether he was upset, angry, or vindicated when the ballet ended again that evening with jubilant applause. Indeed, he spent the entire evening locked on to the lead, watching for any change from his debut. Yet there was nothing but the same melancholic sadness that shadowed each move. Aziraphale found in infuriating.

A loud thumping noise to his right spooked him out of his post-show haze. Aziraphale realised he had ventured past the stage doors, where a small group of people had gathered.

At the forefront of the group was James.

Aziraphale had intended to hurry past the group, not wanting his silent, unaccompanied walk to be interrupted by people he would undoubtedly be unable to escape speaking with if they approached him to speak. He had also become well used to silent escapes. It was easier to merge in to the background of finely dressed nobles when nobody was there to speak to you. Aziraphale had gone unnoticed until the death of his parents. But years of evasion had served him well. Nobody questioned you excusing yourself when they don't even know why you're there.

There was a commotion, and Aziraphale watched as a young brunette girl he immediately recognized as the love interest to the protagonist suddenly shot forward before falling to the floor. Without realising it, he had stepped forward.

"Excuse me."

Crowley turned his head quickly. A well-dressed gentlemen, likely a theatregoer trying to speak to the dancers at the stage door, was frowning at them. Crowley snarled. This was the last thing he needed. The nonsense with Anna's lover's appearance, demanding to speak to her as she tried to get away, was already making his head hurt. Now, some fancy guy appearing suddenly, likely trying to speak to one of the girls. He didn't want to deal with this.

"What is the meaning of this?" the gentlemen demanded. Crowley stared at him. The gentleman stood patiently, one hand resting in the other. Suddenly, Anathema broke free of - Christopher, that was probably his name - and latched on to Crowley's arm, which caused him to scowl.

"Nothing's the matter here." Crowley stated firmly when it became apparent that no one else was going to speak. While Crowley immediately hated the posh prick, daring to interject himself in their personal manners because none of them could reasonably say anything about it. But, to his credit, it seemed to work on Anna's worthless ex. Until he lunged forward and hit the man.

Crowley pulled him off and shoved him away. He slid to the ground and reached for the gentleman's hand to pull him up. The man made a noise as he brushed the dirt off his back with one hand, frowning and saying something under his breath at the same time.

Crowley turned at the sound of yelling. There was a scrambling as the observers, the other dancers, moved to inform the police of what had happened. Anathema had moved to stand beside Crowley and the gentlemen, who had finally finished swiping the dirt away, and was now looking pensively at Crowley. It was then that Crowley realised that their arms were still joined together, and quickly let go.

"My, that looks terrible," announced Anathema as she reached up to graze the bruise forming on the gentlemen's cheek. Crowley looked at the man, who watched Anathema hesitantly.

"Oh dear. That's not good," the gentlemen responded. He turned his eyes to Crowley and, when they briefly met, Crowley felt an uncomfortable tug in his gut.

"Let's get you upstairs and treat it. You can't go out like this." Anathema stated, tugging the gentleman in the direction of the stage door before he had time to object.

-

Aziraphale had insisted the entire way up to what he expected was Anathema's room that he was fine, but Anathema wasn't hearing it. Anathema opened the door at the end of a short hallway lined with identical doors to a small room covered in roses.

Aziraphale was told to sit at the desk before Anathema left the room. The male, who Aziraphale had not yet learnt the name of, was reaching above a tall closet for a box. Aziraphale watched, wanting to help, but knowing he had no idea what he was doing, he remained where he was and waited.

The man rummaged through the box as Aziraphale watched. Neither of them said anything. After a moment, he found a short piece of gauze. Nodding, he shoved it into his pocket and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Aziraphale said worriedly.

The man turned, and looked at Aziraphale with confusion.

"Going to get ice." he finally said. Aziraphale realised it was the first time he'd heard the gentlemen speak.

"You don't need to." Aziraphale stood up. Then, realising he had stood up for basically no reason, fiddled with his hands.

"I mean." he inhaled. "I'm honestly fine."

"You're not." he pointed to his own head. "You've got a bruise."

"Umm." Aziraphale took a step forward. "Genuinely, I'm fine. Thank you for your help, umm."

"Crowley." the man stated blandly.

"Crowley." Aziraphale repeated. "I'm, umm, Aziraphale. And really, it's no bother. I wouldn't want to burden you."

Crowley sighed, which surprised Aziraphale until he realised that this was a normal reaction by people who dealt with Aziraphale long enough.

"Look, just let me get the ice. Wait there." and then he was out of the door before Aziraphale could object.

When Crowley returned some five minutes later, he was both the gauze-wrapped ice and a large coat.

"What's this?" Aziraphale asked.

"Coat. From costume. It's cold outside. Here, ice."

Aziraphale held it against his cheek, wincing at the contact.

"I've sent for a carriage. It should be here within the other."

Aziraphale hummed., and took the coat, resting it on his lap. Crowley, meanwhile, took a seat on the bed, not saying anything.

"Anathema, umm. has a lot of admirers."

Crowley looked up at him. He was, to Aziraphale's surprise, wearing sunglasses. But Aziraphale had manners, and didn't ask why.

"These? They're mine. This is my room."

Crowley watched as Aziraphale's eyes widened at this. He couldn't help but find humor in the mans bashfulness. It had been the last thing he had been expected from the nicely dressed gentlemen. Really, he had pinned Aziraphale all wrong.

"Well, they're all quite lovely." Aziraphale stated awkwardly. "And well deserved, I mean. I didn't mean to imply I didn't think you're worthy of roses."

Crowley wanted to pry, but the other man likely wouldn't appreciate it. Luckily, he didn't have to. Before Crowley could say anything in response, Aziraphale cleared his throat silently.

"It's just that, I noticed the way you dance for, for James, is so melancholic. I wondered why, but I didn't have the opportunity to ask."

Crowley blinked at the statement. It was no question, Crowley was well aware Aziraphale believed his own statement, and didn't require the validation. Crowley looked at the man, silent for a few moments.

"I suppose you're right." Crowley stated. Aziraphale did not say anything for a moment, and Crowley didn't either.

"My apologies." Aziraphale said after a long moment of silence. "I didn't mean to overstep."

Crowley nodded at him absently. To his credit, Aziraphale didn't say anything after, which was just fine with him. Crowley was not in the mood to argue whether or not Aziraphale was right or not. He had had enough of chattering elites with too much to say for a lifetime. He would agree if it made the time go by quicker.

The carriage pulled up outside their building and Aziraphale stood up slowly, still looking at Crowley but not saying anything. Crowley supposed he felt bad for what he had said earlier, or at least awkward about the silence that had come after. Before Crowley had the chance to offer to walk him down to the carriage, Aziraphale was saying something. Crowley blinked up at him.

"Thank you, dear, it was very kind of you." he was fiddling with the collar of his coat, and avoiding eye contact. Crowley watched as he smiled hurriedly at him, before making his way out the door quickly. He did not turn around, and Crowley did not speak as he walked away.

[eightpuppet]

There's been some posts around that want Aziraphale to be very badass next season. To show up, lick kick ass and take names in Heaven. There's been reminders about how he's a protector, a guardian and a BAMF, and should really go feral next season.

(Also some posts about how Crowley should do that, but that's not the subjext here. Also some posts about actually licking ass, but also not the subject here.)

And while the action movie and shounen anime fan in me appreciates the visceral satisfaction of that sort of thing, and I don't want anyone to feel guilty about wanting that, another part of me finds the thought incredibly tragic. That the angel who declared himself soft after Gabriel called him a lean mean fighting machine should become one after all. That the angel who threw down his uniform in front of his quartermaster and told him he has no intention of fighting in any war should have to go to war after all.

That's the solution? That the very first being in existence who gave up his sword willingly should pick it up again?

Well. He did already pick it up again one time. In the book to make a hopeless last stand in defense of humans, yes, which is about the only situation where that seems about right, but in the show he took one look at it and decided this could still be solved by talking. Or by threats of not talking, as it were. And it's the show we're talking about here.

And I don't know what the show's solution ultimately will be, but I want it to be, at least in part, because of Aziraphale's softness. His gentleness. The part of him that stops burglaries with baked goods. That deflects aggressive humans at graveyards with politeness, and in the end everyone involved benefits. The part that defiantly remains kind, even if he can be a bit of a bastard.

Or maybe even more than that, I want it to be his humanity. Humanity is infectious. It's a theme of Pratchett. And it's a theme of Good Omens. And it takes so very little. Gabriel and Beelzebub spend only years meeting each other on Earth, and lose their taste for what they live for, what is essentially their only purpose, and find their song (it contains information in a tuneful way, did you know?) Muriel, Heaven's biggest cinnamon roll that they are, couldn't grasp why Aziraphale was so upset about Job's children in the time of Uz, but one look at the world and they're amazed, one book and they're hooked.

Aziraphale knew Adam and Eve only for a few days, and felt so sorry for them after their punishment that he defied God's orders and then lied directly to Her illuminated face about it.

That's what I want to see, I think. The Metatron brought the most human of angels into Heaven by plying him with human drinks like coffee and human desires like love, and I want that to be his undoing. Humanity is infectious, and he's brought that infection to Heaven, and I want it to spread. All of us against them, all of humanity against Heaven (and eventually Hell,) except not quite like Crowley probably thought, because after all these years he still hasn't got the hang of us.

I want people-positive management style. I want the angels to at first be weirded out and maybe mutinous, but then grow to like it. I want them to get to know each other, not as coworkers, not as bees, but as friends. I want them to fall in love while gossiping about the weirdo Supreme Archangel who put up a suggestion box (because that definitely felt like a Foreshadowing, even if only for a joke) and then actually kinda like it, because some of their suggestions were heard and that's actually pretty nice. To be heard. I want them to figure out that they actually like to get some compliments for their work. To figure out that they actually kinda like Aziraphale's leadership style, and maybe resist when he eventually gets replaced for doing something off the wall.

(I may want to watch OFMD's first season again. I admit it.)

I want the angels to do things that spread humanity in them, like the cocoa going down Gabriel's mouth, throat and stomach, doing different things in every place, like Muriel opening a book and finding out it's just like people, and now they love books, and therefore people.

I want them to find their songs.

Maybe the angels also just need some baked goods. (Aziraphale had to miracle in the cherries.)

Maybe Aziraphale accidentally brings the six shot espresso Crowley angrily shoved at him during their latest attempt to talk with him, and someone tries it and likes it, and Aziraphale gives them permission to visit Earth to get more because why not, and it spreads, and the world doesn't end because where would the Heavenly Host get their coffee, and all of Heaven chooses coffee rather than death, because people are so predictable, aren't they, Metatron?

Maybe Muriel brings up a book and someone borrows it and it becomes this whole thing and they have to bring up even more books, and the angels don't want to destroy the Earth because they gotta know the end of some trilogy or another, and who knows, maybe GRRM will finish A Song of Ice and Fire after all, and Aziraphale indirectly saves the world not by being a badass, but by being the world's biggest book nerd, and okay, the bookshop didn't last forever, but it's okay, nothing does.

Maybe when there's a choice to watch something other than the Sound of Music, because the Supreme Archangel brought up some new films in the hopes of being able to watch literally anything else... the angels choose. And keep choosing. Because once you start, you can't stop, even if it starts with something small like "What should we watch today?", because humanity is infectious. Maybe they choose to taste ox, or sushi. Maybe they listen to something not by Liszt or Elgar. Maybe they'll have a look at a cup of tea.

I just don't want it to be Aziraphale's masterplan that goes off without a hitch. Or Crowley's. When have their plans ever solved anything? Their big plan wasn't enough to fool all the archangels that these were Job's new children, they only got away with it because of Aziraphale's status as an angel, and because Gabriel considered him beneath suspicion. Crowley's plan to fool Hell into thinking he only did a good thing because of being high on Laudanum didn't fool Hell, or Aziraphale, or anyone. And their plan to stop the Armageddon? We know all about that. The only successful plan they've ever had was given to them by Agnes Nutter.

Besides, seems like they're gonna be busy with Jesus, anyway.

I dunno. I'm rambling, and Gaiman's a much better writer than I am. But Heaven isn't toxic because angels, or even archangels, are inherently bad. We've seen that. It's more that it's a soulless corporate machine. I've heard the opinion that the book was more the absurdity of the Cold War, and the show is more capitalism is bad, and if so, I feel like the solution should reflect that. Putting Aziraphale in charge cannot solve that problem because they will always find some other schmuck to put in charge, same as they did with Gabriel.

But if the army doesn't show up because it doesn't want to fight? If everyone, not just Gabriel, says nah to the Apocalypse? If they just... don't show up to work?

(Alternatively, I guess they could eat the archangels. Put that gluttony of Aziraphale's to good use.)

[beigetiger]

Kinda chewing on Omen and Crepuscular’s relationship right now…man they’re complicated and I wanna talk about them 😭

Even independent from Crepuscular, Omen is a pretty fascinating character to me. At first I didn’t like him because he felt like a bad stereotype, but character development saved him for me so much. He’s a really good representation of positive masculinity, even while he’s doing things that many of the more violent or problematically masculine characters do. He manages to do these things without having to be toxically masculine about any of it, and I’m proud of him for that. And a lot of his ability to do that came from Crepuscular.

Because while I definitely think that their relationship is toxic, Crepuscular was still hugely important for Omen being able to develop his own opinions and do what he wanted instead of being a shy kid who trips over his own two feet. Being with Valkyrie and Skulduggery and helping in their missions definitely started him out by giving him a taste of what the adventuring was like, but every single time he sort of…went back to his normal, boring life afterwards. He always felt like Skulduggery and Valkyrie needed to call on him before he could do anything useful.

Enter Crepuscular, who has so many emotional issues that he successfully manages to hide from Omen by actually being interested in what Omen has to say and encouraging him to do more risky and adventurous things. By this point, Omen has spent his entire life being an idiot who nobody takes seriously and who’s inferior to his brother, so he eats up what Crepuscular is feeding him and starts doing little rulebreaking things, like helping his brother get a knife he needs to kill the King of the Darklands. Small things, and stuff that Omen doesn’t have to get too involved in to help.

And then his brother kills the King of the Darklands a year early, freaks out about it, and suddenly stops helping out people around the school, even when that’s been what people depended on him for for years. There’s suddenly nobody to do it. There’s an empty niche in the school’s metaphorical ecosystem that Auger used to dominate but is now too traumatized to.

And then Omen is there with Crepuscular encouraging him and helping him grow and be more adventurous and be more independent. Since Omen understands what his brother must be going through right now and also understands that the people around them need help, he takes it upon himself to help them (while also pretending that it’s Auger who’s doing it). And Omen circa Resurrection would never have been brave or strong enough to do that, but by this point he’s been following around Crepuscular long enough that he’s actually brave enough and organized enough to figure out what needs to get done, sneak out and talk to Crepuscular, and then actually get up and do it.

And then Damocles Creed becomes Supreme Mage and suddenly they’re living in an incredibly fascist and restrictive state. Does this stop Omen? Hell no. The boy becomes a little punk who investigates suspicious activity around the school and talks to his friends (and sometimes other students) about how they’ll escape this situation.

And then he picks a fight with Valkyrie, who’s an evil god at this point, and tells both her and Skulduggery that they’re awful people (and rightly so). Again, Resurrection Omen would have passed out at the idea of disrespecting these two in their normal forms, but two years later he’s perfectly willing to yell at a god with a streak of breaking people’s wrists.

Crepuscular was a bad person who was produced by circumstances so bad even he knew they were fucked up and he was helping Omen for his own emotional gain, but that doesn’t prevent the fact that he gave Omen the same thing that Skulduggery gave Valkyrie all those years ago: a safe space to test himself out and spread his wings in a way that felt comfortable. And even if Crepuscular was simply doing it to compare himself to Skulduggery, it legitimately helped Omen so much and allowed him to become a more emotionally put-together person than Auger, who had always been considered the better one.

And even after Omen decides to break off his friendship with Crepuscular, that bravery still lingers. He leads a goddamn rebellion in his school and the other kids accept him as their leader and begin taking orders from him.

And after it’s all over? Omen decides to go to art school with a girl he met while on a mission with Crepuscular. Crepuscular was such a bad person but he helped Omen so much and I honestly wouldn’t change much about how their relationship went.

And I honestly think that Crepuscular didn’t hate him either. Aside from Omen giving him what he wanted, Crepuscular chose to go back and ask for Omen’s forgiveness even after he claims to have proved himself better than Skulduggery, and Omen chose to go on one last mission with him because Omen is a sweet person who is easily peer pressured and Crepuscular knew that.

In short, their relationship is toxic but developmentally important for Omen and this post mostly turned into me ranting about Omen’s character development, which I’m not mad about.

[mistresskayla-blog1]

A Superior Find

Lyn's Writing Event Day 3

May 3rd : Week 1:  Wendigo 

Characters: Dr Scott White & OC (Mika Awi-Mino Deh D’eh) Aka Mika Deer-heart       

“Deer with a strong heart” (Ojibwe)

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Sleepwalker

Word count: 1.0k ++

Location: Gwinn, Ontonagon (MI – US) “Superior State”

OC Character based off a real Ojibwe metal sculptor Louise Solomon “Likeness”

Warnings: nightmares, dark content, dreams, hallucinations, tremors, fear, native american lore,

Deep in the forest of the Superior state, Mika tossed and turned on her pillow, fighting off the sweating and trembling sensations in her limbs as a large glistening black skinned creature is chasing her in her dream. The deepness of the winter had sunken into the cabin and she was alone again, the fire out and her thoughts swimming as she sat up in bed panting and clutching her chest. A frosty breath resounded from her mouth as she tried to claim the fresh air into her lungs. She looked at her hands and they were shaking uncontrollably. Was she shivering or still coming out of that dream? Her skin was cool and clammy, and she peeled off her shirt and padded to the shower to start it up hot. She reset the pilot on a potbelly furnace and started the peat for an ignitor.  Smoke gushed out of the vent; she stepped back coughing. Waving her hands and covering her mouth with her arm, the taste was ashy and acrid. She heard the shift of the water heater and walked away from the stove allowing it to warm the space, flipping the haft toggle bar to make sure the flew was open to the chimney.

She had had enough sunny days to go without a little bit. Residual heat from the other space heaters was enough, but today the chill was there, and it clung to her like her shirt had, a deep embrace. Mika stepped into the clawfoot tub and pulled the shower curtain with a scratchy noise against the metal bar above her. The water hit her skin and flayed off a layer, she cursed out loud and turned it down, letting the steam seep into her lungs, and the water finally to warm her, but not burn her. She checked for marks all over her body, again, this creature came to her, and she did not know what it meant, her great grandmother had said that such a creature meant famine long ago, and she certainly didn’t need that omen.

There were shallow scratches on her arms and hips, but she didn’t remember it getting that close to her. The thought made her shiver under the hot tap, and once she felt clean, she stepped out and toweled off, heading back to the bed. She pulled open a wardrobe hutch, a squeak of the hinge on the door let her know it was still unearthly quiet in this space for morning. She looked up out the paned glass of the windows, the sash was open, so what light was here poured in. The wind was still outside and the snow was crisp, white and calm. Nothing was stirring, not even the birds or squirrels, and that gave Mika an uneasy feeling. This deep in the woods she could always count on the animals to tell her when things were safe.

Mike got dressed and yanked the phone charger out of her phone, scrolling to find the clinic number. Finding Dr John Whitehorn on her “recents” gave her a pause. Maybe she was crazy. She knew he wouldn’t treat her that way, but still, it niggled in her mind, that something was off.

The phone rang as she waited, “John Whitehorn” Mika paused, “Hey Doctor, “ He responded immediately, “Mika, my dear, how are you feeling, did that tea work at all?”

Mika looked over towards the kitchenette, “Sorry, no. I forgot to try it. He came again, or it. And I think it is getting closer. I woke up with scratches.  How does that happen?”

John, “Well, that is a progression, (frowns audibly) we should have you come in. I know a specialist in California that can help. I’ll call him and then we will schedule time for you to come in, alright? Try to eat and do some activities that remind you on being awake, get outside, its supposed to hit the 30s today”.  Mika hmm-d against his tone, “Yeah I will try that. Thanks Doc”. 

“My pleasure. I will call you soon”, Dr John said, hanging up the call and immediately placing a call to Dr Scott White at the Henderson Sleep Institute in Los Palos, California.  

---

Scott was at his desk when his cell phone rang, it startled him a second, he was lost in thought about a client, and sipped his coffee for the morning. It was early, but late for his shift was nearly over. When you work in a sleep clinic you rarely have the night off. Scott picked it up, “Scott White”, Scott said, a male voice on the other end spoke immediately, “Dr White? This is John from the Sacred Heart Clinic in her in Gwinn,” Scott nodded, “Sure, yes, John. How are you, how can I help?”

“Look, I have a patient, Mika and she is having some very strong somatic responses and I was wondering if you had some time to come out and see us here for, maybe a week?” Dr John was hopeful sounding as he paused waiting for Scott to answer.

“What sort of disturbances? What are her symptoms?" Scott asked. John paused, as if looking at notes, Scott heard shuffling, “Sweating, nausea, tremors, and now she has visible scratches on her arms and hips” Scott’s eyes dilated slightly in the resounding pause, “I see. That is quite a unique disturbance. And she is where exactly?”  John answered, “She lives up in the woods here, about 20 miles from the towns. She’s an artist so she likes seclusion, but I think it is getting to her. Our winters up north here can last 6 months or more”.  Scott looked thoughtful, scribbling some notes on a pad in front of him, “Right, well that certainly can’t help matters. How long has she been having these disturbances?”  John, blew out some air, “Oh gosh, Id have to check my notes, but since last year I suppose, its been building. Off and on. She really doesn’t contact me too often. I go up and see her at least once a month, or have her come down” Scott cleared his throat, “I’m sorry are you her primary physician then?” 

John responded, “Yes, here on the reservation, there are only 4 of us accredited in the Western way, so I specialize in psychiatry, sleep, and general practice”.  Scott nodded again, taken in the information. He opened a calendar on his desktop, “I could be there in a few days, if you think she will hold until then”.   John, “Fine, fine. I will make an appointment to have her come down from the hills, no problem. She maybe be a little skittish, but its just the Wendigo spooking her. We’ll see you on Friday then?” John was about to ring off when Scott stopped him, “Did you say the Wendigo, like the lore of the Deer man?”  John smiled proudly, “Yes, you know of our native stories?” Scott spoke carefully, “He appears in dreams and in the flesh haunting people in the wood. I remember reading something back in college. Sleep myths are kind of a hobby of mine, (smirks)”.  “Well that’s great, then she will be in good hands, we will see you on Friday. Pack heavy we’ve got 8 more inches expected that night. Ill send you an email with details on how to get here from the city (referring to Marquette)”. John chuckled and hung up. Scott looked at his computer and down at his notes, “tremors and scratches” he mumbled to himself, “Hmm”.

(More to come... stay tuned.... )

@legolasbadass @fizzxcustard @lathalea

@scariusaquarius @middleearthpixie @riepu10

[riddler-green]

Could I request a Eddie/Reader where they go on a date and try to go to a fancy place but like everything keeps going wrong but they decide to go home and watch movies together instead because they just appreciate EAchothers company 💙💙

Cena para dos.

Summary: Edward wants to impress you with a dinner, but unfortunately, not everything goes as planned.

A/n: um hello!!! thank you so much for the support with your likes and reblogs help me a lot! anyway i hope you enjoy it! (´꒳`)♡

and thank you very much for the request and I apologize if it is too short, but I still hope you enjoy it!!! ♡(>ᴗ•)

Warning: a little angst, fluff!

Words: 1,100

Edward always comes up with new ideas to show his love for you, like things to give you like gifts, dates, and many more, he is a top organizer and proud of it, however this time he wanted to impress you with something more extravagant.

They have had multiple dates in restaurants and one of the first dates was in a bad omen restaurant that barely served silverware.

But all that didn't matter to you as the only thing that interested you was Edward's shy and nervous face.

But now he wants to make you a surprise, a luxurious dinner in a five-star restaurant, he did a lot of research looking for the best restaurant in Gotham, and found one with a view of the whole city.

He immediately made a reservation and found a space for dinner.

But he was concerned about one thing, the food.

Definitely, in that restaurant, they sell Gourmet food and he is not used to that kind of food, he doesn't have a fine palate, and he doesn't want to ruin your evening with his terrible taste in food.

But he still makes the reservation, why he does it for you, he can't help but spoil you as you spoil him, he wants to show you off to others why he's so madly in love.

Booked on a Friday night, a good time to have a good atmosphere.

All week he was excited about your surprise, on the other hand, you sense what he's up to.

First, why he doesn't want to tell you? it means you are involved and therefore usually ends in a gift or a date.

Sooner or later he ends up telling you the surprise sooner because he can't keep anything from you.

You're ecstatic about the date, beyond the luxuries you're excited to go out with Edward anywhere.

Besides, the restaurant can be very good to take pictures with him (even if he resists).

A few hours before the two of you left for the restaurant you gave him a dress shirt for the occasion, in a soft green color, one that he could wear to his office as well. 

Edward thanked you with a few kisses on your face, it's like it's a competition of who spoils who the most.

The bespectacled man senses something deep inside him as if something bad is going to happen, he knows he has bad luck (in life in general).

But his bad luck stopped when he met you and that paranoid itch disappeared.

But as the two were on their way to the restaurant itch returned.

He wanted to calm himself by taking your hands to forget those intrusive thoughts.

Until the first raindrops emerged, and it started to rain hard if he didn't know Gotham's weather well he would say it was a storm but he knows it's not.

In an attempt to cover themselves, the two run hand in hand towards the restaurant, arriving in a short time.

Edward felt victorious, he had won against his premonition! He would have a dream date with the love of his life!

However, the reservations manager tells them that they have to wait for a table, even if they have a reservation, as the restaurant is completely full.

Edward's smile drops and he looks at you worriedly. You accepted the fact that you have to wait so you sit in a part of the entrance part.

"At least we made it" You smile at him gracefully and calmly, this situation didn't upset you as much as it did Edward, if they had to wait then they would, no problem with that.

"yes, the rain didn't get us that wet" she says smiling softly and taking your hand to squeeze it and feel your feet on the ground.

The time waiting for little came to be postponed so much that you swore the two of you waited two hours, too long for your taste. 

Every time you said you'd better leave Edward assured you that they were almost in but the waiters and workers never looked at them at any time. 

The straw that broke the camel's back was when Edward went to ask and was told by the reservations manager that there were no more spaces to enter since the kitchen would soon be closed.

You were infuriated by the unkindness in which they addressed Edward How dare they be so disrespectful to your sweetheart? 

He stays quiet while you drag him out of the restaurant angry, he blamed himself for this happening, maybe he didn't book well, or didn't notice the date, he must have been to blame.

You stop in a few streets when you notice Edward's pessimistic silence, knowing what it means.

"Hey, Eddie, let's go home," you tell him stroking his hand to make him relax, he looks into your eyes with obvious sadness. "I wanted to surprise you" he confesses embarrassed, everything went wrong and now he just wants to hide between his bed sheets.

"I don't care about the restaurant, Eddie" you explain walking back and he follows you still holding hands "Do you remember our first date?".

Edward replies instantly "When did we go to that coffee shop?" you nod your head in pleasure and sigh in love remembering that moment.

"Yes, my coworkers made fun of why you didn't take me to something more decent and I scolded them for that" Your cheerful voice dimmed, people have been unfair to Edward and that enervates you, he doesn't deserve that kind of treatment.

After that, the two kept silent and continued on their way home.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Not even a menu of over a thousand dishes or a place with all the beautiful things would make you as happy as the situation you are in now.

Yes, you're bitter that Edward's surprise didn't happen but you prefer this.

Feeling Edward's warm breath, his breathing, and above all, you love being cuddled up next to him.

You suggested they could watch movies and eat some leftovers and he agreed. And now they are already in the penultimate movie of a saga he loves so much.

You turned to look at him while he appreciated the film.

His beauty, is non-existent to some but to you, you look at it as clear as water, Edward Nashton has made you so happy and you to him, that superficialities take a back seat.

He feels your gaze and looks back at you he smiles already forgetting what you had to go through in the restaurant, he loves this too.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[gaslightgallows]

The Inevitable ‘Good Omens 2 is Eating My Brain’ Prompt List

It's been a hot second since I did one of these things but I am again Unwell over this show and need to write out my feelings. My ask box is open: send me a prompt (or prompts) from the list below and a character/pairing from the show and I’ll do my damnedest/blessedness to write you a scrumptious little fic.

I need something bigger than the sky.

If you don't find me, you'll find the things. You'll touch what my hand touches.

As long as you stay here, you can always think: One day I will go home.

I feel myself coming unstitched from the world. I can’t seem to make myself adjust.

And what do all great words come to in the end, but that? I love you - I am at rest with you - I have come home.

Neither of them chased the other and yet each was surrounded by the other.

There is something big coming. Bigger than love, bigger than aloneness.

You have been ruined from the moment you met, and you will be ruined long after you part.

I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel.

Evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

No matter how much you think you love somebody, you'll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close.

Heaven will still have murder out at last.

The world went on, even as it fell apart.

Yes, I am alone. Except for the devils in my brain.

As if a tenderness awoke, a tenderness that did not tire. Something healing.

You've saved my life so often, I don't deserve thanks.

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

I forgive the world because it has you.

In the church of my heart the choir’s in flames.

Gaze upon this wretched thing and know that it is love.

I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand.

You wrap your name tight around my ribs and keep me warm.

I keep asking what am I. Lord knows I still don't know.

But what are you trying to be free of? The living? The miraculous task of it?

Love as a punishment, love as a death sentence. Love as god.

I was very young when I was cracked open.

And yet I swear I love this earth that scars and scalds, that burns my feet. And even hell is holy.

I drink to the fact that God did not save us.

Hold me closer now and I'll forget about the life I saw for us written in your eyes. 

There are scars that can't be seen. I want them touched, but there are more scars than hands willing.

Take me with you. I want a doomed love.

You are someone I have loved but never known.

I slept and woke up inside out, on the other side of the nightmare, where the nightmare is unmovable, unyielding reality.

Only others save us, even though solitude tastes like opium.

They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.

The stars seem to live forever but they’re mortal too.

I think of you often. I think of you often, and I remember.

In the divine order of ideal things, it is written that eternal love is to be given to what is eternally unworthy.

I shine only with the light you gave me.

Say my name, taste the parts of me that belong to you.

Anons are on and the ask box will stay open until I get bored/overwhelmed/distracted by something else.

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today. 

Here today to talk all things whumpy is the fabulous @not-a-space-alien!

Thank you for joining us today! Do you mind sharing a fact or two about yourself to start us off?

I love pet rats.  I don’t know if I can have them anymore, though, because it’s really hard when they start getting sick and they get old so fast.

Rats make the most adorable pets! And how would you describe what whump means to you? 

To me whump is about lingering on the effects of trauma and pain that mainstream media usually minimizes or ignores because it’s “too messy” or apparently not interesting I guess?  Humans are messy and I want to revel in that sometimes.  It feels wrong to ignore it.  Sometimes I feel messy and in pain and overwhelmed and I want to read about people who also feel that way.  I also like the hurt/comfort aspect because…..well, my fantasy is that someone will comfort me when I’m hurting and that someone will rescue me when I’m in pain (or on the flip side that I can save someone who’s in pain)

How did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

I’ve written these sorts of things for a while even before engaging with anything on tumblr that was primarily made as whump.  I started posting my writing on tumblr and engaging in online circles originally in the Good Omens fandom, years before the TV show came out, and gradually my writing on that front started getting darker and darker as I realized there are other people who like reading that sort of thing and it wasn’t just me.  I think it did make people a little uncomfortable sometimes and they weren’t really sure how to handle it, so that’s why these days I try extra hard to make sure it’s clear what’s in the writing and how it should be viewed and handled.

If I remember correctly I found myself in this corner after a period of years where I didn’t write anything at all, then while watching some random movies I re-watched Night at the Museum and of course looked at tumblr posts about it, which led to me starting to browse g/t more often (thanks Jedtavius), and after being into g/t stuff for a while I stumbled across some people who wrote g/t whump, and from there I found some “regular” whump.  The first person I remember actually talking to was @oddsconvert, who told me to read Kane and Jim, and I have been mildly obsessed with Milly’s writing since then, which gave me a framework to pull together pieces of ideas I’d always had to write MMSS, which is really my only current contribution to “whump tumblr.” (I’d always had an idea about a scientist vampire getting caught while trying to make artificial blood, I combined this with Valen, a DnD character I’d previously played as a drow, because I knew the setting in Milly’s story would be the perfect thing to tie it all together.)

Do you think your view on whump changed since you discovered the whump community?

I’m not sure if I would really consider myself part of the “whump community” because so much of what’s out there doesn’t appeal to me.  At first I gave everything a try but as time went on I started getting more and more picky.  I’ve grown to really dislike “pet whump”/BBU as well as nameless snippets/prompts that use cardboard cutout characters or flatten characters into two-dimensional archetypes like “Caretaker” or “Whumper.”  This sounds really negative but it’s entirely a matter of personal taste and I wish people who write that stuff the best. I wish I could enjoy it because there’s so many talented people out there writing it but it just does nothing for me.

No, that’s entirely valid. There’s a lot of tropes out there and certain ones like BBU can feel inescapable sometimes!  It really can be hard to find ones that tick all of your boxes. Do you have any particular favourites?

I love when a character is scared for their life, not knowing that in reality they’re completely safe/being helped.  

Shocked when receiving mercy and gentleness when none is expected or deserved.

Character unused to receiving love being loved.

Monster characters hiding their monster nature, being exposed, but being loved anyway despite being treated badly for it in the past.

The power of FriendshipTM

Love being a powerful force that can pull people through the worst ordeals

Complicated relationships between vulnerable characters 

Fearplay 

Excellent trope choices! Unexpected mercy or kindness is so good! Would you like to share a favourite piece that you’ve written? 

Honestly this isn’t even whump but I think my favorite thing I’ve ever written is still Falling Hazard.  I put SO much work into that story.  It had so many moving pieces and I wanted to make sure it was all polished and got the attention it deserved so it went through 3 or 4 drafts, I had the whole thing written before I even started posting it.  It was the culmination of an OC-heavy, plot-intense Good Omens second-apocalypse fic that turned into more of a thriller than anything.  

https://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/657822746613514240/your-own-side-masterpost  

Haven’t really been interested in Good Omens fandom stuff for a hot minute but I’m honestly still really proud of it.  I don’t think it’s really possible to try the “sand the barcode off and sell as an original fiction” thing because it’s so interwoven with the themes of the novel but I think even people with only a passing knowledge of good omens could enjoy it.  (the first few entries in this series are kind of whumpy but the later ones are less like that)

Good Omens?! I’m going to binge this so much, I swear! What does your writing routine look like?

I only write when inspiration strikes, I generally don’t do my best work if I’m forcing myself to write.  I do my best work when I’m seized by some mad ideas and feel like I’ll explode if I don’t write RIGHT NOW.  I think the worst case I ever had it was this one time I wrote an entire ficlet on my phone at work.  RIP my thumbs. 

Ah yes. And the urge to write always comes at the most inconvenient time, doesn’t it? Do you find that somethings are easier to write than others?

I struggle to write in any universe where I can’t keep a firm hold on the worldbuilding in my head.  My brain will take implications of things we see and run off with it and it’s like I run up against a wall if I can’t take everything to its logical conclusion.  So I tend to write easiest in settings where the worldbuilding is simple, or based on a few things that are flexible.  I tend to get really picky and a bit ridiculous about taking things too seriously when it comes to worldbuilding.

Is there anything you're working on at the moment? 

My two big current writing projects are Watch Your Step and MMSS and I can’t really see that changing anytime soon.  I do have a google doc with some ideas for shorter pieces and snippets that I might write when inspiration strikes. 

Do you have a joke or pun you would like to share to spread some smiles today?

I'm bad at this.  Please can people comment with a joke or pun.  I’m the one who needs smiles.  I'm so tired.

A joke for you then: What's a fanfic writer's weapon of choice? His headcanon! 

Do you have any writing advice you’d like to share?

Pay attention to people in real life. Listen to the way they talk and act, the lies they tell themselves, the way they juggle things, the way they behave when they care vs when they don't care. Listen to what they say with their words and without. Dissect why strangers, acquaintances, friends, lovers interact the way they do. Notice patterns. Appreciate the complexity of human existence. Pay attention to context and background and how circumstances affect behavior. Understand that there is no true "you" at the core of every human, just a million fragments of personality seen by a million different people. Once you understand all this, you can mix and match to build a person in your head. Every character feels real when they get pieces of you, or pieces of people you know.  That’s my philosophy anyway!

I’m writing that advice down, that’s really good. Are there any blogs you’d like to mention?

@whumpsday and @oddsconvert  <3  I also love @demondamage’s stuff even though I havent been following for too long :)

Anything you'd like to add? 

Stay frosty coolios 

It was a pleasure to have you here today, @not-a-space-alien! 

And to all you fab folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[mopeymi]

Exams are kicking my behind, but I feel bad leaving y’all in the dust.

I promise an update will be out soon for ‘You Have Terrible Morals and Obligations’.

Please have this little train of thought of mine as a token of my undying love and appreciation of you. Slight NSFW warning for the end 🤭🫣

“Death of Peace of Mind” by Bad Omens is literally GhostSoap coded.

“I made another mistake, thought I could change

Thought I could make it out

Promises break, need to hear you say

You're gonna keep it now”

Ghost thought things would be different after Roba, after his family’s deaths. He taught himself never to get attached, never to love for it would hurt more when it was over. That was before he became a member of the 141. Before Price became his father figure, Gaz an annoying little brother, and Soap… sweet, kind, maddening Soap. He really did make another mistake.

“When the curtains call the time

Will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize

Love's the death of peace of mind”

Johnny had been hurt. Shot. Dead, for all Ghost knew. His hands were trembling as he ran up the stairs of the church tower, blood from shadows staining him. He was used to it by now; Stabbing and killing. Death was commonplace in their line of work and he had made peace with that long ago. Long before a certain Scot gave his shoulder a gentle punch and a small, “Save ‘ya a seat, Sir.” He had cursed under his breathe, shocked at the man’s evident disregard for his own well-being, and his striking blue eyes.

Now that peace of mind he had built in hearing peoples last breath, in seeing the light fade from their eyes, was destroyed by an ocean of bright blue and an accent of green hills.

“I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break

Your makeup running down your face

The way you touch, the way you taste”

Ghosts’ nose burned, even beneath the balaclava. The Russian winter was fucking biting and he had no reprieve. ‘Just one more week, almost over, son.’ Is what Price had been promising for 3 weeks. Ghost just wanted warmth, bourbon, a shower… Soap. And not the amenity.

Soap ran hot to Ghost’s natural cold. It had been shocking the first time they experienced a pure touch. No gloves or sleeves, just their hands meeting in a strong clasp after a mission. They both stood stunned, feeling refreshed from the others temperature. It hadn’t been until Gaz bolted up in excitement to see them, not even noticing their frozen stupor.

Ghost shivered -It was definitely from the memory.- from the cold around him. The snow seemed to be never ending. He tried to think of warm things. A fire, hot cocoa, bourbon, Soap. Soap holding his hand. Soap with an arm around his waist. Soap underneath him, writhing and whimpering. Soap begging for release, legs wrapped around Ghost’s waist and not letting him go. Soap-

Ghost definitely needed to stop thinking of warm things.

Have a flower for your patience. 🌼🌻

[draconic-ichor]

Chance Encounter

Morgott/tarnished smut dabble

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, penetrative sex, oral sex, cream pie, knotting, slight come inflation, breeding kink, dominant kink, possessive sex, use of aphrodisiac drugs

Summary: A cart spills over, containing some pretty spicy herbs. Morgott is in the wrong place at the wrong time….or maybe the right one?

Feedback appreciated, 18+

This was from that idea that I had about Morgott getting into some of the Omen fuck herbs and has the wildest sex of his life

The sound of breaking glass echoed around the halls. Morgott, curious, rounded the corner to see a group of Perfumers fretting over a spilled cart. They clearly had been transporting a large assortment of herbs, most likely to refill the royal stores. Some of the jars had shattered, glass and the dried plants spread over the marble floor.

Morgott made his way forward to investigate the commotion, mindful not to come too close and risk unease.

A strange spicy aroma caught his nose, curling through his senses and spiking into his brain. He flinched, nostrils flaring, skin suddenly feeling hot. His grip on his cane tightened, stumbling back a bit away from the strange smell. But the damage was already done, the spilled herbs igniting a feeling akin to rut in his nerves.

It’s wasn’t as strong as a true rut, but he definitely began to feel that familiar chewing hunger in his gut and a fever kindle under his skin.

Making a brisk escape, he went to the first balcony he could find. Knuckles white and he gripped the railing, Morgott gulped down fresh air in an attempt to sooth the burning in his head.

He knew not how much time passed, jolting a bit when he heard footsteps. The Lady Tarnished rushed forward, huffing out from her swift journey over.

“The handmaidens told me something happened.” She explained, “They said you looked unwell.”

He didn’t answer, confirming what she was told.

“Are you alright?” The tarnished asked worriedly, padding up to his side. She gently took his hand, fingers soft as they interlaced his own.

“I…doth not feel…entirely well.” He admitted, free hand rubbing his face.

“Come.” She urged him to follow, “Let us lay down?”

He gave a shallow nod, swallowing.

As they walked towards his bedchamber the Lady started to notice something amiss: That the Lord’s ailment was not born of any illness. His hands slowly moved from her hold, drifting along down her back. His touch was searching, unheeding of prying eyes or his usual measured concern.

She let out a little sigh as she felt him squeeze her, hands drifting even further to her sharply hips.

The door to the chamber didn’t come soon enough, the two quickly disappearing inside. Morgott sat on the edge of the bed, welcoming the tarnished into his arms. Her touch felt heavenly, skin overly sensitive. She drew him into a kiss, his body crying out in the smallest taste of relief for this sudden hunger.

Tongue slid over tongue, the taste of her making Morgott’s head swim. The tarnished caressed his chest, hands tracing downwards. He groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock slip free of his sheath; lifting her up, pinning her to the bed.

But as the act deepened, teeth bared to bit at her bottom lip, he scared himself with his recklessness. Morgott pulled back, breaking the contact.

The tarnished tilted her head, face flushed and confused.

“We must not…” he murmured, “,if I harm thee…”

“I am a god.” She reminded in a hushed whisper, “I will not break so easily.” She reached up, running her thumb softly over the grooves of his jaw and cheek.

Morgott’s muscles trembled with restraint, fur fluffed up down his spine.

“Iv taken you before.” She reminded.

“Not like this…” he squeezed his eye shut, head dipping.

The tarnished pulled him closer, pressing chaste kisses over his lips. He eased into the contact, body pressing against hers. “I trust you.” She whispered into his lips, feeling him rumble in response. He deepened the kiss, tongue flicking out in a silent ask of permission. She gave it freely, fingers knotting in his silvery curls.

The tarnished skirts were pushed up, bunching around her waist, thighs pressing around Morgott’s hips. He bucked a bit as they kissed, underside of his cock rubbing along her clit and causing sparks of pleasure running through her legs.

He pulled his mouth away, saliva connecting their lips, sucking in needed air.

“I trust you.” She repeated, core aching.

He couldn’t deny her any longer, angling his hips downwards, pointed head of his cock pressing at her dripping opening. The tarnished wiggled, enticing him on, stretching and filling her.

He hissed, the pressure of her cunt a salve to his fever, fucking into her earnestly.

Every touch felt like rapturous fire, skin molten under her delicate fingers. She turned her head, baring her throat to his teeth, Morgott not wasting a moment in covering her with dark blotches of claim.

The coil tightened in his gut. Morgott, not wanting this to end so quickly, drew out fully from her with a wet pop. The tarnished whimpered out, squeaking a bit as her lower half was lifted up. Morgott licked at her folds, devouring her like an starving animal, some stray horns pricking crimson drops from her thighs. His cock pulsed with need, pre oozing down the strained length, feeling her walls tighten around his exploring tongue. She sang with her release, crying out with ecstasy. He drank down everything she gave as she enjoyed her release, only pulling away when she began to mewl.

Not giving her a moment, Morgott’s hands were back on her, flipping the tarnished easily onto her stomach.

Raising her hips, he filled her once more. Feeling even more desperate for her now, and with all the slick from her release making his way easy, Morgott began to breed her.

“Aye…aye…” he rasped out between thrusts, hands squeezing at her sides, “My little tarnished…mine.”

His cock squelched deep in her, bottoming out with every sink of his hips, the tip kissing wetly at her cervix.

The tarnished clawed the blankets, unused to such a deliberate fucking. One of Morgott’s large hands drifted up to her head, forcing her face into the pillows, keeping a hold on her in that position. She could feel the little knobs that lined the underside of his cock slide along her walls, massaging all her sweet spots.

He was quickly loosing himself, this type of sex very new to him as well. Heavy and messy, his mind too ate up for simple worries, the usual thoughts of caution absence.

The sounds of his little wife spurred him on; the way her walls sucked him in, swallowing and squeezing him, it was bliss. She may be a god, but to him she was delicate and small, large calloused hands entrapping her waist to pull her back harder along his length.

“My little tarnished…” he chanted again. The Lady had not heard such titles from his lips, said with such conviction, since they met in battle. Unlike all the other times, however, he spoke it with a quiet reverence, a claim of what was his.

“Morgott!” She cried, velvety walls fluttering around his swollen cock.

“Aye.” He purred, “Say thy Lords name.” Hips snapping harder. The sound of slapping skin filled the room, the tarnished shaking as he fucked her into overstimulation. She cried out his name over and over, voice breathy.

Morgott forced her back, bottoming out to the hold in her. Intense pleasure rushed through him, cock pulsing and flooding her. The Lady Tarnished clawed at the blankets, hearing him release much more vocally than she was akin to.

Her stomach swelled ever so slightly with seed, kept in place by his knot; the feeling pushed her over the edge a final time, milking him to the fullest.

He curled along her back possessively, teeth scraping gold flecked skin. She mewled, a perfect little creature to breed. Morgott’s mind still clouded with want and pleasure, every small movement sending jolts through his thighs and up his spine. His tail flicked, want still heavy in his gut, running his hands along the Tarnished’s sides.

~

The morning light filtered in through the balcony doors, casting rays over the bed. Morgott blinked open his good eye, squinting at the discomfort the sun brought.

His head felt heavy, throat incredibly dry. Everything ached as he shakily stood. The first few steps felt like those of a newborn fawn as he made his way across the bed chamber.

Morgott picked up a large pitcher, the one reserved for the basin to wash one’s hands, tipping it back and drinking it in a few ravenous gulps. Setting it down with a hollow clink, he exhaled shakily.

He heard the tarnished stir. The Lady sat up, stretching her arms out. She almost glowed, smiling brightly to him, “Good morning!”

Morgott leaned forward, bracing himself on the wall for a moment as he murmured, “I am at a loss,” he swallowed, “To what came over mineself…”

“Well I enjoyed myself.” The tarnished hummed. She began to detangle knots from her hair with her fingers as Morgott came back to the bed. He sat down heavily, staring into the distance quietly in thought.

“Oh!” The tarnished got his attention, adding as she showily gestured to herself, “I’m still in one piece as well!”

He gave her a wiry look, turning away once more. He heard her move across the bed, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders soon too follow. The tarnished nuzzled into the crook of his neck, earning a light purr.

“Perhaps it would be safe to replicate the situation in the future, hm?”

He grumbled, the tarnished peppering his jaw in little kisses. Morgott’s eye caught a glance at her throat during her antics. She was covered in dark hickeys, some bite marks sprinkled in. Shame burned his cheeks, deepened by her continued attention and the traitorous stirring in his sheath from the blatant show of claim.

She giggled at the redness of his face, enjoying every moment.

“I still am at a loss…” Morgott repeated, wracking his brain.

“Well….” The tarnished bit her lip a bit.

“What Doth thee know?” Morgott demanded, turning to eye her.

She looked down guiltily, “You know about the spilled perfumer’s cart yesterday?”

“Aye…”

“Well…one of the herbs they were transporting may of been an um,” she blushed, “,an…aphrodisiac.”

“A what?!” Morgott exclaimed, fluffing up as he flushed deeper.

“I ordered a bit of everything and wasn’t sure at the time what jars broke.” She explained but then admitted, “His Lordship’s demeanor confirmed my suspicions, however.”

“Twas drugs that made mineself experience urges akin to rut…” he huffed, before thinking.

“Omen rut?”

[jllongwrites]

In Which a Queer Pseudo-Christian Attempts To Process His Good Omens Feelings

I. I Want to Be Loved

The first novel I ever tried to write was a romance novel.

It was a very bad novel. I was twelve years old when I started it, and it absolutely read as though it was written by a twelve year old author.  I only ever wrote a handful of chapters. I don’t remember much about it now. But I remember that the main character was a frightened, self-loathing mess who scrambled to hide his brokenness behind walls of sarcasm and pretending not to care.

It was the middle of the 1990s, and at twelve years old I knew, the same way I knew that the sky was blue or that grass was green, that nobody would ever love me. Not romantic love. Not the kind of love I wanted. I had not yet learned the word “transgender”—it would be four more years before my household even got the internet—but I knew “gay.” And other words. Already, at twelve, I’d learned so many words for what I was. Freak. Pervert. Abomination.

Unloveable.

Untouchable.

So I wrote stories. I wrote stories, and I created new worlds, worlds where love could exist. Where love could heal and redeem and sanctify. I wrote about monsters, about mutants and aliens, about every sort of non-human freak of nature, and I gave to them all of the love that I knew they deserved. I gave to them all of the love that I hungered for, and I told myself it would be enough to close my eyes and just be able to imagine how all that love might taste on my own aching tongue, how it might feel in my empty belly. It would be enough. It had to be.

II. I Am Loved

Today I am forty one years old.

I’m married. We were married more than ten years ago now. In the morning I wake up and roll over, and my wife is there, still sleeping, and I bury my face against her shoulder and wrap an arm around her waist. I breathe her in, and she’s warm and soft and there and real. I’m happy. I’ve been happier for more years, by now, than all of those years where I wasn’t. Than all of those years where I didn’t think that happiness could be meant for someone like me.

But there are memories that live deep in the bones. Like poisoned arrows—you can take out the arrowhead, but the poison’s already seeped inside. It’s still there. And perhaps you survive that poison, perhaps you live on, you recover, but you’re never quite the same as you were before they shot you down. How could you be?

III. Still I Want to Be Loved

On my forearm there is a tattoo that reads “Beloved.”

It’s in the handwriting of my former pastor, a tiny lipstick lesbian who’s still a good friend, who’d written it on my arm in Sharpie during a Sunday service several years ago. She invited all of us in the congregation up and wrote it on all our arms, marking us as children of God, and it was the culmination of that week’s sermon. I didn’t know then, just as I don’t know now, that I believe in anything like God or in anything like God’s love, but for at least a few hours on that one Sunday morning, I wanted to believe.

I asked her if she would mind if I got the word permanently tattooed, and she said she’d be delighted. So I did.

There is such cruelty in the world, such suffering and such hopelessness, and so precious little of anything like justice or mercy. 

My wife told me once that she couldn’t conceive of believing in anything like a personal god who knew or noticed or cared about individual human lives. It would be like a human being caring about, knowing about, an individual ant. You can care about ants as a species, can care about their place in the ecosystem, but you can’t know the heart or individuality of one specific single ant on the other side of the world away, not even if you wanted to.

The Heaven of Good Omens is cold and cruel and empty, and so is its Love, a blasphemous Love that is nothing at all like love. The Hell of Good Omens is cold and cruel and empty, and so is its Hatred, a hollow and passionless thing that is nothing at all like hatred. Neither Heaven nor Hell even sees humanity, as a whole, let alone any individual human being, and “ineffable” is just an airy word for bullshit.

But in this same world there is also an absolute disaster of a demon and the idiotic angel that he loves. They love the world. They love each other. And it’s not Love–not some vague, abstract thing, limp and lifeless—no, it is love, warm and flawed and personal and real. They love the world, because the world has delicious crepes and beautiful music and top-shelf alcohol and gleaming automobiles you can drive way too fast. They love the world, because they love people, individual people, stupid and weak and infuriating, as well as people generally, because it was people who invented crepes and cars and the Velvet Underground. 

They want to save this world and its people, because they love them. And despite the opposition of both Heaven and Hell themselves, despite all the fumblings of human beings, despite how the demon’s a broken drunken mess and the angel’s a blind well-meaning fool, sometimes they actually do save the world. Sometimes they even manage to save each other.

I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in Heaven, and I don’t believe in Hell. But, romantic fool that I am, I still believe in love.