#originally i had all but a seven and a nine which made me want to find a character for each of these types too

[thesweetnessofspring]

Hunger Games characters and my interpretation of their Enneagram type (explained by Sleeping at Last's Enneagram songs)

Sejanus-"One" I, I want to sing a song worth singing / I'll write an anthem worth repeating

Peeta-"Two" I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well / I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself

Finnick-"Three" It's so exhausting on this silver screen / Where I play the role of anyone but me

Lucy Gray-"Four" Flashlight in hand, determined to find / Authenticity only poetry could even begin / To try to describe

Beetee-"Five" I want to watch the universe expand / I want to break it into pieces small enough to understand / And put it all back together again

Katniss-"Six" I want to take shelter, but I'm ready, ready to fight / Somewhere in the middle, I feel a little paralyzed

Haymitch-"Six" Is it courage or faith / To show up every day?

Delly-"Seven" I'll find the silver lining / No matter what the price

Gale-"Eight" I was just a kid who grew up strong enough / To pick this armor up / And suddenly it fit

Johanna-"Eight" Now you won't see all that I have to lose / And all I've lost in the fight to protect it

Prim-"Nine" It looks like empathy / To understand all sides / But I’m just trying to find myself / Through someone else’s eyes.

Snow-"One" but he doesn't get Sleeping at Last he doesn't deserve it.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you loved before part 2

author's note: here's part 2!

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, mentions of absent parent

day twenty-nine

"i honestly think you're overreacting," your roommate, natalie, said from her position on your bed. "it's your boss' mom, not your boyfriend's. in fact, you weren't even this torn up about meeting jason's parents."

you were pacing back and forth in front of your closet. normally, you'd be in leggings and a tee shirt when you went to mat's apartment, but you were starting to wonder if you should dress differently.

"that's because jason's mom doesn't have a grand baby i'm in charge of."

"no, she just has a son whose heart you own." you stopped your pacing and sighed. "have you even talked to jason about this?"

the very thought of that argument made you want to bang your head against the wall.

day twenty-seven

it was eleven thirty p.m. when you got home from work. mat had a late game and then press afterwards, but you'd be willing to bet if he didn't have ella waiting at home for him, he'd be out partying with his teammates.

as usual, mat apologized for keeping you out so late but like every other time, you just waved off his apologies, grabbed your bag, and headed home.

your original plan was to hop in the shower and hop into bed, but that was all disrupted when you saw jason sitting on the couch.

"hey?" you said though it sounded more like question than anything.

"where were you?" he asked.

a moment passed. all you did was blink. "what?"

"it's eleven thirty, where were you? out partying?"

"i told you i was working."

jason stood to his full height, just shy of six foot. "why are you so defensive?"

you guffawed. "because you're in my apartment interrogating me before i can even take off my shoes? maybe that's why."

"i'm just asking you questions, babe."

you rolled your eyes and slipped off your shoes. "it's too late for this. i need to go to bed because i have to work tomorrow."

"so you're just gonna walk away from this? we're not done here."

"jason, i'm tired. i've been with a baby all day. can we please continue this conversation another day?"

he held eye contact before huffing. "fine."

"thank you." you walked into your bedroom and shut the door behind you, sighing in relief when you pressed your back against it.

a ding sounded from your phone. a quick glance down had you smirking.

mat barzal sent you $800.

thanks - mat.

day twenty-nine

"hello?" your roommate snapped in your face. "are you listening? i asked you about jason and you just zoned out."

you shook your head and ran a hand down your face. "the conversation was less than pleasant, but we'll manage as we always do." she looked unconvinced but you were too busy scrolling through your camera roll to notice. "so what do i wear?"

natalie rolled her eyes at the poor effort put into changing the subject. "i told you he wouldn't be happy with the news. you're spending a lot of time over there with mat." she paused. "go with jeans and a tee shirt. you're meeting your boss' mom, not the queen of england."

you rolled your eyes. "he acts like i'm in love with mat," you said as you stripped off your sweats and pulled on the clothes natalie suggested. "i barely know the guy outside of ella."

"i'm just saying, i've been talking to jason and he's asked me if the amount of time you spent over there was normal."

interesting. you paused, but decided to unpack that comment later. "it's just a job," you said. "it's no different than what i was doing for erin when her girls were still really young."

"yeah but--"

"but what? seems like you're both upset that mat is a guy my age, which i cannot control. besides, the money is too good to turn down." after pulling on your shoes, you all but slammed your closet doors shut, signifying the end of the conversation.

"are you okay?"

"fine." you gathered your bag and slid on a coat on your way to the front door. "i'll see you later."

and you shut the door without another word.

by the time you get to mat's apartment, you're a little less irritated with your boyfriend and roommate. mainly because you know how to be professional, and meeting your boss' mom with an attitude was not the best of first impressions.

you only had to knock twice before the door swung wide open to reveal mat's smiling face. and unlike normal, ella wasn't in his arms.

"where's ella bean?" you asked while walking into his apartment.

mat shut the door behind you. "hello to you too. i'm doing fine thanks for asking. how're you?"

before you could even stop yourself, you were spinning around so he could see you roll your eyes. "i don't get paid to talk to you, mat. i get paid to watch your cute baby." you looked around. "so where is she?"

"i should warn you," he started, sounding nervous all of a sudden. "it's not just my mom--"

"is that her?" an unfamiliar voice called out. "is that your nanny, sweet ella love?"

a middle aged woman rounded the corner with ella in the cutest little strawberry dress you'd ever seen. "i'm so happy to meet you," she greeted almost immediately. "i'm nadia." she stuck her free hand out to shake yours. "and you are an answered prayer."

"mom," mat groaned from behind you. "can you cool it on the overreactions?"

she ignored him. "when mat called me and explained the situation, i had no idea what i was going to do, but then he told me about how you just agreed and i could tell it took a load off his shoulders."

ella started whining and reaching for you. which you were grateful for, considering mat's mom looked like she was about to start crying and, well, you never did well with adult tears.

"mom, i think you're making her uncomfortable," mat said from his new position standing next to his mother.

"oh shut up, mathew," another voice piped in. "you always were embarrassed of your family." a brunette walked into the room wearing a smirk you'd only seen on mat's face.

"that's not it, liana," he grumbled. "i just don't need you scaring away the only other person ella likes."

"that's not true," you cut in before things get out of hand (or before mat unintentionally compliments you again). "ella likes most people."

"she just likes you the most."

"mat, really, you can't still be bitter that she wanted me over you last week--"

"i'm her father! she should want me more!"

"she does!"

mat reached for her, but ella shrunk away with a coy smile. "see?! my own child prefers you," he said with no real malice. in fact, if you knew him better, you might've even recognized the look on his face as the start of a smile.

liana, whose presence you completely forgot about, spoke up. "with an attitude like that, it's no wonder," she deadpanned. "but enough about that, we're gonna be late for lunch if we keep wasting time."

your brows pulled together. "lunch?"

"i wanted to thank you for taking care of my baby and my grand baby."

you spared a glance at mat who was biting his knuckles, probably to distract himself from the redness in his cheeks.

"oh mrs. barzal there's no need--"

"call me nadia, sweetheart. and yes, there is a need. where i'm from, rejecting lunch is an insult."

"mom, that's not even true." but she held a hand up to cut mat off.

"shall we?" she gestured to the door.

you exchanged a glance with mat who looked just as helpless as you felt. "sure."

by the time you made it to the restaurant, your arms and back were aching from carrying ella. in another life, you might've considered taking the stroller was worth the effort of pushing it through a busy restaurant, but in this life, you were an idiot.

"take her," you pushed ella into mat's chest in the most gentle way you could manage without dropping her.

"you good?" he asked.

"my arms are numb."

"one of us could've taken her at any point of the walk, all you had to do was say something."

you shrugged. "well, this is me saying something."

from the corner of your eye, you saw liana watching the both of you like an interesting tennis match, but you ignored it, there was no room in your brain for interpreting a stranger's gaze.

"this way, you four," nadia said before she followed the hostess to the table.

the five of you got settled, with ella in the high chair between you and mat. it was in the moment of looking at the menu that your heart dropped to your stomach.

"oh my god," you said.

mat looked over immediately, and maybe if you weren't focused on his face, you would've seen the concerned glances from his sister and mother. "what?" he asked.

"i forgot to bring her puree, she usually eats lunch at this time."

"oh honey," nadia smiled and pulled out some baby food and a bib from her bag. "we took care of that before we left. you don't need to stress."

you nodded and sat back, feeling the weight of the world disappear from your shoulders. "sorry to freak everyone out."

"i'll take that any day over mat's moodiness."

"shut the hell up, liana," he grumbled with no real bite.

"please excuse my children," nadia smiled. "you feed them, give them shelter, teach them right from wrong, and they still embarrass you in public."

you laughed before you could stop yourself. "i've seen worse," you said.

"oooo now this is something i actually want to hear," liana started. "what's the worst thing you've ever seen in all your nannying?"

"mat's cooking," came out of your mouth before you could even stop it. the very phrase sent everyone (but mat) into a tailspin of laughter, even ella giggled when she saw everyone else.

"it's not that bad," he defended.

"yes it is," his sister and mother said in unison.

you opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but the buzzing of your phone in your back pocket cut you off. confused, you pulled your phone out and saw a text message from your boyfriend.

when can i expect you home? or are you too busy getting lunch with your boss?

your fingers hovered over the keyboard. you didn't remember telling jason about the lunch, especially because you didn't even know you were getting lunch with mat and his family until you arrived at his place.

immediately, you started looking around for him. he shouldn't be there considering he had work, but there's no way he could've known unless he was spying on you.

unless he checked your location.

"you alright?" mat asked, leaning in a little so he didn't draw his family's attention, who were, for the most part, pretending to read the menu to not arouse suspicion.

you typed a quick "idk" and tucked your phone back in your pocket before you made eye contact with mat. "'m fine."

lunch in total lasted about two hours with mat's mom and sister sharing embarrassing stories of his childhood. they explained that his dad was stuck working and couldn't make the trip that time but would later on in the season. you stayed until it was clear ella was about to pass out or cause a scene. though this time, mat was in charge of carrying her back to his apartment.

"are you going to the game tonight?" liana asked once you were back in the safety of mat's living room.

you shook your head no. you weren't even aware of a game going on today. the only times you knew a hockey game was happening in town was when mat needed you to watch ella in the evenings. aside from that? you were clueless.

"you should come!"

"who would watch ella?" you gestured to the baby as nadia took her down the hall to her nursery. she was falling asleep on his shoulder.

liana waved her hand. "she can come!"

mat made a noise in the back of his throat. "it would probably conflict with her sleep schedule. we can take her when she's older."

"besides," you continued. "my boyfriend is a rangers fan so--"

"what?" liana cut you off almost immediately.

you blinked. "what? is that a problem?" there was a nasty feeling creeping up on you and you didn't like it one bit. it only occurred when you were arguing with jason or when your parents accused you of being too self centered when you backed out of a family gathering.

"no!" liana said. "i mean they're a rival of the islanders so there's that, but i just thought that maybe you and--" she glanced to her left where mat stood with his arms crossed and gaze dark. "...never mind."

"what?" you asked.

"i--"

"liana, i think mom is calling you," mat cut in. you recognized sibling telepathy for what it was but didn't bother even trying to decipher it. when she left the room, he finally looked at you. "i'm sorry about that, i don't want to ambush you or anything."

"you didn't, i mean, i was surprised by the lunch offer but i mean, i'm appreciative of it all." you didn't say anything for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. "is it, um..."

"is it what? you can tell me."

"is it a problem that my boyfriend is a rangers fan? i honestly didn't know until a few days ago when i mentioned you and--"

"how do you not know what team your boyfriend cheers for?"

"i didn't even know he liked hockey until i started working for you."

mat groaned your name. "are you serious?" he laughed.

you slapped his arm with the back of your hand and decided not to dwell on how solid he felt. "don't laugh!"

"i'm just saying it's kinda crazy you didn't know he was a rangers fan until a few days ago. how long have you been dating?"

"like...two years?"

he laughed again. "are you telling me or asking me?"

"it's been roughly two years." a yawn escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"you good?" he asked.

you shrugged. "didn't get much sleep last night."

"why don't you go home for a little bit, i'll text you if i need you tonight, it'll depend on if mom and liana go to the game."

"you sure?"

mat smiled and nodded. "get some rest, and i'll see you later."

as if there was some higher power controlling your face, you found your lips turning up at the corners and smiling back at him.

taglist:

@whenmypartysover @sunflowerhood @spencereidbasis

[animentality]

the main reason ds9 isn't remembered as well as the original series or tng by the general populace is not just because it wasn't the very first trek or the most popular trek (tng's popularity was what really brought trek into the mainstream).

it was hated by Rick Berman, who was the head of the franchise at its height, and who deliberately spited it by never including its canon in other treks.

and that effect has lasted to this day, as modern writers who only bother to watch Star Trek movies never seem to remember ds9 even exists. the way the Pine-Quinto movies mention Archer and his beagle, and trek movies and shows make multiple references to TOS, and newer treks center entirely around tng plots or the Borg.

the way they brought back seven of nine before literally anyone on the cast of ds9.

there's a reason that the damn tng movies had a million references to Voyager, with Janeway and the EMH actually having cameos, but ds9 never even got a passing reference, even where it actually would've been appropriate.

Berman hated ds9 for its focus on serialization, i. e., connected storytelling, rather than syndication, i. e. episodic storytelling, because he was a money grubbing misogynist and homophobe, who thought all the money was in syndication. he hated the writers/other producers of ds9 for going behind his back and doing their damnedest to make quality star trek.

one of my favorite spiteful Berman stories is that in star trek first contact, the 2nd tng movie, he wanted to blow up the defiant and destroy it permanently, just for no reason at all.

and the ds9 writers were upset because no one had asked them about it. so they said you can destroy the defiant, but we're just gonna keep using the defiant and pretending it didn't blow up if you do.

which is why Worf asks Picard, in a completely thrown in line, what's the status of the defiant, and Picard says adrift, but salvageable.

and this particular movie is funny to me also because in that period, Worf is technically supposed to still be serving on ds9, and bringing him into the movie was basically justified as something of a side quest for him, being dragged off the station for a little tng romp.

so you see the crew of the defiant, but... again. Berman spite. rather than letting ANYONE on ds9 cameo in the first contact movie, even though that might've been cool... they just have some randos. one might be Adam Scott.

and remember that JANEWAY AND THE EMH are in that movie.

so berman deliberately wanted to spite ds9 by destroying the defiant, stealing worf (even making fun of him for his role on ds9 in another thrown in riker line) AND snub the entire crew of ds9 by having none of them anywhere in the movie, even though they COULD HAVE CAMEOED TOO, or at least been mentioned...

and to me that's pretty funny, because Rick Berman could have as many tantrums as he wanted behind closed doors, and hate the staff of ds9.

didn't make a difference. they'd still keep defying him, and you know...

not to be a total prick but... ds9 still has a thriving fanbase to this day. tng does too, and so does tos, and star trek in general is doing pretty well...

but out of all the old treks, ds9 has aged the best, not just in how it looks, but also in how it bridges the gap between, old world optimistic charm and more gritty, humanistic sci fi story telling.

it balanced syndication and serialization really well, and had great standalone episodes AND a fun connecting overarching narrative that made the world of star trek feel richer and more lived in. I also want to say that for modern audiences, who are accustomed to serialization more than syndication, ds9 is a far easier entry point into the world of star trek than any other trek.

Rick Berman can go fuck himself, is what I'm saying, in summation.

ds9 will stand the test of time.

and you know what?

both tng and voy succeeded in spite of Berman. not because of him. everything that makes those two shows work, is in defiance of the Roddenberry mandates that both Roddenberry and Berman constantly tried to uphold, even though it was to the detriment of the stories.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Touya "Dabi" Todoroki x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you are given one NYE that you will never forget when Keigo invites your friends over for a game of strip Uno and you become acutely aware of how attractive Dabi is. 

Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Flirting; Stripping; Threesome; Verbal Consent; Mutual Oral; Double Deepthroat; Double Cunnilingus (Hawks & Dabi both eat your pussy); Big Dicks; Spitting; Hair-Pulling; Degradation & Praise; Spitroast; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Throatpie; Dabi Calls You "Baby Doll"; L-Bombs; Aftercare; Loud, Sneaky Sex

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Someone gave me this idea in a comment. Originally, I was just gonna write a smutty holiday chapter for Hawks for NYE, but Hawks AND Dabi?? I couldn't resist. Enjoy & happy holidays! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BIRD BABY DADDY! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

Songs Mentioned in this Chapter:

Umbrella - Rihanna

Can I - Kehlani

Moodswings - Pop Smoke

Touch It (Do It Well Pt. 4) - DVSN

OTW - Jhene Aiko ft. Mila J

Sit On It - Jazmine Sullivan ft. Ari Lennox

***********

Bonus Chapter: New Year, New Experiences.

Dabi has always been nice-looking, but seeing him now has made you realize how attractive he really is. 

When the fuck did he get this fine? You can't help but wonder this as you nurse your second glass of Moscato of the night, then feel extremely guilty for it. You look down at your drink, wondering if the alcohol is having more of a deeper affect on you than you anticipated. Usually, at this point, you’re giving major “fuck me” eyes to your boyfriend. Which you are…but to your childhood friend as well. 

They both stand in the kitchen you and Keigo share now, whipping up snack plates and cocktails for your NYE celebration. Keigo had suggested you celebrate at your shared crib tonight and invite Rumi and Dabi over too. You had asked what he wanted to do for New Years this year about a week ago after the chaos and festivities of Christmas faded. 

“I really don't wanna go out,” he said, your feet in his lap and his hands expertly rubbing them, massaging out the kinks. He laughed at your bewildered expression. “Shocking, I know, but after Christmas, I’m just not feelin’ like bein’ out in the streets and around too many people…or spendin’ money.” And he did go all out for Christmas, gifting you at least $1k in gifts and presenting all of his employees and interns at his agency with gift cards (and two weeks off for Christmas and New Years). 

“But since you asked, I just wanna stay in and invite the gang over for a private celebration…have food, drink, games…is that okay with you?” Before you could even reply, he immediately talked over you, softening the blow that he was sure he made. “We can still go out if you want. I wouldn’t wanna keep you cooped up in here if you–“ 

You stop him by pressing a finger to his plump lips. “Keigo,” you interrupt him. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll call Rumi and Dabi right now to see if they wanna join us.” His wide, golden eyes stared at you for a moment in shock before softening, relieved that you weren’t upset. So you hit up Rumi who was a definite yes and Dabi to see if he had enough free time to come out for the night. 

“Only if I can make my famous drinks,” he said in his raspy, chainsmoker voice. “The cinnamon fireballs. I’ll send you the recipe so you can grab the shit for it.” You groaned over the phone, already envisioning the chaos in store for you. Dabi swears he can mix drinks like a bartending pro. “Okay, but just don’t blow up my kitchen,” you warned. 

My kitchen. You are still getting used to calling all of the things in Keigo’s penthouse yours, but sometimes, it just comes out naturally: my kitchen; my living room; my bed. Shortly after the Billboard Event, you moved into Keigo’s home, albeit secretly. You had to pay the moving men double to move your shit out of Rumi’s place at night in order to avoid paparazzi, but in a week, you were settled. Though Rumi misses you, she also doesn’t mind the privacy, especially when she's able to bring someone home and have as much loud sex as she wants. 

Though almost a month has passed since you moved in with Keigo, you’re still adjusting to this new way of life, especially since you’re not just a roomie to Keigo. You’re his girlfriend. His partner. Every time you wake up next to him and see the sun shine against his hair and long eyelashes, you are reminded of this. It’s like the fact remerges in your brain every single morning despite nothing changing. And you hope it never does. 

“The snacks are almost done!” Keigo happily calls into the living room where you and Rumi sit. “You’re never gonna wanna leave when you get a taste of these babies.” Rumi rolls her eyes at you, twirling a lock of her hair. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she scoffs. Her silvery, long hair is tied up in a high ponytail while she adorns a Christmas sweater and booty shorts that make her muscular, firm ass look extra delicious and envious. 

Opposite to her cozy, lived-in look, you’re wearing Keigo’s oversized cashmere sweater that looks like a dress on you and hip-hugging skinny jeans. You also slathered on some lip gloss and nail polish to look presentable tonight, at least wanting to feel pretty with company around. “The fireballs are almost done too,” Dabi announces. “Rumi, you still like extra tequila in yours?” Rumi gives him a look which makes him laugh. “Y/N, you want one too?” he curiously asks. 

You take a look at the kitchen counter through the threshold of the kitchen, finding a huge bottle of tequila open and cinnamon dusting the countertop. “I’m good with Moscato, thanks,” you say. “I’m not tryin’ to burn my tonsils out.” Dabi shrugs a shoulder, snorting. “Suit yourself, but my stuff is good. I’d even make it lighter for you.” 

Keigo cackles as he moves behind his friend, kicking him in the ankle as he does. “Bitch, you don’t know how to make any drink light!”

Dabi rolls his eyes and turns back around to finish the drinks, his arms and back muscles flexing under his black tee that seems to stick to his upper body something sinful. You thought this when he first arrived at your front door thirty minutes ago after getting dropped off by his assigned guard for the night. “Welcome!” you cheerfully greeted him, only for your voice to die in your throat once you got a look at him. 

Looking at him now, you become highly aware of how attractive he’s gotten since he’s been in prison. His lean, scrawny body as a kid and teen have gone away, now replaced with muscle like hard grant though he still has that leanness to him that makes him appear skinny under his clothes. But anyone who saw how tight his shirt is would realize that they’ve been duped. He has obviously been working out to build such muscle and tone his body, no doubt using his time to focus on his health. 

And he looks good. Especially with his snow-white hair, which he has opted to keep instead of his black hair, that makes his crystal blue eyes pop. Every time he looks at you, you feel like he is stealing the very breath out of you…and it’s fucking weird.

Where did this attraction come from? Though you’ve always known your friend is cute, you’ve never been attracted to Dabi. Even the one time you played Spin the Bottle back in middle school and you were dared to kiss by Keigo and Rumi, nothing came from that. It was a stupid, little kid thing that happened after school behind the building, in the setting spring sun. After, you decided you worked better as friends which he agreed with and since then, you’ve been nothing but friends. Yet there you were, staring him down as he stood at the door, waiting for you to let him in. 

He raised his pierced eyebrow at you and your speechlessness. “Well?” he asks. “You gonna let me in or what?” Realizing you were standing at the door like a moron, you quickly let him in, your face hot. He gave you a weird look as he shimmied into the room, immediately bombarded by the Bunny Hero. “Dabi, you’re here!” Rumi squeals, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “Damn, what have you been eatin’, man? You’re bigger than me now!” 

Dabi chuckled, squeezing her tight before yanking on her ears, making her shriek. You watched, still confused as to what just happened. “Dabi’s here?” Keigo called from the kitchen. “Tell him to come in here and help me get these veggies ready!” Dabi clucked his tongue, giving you a sly side eye. “Only five seconds in and he’s already fucking up,” he chuckles. “You picked a good one, doll.” 

And you did. You know you did. Keigo is the best boyfriend and sexiest man in the world…and yet here you are, staring down his best friend. Your best friend. Even now as you sip your wine, you can’t understand it. Are you just horny?

Since the holiday season, you’ve been more stressed and extremely horny lately, leading you and Keigo to try new things in the bedroom. It’s been an interesting and exciting adventure for you both. Handcuffs and rope; sensory and roleplaying; all kinds of kinky shit that has led to conversations about more things to try…and things that you’ll keep private for now. Things that you are interested in that you won’t dare tell Keigo right now. With how possessive he is, he just wouldn’t go along with it and you wouldn’t make him. So you’ve kept it to yourself, instead fantasizing and wondering all of those “what ifs”. 

You’re so deep in your troubling thoughts that you barely see Keigo saunter into the room in his cute apron with a tray of appetizers: homemade fried cauliflower bites, cheesesteak egg rolls, and a gorgeous veggie plate of orange carrots, green celery, and bright red tomatoes with all kinds of dipping sauces in the middle. “Wow, this looks amazing, babe,” you coo. “You really went all out for us tonight.” Keigo smiles proudly as he lowers the food down on the coffee table. “Oh, that’s not even the best part, baby bird,” he chuckles. 

Dabi then emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray of mugs filled with his fireballs and cinnamon sticks. He lowers the tray down and gives Keigo a smirk as the winged pro pulls out a bag of weed and a game of Uno. You and Rumi immediately abrupt into laughter, knowing exactly what is in store for tonight. “It’s almost 2024!” Keigo chuckles, popping a carrot into his mouth. "Might as well celebrate to the fullest.” 

“Strip Uno,” Rumi cackles, nudging you. “Y/N, your man is one horny motherfucker. Are you treating him right or does he have something to tell us?” You roll your eyes as you flush in Keigo's sweater. “Shut up,” you giggle. “And you know damn well that I treat Keigo very well.” You and he share a secretive smile, one that immediately propels you into memories of endless nights and days of good ass sex. 

Rumi makes a disgusted face, hopping away from you to the other end of the couch. “Ugh, don’t even remind me. I’m so tired of seeing you two suck faces when we’re out.” While Dabi snorts into his drink, Keigo pulls on one of Rumi’s ears. “Ooooh, someone’s jealous,” he sing-songs. “I always knew you wanted this sexy ass, cotton tail.” You swear, you’ve never seen Rumi look so uncomfortable in her life and it makes you nearly choke on your Moscato laughing. 

You help Keigo and Dabi move the coffee table to the middle of the floor with your snacks, drinks, and game in tow while Rumi hooks her 2000s hits playlist up to the TV. Soon, the sound of Rihanna’s “Umbrella” fills the living room space. After everything it set up, you sit down on the floor across from Rumi while Dabi takes your left and Keigo takes your right. “Okay, so before we start, I wanna propose a toast,” Keigo happily states, raising his mug. You three groan exhaustively and he pulls the cutest pout. “C’mooon, this is one of the only times in weeks we’ve all been together since the Billboard Event!” 

Though indifferent to the idea, Rumi raises her mug while you raise your glass of Moscato. Dabi notices, his expression albeit blank. “You sure you don’t want none of this?” he asks, nodding at his drink. Then a sly smirk quirks onto his lips. “Or is it ‘cause you can’t handle it?” he teases, ever the asshole. Usually, his teasing doesn’t bother you, but tonight, it does. Along with the way his voice dips into a deeper, raspier tone when he says it. 

You give him a look to hide your reaction, daring him to try you. “Dabi, you know I can’t handle it. You make drinks like you’re trying to poison people.” He shrugs a shoulder though he is still smirking. “Fair point, but a sip won’t hurt.”

He passes a mug to you but doesn’t hand it to you. His blue eyes flick from the drink to you, patiently waiting for you to take a sip. It’s as if he’s silently asking you, “Do you trust me?” Or maybe the Moscato is just speaking to you at this point. “Toast!” Keigo shouts, interrupting your thoughts. “To a new year of new experiences and new journeys with old friends.” 

He smiles at each you fondly, his golden eyes twinkling with utter joy. Deciding quickly, you take Dabi’s drink and hold it up with the others. “Cheers!” you all shout before downing Dabi’s drink. It’s only a sip, but it’s enough to taste the strong tequila and sweet cinnamon mixed in it. Though your throat burns as it goes down, the sweetness is addicting. Dabi looks proud as you lower the mug down. “See?” he murmurs. “Nothing you couldn’t handle.” You resist the urge to think of something else besides the drink. 

“Uno time!” Rumi bellows, taking the cards to shuffle while Dabi begins rolling a blunt to pass between you four. Keigo takes a seat next to you, his eyes already set dead on you. “Come sit close to me, baby bird,” he coos, wrapping an arm around your lower back. “You look so fuckin’ cute tonight. I can’t keep my eyes off of you, even for the game.”

You do as he requests, snuggling in close despite being in your friends’ company, loving how he smells so much like cinnamon and the brown sugar soap you got him for Christmas. You also bought him Burberry cologne which he has sprayed on his skin, making him absolutely irresistible to you. Add in the black cashmere sweater and sweats that hide one of your favorite parts of him, and you’re ready to use him as a seat. 

“Well, you’d better,” Dabi grumbles, glaring at both of you. “Nobody’s tryin’ to see you two eye fuck for the next few hours.” Keigo presses a finger to your cheek, turning your head to face him. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous that I’ve got such a gorgeous woman to cuddle up with at night and all he’s got is a pillow.”

You put a hand on his arm and squeeze, shaking your head in warning. Too far. But Dabi isn’t bothered by the jab, simply sprinkling marijuana into a piece of paper. “You’d be surprised how many visitors I get who wanna replace that pillow,” he retorts. “I get a lot of fan mail too…mostly nudes.” 

You give a big, ugly cackle at this. “Oh, I believe it,” Rumi snickers. “Plenty of people are attracted to villains, bad boys, and emotionally damaged men with tattoos and piercings.” She gives Dabi a shit-eating grin while he pegs a carrot at her, making you and Keigo crack up.

You go to pick out a cauliflower from the veggie plate, but accidentally brush your fingers against Dabi’s reaching for the same thing. “Oh, sorry!” you squeak, quickly snatching your hand back. Your friend barely bats an eyelash. “Take it,” he says carelessly. “No big deal. I’m still rollin’ up anyway.” 

You do so, slowly reaching for a cauliflower and dipping into the ranch dressing. Your movements are robotic, mechanical, as you chew and swallow, feeling Dabi’s eyes on you. You can tell he wants to ask, but he doesn’t and you find yourself drinking some more of his drink to push away your nagging thoughts. Fortunately, Rumi interrupts the awkward moment. “Game time!” she shouts. “I’ll deal and then we can start. Everybody know and remember the rules of strip Uno?” You each nod having played this game dozens of times (mostly tipsy or high). It usually ends in either someone halfway naked. 

After downing the rest of your Moscato, you feel looser, you go first and put a red card down. The turns go right (Keigo, Rumi, Dabi) before settling on you again when the color is changed to yellow. You take a card and read it, groaning at the instructions. “Oooh, first loser down!” Rumi giggles, taking Dabi’s finished blunt from him. “Read it to us, babe.” Keigo tries to look over your shoulder, but you shoo him away. “Take six cards or strip off your shirt,” you read. “Well, I don’t wanna take six cards, so…” You feel yourself stripping off Keigo's sweater to reveal your lacy red bra underneath. 

You feel warm under Keigo and Dabi’s gazes, one of which you can feel burning into you though you don’t look. “Oooh, sexy,” Rumi chuckles, puffing on her blunt. “Now it’s your turn, Keigo.” She passes the blunt back to Dabi who takes a hit, smoke billowing from his lips and nostrils in clouds. His eyes are blue slits that regard yours as you glance at him from the corner of your eye. Keigo takes his turn, putting down yellow, before Rumi takes hers. “Take eight cards or tell the person beside you to take off their shirt,” she reads. She gives Dabi a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Dabi, but…” 

Keigo cackles hysterically while Dabi rolls his eyes, passing his blunt to you. You don’t know why but you take a hit, already feeling the affects of the alcohol mingle with the weed. You feel lighter and more comfortable. “You guys are fuckin’ whores,” he growls but he can't hide his smile as he stands up to strip for you and your friends. You turn away from him just as he goes to untuck his shirt, instead turning all of your attention to your boo. “Aww, I was hoping you’d pick a card,” you playfully whine, snugging into Keigo's arm. 

You not-so-innocently push your breasts against his forearm, catching his attention. “You tryna get me to strip?” he chuckles, raising a brow at you. “Maybe later and then it’ll be all for you. Just be glad we’re not alone ‘cause this pretty bra would be off by now.” He glides a finger down the strap of your bra to one of the cups, staring intensely at the lace. “If you two are gonna do that, get a fuckin’ room,” Dabi interrupts. 

You turn back to him and wish you didn’t: he stands before you in all of his semi-nakedness, jeans sagging low, bare skin and lean, inked muscle on display. “Daaaamn, you did get cut, Dabi!” Rumi hollers. “Just look at this fuckin’ guy!” 

And you are. Your eyes roam over his toned abs and pectorals where you catch two nipple rings hanging from his pink nipples. His arms and right side are covered in tattoos along with his collarbone which holds his little brother’s (Shoto) name. You know that all of his siblings’ and mother’s name are tattooed on him; just not his father. Realizing how long you’ve been staring, you look away, instead staring down at the table. “Shit, I can beat that,” Keigo scoffs. “Just you wait.” 

After twenty minutes of playing and the first round being completed, Keigo successfully stripped off his shirt and shoes before hurrying to the bathroom because of the alcohol. Meanwhile, Dabi is washing dishes and Rumi is scrolling through her phone and smoking on the last of the blunt, waiting for Keigo to come back so you can continue. You, luckily, only stripped off your top for the first round and quickly throw it back on before taking your glasses to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go put these in the sink,” you announce and Rumi only hums in response. When you walk into the kitchen, you are met with Dabi’s muscular back and a large, snake-like dragon snaking from his lower back and curling up the back of his right forearm. It moves and flexes whenever his arms move, making his back muscles bulge. 

Finding your voice, you greet him. “Hey, just came in to wash these.” He turns to look at you over his shoulder before nodding at the soapy, hot water in the sink. “Put ‘em over here; I’ve got it.” You do so, lowering the glasses on the counter for him to wash. You press your back against the counter’s edge, watching him. Silence swells around you, but this one isn’t comfortable; it’s awkward and heated, filled with tension. “It’s really good to see you, y’know,” you chirp, trying to ease the tension. “I was so upset you couldn’t make it for Christmas.” 

Dabi puts a tray on the drying rack, focused yet still answering you. “Yeah, my CO was on my ass about that fight I had, but I wasn’t gonna miss this chance to smoke a good blunt and hang with you losers. Everyone seems to be so scared about my new body, includin’ you.” His blue eyes side-eye you, making your stomach flip. “I’m not!” you squeak. “It’s just a shock seeing you look so…” Sexy. “Big,” you decide. “But whatever trainer you got in prison, give them my number.” 

He chuckles at this, the deep rumble making something swirl inside your gut. He then goes back to doing what he was doing, but only for a few seconds, until he speaks again. “What?” he finally asks. You blink at him. “What?” you dumbly parrot. He turns to you fully, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “I can feel you starin’ mad hard at me, Y/N. You’re not discreet in the slightest.” Again, you feel hot in your sweater with shame. At this rate, you may as well strip and throw yourself at him with how much you’re staring at him. 

“Is that a new tattoo?” you tentatively ask, pointing at the dragon. “I don’t remember seeing that before.” Dabi hums out a yes as he dunks a mug into the soapy water. “Had it done a month ago durin’ one of my free days when I didn’t visit you or Hawks. It hurt like a bitch, but it looks decent, don’t it?” You slowly nod, admiring the way the dark green scales on the dragon compliment his skin. It reminds you so much of the dragon from the ‘Spirited Away’ movie, just darker. “It’s…beautiful,” you softly say, more to yourself than to him. And before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to drag your fingers down Dabi’s spine, making his body clench. “S-Sorry!” you stutter, snatching your hand away. “I should’ve asked to–“ 

“It’s fine,” he interrupts, but still looks perplexed. He looks as if he hasn’t been touched in years and isn’t sure how to handle it. But he shocks you when he turns his back to face you, giving you full advantage of his tattoo. “Touch it,” he encourages. “Y/N, it’s just me.” Right. This is just Touya Todoroki. Your friend since childhood. The same guy that was afraid of public pools, eats charred marshmallows, and loves his steak well-done. The friend you’ve been dying to get back since he joined LOV and have missed since he went to prison. And yet, looking at him now and feeling his warm skin under your fingertips when you touch him, you don’t see him as any of that. You see him much differently. 

You run your hand over his back, feeling his muscles flex and his warm skin. He stands there, not speaking or moving, letting you touch him. It’s so intimate. So sensual. When you pull away, he finally turns to face you, his expression blank and eyes intense. His hand then moves to lightly touch your wrist, sending currents of electricity through you. “Yoooo!” Keigo’s call suddenly drifts in the kitchen, making you flinch and jump away from Dabi’s touch. He pokes his head into the kitchen, grinning. “I’m back!” he announces. “We ready for another round or what?” 

Dabi smirks at his friend as if nothing happened. And nothing did…right? “Sure,” he replies. “Just let me pour us some shots first.” Keigo hums delightedly, practically floating into the kitchen. “Lemme help you. Baby, pass me that bag of lemons and limes in the fridge, please?” You do so, your hands trembling somewhat as you open the fridge and hand the bags of fruit to your boyfriend. “Thank you, darlin’,” he coos, winking at you. “Now go and sit down! Let your men take care of you.” 

Your men. You can’t help but stay stuck on that as you quickly walk out of the kitchen, not once looking at Dabi. Rumi is still in the same position you left her in, laying on the floor on her phone. You nervously pick at a loose thread on your skinny jeans, keeping your voice low to avoid the guys hearing. “Rumi?” you softly question.

She looks up from her phone, blinking. “Hm?” she questionably hums. You sit down next to her, folding your knees under you. “Does Dabi seem…different…to you tonight?” you carefully ask, your words slow and deliberate, like you’re carefully picking each word like they are fruit. 

Rumi stares at you, confused. “Uh…other than his new set of muscles and the tattoo, no.” She squints at you suspiciously, making you hot like a spotlight is on you now. “Why? Do you think they’re something different about him?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of how to answer. But this is Rumi! Your girl and confidant. She’d never judge you for anything. “He just seems more…attractive, I guess,” you shyly murmur.

She barely bats an eye. In fact, she smiles. “I figured there was a reason you were staring at him so hard tonight,” she chuckles, earning you a shocked look. “What, you thought I didn’t notice?” At the sight of your panic, she rubs your back. “Relax, girly. Keigo didn’t notice anything. That bird is in his fucking world tonight.” 

Oh, yes, Keigo. Your boyfriend. Your very happy, amazing, wonderful boyfriend who is oh-so overjoyed that you’re all together here tonight. “God, I’m so stupid!” you groan, putting your head in your hands. “What am I doing? Here I am with one of the sexiest men in Japan and an amazing boyfriend, and yet, I’m eye-fucking our childhood friend!” 

“Well, to be fair, you did say you wanted to try to do other things with Keigo in the bedroom,” Rumi says as she puffs on her blunt. “You remember tellin’ me about that threesome kink of yours? If you don’t, I’d understand. You were downing those cocktails like they were water.” You groan embarrassingly because yes, you do remember that night: it was a month ago before Thanksgiving when the moon was full, the night was young, and you were full of drinks during girls’ night. There, you spilled to Rumi, Nemuri, and Yu about your secret threesome kink and wanting so badly to ask Keigo to participate in one. 

You can't help the way you get so wet at the thought of having two men please you or being one of the people to please them. You’ve had this fantasy for a while, dreaming of Keigo and another sexy, mystery man occupying your bed, hands and mouths all over you, two cocks inside you. But you’ve never brought it to Keigo’s attention. “Unfortunately, yes,” you sigh, “but that doesn’t mean I should be eyeing my own best friend!” You feel like crying, mostly because of the alcohol. “I feel like a slut,” you whimper. “And not in a good way.” 

Noticing your internal fight, Rumi quickly steps in to ease your shitty feelings. “Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is. You just stared at the guy! You didn’t try to suck his dick or anything.” You flinch at her words, not wanting to picture that. “But if it’s really got your panties in a twist, just pull Keigo to the side and talk about it. Knowing his freak ass, he’ll probably be okay with it. He’d probably even suggest a threesome himself.” She gives you a sly smirk to which you roll your eyes at. “No way,” you scoff in disbelief. 

“Mark my words,” she giggles. “Personally, I approve of this sluttiness in you, girl. I think you should fuck both of them to really end this year with a bang.” You could've strangled her right then. “You’re not helping!” you growl, swatting her hand away as she cackles. “Not helping with what?” Keigo asks, making you squeak in surprise. You turn, seeing him and Dabi standing behind you carrying a tray of tequila shots. “U-Uh, with my cards!” you quickly reply. “She won’t show me how to shuffle ‘em.” 

You turn to Rumi with a glare, making her crack up even more. 

After almost two hours of playing, stripping, drinking, smoking, and shooting the shit, things start to finally wind down an hour before midnight. Rumi is fast asleep on the couch, snuggled into her pillow and softly snoring, while Dabi has ventured outside to have a smoke. He sits in the cold December air in only his jeans and socks. You don’t ask him if he’s cold, knowing he’ll refuse his shirt or a blanket. You take it upon yourself to clean up before tomorrow morning, washing dishes and wiping down the counters. You plan on making a big New Year’s Day breakfast for your friends––blueberry pancakes, eggs, and plenty of mimosas. 

You’re just about to rinse the soap off of your hands in the sink when you suddenly feel two arms slink around your waist and a very hard chest press into your back. Keigo's scent of cinnamon and Burberry cologne enchants your nostrils. “There you are, baby bird,” he murmurs. “Where’d you run off to?” You smile, pressing back into him. “Just to clean up so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning.” You turn around in his arms, noticing his hooded gaze and lopsided smirk. “Somebody’s drunk,” you giggle. 

He hums in agreement and presses his hips into you where you feel a very noticeable hard-on. “And very, very hard for you,” he softly growls in your ear. “I know you can feel me pressin’ up against you right now.” And you can; it’s impossible not to. Immediately, your body temperature rises and you feel a tingle between your legs. His hands move under his sweater draped over your body and glide up and down your sides, his fingertips gliding against your skin. He whistles as he does so, somehow making that tingling sensation even more intense. “You have the sexiest body, baby, I swear,” he sighs. “I’m so fuckin’ lucky. You make me so horny every time I see you, but without the clothes? That’s even better!” 

His compliment makes you bashfully giggle, always loving to receive such love and admiration from your man. “Thank you, baby,” you shyly reply. “The feeling is mutual.” You stroke your hands up his naked chest as he kisses you, playfully and passionately. He begins to walk forward, pushing you against the counter and trapping you between it and him. You’re now at his total mercy, his mouth and hands all over you, the taste of wine and cinnamon on his tongue as he swirls it with yours. Soft moans mingle in the air between you, only heard by your and his ears alone…though soon, if you keep this up, someone may become privy to what’s happening in the kitchen just a few steps from them in the living room. 

Reading your mind, Keigo pulls away and runs a thumb over your bottom lip. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t wanna waste this moment. Don’t worry; Rumi is dead on our couch and Dabi is on the balcony. They won’t hear a thing.”

You believe the part about Rumi after being her roomie for so long, but Dabi? What if he does hear you? You wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable enough to leave. But with the way Keigo is giving you such a heated stare, you can’t resist. So you go with him, listening to your pussy instead of your head. You let him steal you away and lead you upstairs to your shared bedroom by your hand, softly giggling to each other as you walk past Rumi sound asleep. 

As soon as you’re inside the room, alone at last, Keigo shuts the door behind him and uses his wings to wrap around you. He drags you into his body and arms, crushing his lips to yours in another passionate kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and his wrap around your waist, both of you locked together in an embrace as you kiss, and kiss, and kiss. The more you do, the wetter you get until your body is begging for more. Keigo’s lips leave yours to busy on your neck.

“I can’t get over how sexy you are,” he murmurs. “I would’ve rathered you strip for me instead of our friends.” He pauses for a moment, pulling away to stare at you, befuddled. Then a secretive smile pulls at his lips. 

“Actually, you can do that for me now,” he chuckles and pulls himself away from you. You resist the urge to follow him, instead staring at him across the room, burning up for him.

“Y’see, baby, I feel like since the holidays, we’ve barely had much time to be together, just you and I,” he lustfully explains. “But now, here we are alone, and I wanna take advantage of it. So I’m gonna sit here”–he pauses to sit on the bench at the foot of your king-sized bed, smirking–“and you’re gonna strip for me.” He takes his phone and plays a song for you––“Can I” by Kehlani––and leans back, legs spread. 

He doesn’t explain anything more to you. Neither one of you talk. The only sounds are of the TV softly playing from downstairs and the music playing on his phone. You feel nervous, the alcohol’s magic beginning to ware off. But something in the way Keigo stares you down has you moving, giving him exactly what he wants. You let the music take control of your body, letting your hips sway and your fingers play with the edges of Keigo's sweater. You slowly, tantalizingly, slip it up your body to reveal your bra and discard it. Then off comes your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping your fly before sloooowly dragging it down your legs to reveal your naked thighs and lace panties. 

You can practically hear Keigo salivating at the sight of you as you twirl for him, bending over and moving your ass in his face. You flip your hair and look over your shoulder, becoming the woman he is seeking tonight: a vixen. A slut. Because that’s all you want to be tonight for him too. Turning around, you walk over to him, relishing his gaze upon you, and grasp his shoulders before hooking one leg over his lap. You take a seat and begin to grind yourself into his lap, causing your knee to brush against his crotch. He groans softly as your knee caresses his hardened cock, his hands gripping your hips. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That feels so good.” 

You feel the same, biting your lip at the pleasurable sensations of his thigh rubbing against your pantyliner. “I think it’d feel even better with these off,” you giggle, tugging at his shirt. You stare down at him through your lashes, a sexy smile pulling at your lips. “Don’t you wanna join me?” You’ve never seen Keigo move so fast before, even while fighting villains. Instantly, his shirt is off and you help him out of his pants until is just in his briefs. He then hooks his hands under your ass and hikes you up, your arms and legs wrapping around him instinctively. 

Then you’re soaring through the air and bouncing onto the mattress, the air leaving your lungs. “Get your pretty ass up there,” he grunts, grinning at the sound of your laughter.

He swoops down onto you, pressing a kiss to your lips as his chain necklaces press against your bosom, cold metal against heated skin. He pulls away to press kisses down your legs and thighs, prying them open to get a good look at what lies in between. He hums appreciatively at your scent and the sight of red against your brown skin and juicy thighs.

“Mmm, someone’s excited,” he chuckles. He glides one finger over your panty line, soaked through. You moan at the slight contact, your toes curling. “Whatchu want me to do?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. 

He begins to rub a thumb over your clit, causing your panties to become wetter and more uncomfortable.

“Kei,” you whimper. “Please.” Keigo’s eyes grow darker, his wings fluffier. “That’s not what I asked,” he teasingly yet firmly states. “C’mon, mama, give me your words. Tell me what you want Daddy to do.” He then ducks down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, nearly making you jump straight out of your skin.

“Taste me,” you whisper. “Put this pussy in your mouth. Please, Keigo, I’m begging y–!” Before you can finish, your boyfriend is already pulling down your panties, pressing his tongue against your clit and sucking gently on the little bundle of nerves. 

Keigo is a certified master at eating pussy. He puts his whole mouth on it, in it, swirling his tongue and flicking it just right against your clit. He holds you open, spreading your thighs apart as he laps at your cunt and even your asshole (because he’s also an ass man). He eats up all of your holes, eagerly licking, sucking, and lapping at them until you’re moaning, whimpering, gasping for air. You see stars behind your eyelids and your body twists against the comforter neatly spread across the bed. Your hands grasp his golden strands of hair as you feel your first orgasm quickly dawning, rising to reach its peak.

You can’t keep quiet––your sounds of utter pleasure release out of you, bouncing off of the walls. “F-Fuck, Keigo!” you sob, not even realizing how loud you are. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s so good! I’m gonna cum, baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m…I’m–“ 

Knock, knock. A gasp erupts from you as your heartbeat accelerates at the sound of the bedroom door. “Yeah?” Keigo asks, not even sounding scared or impatient. The door opens and there appears Dabi. He doesn’t even blink at the fact that you’re semi-naked. “If you two were tryin’ to be secretive, you’re not doin’ a good job at all,” he blandly says. “Y'all are loud as fuck. I could hear you all the way downstairs.” 

You try to squirm away, but Keigo holds you still, his hands still pinning your thighs open. “Oh, forreal?” he laughs as if this whole thing is funny. “Sorry, man. It’s just been a while for us.” He gazes down at you before looking back at Dabi, smirking. “Well, since you’re here, you wanna join in or just watch?” You stare at your boyfriend like he just lost his last few braincells. “Keigo, what the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss. “Are you crazy?! Why would you even ask him that?!” 

“I actually wouldn’t mind either,” Dabi announces, shocking and confusing you even further. His head cocks to the side, looking at your spread open pussy from another angle. “Seein’ her spread out like this is a definite treat…though I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want a taste either.” His eyes, blue and intense, tick up to meet yours, nearly stopping your heart. “And you’d like that too, wouldn’t you, doll?” 

You’re in such shock that if it isn’t for the eye contact, you wouldn’t realize he is talking to you. This is just too weird. You feel like you’re dreaming, like none of this is real. The two begin to chuckle lightly at your reaction, as if this is some inside joke to them…is it? “Baby, it’s okay,” Keigo chuckles, gently stroking your stomach. “Relax. Dabi is here for a reason.” You stare at your boyfriend, eyes wide and absolutely speechless. 

“I’ve been noticing tonight how much you’ve been eyeing him, and that’s okay,” Keigo further explains. “He happens to have been doing the same thing, haven’t you, D?” 

Your eyes widen even more as Dabi steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, wearing an expression close to lust. “He knows all about us wanting to spice things up more in the bedroom, even suggesting ways to excite you.” A smirk grows on Keigo’s face, one that makes you scared. “I also let him in on your little secret.”

He and Dabi share a look and you instantly know what he means. ‘Oh, no,’ you think, horrified. ‘He knows. How could he know?’ 

Keigo is happy to explain it to you. “You happened to have left your browser open on your phone one morning when you took a shower.” A twinkle appears in his golden irises. “Imagine my shock when I saw a video of a girl clearly getting fucked silly by two dudes.” Heat immediately envelopes you and you hide your face in your hands. “Baby, don’t be embarrassed!” he laughs. “I think it’s hot, but I can see why you didn't tell me. I can be very possessive, can’t I?” 

You simply look up at him, not responding, but you don’t have to. You both know he is. He’ll glare down any man who even looks your way when you’re out and about on the street. Which is why it’s so shocking to you that he would agree to share you with a whole other man. “Well, I took some time to think it over and I realized that the idea of watchin’ you suckin’ another man’s cock made me cum a lot harder than I ever have before one night.”

He smirks at you, loving the way you sharply inhale at the thought. “So I ran it by Dabi and chose him as he is the only person I trust enough to touch you and take care of my girl the way I can.” He sits back on his hands, staring down at you with utter care and affection. “But the ball is in your court, baby bird. You don’t have to say yes if this is too weird or too uncomfortable for you. Even if you say yes, you can always say no.” 

Then it’s Dabi’s turn to be caring and affectionate. “I won’t touch you until you ask me, doll,” he firmly says. “Like the bird brain said, this is your decision to make. And before you ask, I don't think this will fuck up our friendship in the slightest. I’ve always had a thing for you, especially after that kiss we had with that stupid bottle game.” You blink at him, suddenly dizzy.

“But you’re too pure to deal with my crazy ass,” he chuckles. “So I figured Hawks would be a better fit for you, and he is.” His blue eyes sparkle with something––love? Lust?––that nearly steals your breath away. “But I can still fuck you and show you how much I value you.” His hand moves to gently settle on your thigh, never moving farther than that. “Is that okay?” he asks in a voice so unlike his own. It is very soft and careful as if you are a spooked animal he is trying to calm. 

Is that okay? They could simply take you right here, right now, but they don’t. Neither one of them even touches you, letting you give them the green light. You can hardly contain yourself, feeling so aroused and oh-so loved that you could burst. So you sit up and toss your arms around Dabi, immediately pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. A surprised moan leaves his lips, shocked at your boldness, before he melts into the kiss and lets his hands settle on your waist.

When you pull away, both of you are panting heavily and overcome with need. “Fuck me,” you whisper. You turn to Keigo, seeing that he is just as needy as you are. “Both of you. Right now.” 

Your boys don’t need to be told twice. Dabi immediately goes back to kissing you stupid while Keigo presses kisses and forms love bites on your neck, stealing silent gasps and whimpers away from your mouth and into Dabi’s as he does. Dabi’s and your tongues swirl together, cold against hot, especially when you feel the nub of something cold and steely attached to his tongue.

You pull away, perplexed, and he gives a sexy, throaty chuckle before spitting his tongue out at you. There, you see a black studded piercing embedded into the pink muscle. You nearly cum right there. “Please,” you whimper as Dabi begins to kiss down your neck and breasts. “Fuck me.” You roll your hips into Dabi’s, earning a throaty groan in response. 

“So eager, right?” Keigo chuckles, grinning at Dabi. “Not yet, love dove. First, Dabi needs to have a chance to play with you. Get that bra off of her, D.” He flicks his chin at his friend, impatient. Dabi doesn’t need any other pushing. He unhooks your bra from the front, letting the cups fall free to reveal your gorgeous breasts and hardened nipples. The two men groan at the sight of them––the prettiest, ripest fruit they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing and tasting. Each attach their lips to your nipples, hungrily lapping and licking at the hardened peaks of your nipples. 

Keigo watches your face, transfixed by the way your pretty features contort in pleasure at the feeling of two mouths on your sensitive nipples. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs. His compliment makes you wetter than before and soon, you can’t control yourself. Your hands grasp their scalps, running through their hair, and your toes curl as the pleasure travels downward to your pussy. “Kei,” you whimper. “T-Touya.” The white-haired stud softly growls at his birth name being uttered from your lips, leading him to grip your ass as he continues to suck at your nipple. 

Impatient, you go to grasp their cocks in their pants, but Keigo moves your hands away. “Uh-uh, mama,” he chuckles, giving you a lopsided smirk. “We’ve first gotta play with this gorgeous pussy. You okay with sharing her kitty, D?” 

Dabi looks like he was waiting for Keigo to mention something about your cunt. He pulls away from your nipple, a string of saliva connecting to his bottom lip. “Long as I get to make her cum, I’m down.” His eyes cut away from staring deep into yours to glare at Keigo. “Just don't get in my fuckin’ way and we won’t have a problem.” Keigo only laughs and pats the space on the mattress beside you. “On your knees, baby. Face down, ass up.”

Helpless to resist their hungered stares, you do as your man orders and position yourself on your knees with your ass hiked up in the air, right in your friend’s face. You barely have time to feel embarrassed before a hand connects to your asscheek. Smack! You whine at the sharp sting. “Sorry,” Keigo sniggers. “My hand slipped.” 

Dabi groans at your reaction, visibly turned on by you. You. “I knew she liked it rough,” he comments, his voice strained. “Mind if I try?” Keigo must obviously give him the go because you feel his hand, rougher from his burn scars, slap your ass too. Smack! You gasp, taken aback by the bite of pain…and the pleasure that comes with it. 

“Shiiit, that was nothing,” Keigo tuts. “Put some force in it, Dabs.” Smack! Keigo does it this time, putting more force into his hit just to spite Dabi. You clench your teeth at the sting, feeling like your ass is on fire. “Like that?” Dabi blandly asks, scoffing. “You barely made it jiggle.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! The two smack your ass like they’re landlords and your ass is a tenant who owes them rent money. They relish the sweet gasps and whines that leave your mouth with each assault on your asscheeks, damn near leaving handprints in their wake. They love how much you love this, the little masochist you are. 

Finally, when you’re a panting mess on the bed, Keigo stops the punishment. “That’s enough for now. Her poor pussy can't take much more.” His finger lightly brushes against your oozing, gushing pussy who always betrays you as a slut. “Let’s see whose tongue makes you cum the hardest,” Dabi softly growls. “But I’ll warn you, baby doll: this tongue piercing always seems to make pussies cum before they’re ready.” He chuckle is a promise to you that has your heart pounding and clit jumping in excitement. 

And boy, is it a promise. Once your panties are off, his tongue touches your clit and slides inside your pussy. And it’s over for you. His tongue piercing is a perfect mix of cold that adds to the intensity of his hot tongue and mouth sucking and lapping at your pussy. He does it like he’s been doing this all his life, similar to Keigo but quicker, less gentle. At this point, a new song has begun to play from Keigo’s phone––“Moodswings” by Pop Smoke––and Dabi’s broad tongue strokes match the tempo, making you see stars. “God, Dabi!” you moan, gripping the comforter below you. “That feels so good!” 

Though it’s hot to Keigo too, he isn't too keen on his friend hogging his pussy. “Bitch,” he growls, “I’m here too. At least lemme suck on this pretty asshole. And yes, she likes that too.” Dabi pauses, staring at you then at the winged hero in shock. “Fuck, Kei, you’ve got a real freak on your hands,” he exhales in disbelief, earning a laugh from both of them at your expense. 

Then Keigo’s hands are spreading your asscheeks apart and his tongue is lapping at your puckered asshole. You’re whining and sobbing into the mattress, fingers clenching the comforter so tight that your knuckles turn pale. Then they switch, Dabi eating your ass while Keigo gulps down your pussy, giving you softer yet eager tongue flicks against your clit.

“You like this, baby?” he asks, his words muffled by his tongue in your little hole. “You like gettin’ both of your holes fucked? Mmm, I know you do. That body is tellin’ us everything we need to know.” And it is: you can’t stop tossing your ass back and grinding your hips into their mouths, desperate for more. When your orgasm begins to rise, it is intense and builds in your core, threatening to spill over.

“Oh, sh-sh-shit!” you squeal, pushing your ass and pussy into their faces. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum! You’re both gonna make me cum!” 

“Do it then,” Dabi demands, now licking on your pussy. “Cum down my fuckin’ throat.” Keigo whines in protest, pulling away from your ass to busy himself stroking your clit with two fingers. “No, baby,” he mumbles. “Cum for me. Cum for your man…please?”

Both of them watch you as you cum all over yourself and them, filling their mouths with your taste. Your orgasm is intense; earth-shattering. It makes your body shake and quiver and stars explode behind your eyelids. A loud whine that you barely recognize as your voice escapes you as you let go of every bit of sanity and control you have left. 

When you’re finally done, the duo laps greedily at your juices, earning soft sighs and whimpers of protest in response to them overstimulating you. “Fuckin’ move, Dabi,” Keigo growls, growing impatient. “You’re hoggin’ all of her up! Don’t forget, you burnt bitch: that’s my pussy you’re eating.” You look back at them now, breathing heavily. Dabi pulls away from your cunt to chuckle at his friend, his lips shining with your juices. “Tell that to her. She seems like she likes this piercing an awful lot.” He spits his tongue out at Keigo, teasingly wiggling it at him. 

And then you get an awfully devious, nasty idea in your head at the sight of that sinful piercing: “Is this pierced too?” you innocently ask. The song switches now––“Touch It” by DVSN––and it immediately changes the atmosphere in the room to something way nastier and intimate than before.

Dabi and Keigo stare at you in silent awe, both clearly aroused by your change in demeanor. Dabi smirks, taking your hand and placing it on his crotch. “You tryna find out, baby doll?” he gravely asks, tracing a finger over your cheek. You shiver in delight at his touch. 

“Is your man okay with that?” he asks, questionably looking at Keigo. You look too, asking with your eyes. “Only if you’re okay with sharing,” he chuckles, “but something tells me you’re just as eager to see her take two dicks as I am.”

Seeing the look in his eyes and how ruffled his wings have gotten, you can tell he is worked up, so you hurry to coax him closer to you. Soon, they are both sitting on their knees above you while you sit low on your knees on the mattress, your feet curled underneath your butt. “You two are wearin’ way too much,” you sternly say. “I want both of you naked. Now.” 

They smirk at your bold request but hurry to fill it, fingers working at their flies and peeling off their tops. You help them each, damn near gasping at how much sexiness is in front of you once they’re down to their boxers.

Though they are both lean with hard muscle, toned arms, and bite-worthy thighs, they have their differences too: Keigo has smooth, tanned skin that is accentuated by the gold chain hanging from his neck and a few tattoos here and there inked across his skin.

Meanwhile, Dabi has pale skin that is inked with tatts and scarred and bumpy with burns and staples. He has nipple piercings that wink at you and a happy trail of white hairs that lead down to his toned V-line. “Not the prettiest sight, I know,” he lightly laughs, but you can tell he’s ashamed of the way he looks away from you. 

You make it your mission to make him feel otherwise. Standing higher up on your knees, you press your lips to his and stroke your hands over his stomach. “You’re so sexy,” you purr. You turn to Keigo, pressing a hand to his chest to feel his heart beat against your fingertips. “Both of you are,” you sigh dreamily. “I’m such a lucky bitch.” They silently laugh, their eyes aglow with lust as you begin to work their boxers down with both hands. 

Then you’re faced with two big dicks in your face. Your eyes widen at the sight of Dabi, noticing how he curves upward and is slightly longer than Keigo. The cock head is an angry red, while Keigo’s is pinker, pre-cum dripping from the tip for you. You have no idea how you’re going to handle both of them at the same time, but you surprise even yourself when you spit into your hands and begin to stroke them both, getting a feel of both of them in your hands. Their soft moans coax you to continue, your body relishing the way they sound. “Such a big girl takin’ two big dicks at the same time,” Keigo hums, watching you stroke him and his best friend. 

Dabi watches too, his bottom lip caught between his teeth at the way you gently run your thumb across his head. “Careful now, baby bird,” Keigo chuckles. “He’s sensitive there.” The white-haired man glares at his friend though not as hostile because of how good your soft, little hand feels stroking his dick. “Fuck you,” he growls. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, bro,” Keigo chuckles. He takes a lockful of your hair and pulls your face back, making you look at him. As you softly gasp at the sensation of your hair being tugged back, Keigo’s cock twitches in your hand. “Now show our friend how good you are at suckin’ dick,” he demands with a smile.

You don’t hesitate to do so, quickly opening your mouth and swallowing Dabi’s dick. You suck, gargle, and gag on it. You lick from base to tip, stroke his balls with one hand while stroking his dick with your throat. Dabi is gobsmacked by how good you are, his hand gripping your hair and his pretty eyes rolling to the back of his head. He can’t get enough of how tight and wet your throat is, mumbling about it through heavy pants. 

“Go on, bro,” Keigo encourages him. “Fuck her up. Her throat is there for a reason.” And so he does, thrusting into your tempting throat while you force yourself to take him, no matter how much your jaw aches and tears sting your eyes. You love seeing him feel good. You feel the same for Keigo when you switch to him next, taking him deep as he fucks your throat with slow, deliberate strokes that would no doubt draw long moans out of you if he were inside of you. 

You repeat this, alternating between stroking one and sucking the other, coating their cocks in your spit that collects in your mouth and drips down your chin. You stare into their eyes, adoring how they stare upon you so intensely, so lustfully. They each give you words of dirty praise though different. Keigo is sweet, stroking your hair back as you take his cock. “Good girl,” he praises. “Such a good girl for me.” 

Meanwhile, Dabi’s praise is full of degradation as his hand yanks on your hair and his balls hit your chin. 

“Good fuckin’ slut,” he groans. “How are you so good at this shit?” He pulls out of your mouth suddenly, letting you breathe. “Open your mouth,” he demands. You do so, sticking your tongue out. He tilts your chin up before spitting a wallop of saliva into your mouth, much to your pussy’s delight. “Now spit it back on that dick,” he orders which you do, spitting it back onto his cock before slurping it up and letting it lube him up so it’s easier to take him into your throat again. 

Keigo yanks you back to him and sticks his cock back in your mouth, laughing at your surprised mewl. By this time, the song has changed and “OTW” by Jhene Aiko and Mila J is filling the bedroom. Keigo thrusts into your mouth according to the tempo, grinning at how you struggle with his long strokes. “Don’t stop now, cutie,” he chuckles. “You asked for this and now you’re gettin’ it. Don’t disappoint us.” The two evilly laugh at your expense, loving how hard you’re finding it to take a breath. 

And you are. The more dick you take, the more you’re finding it difficult to breathe or recover. Your mouth is coated in spit and your throat feels raw from it constantly being fucked…but it also feels damn good. You love that you’re the one making them feel good. No one else. This only becomes realer for you when Keigo feels himself getting close and slides out of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m ‘bout to cum!” he grunts, but slows his hand down so he doesn’t pump cum in your face. “No, not yet. I need to be inside you for that.” 

Excitement zings through you. Finally! What you’ve been waiting for! “I’m cool with just fuckin’ her throat till I bust,” Dabi pants, lazily stroking his cock. “That is your girl, after all. And this feels way too good to give up.” He is not just referring to your heavenly mouth and throat, but to your soft hands that leave the mattress every so often to stroke up and down his chest and stomach. He takes one of them and presses it to his lips, a change to his rough demeanor while he was fucking your face. 

 “Thanks, bro,” Keigo says with a grin “I’m dying to see how she’ll take all that cum down your throat.” Dabi smirks, looking down at you looking absolutely wrecked (so far). “You think you’ve had two big dicks, baby doll?” he asks, grinning evilly at you. “You haven’t seen shit yet.” You’re almost afraid to find out, but you know you’re too late to turn back now when Keigo positions you. He hikes your ass up and gives your ass a smack before his cock is sheathing inside of you without warning. 

You gasp, your mouth open wide at the searing pleasure you feel. Dabi takes advantage of this, sliding his cock back inside of your mouth and freely fucking your throat while Keigo begins to follow suit, following the same tempo his friend does: rough and hard.

Keigo grips your tits as they swing and your ass as it jiggles against him with every thrust. “How’s this, hm?” he teasingly asks. “How’s this for takin’ two cocks, huh?” You mumble nonsense against Dabi’s cock, earning a panty laugh from your mutual friend. “Can’t even speak ‘cause both of your holes are filled to the brim,” he laughs. “I’d feel bad if your throat didn’t feel so fuckin’ good, shit…” 

He fucks your mouth a little faster, making his heavy balls slap against your chin and the bed creak with the force of two men fucking you at the same time. Your jaw begins to intensely ache with how much Dabi is filling your throat and you try to ease back to allow yourself some comfort, but Keigo takes that as you losing focus.

“C’mon, mama, don’t leave me out,” he pouts, giving your ass another sharp smack. “Throw that ass back for me. Fuck me back. Show me how much you love this.” And, like a little doll being controlled, you do so, tossing your ass back into him to shove his cock deeper inside of you. “There we go,” he moans. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect…our perfect girl.” 

You swear you nearly squirt when he says this. Being between them, getting your brains fucked out by them, you feel as if you are their perfect girl only. You are there to please them, and they you. You want this moment to last forever, but as their thrusts in unison begin to quicken and their moans intensify, you can tell that your end is about to be reached. Keigo presses a kiss to your back, buried to the hilt inside your pussy. “We love you so much, y’know that?” he pants. “We fuckin’ adore you, Y/N.” 

“So much!” Dabi grunts, pulling out to tap his dick against your lips and chin. “You’re the best little slut for us.” You whimper at their words, your pussy quivering and clenching around the big cock inside of you. “Think we can make her cum at midnight sharp, D?” Keigo chuckles, realizing that you’re close. “I wanna ring in the new year the right way.” Dabi only mischievously grins, wordlessly agreeing to the naughty act of celebration. 

The song switches to something smooth and relaxing yet adds to the intensity of your end––“Sit On It” by Jazmine Sullivan and Ari Lennox––and it doesn't take long for the duo to begin to feel their orgasms coming. “God fuckin’ dammit, I’m ‘bout to cum,” Dabi groans, feral and losing control. “Take me deep, baby doll. Deep down that slutty throat.” 

Keigo tugs on your hair as he grips your hip with the other hand, railing you into the mattress. “M’close too,” he warns. “I can tell you’re gonna cum too, baby bird. Are we gonna make that little pussy cum?” His hand loops between your thighs to rub at your clit, each circle to makes with his fingers pushing you closer to the edge of no return. Dabi’s dick slips out of your mouth, letting you take a breath and utter your arrival. “K-Kei!” you sob. “T-Touya, please! I’m gonna cum!” 

As the music plays, something breaks through to mingle with it: all around you––on the TV downstairs, outside your balcony, through the walls next door––people begin to countdown from ten till midnight. Till the new year. You were getting fucked so good that you nearly forgot it’s NYE. 

Ten. 

Nine.

“There’s the countdown,” Keigo moans, quickening his pace and nailing your G-spot again and again. “C’mon and cum with us, baby. We’ve got you. It’s okay.” 

Eight… 

Seven.

Six. 

Grunts, groans, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fill the bedroom as you get closer to your climax. “Cum, baby!” Keigo demands, gripping onto you tight as he pummels into your pussy. “Cum while I fill you up.” 

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

“Cum all over that dick, baby doll,” Dabi growls into your ear as he shoves his cock deeper down your throat, prepared to fill it up. “Do it. Make us proud, Y/N.” 

Two. 

One. 

Zero.

Happy New Year!

Cheers, applause, and the sound of makeshift fireworks and poppers fill the tense air, making you feel as if all of this is happening because you’re cumming for your boys as much as they want you to. Because you're doing as they told you to.

As soon as the countdown reaches one, you gush around Keigo’s cock just as he fills you up, digging his fingers into the flesh of your ass as he does. Dabi joins you both, cumming down your throat, his deep, guttural grunts mixing with Keigo’s louder, high-pitched moans. You scream around Dabi’s cock as your orgasm takes your body and propels it through the skies. You’re soaring, flying above the clouds. You feel like you could touch the stars with how good you feel. 

But just as quickly as it comes, it fades, deliciously so. You ride the wave for a couple of minutes with Keigo and Dabi whose thrusts slow and grow sloppier the more they try to chase that high. “Fuck me,” Keigo sighs as he gently pulls out of your tight hole, groaning at how his cum drips out of you and down your thighs. You reach back to stroke the buttery-soft feathers of his wings, helping him ride out that wave of bliss, pleased with the soft whimpers he gives you.

Dabi slides out of your mouth, leaving cum and spit staining your lips and chin. He wipes it away with his thumbs, letting you suck on them when they linger close to your mouth. Keigo moves to pause his music, the air now filled with your soft panting and the muffled sounds from the TV and your neighbors. 

When your orgasm finally fades, you settle onto your elbows, finally able to rest. You feel achy and sore yet immensely satisfied. You can hardly believe it. You just had your first threesome with your boyfriend and childhood friend. “Wow,” you sigh. It’s all you can say. Keigo grins down at you, sitting back on his hands, glinting in sweat and his semi-hard cock splayed out in front of you. “Right?” he chuckles. “That’s the only word to describe it. You alright, Dabi?” 

You look over to the ex-villain who is lying on his back next to you, looking content. “Never better,” he softly sighs. “I haven’t came that hard in ages.” Keigo sniggers, winking at him. “Told you she’s good,” he chuckles and the fact that he’s talked about your skills makes you flush. “Never did I think I’d fuck my boyfriend and my friend at the same time,” you giggle, mostly at the absurdness of it. Talk about ending the night with a bang. 

“And now you’re about to cuddle with ‘em,” Keigo adds. Dabi side eyes him to which Keigo returns it. “What? Do emotionally damaged, bad boys not like cuddles?” He snuggles in next to you on your right, helping you turn around so you’re facing his chest and handsome face.

You look back at Dabi, hoping your backside and puppy dog eyes will reel him in. “Please, Dabi?” you innocently beg, staring up at him through your lashes. 

Fortunately, your ass and eyes win him over. “Such a baby,” he sighs with an eye roll, but snuggles up behind you anyway, his hand laying lazily on your thigh. “You need to stop spoilin’ her so damn much, bird brain,” he criticizes Keigo who laughs, having no intention of stopping.

For a while, the three of you lay in complete silence, no words needed. Dabi strokes up and down your side, starting from your hip to your calve and back up again. Keigo presses kisses to your cheek and forehead, his fingers drawing shapes on your back. You press a hand to his beating heart and play with his necklace, breathing in both him and Dabi’s mingling scents. “This was so, so nice,” you hum, content and satisfied. “Thank you both so much for this. I love you both so much.”

Keigo presses another chaste kiss to your cheek, his touch as soft as a butterfly’s wings. “And we love you too,” he murmurs into your hair. Dabi doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. The kiss he leaves on your shoulder blade is all the confirmation you need that the feeling is mutual. 

Knock, knock, knock! You startle, jumping out of your skin as you and the boys look toward the bedroom door. Keigo shields you with his wings immediately, your entire body covered with red feathers. 

“And I love y’all too,” Rumi calls through the door, "but you freaky motherfuckers woke me up! And I missed the countdown! At least wake me up with your fucking before midnight!” 

You, Keigo, and Dabi silently look at each other before erupting into laughter. “Sorry, cotton tail,” Keigo laughs despite Rumi cussing outside the bedroom door. “Oh, and before we forget…” 

He and Dabi slowly move in and each press a kiss to your cheeks. “Happy New Year,” they say in unison. 

THE END. 

[dmercer91]

ebug's sister, dm91

taglist, @whenmypartysover

part one / part two /part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten /

blakefriarr_

liked by elblue6, _quinnhughes and 7,012 others

blakefriarr_: step one: meet lhughes

step two: witness television broadcast in which lhughes score ot winner

step three: fight jhughes for rights to lhughes

view 688 comments..

pinned! blakefriarr_: ellen liked i can die happy

jackhughes: you cannot have my little brother blake

→ blakefriarr_: try and stop me

lhughes_06: i for one think jack should let you take over

→ _quinnhughes: she made you the mac and cheese dish?

→ lhughes_06: quinn now is NOT the time

→ blakefriarr_: cookies too

→ _quinnhughes: i better get cookies

→ jackhughes: this isn't hurtful at all

→ blakefriarr_: i know how to cater to my target audience (picky eaters with bottomless pits for stomachs)

dawson1417: you know what i'm here for

→ blakefriarr_: bro 😭😭😭😭😭 

→ blakefriarr_: i've got, like, car insurance and gas and student loans

→ dawson1417: you also hate your job

→ blakefriarr_: i also hate planes

→ dawson1417: that argument makes no sense you already agreed to come up on your week off

→ blakefriarr_: hear me out

→ dawson1417: eyeballs are listening

→ blakefriarr_: i do the one week like we planned originally

→ dawson1417: right and then you never leave

→ blakefriarr_: incorrect

→ dawson1417: my eyeballs hated that

dawson1417: on another note you looked so pretty when you had jack in a headlock

→ jackhughes: HEY

→ blakefriarr_: thank you i try

nicohischier: this explains why i just found jack face down into my living room carpet

→ blakefriarr_: surely you know how to cheer him up

→ nicohischier: for the last time, jack and i are not dating

→ blakefriarr_: you and i both know this is not the last time, neeks.

ryangraves27: you should come to canada with dawson

→ blakefriarr_: mercer you give gravy his phone back right this instant

→ dawson1417: how’d you know

→ blakefriarr_: for one i could feel the tone of the comment and for another gravy would never want me in the same country as him

jj.friar31: what is my life

→ jj.friar31: what’d you do last night man? oh not much just hung out with my sisters friends (the new jersey devils!) and watched her ko jack hughes like it was nothing

→ blakefriarr_: ahagahheheheg

adamfantilli: am i not enough for you

→ blakefriarr_: you live all the way over there

→ adamfantilli: the betrayal is unreal

→ blakefriarr_: stfu <3 love you

→ adamfantilli: ouch. love you too

dougieham: did you win

→ blakefriarr_: what a dumb question of course i won its jack

_eliaspettersson: if jack doesn’t give you luke could i interest you in another elias pettersson (rookie edition)

→ blakefriarr_: i would be interested in rookie elias pettersson and long lost hughes brother cole mcward if in stock

→ _quinnhughes: you’re not getting cole

→ blakefriarr_: nobody asked you quintin

drayanewman: i have something inappropriate to say

→ blakefriarr_: do elaborate

→ drayanewman: … no

→ lhughes_06: wait no elaborate

→ blakefriarr_: ohhhhhhhhhh i am going to be so annoying about this

view more comments..

[mint-yooxgi]

{11} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Yeosang, Jongho, and slight Mingi)

Words: 5,345

Warnings: Past death and trauma alluded to, This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: After quite some time, I finally present the next chapter of this series!!! Yay!! I really hope you all enjoy it! What I originally planned for this chapter is actually going to occur next chapter, but I think what happens, especially at the end is really important for the story. Can anyone guess what it is? Hehehe as always, feedback is greatly appreciate! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Mini Masterlist

The next few days pass by with Jisung still following his own grieving process. He stops by either your place, or the Neo’s nest for food and to rest, before taking off into the peaks of the mountains again. A few times, he’s allowed Chenle, or Sungchan to join him, but he mainly flies solo for the time being.

You’re just glad he already seems to be beginning to heal. It’s a slow process, but steady, nonetheless.

The training with both San and Wooyoung has come to a slight pause for the moment, seeing as you’re now dealing with a grieving cub. Luckily, the two males are quite understanding, taking the time to perfect what you’ve already taught them. Quite eagerly at that, too.

You’ve even noticed a slight change already in all five of the Hala’s demeanours since you’ve began training those two rambunctious dragons of theirs. There seems to be a sharpness to their eyes that had never been their before, as if they are more in-tuned to their surroundings. A fact of which makes you incredibly content, for they are all learning more than you could have ever hoped for in such a short period of time.

Though, one thing that has been on your mind recently, is the fact that for the past few nights, you’ve sensed a very specific Hala flying closer and closer to your cottage. He seems to stop himself before he reaches the edge of the little clearing your house resides near, but he has started circling the area a few times before turning back each night.

Today is no different, but instead of just sensing one presence, you sense two. The exact two that had been on the edge of your radar that night with Jisung. Only this time, they seem to want to imitate how both San and Wooyoung were that first week with Jongho.

Stepping outside of your home, you rest a basket against your hip. Time to go harvest some herbs. Whether those two decide to follow you or not is up to them, but you’re not going to let them off the hook so easily.

Reaching the small natural garden just beneath the base of the one mountain, you get to work. You manage to pick herbs for about ten minutes before you hear some rustling coming from behind you. Long since have you sensed their presences, and at least they’re more stealthy than both Wooyoung and San were, but you do not fail to miss the harsh smack that sounds followed by a short hiss in response.

“You know, if you two were trying to track me, or even so much as observe my daily routine, you need to learn a few things first about cooperation.” You say casually, not even bothering to spare a glance behind you.

The bushes go deadly silent.

“Oh? What’s this?” You quirk a brow, turning to glance over your shoulder. “You think I don’t know when I’m being stalked? Especially by two dragons who have made it somewhat clear that they cannot stand me?”

A moment’s pause.

“We’re not stalking you.” Yeosang appears from within the bushes, stepping into the little open space you’re in between the trees.

“Then, what else would you call spying from the bushes?” Your lips quirk, turning back around to continue gathering herbs. “Observing?”

“See, I told you this was a bad idea.” Mingi grumbles, shoving himself out of the underbrush in the next second.

“You dragged me out.” Yeosang shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Again, you turn to look at both males with a quirked brow. At the way you see Canary Man begin to sputter, ears turning bright red, you know the shorter of the two speaks the truth.

“Is there a reason you keep circling my territory every night, Canary Man?” You ask, shifting your position slightly to begin gathering a different herb. “Are you planning to burn my house to the ground while I sleep?”

“No!” Comes his immediate response, and you’re surprised by how panicked his answer sounds. He clears his throat. “I wouldn’t do that to someone who has saved my brothers' lives more than once.”

You hum, a slight quirk to your brow. “Wise answer.”

Yeosang shifts slightly on his feet. “We’re just curious about you.”

“Oh?” This piques your interest. “Are the stories your brothers tell about me that awful that you have to come see for yourselves?”

“How do you know they tell us stories?” The flame headed male crosses his arms over his chest.

One knowing glance from you says it all.

“They’ve said they’ve learned a lot,” Yeosang comments. “Not just from you, but from the Neos as well.”

“My boys are smarter than they lead people to believe,” you acknowledge. “If they wanted to, they could have claimed the crown a long time ago.”

You can just feel the way the taller male tenses behind you. “So, you do know more about this supposed jewel, then.”

“My father will never let me forget it,” you sigh, tossing the herbs in your hands rather pointedly into your basket. In the next moment, you’re standing back to your feet. “Is there a proper reason you’re here, or am I supposed to play assumptions until you leave?”

“Like we said,” Yeosang eyes the basket that you pick up and hold against your hip. “We’re just curious about you.”

“If you’re curious, you can come and ask me questions. Do not stalk me from my bush.” Your eyes narrow. “I thought I already made that clear to your youngest.”

“You did,” Canary Man huffs, amusedly. “Not that he’ll shut up about you, regardless.”

“All of them seem to enjoy discussing the topic that is you recently.” Yeosang observes, watching as you begin to walk towards one end of the mountain with that basket still in hand.

“I have also been told that someone enjoys my cooking,” you spare a knowing look towards the taller male, lips quirking teasingly. “You know, you’re both more than welcome to join our cookouts.”

Canary Man’s cheeks flare, halfhearted splutters of denial falling from his lips.

A soft chuckle escapes you, yet you fail to see the way Yeosang’s demeanour falters ever so slightly behind you.

At the way you notice the two of them still standing like statues in their spots, you spare them another glance over your shoulder. “Well, are you going to join me? I’m nowhere near done picking herbs, and I’d rather not continue being stalked from the bushes.”

That seems to get them moving, the two falling into step just behind you. Though, you notice Yeosang keeping quite a respectful amount of distance between himself and your back. Something the other male doesn’t seem to pick up on.

The moment you reach the edge of the small stream, you kneel once more. A small patch of herbs rests along the banks, and you begin picking through them, pulling the best ones and placing them into your basket.

Awkwardly, the two males shift on their feet behind you.

“If you’re as curious as you claim, you may ask me questions.” You say, not even bothering to spare them another glance. “I might not answer everything, and I have the right to refuse a question, but I am not unreasonable.”

Softly, Yeosang kneels beside you. “Would you like some help?”

You cannot hide the shock on your features as you blink at him in response. Then, you smile. “Sure.”

You don’t even have to say another word, for the male immediately gets to work. He’s a little cautious at first, moving slowly as he picks some of the herbs from the bank of the stream. Though, once he sees you nodding, somewhat subconsciously in approval, his confidence grows, and he begins to pick a little faster.

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” The taller male comments, moving to stand over his brother while feigning disinterest.

“Unlike you, Min, I listen to what my brothers have to say,” Yeosang retorts, somewhat knowingly, as he places another handful of herbs into your basket.

“I listen!” Said male protests, crossing his arms over his chest as a slight pout tugs at his features.

Again, you chuckle, and you fail to see the way Yeosang’s gaze darts briefly towards you out of the corner of his eyes.

“So, have Sannie and Woo been giving you private lessons after finishing my own?” You inquire, sitting back onto your ankles as you observe the bank carefully.

“They’ve tried,” the male still on his feet grumbles.

“Not necessarily.” Yeosang shakes his head at the same time.

“Yeo is just observant like that.” Canary Man finishes.

“Ah,” your brows raise in understanding. “Impressive. Are you the informant, then?”

“You could say that,” he smiles, somewhat faintly, his bangs hiding his eyes as he leans forward.

“You’re observant. A good skill to have, especially when gathering information.” You comment, pushing yourself back to your feet and dusting off your hands.

Instantly, Yeosang is back on his feet with you, your basket resting gently in his hands. Just as you go to reach for it, he turns away, already walking along the side of the stream.

You chuckle, “the next spot is this way.”

The way you quirk a brow at him has his cheeks dusting with a very faint pink as he walks back over to you. You pretend not to notice.

“Where did you learn all of this?” The taller of the two asks, nothing but curiosity in his tone despite him attempting to hide it. “How to harvest herbs and make remedies?”

“I believe I have mentioned that I am much older than I appear,” you smile faintly in response. “My father trained me for quite a long time. The rest I learned through trial and error.”

“You’ve made mistakes?” Yeosang’s brow furrows.

“I know, it’s quite difficult to believe,” you chuckle, leading them into a tiny clearing with a few bushes scattered around. “I still do. Not everything is perfect, nor is it meant to be. The important thing is to learn and grow from your past failings. Though, try not to fail when it really counts.”

At the way you suddenly grimace, the two dragons share a look.

“Is this about-“

Mingi’s inquiry gets caught in his throat as Yeosang harshly elbows him in his side.

You let out a sigh. “You do not know me well enough to be asking questions on such a personal topic you've eavesdropped upon.”

“Our apologies.” Yeosang bows slightly, that basket of yours tucked against his front.

Your eyebrows raise, slight amusement dancing within your orbs.

“What? Does him apologizing to you surprise you that much?” The taller male tilts his head slightly in curiosity.

“It does.” You blink, beginning to pick through some bushes to gather their fruit. “I am simply surprised by today’s turn of events.”

“We’re not as terrible as we seem.” Yeosang mumbles, averting his gaze to the side.

“No,” you hum. “I don’t believe you are.”

Your admission clearly catches them both off guard, for they blink at you in shock. Still, Mingi cannot prevent the corner of his lips from twitching upwards slightly. A fact which has him clearing his throat and steeling his resolve in the next moment.

“You both really don’t know how to stalk something without being extremely obvious you’re there, do you?” You tease, lightheartedly.

“We did what we always do.” Yeosang shrugs, moving over to observe the berries you’re currently picking while holding the basket out to you.

“Considering you have the power to harness wind, I’m surprised you don’t know how to cover your scents completely yet.” You reply, tossing the handful of fruit you hold into your basket.

“Cover our scents?” The taller frowns. “We do that already.”

You shoot him a look. “To basic creatures, maybe. But not to me or my Neos.”

“What do you mean?” Yeosang asks, brow slightly furrowed in confusion.

“You hide your nature to humans, hunters, and the like, but to trained creatures, they’d still be able to pick you out of a crowd.” You reply, turning your full attention to Yeosang beside you. “Which is surprising, given everything you can do with wind.”

“What can I do with wind?”

“Hide in plain sight.” Comes your immediate response, and you watch as he blinks in shock at you. “You can hide scents, sounds, cover your tracks, and everything. You just have to know how to harness your powers properly.”

“Yunho did say I could potentially tear the air out of someone’s lungs.” Yeosang nods, recalling the words his brother spoke to him a little while ago.

“You boys are still young, and you have much to learn.” You nod.

“We’re not that young.” Canary Man crosses his arms over his chest.

“Compared to me, you are.” You reply bluntly.

“I doubt you know everything.” He huffs.

“I don’t,” you agree, and you watch shock paint his features. “But I know a far greater deal than you.”

A low growl escapes his lips. “Are you challenging me?”

You snort out a laugh. “Believe me, Canary Man. If I were to challenge you, one of us would already be dead, and it wouldn’t be me.”

Even though Yeosang attempts to hide it, he cannot prevent the grin from taking over his lips.

“Stop smiling, she just threatened me!” He snaps, a hint of a whine to his tone as a frown pulls at his features. “And stop calling me Canary Man! That’s not my name.”

You nod slightly in acknowledgement. “Then what is your name.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard.

“Mingi.” He swallows. “My name is Mingi.”

“Well, Mingi,” you meet his gaze, “has anyone ever explained to you how similar your personality can be to your power?”

His eyes flash in annoyance. “Plenty."

“No, I’m not just talking about someone saying you have a fiery personality,” you add, noticing how his jaw twitches once more in irritation. “I mean it in the way that fire is both equally consuming and rejuvenating.”

You can tell he’s caught off guard by your choice of words, and even Yeosang looks a little taken aback.

“It’s clear to me that many of you Halas are still attempting to find who you are.” You continue. “You simply cannot let your powers consume you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Yeosang questions, head tilted curiously in inquiry.

“I mean,” you turn to meet his gaze. “Do not let your power become what defines you. Yes, fire types can be hotheaded-“

“Hey!” Mingi doesn’t even get a chance to continue protesting before you’re continuing.

“But they can also be strong, unwavering, and warm like the very flames they can create.” You purposely meet Mingi’s gaze, and you notice how he swallows somewhat thickly. “Our powers can influence our moods, and decisions, but ultimately it is up to us whether we let them consume our every action. Fire is both destructive and healing. You just need to find the balance.”

“How would you know?” Mingi spits, taking a threatening step forward.

Your eyes flash in warning, and he backs off. For now.

“We are a lot more alike that you think. All of us.” You meet his gaze, a hint of amber shining within your own. “I have dealt with flame wielders more often that you think. You are more than just complete destruction. No one knows that better than me.”

Mingi scowls, spine straightening beneath your somewhat sympathetic gaze. He doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, nor why your words seem to resonate so much with his very soul. What he does know, though, is that he’s had enough of this conversation.

“I’m done here,” without another word, he takes off, shifting into the air and flying away.

You let out a long sigh. “Perhaps that was too soon.”

“You certainly know a lot about our species.” Yeosang comments casually, peeking at you from out of the corner of his eyes. “As much as the ancients do.”

You purse your lips, wiping the excess berry juice onto your pants before going to reach for the basket in his grip. 

Again, he pulls away.

“I have enough sense to know there’s more to you than you’re letting on,” he comments, following right beside you as you begin to make your way back to your cabin. “I can only imagine what makes you so guarded, given the state of your back-“

“What have you seen?” The brief flash of fear he sees light behind your eyes as you shove him against the closest tree has him dropping the basket in shock.

“Just what happened when San accidentally grazed your upper spine,” Yeosang blinks, rather warily.

You seem to breathe a sigh of relief, detecting no false intonation of his voice from his answer. In the next moment, you’re pushing yourself off of him. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” he replies, leaning down to grab the basket once more after wiping off the front of his shirt. “Whatever happened must have been quite traumatic. You don’t let anyone touch your back.”

You spare him a cautious look. “Again, your observations are quite keen.”

“I am curious, but it’s not my place.” He answers, quite honestly at that, too.

“You’re right. It is not your place.” Your blunt response fills the air with a tense silence.

A silence which stretches on for quite a period of time. That is, until he’s breaking it once more.

“We haven’t told Mingi or Seonghwa about it.” He says, voice a mere whisper on the wind. He clears his throat lightly. “About your back, that is.”

His admission completely catches you off guard. “You haven’t?”

“I wouldn’t feel right if I did.” Comes his immediate reply. “I don’t know you very well, and you don’t know me. We’re not enemies; you’ve helped my clan more than we deserve. It would not be proper for me to-“ he catches himself, “for us to repay your kindness in such a traitorous way.”

Again, his words manage to shock you, and all you can do is blink at him.

“Jongho told us that your trust does not come easy,” he continues, “but you’ve already extended an understanding towards us that I know most of us do not deserve. We misjudged you, and I want to apologize for how standoffish I was at the start.”

Your lips tug upwards faintly in the corners, expression softening. “I think we truly are beginning to understand one another, Yeosang.”

The dragon before you cannot deny the way his heart simply races at hearing you address him so openly by his proper name.

“I think so, too.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as you both pause momentarily on the path.

You take the time now to search his gaze, just as he searches your own. Soft smiles rest on both of your features as you nod once. The way a weight seemingly lifts itself off of your shoulders has you relaxing, for it was something you hadn’t realized that you’d been carrying.

As much as you don’t want to admit, you’re starting to care for these Hala dragons. Though, from the looks of things, they’re also starting to care for you, too.

“I do have one more thing to ask you,” he says as the two of you continue back down the path once more.

“Oh?” You quirk a brow in inquiry.

“That salve you gave Hwa,” he begins. “He’s run out, and both San and Wooyoung refuse to make him more.”

You huff out an amused laugh. “They’re right to. We won’t start learning those types of mixtures for another week.”

“Seonghwa’s too proud to ask you himself,” Yeosang grimaces. “Would you- uh, might it be possible if-“

You can tell he’s struggling to get the words out, given how his cheers flare with a deep red.

“Are you asking me to prepare another salve for him?” You hum, knowingly.

“If you don’t mind.” He breathes, grateful you seemed to understand where he had been going with all of this.

“If he wants something, he should get used to asking for it himself.” You say, looking straight head.

Yeosang sighs. “That’s what I keep telling him.”

“Keep in mind, I’m not saying ‘no’.” A light hum escapes you.

The male cannot prevent the way his head whips towards you, hope shining in his eyes.

“I’ll let him know.” Yeosang echoes your hum, a small smile tugging at his features.

For the rest of the walk back to your home, a comfortable silence stretches on around you. There is an air of ease that settles between the two of you, perfectly content to simply enjoy the other’s presence. You’ve noticed that Yeosang isn’t much of a heavy talker, and you rather appreciate the way he can communicate with you only using either a few words, or simple glances. It’s quite a change from your typical exchanges with most of his brothers.

When you finally make it back to your place, you notice another dragon lingering around your back door.

“There you are, I was getting worried.” Jongho meets you halfway, reaching out to you only to halt himself before his hand can so much as graze your arm. He locks eyes with his brother. “What are you doing here?”

You notice how quiet Yeosang goes, demeanour shifting slightly from the comfortable silence you had just been experiencing, to a sort of tense guard. You frown slightly, but say nothing.

“I simply wanted to learn more about the woman that has the five of you so captivated.” Yeosang replies, somewhat bluntly.

Jongho pulls the basket out of his brother’s arms, somewhat firmly. All the while, he shoots the elder a look.

“We had a rather nice conversation, didn’t we, Yeosang?” You hum, turning to the aforementioned male.

“I’d say so,” he breathes, eyes softening ever so slightly as he shifts his gaze to you.

Jongho’s eyes narrow slightly, attempting to get a read on his brother. He doesn’t appreciate how close you and Yeosang appear to be all of a sudden.

“Thanks for your help,” you nod to Yeosang once more.

“Anytime,” he smiles, before turning to give his brother a firm nod. “See you at home.”

Without another word, Yeosang is shifting and flying away into the light of the now setting sun.

“You two seemed close,” Jongho grumbles, walking with you the rest of the way to your backdoor.

“He was simply curious,” you reply, stepping through the threshold only for Jongho to follow right behind. “He wasn’t alone, but Mingi decided to storm off earlier.”

“Mingi was with you?” The disbelief is clear in his voice as he places the basket of herbs onto your counter. “And he didn’t attempt to bite your head off.”

“Oh, believe me,” you chuckle. “I think he wanted to.”

“He hasn’t mentioned anything to us yet.” Jongho frowns.

“Ah, your clan connection,” you nod in understanding. “Perhaps he’s actually mulling over what I said.”

“What did you say?” Jongho quirks a brow curiously.

“Just some observations about his powers and personality,” you shrug, beginning to sort through the herbs in your basket.

“And he didn’t spontaneously combust?” If Jongho’s brows raise any higher, you’d swear they’d disappear into his hairline.

“I think he wanted to,” you chuckle. “But no. He did not.”

“You seriously are incredible,” he sighs, somewhat dreamily, sitting on your one stool and resting his cheek in the palm of his one hand.

“Is that a regular occurrence?” You grin, gathering a separate bowl to put all of the berries you collected into.

“I can’t count the number of times he’s singed one of us in anger,” Jongho chuckles. “I will never forget the impromptu haircuts we usually have to give ourselves thanks to him.”

“Oh, I believe you,” you nod, laughing along with him.

“Still, I’m surprised he even sought you out.” Jongho hums, wordlessly beginning to help you sort the herbs into separate piles on the counter.

“I was told they were curious,” you briefly glance up at him. “Seems someone is overbearing with their stories.”

Jongho’s mouth parts, greatly scandalized by your words. 

“I would never!” A blush begins to creep up his neck. Then, a mumble, “San and Wooyoung hardly ever shut up about you. Even Joong and Yunho can’t keep their mouths shut.”

You smile, a knowing gleam in your eyes as you step up beside him to affectionately ruffle his hair. “Aw, is my little man jealous?”

“Little?” He huffs, and in the blink of an eye, he’s stood back to his feet, trapping you between his arms against the counter. Slowly, he leans in, and you can feel his breath ghosting the skin of your neck. “I’ll show you there’s nothing little about me.”

You wish you could deny the way your breath hitches. Yet, at the pleased growl you feel reverberate against your chest from him, you know he’s heard it, too.

Gently, his hand is placed onto the side of you hip, squeezing the flesh appreciatively. What truly makes your head spin, though, is how tender his hold is. Not only that, but despite the sudden darkness that you can see swirling in his eyes, there’s still that undertone of affection dripping through.

A moment later, and you manage to gain control of your thoughts once more.

Slowly, you raise a hand to his chest, gently pushing him off of you. Only, he doesn’t budge.

“Jongho,” you sigh his name, and you immediately hear how his own breath hitches in his throat.

“Please, My Fated,” his voice is low, uneven as he speaks into the skin of your neck. “You must know what hearing my name falling from your lips in that tone does to me.”

This time, when you push him away, you use slightly more force.

“You don’t get to refer to me as that, yet.” Despite attempting to keep your tone sharp, you cannot help the waver in your voice.

You can see how his expression falls before you, shoulders drooping slightly as he steps away. Then, it’s as if he’s fully registering your words, for a spark of hope begins shining within his eyes.

Yet. You said he doesn’t get to refer to you as that yet.

“Only a mutual imprint designates the use of those name.” You say, carefully stepping away from him for the moment.

“Not to me,” he replies, honesty dripping from his tone as he meets your eyes. “Not when it’s always felt this right.”

“Then, I’m asking you to wait.” Your tone is softer than it was a moment ago. “I cannot promise the commitment you want from me right now, Jongho. I’m not promising you anything. The last person I gave my heart to-“ your breath catches in your throat, and you find yourself averting your gaze. You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, curling in on yourself for the first time while standing in front of the male before you. “The last person I gave my heart to shredded every last bit of me to pieces.”

A silence so deadly settles over the room, and you spare a glance upwards to see Jongho barely controlling his breathing.

Anger radiates off of him in waves, a hint of electricity spiking within the air. The tips of his fingers begin to spark as his eyes flash, steam escaping his nostrils with every exhale.

“It was Kun, wasn’t it?” He’s furious, whole body visibly trembling as he looses the grip on his anger. “I fucking knew it-“

“Jongho!” Your sharp tone manages to draw his attention to you for the moment. “Kun is not who I am referring to. He is none of your concern. Stop making one of my oldest friends into a villain.”

“Then, why-“

“I have already told you that he simply did what was best for him at the time.” You sigh, leaning back onto your counter once more. “He didn’t want to wait, and neither should you.”

“And I thought I already told you that I would wait however long it takes, even if it meant I only got to spend one day with you.” His voice softens, taking a cautious step towards you. “All I want is the chance to call you mine, and for you to call me yours.”

Slowly, you spare a glance up into his eyes. Just as they shone that night in the clearing, they shine now, the sincerity managing to take your breath away yet again.

“I need you to understand-“ you swallow, emotions suddenly heavy in your tone and threatening to choke you out at any given moment. “I need you to understand that I may never be able to give you what you seek.”

“Just being with you like this is enough for me,” he replies, voice a mere whisper on the wind. The earnest way he meets your gaze has a single tear spilling onto your cheek, and he’s quick to cup the side of your face tenderly in his palm. “I won’t lie to you. I desire you. I have desired you since the very first moment I laid my eyes upon you. Whether those desires of mine are met or not, I do not care. All I care about is the fact that you allow me to share in your presence with you, even if I do not deserve it.”

“Jongho,” you find you cannot form the words you want to say, feeling your heart leap into your throat as his confession.

He wipes away your tear.

“I understand you’ve been hurt in the past,” he breathes, and you can feel the way he still trembles the slightest bit against you. “Know that I will never hurt you. I will never make you feel unwanted, undesired, unloved. I cannot. I will not. It is not in my nature to deceive you like that.”

Both of his hands come up to cup your face, meeting your gaze tenderly. His eyes shine with a sincerity, with a passion you’re starting to understand. You can feel it in his touch. You can see it in his gaze. More than all of that, you can hear it in his words.

“This is my promise to you.” He stares deeply into your eyes, his own flashing as a sacred magic begins to flow between the both of you at his words. “I swear I will never betray you. I will never deceive you, nor will I ever use you. I will protect you until my dying breath, because with everything that I am, I am in love with you. Everything that I do, I do it for you.”

Your lips part, and you cannot help but raise your own hands to grasp lightly at his wrists.

“And if-“ he closes his eyes, as if the words he is about to utter pain him far more than any physical wound ever could, “if you truly ever want nothing to do with me, or you decide that you do not want me, I will respect your wishes, and honour your decision.”

Your hands tighten their grip subconsciously around his wrists, the tips of your fingers tingling as the magic flows through you both.

“Until the end of time, this is my promise to you. One which I have every intention to keep.” His grip becomes the slightest bit firmer over your skin as his eyes flash the deepest gold you’ve ever seen from him. 

“I swear upon my life, and the life of all of my forefathers before me, that all I care about,” he swallows thickly, “all I will ever care about,” Jongho meets your gaze one final time, and you swear you can feel his pulse beating right alongside your own.

You hold your breath.

“Is you.”

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c7. Beware of the dog.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Dark red, Steve Lacy.

abstract: Simon. I don't fucking know what to say about this chapter, I was moving in autopilot. and I'm just being a decent fucking human being, what do you expect me to say really? just start reading already.

She took a look around. The men in the room were looking at her like she was gonna spontaneously combust and explode. Some of them had their lips pressed in a thin line. I'm sorry Jude, this is the part fo the movie where you die! Simon on her right was frowning, his eyebrows slightly peering through his mask. She started imagining if she just left right now. Took her dog, got to the airport and moved to Spain. The Maldives, maybe. She started a new life as a new person once at 18, she could do it again now seven years later. Or maybe she just needed to go home, smoke every little bit of weed she had left, curl up in bed and die. She started laughing. She had always thought her laugh was the most awful sound in the word. She started laughing, she looked psychotic. She hid her smile with her right hand through her head back. Her voice was the only sound in the room, ripping apart the air. It was a terrifying sight. Fuck me sideways. How could she be so stupid to get back to that job in the first place, after what happened in 2021. 'Oh God…' she sighed when she regained a little bit of control over her laughter which still lingered in the air like a distorted melody. She was still smiling. The first time he saw her smile, laugh even. It sounded real, she sounded genuinely delighted.

Simon decided he wanted nothing to do with her right in that moment. She scared him to death, who knew a woman could be this attractive and scary at the same time. Price seemed to think showing her the calendar wasn't a good idea after all and quickly took the piece of paper and pushed it to the side. 'Look Jude, we're gonna escort you home, it's gonna be fine, we're going to continue to look for him until we have to leave.' He was trying to calm her down and, frankly, she looked perfectly fine. She looked like she was at a dinner party with her favourite friends, a glass of Champaign in her hand, her eyes shining with little tears of joy from laughing too much. Except, she laughed because she was scared. 'I've seen this film before, captain', she said, her words sounded venomous. Her eyes were dark, filled with sorrow and regret. Something like this happened before, and the captain knew.

'No, I'm telling you, it will be fine.' Price was trying to convince her. 'Gentlemen, we have an early flight tomorrow, we're going to keep looking for Arash until we find something and we'll brief again at nine, tonight. If they know we're coming, things might get ugly.' Jude was no where to be found. Well, she was still in the room, but her smile left space to an expression of defeat, like she had accepted her fate. Her eyes didn't look as bright, she kept wiping the palm of her hands on her thighs. Simon had noticed. His eyes locked with the captain's and they understood each other. Take her away, this was the sign. He quickly turned towards her, slouching downwards to speak closer to her. 'Let's go Jude', he instructed. She didn't look up at him, keeping her eyes low, but made her way to the door. He was walking beside her matching her speed. 'Take your car, I'll follow you' he said, and she still didn't answer.

'Jude' he called and finally she looked at him 'What!?' She raised her voice. She was mad again. Like the first time he saw her, fists curled with rage, on the verge of tears. He tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could. 'It's alright, everything's going to be fine', he tried to talk to her like he would do in an hostage rescue situation. 'I'll get you home. I know how to do my job', he reassured. He thought knowing he knew what to do might make her feel better. She nodded and quickly walked to her car. He followed her car all the way to the city, trying not to lose her in traffic. She parked in a busy residential street and he quickly followed. When she got out she looked for him, and waited for him to get out of the truck. She trusted him. Not because he was someone special, but from what she'd gathered he was someone Price trusted, he was probably good at his job. And he seemed kind.

'This way' she said, making her way to her apartment. She gave him her keys, he made his way to the door and got his gun out of the holster. He then noticed the little sign on the side of the door. 'Beware of the dog'. 'You scared of dogs?' she asked quietly, appearing on his side like the angel on his shoulder. Under his shoulder, let's say. Now, was he afraid of dogs, no. Did he have the best relationship ever with animals? Focus, you have a job to do, kill the dragon, save the princess. 'Stay back'. He opened the door and peered through with his gun drawn. The only sound that came from inside was a loud bark and paws on the floor. The puppy greeted him by sniffing his feet, his tail was wiggling. Not much of a guard dog, was it a German Shepard? The lights were out in the apartment, Jude made her way inside and flicked them on. She looked around and everything seemed as she left it. 'Ciao, si ciao' she spoke to the dog, who was clearly excited to see her, whining and stomping his paws. Simon tried to remember the words she said, so he could guess her native language. Spanish?

He looked around her living room and kitchen. Her house resembled her personality. There were books scattered on the coffee table, at least 5 of them, an empty mug as well. Books and papers on the sofa as well, maybe she was studying something? Black big reading glasses, with huge lenses. There were posters on the walls, art he didn't recognise. Nothing much on the shelves, minimal decor. A tall lamp in the corner of the room. He noticed a polaroid picture with someone with short hair. So you do have a boyfriend… Her kitchen was clean. It was a nice kitchen, she didn't have a table but two stools under a kitchen isle which probably served as a counter too. It was connected to the wall. Again, folders and scattered papers, maybe work. The dog bed on the floor. A lot of plants, he didn't think they were fake. An ashtray next to the window. Smoker? 'Can I check the other rooms?' he asked. To be respectful, you know. She nodded and he made his way to her bedroom. The door was closed. He glanced around the room, he checked the toilet as well. The bed wasn't made. She had light blue bedding. The room smelled like her, like lavender. She had a stuffed animal on the bed, a sheep. She had fuzzy slippers, probably a size 5. On the wall, more posters. He noticed a painting of a scary dog's fangs. Books on the nightstand, books on the wooden window sill. He saw a bra hanging from a chair and that was his cue to leave. In the toilet, one single toothbrush. So… no boyfriend?

'All clear'. She was standing beside the door, her dog at her feet was licking her hand while she petted him lazily. 'Thanks' she offered him a smile, a tiny one. She looked more relaxed. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds. Until he couldn't hold it in any longer. 'What happened last year?' He saw her expression darken, her shoulders tense. Who do you think you are to ask like that? She straightened her back and let go of the dog. He remained at her feet, wanting attention. 'You should learn to mind your business.' She made her way to the kitchen. She passed by him and didn't make eye contact. 'You should have some respect when you talk to people’ he answered. He didn't have time for this. He was fucking stupid to think he could speak with her, actually acting like a 10 year old. The dog came closer to him and sniffed his shoes. 'You know where the door is.' She turned around and faced the sink. He could feel a switch in her voice, in her attitude. It was Jude and then Her, her real self, whoever she was. It was two different people. The girl saw kindly smiling at Gaz in the car wasn't the same girl that barged in their briefing room demanding they listen to her. Or maybe it was, maybe that was Jude, and the scared, damaged little thing that he took home a year prior was Her. He didn't know who. Jude was Ghost and She was Simon. Something very bad had happened back then. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, he wasn't meant to know, no matter how much he tried. She raised a wall in between them. She made the weather right outside the apartment turn to when it's about to rain. Thunderstorms and lighting kind of rain. And it was probably better this way. He turned around without saying a word, only careful not to let the dog out.

She started breathing again when he left. Her mouth was dry, she was sweating. She called the dog and gave him food. She lit a cigarette and sat by the window. She called in the dance school, saying she had a fever. This way, she could stay inside all weekend. It took her forty minuted to stop shaking. Images from that day replayed in her mind at least once every three days now. She had gotten better, but that thingh wasn't really something you recover from. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night sweating and crying, feeling the blade of the knife on her skin. She had dreams she had died. She wished she never woke up for a long time. She had dreams about the way he touched her. The first five months after it happened she would bite her nails till the cuticles bled and not shower for days. Her own hands on her skin felt like his. The first time she talked to another human being was when she visited Salvo in San Francisco. She looked like a corpse. He was speechless and hated her for letting herself go like this. It wasn't just the eating and over exercise, which he knew were her preferred coping mechanisms. She had lost interest in living, in speaking, in watching movies, reading. Her career… He held her every night, they slept intertwined in his room, he was the first man that actually showed her respect. He was the first man she touched after that day, she hugged him and rested her head on his chest while he reminded her she was loved, she was important to him, she was alive. He would caress her hair when she woke up sweating and was patient with her when she wouldn't eat. This time was different, she was going to be fine. Even if Salvo wasn't there. Arash would not find her, the memories from last year would leave her alone. She would make it once again.

notes. translation: 'Ciao, si, ciao.' means 'hi, yes, hi.'

notes: Salvatore, i want a friend like you, KING. I am back, I'm sorry for the delay I got surgery done to my teeth??? Anyways, enjoy!!!

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Thirteen

The Phantom of the Opera

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

You awoke by the sound of footsteps, still in the room Fyodor placed you and Gaston in. You looked over to see the door being unlocked and the familiar figure of Fyodor entering the room. He looks over at the two of you with a soft smile, unfitting for a man like him. “Seems like my ангелы, are getting the rest they need.”

He approached you and Gaston, curled up next to one another. He sat down on the edge of the bed, he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, the leather of his gloves cold against your skin before it trailed up and ran over Gaston’s closed eyelids. “So beautiful. Sleep is almost the pinnacle of peace, our bodies unbothered by the outside world, unmoved, relaxed.”

He offered his hand to you, offering it to help you sit up. Against your better judgment you took it and he pulled you to sit up on the edge on the edge of the bed with him. “Why do you do all of this? What do you want from me?”

“Oh my love…” He smiled and leaned over, taking your hand he still held and pressing it against his cheek which was also cold. “You were once so pure, both of you, so pure. I will fix you, bring you back to the light after you’ve wandered in darkness.”

“Both of us?” 

“Hm… I suppose Gaston has not told you about his entire past, has he?” Fyodor asked, glancing over at the sleeping composer.

“I know he is a composer for the Paris Opera House and that he was assigned by the European Union to hunt you down three years ago.” You answered, trying to think about what Gaston had told you about his past, not much at all. “I think he’s from a town called Perros-Guirec or at least his father is buried there.”

“Hm…” he hummed in thought and letting your hand go and land on your own lap. “That’s not untrue, but not the entire truth, my мышь. It’s not my place to tell you, but I do hope he tells you in due time.”

Before you could push him any farther on it you felt a shift on the bed behind you as Gaston awoke. Fyodor reached out and grabbed Gaston’s glasses from the nightstand, handing them to him. Gaston grabbed them from the Russian, slipping them on without even making eye contact with either of you. You two watched as Fyodor stood from the bed, adjusting his coat. “Come along now, it is time we watch Yokohama rot away.”

Fyodor made his way to the door, both you and Gaston following behind. As you walked into the hall your eyes never broke from the back of Fyodor’s head. Then you felt Gaston slip something into your hand, you looked down to see a fruit knife. You looked to Gaston and he held his pointer finger to his lips as if to tell you to tell you to be quiet and hide it. So you managed to slip it in the back of your skirt. Now you could only pray that would be enough to defend yourself if need be.

—————————

Victor stepped into a large room, he was escorted by two government agents, one on either side. He looked around the room, his hands fiddling with the necklace he wore. This was the headquarters of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Victor had been called by a contact of the Society and told to come here with urgency. Victor had no idea who this contact was but if they were able to get ahold of them then Dr. Stevenson or Miss Jane must have trusted them. 

“You must be, Victor Hugo.” Victor jumped at the voice, startled he turned to see  who called him. There stood a man, black hair, black suit, a beauty mark above his lip, and round glasses. “Well?”

“Y-yes, I-I am…” Victor stuttered out, clearly nervous. “B-but, I-I’m not.. the… um…”

“Original? I know. I read your file, I apologize for the loss of your brother.”  He said, still no emotion coming on his face. “I understand your parents renamed you to basically be him after he died in the war, and I also heard your colleague William Shakespeare worked under him in the war as a child spy.”

“Y-yes… that’s correct…” Victor didn’t like talking about his brother. With his passing, Victor’s parents forced a false identity onto him, he went from being the unloved child to a filler for their dead child. Victor shook away that thought. “E-excuse me, you called me h-here but I’m afraid I have no idea who you are, is this about that fog o-overtaking Yokohama? C-cause I-I have no idea about that.”

“I know. To put introductions aside, I am assistant counselor of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Ango Sakaguchi.” He introduced himself, so calm and collected unlike Victor who was a stuttering mess. “We have called you here to help deal with this fog incident, you and one other.”

“One other?”

At that time the door literally swung off his henges and crashed to the ground with a heavy clatter causing Victor to let out a high pitched squeak. 

“Ability user, 5158.” Ango said, stepping in front of Victor. There stood a man, red hair, black suit, and a black hat. “Chuuya Nakahara, executive of the Port Mafia.”

Victor’s expression slowly turned to one of shock and fear. “You want me to work with the Port Mafia!?”

—————————

Fyodor lead you to a hall where you could hear distant talking and figures, two, sitting at a table, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or who they were, must be the drugs in your system, but apparently Fyodor could.

“To me, both of your intentions are obvious.” Fyodor spoke as the two figures at the table came into focus, a man you have never seen with long white hair and dressed in white, and the all to familiar smug face of Osamu Dazai. Gaston scowled at the sight of Dazai. Fyodor only chuckled and continued.“With such lies you’ll never write a good play, you’ve lost your audience too.”

“The demon, Fyodor. You to will dance as my collaborator.” The white haired man turned to look at the three of you. “These must be your angel and mouse as you call them in Russian.”

That made you want to throw up but before anyone could speak, Dazai chuckled and spoke up. “Collaborator? Don’t you think he has the highest chance of betraying you?”

You and Gaston watched from the edge of the room, standing against a pillar next to a window that looked out over the fog covered Yokohama. His eyes were fixed on the three sitting at the table, his face scrunched, trying to figure out what exactly they were planning. 

“No one has ever exceeded my predictions thus far. I have high hopes for you.” The white haired man said with a shrug. 

“What I feel most is sorry for this city of ability users, no matter which of us prevails they will all die.” Your eyes widened in horror when Fyodor said this. Your entire life was about to crumble before your eyes.

That is when Gaston leaned over to you and whispered. “That’s Shibusawa, I think I have an idea now about what’s this is all about, I’ll explain it to you when we’re alone, for now-“

“ангел музыки, it’s rude to whisper. (Name), Come here.” Fyodor said, cutting Gaston off. He did not look over at you but waved you over with his finger. You hesitantly stepped forward, your heels clicking again the marble floor the only sound in the room. Fyodor patted the arm of his chair, silently tellingly you to sit down and so you did. “Care to tell us what you and Gaston were talking about?”

This wasn’t a question but it was a demand. You couldn’t tell him otherwise he wouldn’t leave you and Gaston alone. “He… he was telling me about….” You thought back of Fyodor’s words from when you entered the room. “How you all, including you Fyodor, would never write a good play for you don’t possess the craftsmanship and charm of an artist.“

Fyodor’s eyes narrowed at you, he knew you were lying but had no other ground to go off of here so he grabbed your chin, harsher than he had before. “If I found  out you were lying to me, мышь. It won’t be very pretty.” He let go of your chin and kissed your cheek. “That’s all.”

You slipped off the armrest and turned and started walking back towards Gaston and collapsed in his arms and the two of sunk to the floor, sitting down like pets, sitting at the feet of their owners. The three of them talked while Gaston held you and you silently cried in his arms…

Now you know why Dazai called you Snow White all that time ago.

—————————

Fyodor allowed you to return to your room while they discussed more sensitive topics, not meant for your ears. Once the door clicked shut, locked, and footsteps began walking back where they came from, Gaston took off his glasses and pinched his nose in slight annoyance.

“Why did you say that? If he finds out who knows what he’ll do!” Gaston reprimanded you as you sat on the bed. 

“I-I don’t know, I didn’t want him to know I guess, he wouldn’t leave us alone together if he did.” 

“He probably already knows we’re planning something, just not what.” Gaston came and sat down next to you on the bed, putting his glasses back on. “I think I have an idea what is happening. We don’t have our abilities and in this fog gifted died via their own abilities. Shibusawa’s ability is behind this so he’s unaffected, Dazai’s ability nullifies any other abilities so he’s immune, I can’t place Fyodor but it’s probably something out in our best interest. As for us and everyone in Yokohama, our abilities have left us and it would be a good guess that they’re going to try to kill us.”

Your eyes widened in horror as he spoke. “Our abilities are hunting us down?” 

“Yes, I believe so.” He nodded, his head turned to you. “Your ability only has mental capabilities but mine could be quite deadly, pass through walls, materialize at will.”

As he spoke you saw a  red figure pass through the walls, no features besides eyes and a red jewel on its forehead… oh shit.

“Gaston look out!” You screamed as Gaston’s ability wrapped its hands around his throat, pushing him against the wall. Gaston’s glasses were knocked to the floor and he was gasping for breath as his ability tried to break his wind pipe. You stood there completely in shock, not knowing what to do, but if you didn’t do something Gaston would die. You reached out and tied to grab the ability but it disappeared, dropping Gaston to the ground who was gasping for breath. You rushed forward but before you could reach him, his ability materialized again, getting Gaston in a chokehold from behind.

Then you remembered…

The knife…

This is why he gave it to you…

Just as Gaston was slipping into unconscious you pulled out the knife, you grabbed the ability yourself and stabbed it in the head, shattering the red gem on its forehead. The ability disappeared into thin air, leaving you alone with Gaston who was gasping for breath.

“That… was your ability…”

“Y-yes.” Gaston spoke while he tried to breathe. “T-the… Phantom of… the O-opera. Deadly if used correctly.”

You helped Gaston back on the bed again, laying him down as he caught his breath. “If I destroyed your ability does that mean you have your ability again?”

Gaston reached out to the wall and his hand passed right through. He turned to you with a weak smile. “We have one up on Fyodor. The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind, where he belongs.”

[xerith-42]

Redesign the Nine

[This post is very long. Just a heads up.]

I'm a member of the Jury of Redesign, proud member of fleshing out previously left to rot or forgotten content. It's a hobby. A passion. I have and will continue to go into entire novellas to describe the inter personal relationships of characters we know next to nothing about, but what about characters we know literally nothing about?

We know only 6 members of the total 9 that belong to the Jury. Technically seven if you include Garroth, but that last for like twelve seconds, that doesn't count. And one of them is only made known as a member in Rebirth (which I really like and I like Rebirth). That means there's three entire characters just waiting to happen! How have I never thought of this before?!

This idea really struck me when I was looking at the Jo9 wiki page and saw this comment

The rest of the comment goes on to their whole theory about Ein killing Blaze, but I am mostly against the idea of killing Blaze because nobody ever gives it enough story significance, weight, and meaning. Only I get to kill Blaze, you all lost your privileges.

That's not what's important though. What's important is that I actually love Teony and Ein. I think they're some of the most wasted Aphverse characters, and that's saying something considering how I literally never shut up about Blaze. So let's flesh them out in a... different setting.

Teony

I imagine Teony being in a very similar situation to Katelyn and Jeffory. She has someone she deeply cares about that Zane knows about and is threatening to put in danger. For Jeffory and Katelyn, it was family. For Teony, it's similar, but just a slight flavor different. A gay flavor different.

Teony belongs to a high ranking noble family in O'Khasis, like one step below the Ro'meave family. Originally the plan was for her to be married off to one of the Ro'meave heirs (probably Zane), but then she did something weird. She uhh... She started training to be a guard. And got strong enough fast enough that nobody could really stop her because Teony would just challenge them to a round of armed combat about it despite being literally 12.

So she was allowed to go to guard academy and go through full training. She was never going to be a lord, and she could still easily join the Jury and serve the same purpose with less arranged marriage. Also if they tried to arrange Teony into a marriage she might just pull a sword on them about it. She learned very quickly that her parents wouldn't be allowed to abuse or control her if they feared her. Caused a different kind of trauma compared to the other children of nobles.

And then she found out she was gay. While she was at the academy the person who was writing the Jury recruitment list was the newest member of the Jury herself; Ivy the Venom Scythe. Teony fell in unending sapphic love from first sight. Even if she had become wise to her parents controlling nature in search of power, she still respected and revered the Ro'meave family, and the Jury of Nine. She was set up for it, and she wanted that. And now that she was finally experiencing love for a member of the Jury of Nine.

As always, things in Teony's life were set up for perfection. And she was such an overachiever, are you kidding me? Top ranks in all her classes even though she didn't need to. She would half ass it sometimes and still get the highest scores on every test. When she put her all into something, there wasn't any competition. She was just showing off for Ivy, and she did not hide that in the slightest. Ivy was fully aware that Teony was not only showing off, she knew that Teony was in love, or at least lust with her. Teony is not subtle at all, it's just not a concept to her yet.

On the last day of her training at the academy, Zane Ro'meave himself shows up. I imagine Zane and Teony were almost sort of childhood friends. Zane didn't really like having friends, but he and Teony were personable and able to get along when they were forced to spend time together by their parents. He has a sort of fondness for Teony in a "I'll see where you're going with this" sense. He's heard how passionate she is about fighting and being a guard. And he knows it's not for a violent sake, but because of that nobility that is her bloodline and the baseline of her identity as a person.

She may be overzealous, she may be a know-it-all, she may be a show-off, but Teony always fights with honor. She always showers her classmates a great amount of dignity and respect when they fight her. To her combat is an art form, one that she takes very seriously. She won't attack unless provoked, and more often than not will just skip the talking it out phase and just jump to the dueling stage because that's the part she understands best.

She's autistic. That's what I'm saying. Teony is an autistic lesbian. Look at her go! However, Zane is terrible and evil and so is Ivy. When telling him the candidates, he brings up that Teony is a no brainier. Which is when Ivy tells him that Teony is in love with her and was fighting to earn her attention. She willingly threw away some of her nobility in the name of love. Which means she can do it again if provoked to.

What better way to provoke her than to give it to her and then threaten to take it away? Zane and Ivy literally manipulate Teony, putting her on the Jury, assigning her to work with Ivy, and Ivy starts actively feeding into it in a rather coy way just to drag her along. And right when Teony is ready to fess up, her parents show up at the Ro'meave manner. Teony remembers what they expect of her. That they don't know the truth about her.

She knows beyond a shadow of a doubt they'd disown her. Jury members aren't supposed to have family anyway. For a minute she thinks about outing herself to sever her ties. But then she learns that her mother is pregnant again. She... She has a little sister on the way. And if she cuts ties with her family now, she'll never get to meet her. She doesn't know Zane invited them at first, but when he talks to her later, she pieces it all together.

Zane says he'll let her family live, even let them be known as her family if she wants, but she isn't allowed to be with Ivy in any non-professional manner. Otherwise she'll give herself away, and while he doesn't exactly threaten it, Zane makes it very clear he will out Teony to her parents if she doesn't do as he orders from now until the end of time. It's then that Teony realizes she's trapped. She went from one gilded cage to another.

Until it got to be too much for her. Remember how Jeffory was apparently on the Demon Warlock Island in Gal'ruk? And it was literally never explained. What if he was there to find her? What if it became too much for Teony after meeting her sister, and she ran away? Zane doesn't know what happened when Teony met with her younger sister, but it was enough to shake her that she barely responded to Zane's taunting when she returned. And then she left that night.

Jeffory was sent to follow her trail. And he actually found her before she managed to break the Demon Warlocks curse. On a completely different continent, no guard escorts, and no way that Zane can hear them, they talk openly. They confide in one another. And they work together, as friends, to break the curse and get themselves back home. Teony moves to a different island in Gal'ruk, and tells Jeffory to give Ivy a letter the next time he sees her.

And he's not allowed to let it leave his hands unless it's Ivy taking it. No messengers. No leaving it somewhere she'll find it. Jeffory never learned the contents of that letter, but he did manage to deliver it to Ivy. Only she and Teony knows what's contained in those pages.

(Final note, idk what her funny anime villain name or her weapons would be. I would love council/jury/anyone to give input here. Same for the next member)

Ein

Ein being a big heroic softie is the best thing ever to me you don't understand.

Much like the doll anon, this anon changed my life. I love this idea so much. Listen, I like unrelentingly evil characters, just look at Zane. But that's the thing. Zane's already there. And so is Janus. And Ivy. And probably Lilian. And another character I've yet to get to. And even more characters when we get out of the Jury. We need more innocence that becomes corrupted in the Jury, everyone likes being evil too much.

So I want to make Ein a big ol' softie. He grew up in the Brightport Wolf Tribe with his best friend eventually turned lover Blaze. They mostly stayed within the confines of their tribe, which was small, but spacious enough for two wolf children prone to rough housing to get their energy sufficiently out. It was only when they were older that they started waking up to the... less than ideal circumstances of their relationship.

After being friends and being incredibly close and physically affectionate, when the two started thinking about mating and all that dumb romantic nonsense, it just made sense that they would be with each other in that way too. It's how they got through everything else in life. It was at the ruiner and creator of gay romances, that Irene forsaken Guard Academy that things got... worse.

Because Ein is definitely a very well rounded fighter. He's decently studious, wanting to keep up on speaking both the werewolf language and the more common language, and making sure that Blaze does the same. But Blaze finds these things to be dreadfully boring and doesn't put in more effort than Ein makes him. This is fine when they were kids and their plans weren't more ambitious than protecting their tribe. But their Alpha wanted to see if humans and werewolves could truly get along.

If anyone could prove that werewolves are just as human as they are, it would be these two dorks. But uhh, people are racist. And homophobic. So it doesn't go great. Couple that with the fact that the academy prioritizes individual excellence over collective greatness and suddenly things are just doomed to go wrong for these two. Ein naturally excels, and Blaze who's used to having someone to rely on starts falling behind without the consistent support system.

That was his emotional support nerdy jack of all trades boyfriend! How could you take that away from him? And Ein is stripped of his absolutely pure of heart dumb of ass boyfriend. They don't even get to stay in the same bunks as each other, and barely have any classes together. It's just awful. But Ein finds... something else. After doing particualrly well on a certain test, one of the teachers pulls him aside and tells Ein he might be able to qualify for the Jury of Nine position. Or at least be their bench warmer.

Ein's ambitions in life never went too far beyond the borders of their childhood home. He was the one who always pressured Blaze into going further than they were allowed, but Blaze was easily convinced anyways. But Ein was always an ambitious person. He just didn't know enough about the world to realize them. The highest he'd ever gone was thinking "Wow, it'd be cool to be the Alpha." And like that's it.

Suddenly he's told that if he somehow gets better than he already is he could hold one of the highest positions in the entire fucking continent. It's a no brainier. He has to go for it. He doesn't realize it means he's only being further isolated, pulled away from his few meet ups with Blaze to study, to practice, to do something that only a top student does and a near drop out student doesn't.

In fact the last time they see each other is, like with Teony, the day before the Jury posting for their class. Ein is sure he's on that list. Maybe not the top spot, but defiantly in the top five. Just as he's about to go introduce himself to Zane Ro'meave, try and make a good impression to sweeten his chances, he gets intercepted by Blaze.

Who just hands him a letter. And he whispers a single word under his breath as he's leaving; "Goodbye."

Ein reads the letter immediately, heartbroken to read that Blaze flunked out and is going back home without him. Blaze says he's proud of Ein for being able to go so far, and hopes he gets on the Jury. Ein knows he's lying. He tries to chase after Blaze, to try and make it up to him, but then suddenly Zane's there. He's caught Ein in a dangerously vulnerable moment, and while Ein manages to recover, he never gets the chance to wipe the tears from his eyes.

He never learns what rank he got on the Jury list. Just that he was one of the two who were filling vacant seats from this class. It's painfully bitter sweet. It's everything Ein wanted, but he realized that he never made room for Blaze in these dreams of grandeur. He tried to help Blaze at first, but Blaze eventually rejected his offers. And Ein couldn't even blame him. He'd been ignoring and neglecting the most important relationship in his life. And if Ein keeps going down this path, he realizes he'll destroy it even more.

In spite of that, he accepts the invitation and starts working as a Jury member for Zane. One month into his stay at the Ro'meave Manor as Zane's personal body guard, Zane asks him an odd question. A name he's apparently heard Ein muttering to himself and in his sleep. "Blaze."

Ein tries to say it's nothing, just an old friend he was thinking of reaching out to. That's when Zane makes it clear that Ein has absolutely no control here. Because he saw what happened between them. He asks if this old friend happened to be the one that gave him "that love letter". Ein tries to find it where he keeps it tucked into his armor, but Zane is holding it. He knows everything. And he's known the entire time he's had Ein in the Jury. It was all a test of loyalty.

If he reaches out to Blaze, he will fail. And again, Zane doesn't directly state what the penalty is, but he makes it abundantly clear that it's death for both Ein and Blaze. Ein was always easiest controlled when he was isolated. After this he was only paired up with two members of the Jury Zane trusted enough. Lilian, and the last member of the Jury. We'll get to him in a second.

As a result, Ein desired but never sought freedom. He knew Blaze was capable of a great life, he had a future, and was probably going on incredible adventures without him. He never forgot where he came from, and who he accidentally left behind. When Zane and Lilian disappeared... Ein was set free. His leash was just dropped for the first time. Mr. Mysterious wasn't even there to pick it up.

And he ran straight home.

There's only one threat that's unknowingly standing in the way of Ein's happiness. And his name is

Zachary the Plague

Nobody knows where the title came from. They don't want to. Zachary is one of the oldest members, sometimes referred to as the "shadow member" of the Jury. He's rarely seen, and scarily little is known about him.

And that's because he doesn't directly work for Zane. Unlike the others, who were all put under Zane's command after the other Ro'meave heirs died, Zachary stayed under the command of Garte. He did work for Zane here and there, Garte didn't get out much and was content to leave it all to Zane. And Zachary took a liking to Ein when they met, and when he requested that Ein train under him for some time, Zane wasn't in a position to object.

The only people who would be able to give more insight into Zachary are Garte, Janus, and Ein. Garte won't talk. Ever. Zachary is his most trusted guard, and that is all anyone needs to know. Janus just says they respect Zachary. It says enough given what it's known that Janus values. Ein freezes when he hears the name. Even when he says it.

He's only told Blaze what he knows, and neither one will willingly give up this information. He's a quiet fear in the back of Ein's mind, but Zachary stayed with Garte. Even when Zane disappeared, he stayed with Garte. He was never relieved of his duties officially or unofficially. The reason he abandoned Ein is because Garte told him to. He always followed orders.

It's unknown where he or Garte are now.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Laughter Like Music Pt. 1

Summary: Y/N wants someone to believe her, and is very grateful when she meets a green-eyed hunter who does.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Sex in semi-public place, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, slightly rough sex, dirty-talking!dean, slight Dom!dean, slight Sir kink.

Word Count: 3,346

A/N:  So, earlier today I asked for some prompts or bingos or something that could kickstart my lazy muse. And I got some great help from @fandomohana and @peyton-warren, which I so appreciate. I have every intention of using those prompts to make some fun, smutty fluffy fics!

But as I was perusing those amazing prompts I remembered that quite a while ago, the lovely @eevvvaa sent me an ask with some fantastic prompts that I loved and had big plans for, but then never followed through with! 😩

So, I figured I would work on those prompts first. She sent me three batches of three prompts each (each batch has one fluffy, one angsty, and one smutty prompt) which were meant to be used together. So, I'm going to work all nine of the prompts (3 prompts for each part) into a little three part mini-series. This is part one, and it's ended up much smuttier than I'd originally planned. 😄 The next two installments should be a slightly better balance between the smut, fluff and angst. Lol!

The 3 prompts from her ask will be highlighted.

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

“Jesus Christ!” Y/N angrily gesticulated at the cop across the counter from her. “Can’t you listen for one second? I am telling you that a man was ripped apart right in front of me, and you just refuse to listen.”

The gray-haired cop held on to the same unimpressed expression he’d worn from the moment she’d walked up to the counter and interrupted him on his computer. 

“Ma’am, I have listened, and I understand what you think you saw, but I’ll tell you again that no missing persons report has been filed, and -”

Y/N cut him off. “He was a homeless man, it’s highly unlikely anyone is going to report him missing!”

“And,” the cop continued, talking over the end of her sentence, “and, what you’re describing is impossible. Now, you said you saw him very early this morning, is it possible you were just distracted, or overly tired?”

Y/N gritted her teeth and tried one more time to be heard. “It was almost seven o’clock in the morning, so no it wasn’t that early, and I was not over-tired. I’m not a fucking toddler. I saw what I saw. The man was sitting in the alley as I was passing by, and in a blink, there was someone ON him, ripping him apart with their bare hands. The man started screaming and by the time I pulled my phone out to call 911, they were both gone. I did not imagine it, I did not dream it. It happened in the alleyway between Walbash and St. Mary St. Can’t you at least send some cops down that way to look?”

The cop, Jenkins, his name tag said, finally let go of his uncaring expression and smiled placatingly at her, which was a thousand times worse, and made her want to punch him in the face. “Okay, ma’am. I’ll put in a request for a black and white to go past and take a look when they have a minute, alright?”

She just angrily shook her head and threw her hands up, frustrated beyond belief. She turned to walk out of the station, and ended up walking into a wall of male.

She let out a little cry of surprise and alarm, and would have fallen flat on her ass if two strong hands hadn’t reached out to grab her arms and keep her upright. She straightened up as he let go and tilted her head far back to properly see the two towering guys in front of her. They were both very tall and broad, and Y/N took a step back from them so she could stop breaking her neck to see them. 

They were both in cheap blue suits, and the short haired guy flashed a badge at her quickly that said FBI.

“Ma’am, can I ask you to come with us, we’ve got a few questions for you.” His voice was deep and commanding and she couldn’t help noticing that he was also drop dead gorgeous. They both looked more like they belonged on a movie screen somewhere than in this dingy, police station in the middle of Nebraska.

But the one who’d flashed his badge had sucked her breath away immediately in a way that made her desperate to yank on his navy blue tie and pull him down to her level so she could taste those full, succulent lips. She was in the process of imagining his mouth moving over hers, and feeling the hands that had grabbed hold of her so tightly, pressed into her skin, or holding her in place while he -

“Ma’am.” The other agent was trying to get her attention and she finally broke away from that intoxicating green gaze to look at his partner.

“Huh?” She said stupidly.

The long-haired agent smiled. “We’d like to talk with you about the statement you just made to this officer.”

The frustration of the situation seeped back into her mind and she frowned deeply. “Aw, come on, look, I’m not crazy okay. I know what I saw, so if you’re just going to tell me again that I was imagining things, then…” She waved her hands to show that she was through with this crap, and moved to walk around them.

But as she tried to pass by the FBI Adonis, he reached out and once again grabbed hold of her. She looked up at him angrily, about to protest this civil rights violation of holding her against her will, when he spoke.

“I believe you.” 

His voice was much softer now, as though he only wanted her to hear him. She scoffed slightly, not sure she believed HIM.

“How could you?” She asked, her voice equally soft. “It’s a ridiculous story, how could you believe me?”

He turned to face her completely and his unblinking stare made her heart start pumping double time. “Because,” he answered simply, “there have been two other homeless people attacked and killed, and because we’re pretty sure we know what’s doing it. Til now though, we haven’t had a witness. So,” he let go of her arm, “we have just a few questions for you.”

***

Twelve hours later, Y/N’s whole world had been turned upside down, and yet, she was grateful. From the moment she’d seen that creature, a werewolf apparently, rip apart a grown man like tissue paper, everything had been spinning. Ironically, it was the Winchesters' explanation that monsters were real that made her feel better. She wasn’t insane, she wasn’t delusional, they listened to her, they believed her and they got rid of the monster. 

Now they were all sitting at a booth at the local dive bar called, “Suds”, and sharing a couple pitchers of beer and laughter. It was strange how quickly she’d felt safe with them, as though she’d known them for years, as though they’d always been friends.

Sam was intelligent, sweet, and entirely charming, with a smile that would light up a room - though it didn’t pop out as often as she would have liked. Dean was brash and sarcastic, a bit rough around the edges, but the absolute man of her dreams. 

She couldn’t look at him without nearly panting. Everything he did seemed calculated to turn her on, from the way he gulped down his beer to the flirty smiles he was throwing her as she sat beside him in the booth, trying not to inhale too deeply and get completely taken out by his intoxicating scent. He smelled like warmth and sunshine, even in this grubby bar, and it was something she desperately wanted to get closer to.

He was also very funny. He had a sharp, sarcastic, slightly morbid sense of humor that made her laugh even when they’d been in a very dangerous situation earlier in the day. That was some kind of gift.

He was keeping her laughing and giggling now, as Sam left to get another round, by making up scenarios for different couples around the bar. He was hilariously spot on as he predicted their next moves.

Y/N put her hand on his arm. “Stop, you’re too good at this, just how much time do you spend in bars? You’ve got all their moves down pat!”

Dean grinned at her. “More time than is good for me, I can promise you that.”

She laughed again and Dean leaned an inch closer to her. “Man, you have the most gorgeous smile and laugh. Sounds like music.”

His voice was rough and warm and Y/N shivered slightly. “Cold sweetheart?” He asked. “I could warm you up.”

As Y/N felt her core muscles clench at the invitation, a pitcher landed on the table in front of them, and she looked up to see Sam smiling a little sheepishly.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” He said with a slight eye roll. 

Y/N felt bad and said that he should stay, but Dean just smiled at his brother and slapped him on the back, tossing him the keys to his car. “Thanks, Sammy. Drive safe, I’ll take a cab home.”

Sam reached his towering body over the table and gave Y/N a hug where she was still sitting. “Take care, Y/N, it was really great to meet you.”

She smiled up at him and kissed his cheek. “You too, Sam, and thank you so much.”

He nodded, and pointed a finger at his brother. “Be good.” He said simply before turning and leaving. Dean slid back into the booth beside her despite the fact that the other side was now available.

Y/N wasn’t about to complain, as he crowded closer to her. He leaned in to whisper in her ear causing more shivers.

“Sam says to be good. But you sure make me wanna do bad things with you.” He slid his arm around her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin just under the hem of her t-shirt and doodling patterns there. “What do you think, Y/N? Wanna do bad things with me?”

All Y/N could manage was a quick nod and a kind of affirmative humming sound. Words were beyond her as Dean nuzzled his nose behind her ear.

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about all day, you know that?” He asked, as he moved his other hand under the table and over her stocking-covered thighs. “Do you?”

Y/N shook her head and then turned her face into his shoulder to stifle a moan as his long fingers swept up under her skirt to pass fleetingly over her drenched panties. 

“Were you thinking about me, sweetheart? Hm?” He ran his middle finger along her seam, pressing against her clit and making her yelp with pleasure. His mouth was back at her ear and his delicious voice just kept pouring electrifyingly filthy words into her head as he touched her under the table.

“Were you hoping I’d get my hands on you like this? Anxious to feel my mouth against your skin? I was; I’ve been desperate to taste you, touch you, to make you feel so good.”

He ripped a small hole in her sheer stockings and pushed her panties aside to sweep two thick fingers through her slick. With a quiet growl that drowned out her gasp, he dipped his tongue into her ear before putting his lips to it. “Fuck, baby, this is all for me? I wanna taste you so bad. Do you want to feel me inside you? Say yes, baby, cause all I can think of is sinking into that slick, hot cunt and fucking you hard enough to leave you feeling me for days.”

As he twirled his forefinger around her clit, Y/N let out a deep moan that was mercifully drowned out by the guitars and drums of the rock song playing over the soundsystem. 

“What do you say, Y/N? Wanna be really bad and meet me in the bathroom in a minute?”

Y/N was a shaking mess, but she nodded and then whimpered as he took away his fingers. As he started to leave, she pulled him back by his shirt lapels, and kissed him, sucking on his plump bottom lip as she’d been fantasizing about for the last twelve hours.

Dean quickly took over the kiss though, and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting all of her and leaving her thoroughly ravaged as he stood to go. He pointed a finger at her. “One minute, no more.” He ordered.

Y/N smiled, and though she’d barely had two full glasses of beer, she felt drunk as she bit into her bottom lip. “Hell yeah. I mean,” she purred up at him, “Yes, sir.”

She felt an electric buzz across her skin as his eyes got darker, pupils blown with lust. He turned on his heel quickly and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

After he’d gone, Y/N tried to count Mississippi's to measure out a minute, but she lost track as her skin burned for Dean’s touch and her pussy dripped. Finally, somewhere around forty seconds, she gave up and rushed towards the bathrooms. 

She looked around the deserted back area where the bathrooms were located before she pushed gently on the swinging door that led into the men’s room. When the door was barely open a foot, Dean’s hand shot out from behind the door and yanked her forward. He pinned her quickly against the wall, pushing his knee between her legs.

She gasped and panted slightly as she shook her head. “How did you even know it was me? I could have turned out to be a big guy named Bubba!”

Dean smiled and licked his lips as he rubbed his thumb across her mouth. “Well, if you were Bubba, then Bubba has some pretty small, delicate hands.” He said, grabbing up both of hers in his and raising them above her head, pressing them against the cold, ugly tile that adorned the whole bathroom from floor to ceiling.

Y/N laughed at that and reached forward to get to Dean’s mouth, but he pulled back slightly and with her hands pinned the way they were, she couldn’t reach him. She pouted, but he smiled, slow and sexy.

“Call me that again.”

Y/N knew exactly what he was asking for, but decided if he was going to hold his kisses ransom, then she would just play dumb and tease him back. 

She blinked up at him innocently. “Call you what?’

Dean’s eyes flared with so much heat she felt scorched by it, but she was enjoying the anticipation and the game too much to give in too quickly. 

Obviously deciding that two could play at this game, Dean manhandled her into one of the wider stalls and locked the door before pushing her against it, crowding her back tightly with his bulk, and pinning her hands at her side. 

“Say it.”

Y/N grinned and bit at her bottom lip, her blood throbbing through her veins at the demanding look in Dean’s eyes. “Say what?”

Dean let go of one wrist so he could push up under her skirt and shred her pantyhose completely. The sound of the ripping fabric was like an aphrodisiac and Y/N was soon shaking with need as he pushed her panties aside and began circling his thumb on her clit. She pushed down against his hand and he pulled it away from her.

He answered her cry of frustration with a dirty chuckle. “What’s wrong, baby? What do you want?” 

“Dean!” Y/N cried, reaching for him with her free hand, trying to unbuckle his belt, but he quickly slammed her wrist back against the door and held her there with an unyielding grip.

“Tell me what you want. Beg for it, beautiful. You’re so gorgeous like this, all hot and needy. So, tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Giving up the game completely, Y/N strained her neck forward again, reaching for his mouth. “I need you to fuck me.” She cried out hoarsely. “Fuck me, Sir, please.”

Dean immediately spun her around, slamming her against the door while he lifted her skirt and then pulled her hips out towards him. She heard his belt buckle jingling and his zipper open just before he rammed into her, making her scratch at the metal door, desperate to grab on to something. But all she could do was flatten her hands there and press her burning cheek against the cool surface.

Dean pulled out and slammed into her again, pressing so deep and hard that Y/N had to shove her fist into her mouth to stop from screaming. Over and over, he crashed the head of his cock against her cervix, before pulling out, and running it gently over her sweet spot with every pass, tightening the coil in her belly until she finally came apart, her muscles squeezing around his thick shaft as it continued to ram into her clenching pussy.

Dean pulled out and she felt her slick dribbling down her thighs as he turned her gently to face him and then lifted her like she weighed nothing. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and guided her back onto his rock hard, velvety smooth length. She dropped her head back as she wrapped her legs around his waist and both arms around his neck. 

He used his free hand to push up her t-shirt and bra, grasping and squeezing her breast with his thick and powerful fingers, before lowering his head to nip and lick at her nipple. 

The pressure in her abdomen began again as he raised and lowered her slowly on his cock. It had been rough and hard, but now it was silky and slow, and Y/N wanted to cry with how perfect he was. He was sucking bruises into the skin on her neck when his thrusts began to falter slightly, telling her he was close. 

She pulled his head up to hers and kissed him deeply, then panted lightly into his mouth as he reached his hand down to rub her clit, pressing perfectly on the hard little button and making her thump her head back against the door. 

Dean wrapped his hand easily around the back of her neck and pulled her head forward again, pulling her gaze to his. “Look at me, Y/N. I wanna see the look in your eyes when you fall apart this time, wanna watch the pleasure explode across your beautiful face as you come.”

With two more twirls of his finger against her, he got his wish and Y/N couldn’t stop the loud cry of pleasure that erupted from her as she climaxed. She closed her eyes briefly when she came,  but opened them again quickly, however, as Dean’s thrusts became sloppy and frantic. 

She clung to his shoulders and did her best to slide up and down on him, watching his face as the muscles stuttered there and he moved his hand from between their bodies to smash against the door and brace himself, as he slammed into her tight, slick body. With a guttural yell that she was sure had to echo out over even the loudest music and into the bar, she felt him pulse deep inside her, coating her walls with his thick warmth.

He stood still for a moment, both of them panting out their exertion. Suddenly the door flew open and Y/N yelped as a voice called into the bathroom from just outside the swinging door. 

“Look if you guys are done, you gotta pull your pants up and get on your way!” The gruff, annoyed voice yelled to them. “People gotta get in here to use the bathroom, and they don’t need a peep show.”

They heard the swinging door close behind him and were silent for a minute more before they both burst into laughter. In the midst of their chuckling and humor, Dean pulled out of Y/N’s body, and helped her set her clothing right before putting his spent cock back into his pants and zipping up. 

As he tried to buckle his belt, Y/N pushed his hands aside to take over the task. She smiled up at him coyly, slightly shy to ask what she wanted to.

“So, I know you and Sam have to take off tomorrow, but do you have plans for the rest of the night? Maybe we could swing by my place, and try this again, minus the bar patrons and on a really nice king sized bed?”

As she slid the leather end of his belt into the loop, he leaned down to kiss her softly, all his brute strength and raw passion seemingly tamped down for the moment as he slid his long fingers into her hair and kissed the tip of her nose before sipping at her lips once more.

“Hell yeah.” He said, echoing her earlier agreement. “I mean, yes, Ma’am.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@deans-spinster-witch

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@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

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@mimaria420

@sacriceria

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2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

@alexxavicry

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

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[aisaariel]

Jungkook's FS current energy please

jungkook fs current energy

method: tarot, intuition cards: two of cups, seven of wands, seven of pentacles, nine of pentacles (+ lots of clarifying cards)

dear readers, i am so sorry, but this reading is really long. there were a lot of things that jungkook's future spouse seemed to want to talk about, so i made sure to communicate everything that they may be experiencing. reminder that tarot readings are never 100% correct. all readings are written with the approval of the actual person and their guides.

i am very appreciative of the fact that i was allowed to work with jungkook's future spouse for the reading. i hope that everyone will be respectful of this person's energy. thank you so much for coming, reading, and encouraging this person on their journey!

i was originally planning on doing a very short reading of this person's current energy, but i ended writing a long one haha! first off, i wanted to note that this person's energy felt very soft and quiet - marshmallowy (kept feeling called to write that word down for some reason). when i had done readings on this person in the past (yes i had blogs prior to this one but deleted them), they felt much more heavier, sharp, and firy in some way(?) so this was a very interesting change of energy to see. i also kept hearing talking to the moon (bruno mars) after seeing one of the cards so i felt that loneliness or unexpressed and nostalgic sadness was a subtheme of this reading as well.

it was interesting to see this combination of cards! starting with the first card, i felt that the two of cups could obviously represent a relationship of some sort, but i interpreted the card a bit differently because i didn't feel any current relationship ties when i felt this person's energy. the two of cups seemed to represent this person's position with the self - their love for themself and the emotional balance they may be having within themself. when i connected with them, it felt so refreshing almost! i feel that it relates to why their energy changed since the last time i checked. clarifying cards indicate that this person has become much more true to themself, or, at least, they're trying to be more true to themself. i see them chasing after different opportunities, dynamics, and situations that they may not have sought in the past. i also see them starting to embrace more of their 'feminine' energy more, which makes me think they are starting to address some emotional turmoil within themself that they have chosen to ignore for quite a while. perhaps also finding a nice balance where they aren't the ones always giving and nurturing, but they're getting things reciprocated (cheering)! related to what i previously said, they seem to be working a lot on their past traumas, unhealthy habits/attachments/thoughts, and more. it seems like self-improvement is really a huge theme for them right now. they seem to be learning to love themself more and to also let things go (things that don't serve them). they are also getting a sense of break/rest in their life right now (very well-deserved, according to what i'm hearing). they are curious and an explorer. they aren't just being swallowed up by the busyness of life and ignoring the seemingly mundane aspects of their life, but they are instead slowly starting to pay attention - things they respect, appreciate, love, hate, etc. self-awareness.

next, i see that they in a phase of their life where they are fighting for what they love, staying positive despite others that may try to bring them down. what the main card tells me is that this person had a person or group of people in their surroundings that constantly brought them down and discouraged them. however, with the four of wands popping up in this "battlefield," it makes me think that they are not caring too much about what these people are saying/doing anymore. they are truly looking for what makes them happy and being happy with that without feeling the need to make these negative people agree with their decisions/thoughts/emotions. perhaps this is exactly why their energy feels much lighter and healthier than before. i also see that they're at a phase in their life where they may be facing some new career/financial opportunities! i see that they received an offer (ace of pentacles) quite recently, and this offer symbolizes a new beginning of sorts for them. i see a transition of moving away from their childhood, home, what they knew. i see a move towards yet another kind of new future for them - one they may not have expected. i see that this person may be confused on whether they made the right decision or not (because they had other options), but they are still moving forward and trusting that the path they chose will bring lots of good and blessings to them!

for the next set, we have the seven of pentacles and the clarifying cards. i consider this card to be a symbol of waiting/persevering. i find this kind of interesting because in the previous paragraph, i talked about how they had a new offer that they took - two contradicting energies here, i see! there are also a lot of different emotions associated with this card, so let me try my best to discern them. the first couple emotions that i see have to do with having negative thoughts, lack of self-confidence, a sense of feeling stuck. since these emotions fall under the seven of pentacles umbrella, i feel that this person may have been experiencing this dilemma for quite a while now, and they're perhaps starting to lose confidence or they're getting impatient/tired of waiting longer. the next emotion speaks of overflowing emotions (ace of cups) - perhaps for someone they love, or their creativity blossoming, etc. the additional emotions associated with this "overflowing of emotions" are inner conflict/clash of inner thoughts and the need to keep something hidden. i know that i shouldn't be making assumptions, but i keep getting the sense that this ace of cups card is representing their feelings towards jungkook. yes, it's completely possible that they are unaware of this connection in any way, but the sense of "feeling stuck" and "getting tired of waiting," as well as "overflowing emotions for a lover" and the resulting "inner conflict" and "need of hiding or staying hidden" point me towards the fact that this person is fully aware or partially aware that they may have some sort of significant connection with jungkook (feeling especially comfortable as i write this part, so yes, this may very well a form of confirmation as well). perhaps it may be this person's higher self being aware, or them being aware in some way, but with talking to the moon (bruno mars) constantly playing and also the moon card falling out, i do think that they are essentially aware that they have a significant soul connection with someone and may be wanting to search for this person (which is jungkook). this fits in with the intuitive subtheme of loneliness that i felt at the beginning - very cool to see that my intuition picked up on this right off the bat! it seems that this person has really worked hard on their internal issues and are rapidly growing!

LAST SET! if you made it here, congratulations - you're almost there. now this final card nine of pentacles talks to me about a form of success in an endeavor in this person's life! perhaps with it being the pentacles card, it can be referring to their career/studies! maybe it's related to the offer that they received and are going forward with! seems like it was a huge accomplishment for them. i also see two king cards that point towards emotional and financial/career abundance, so yes, this offer seems to be a HUGE one for them - it was not an easy feat for them to get where they are right now. i also see temperance, which signifies a sense of serenity and balance to me. it reminds me of a saying(?) or just something that popped into my head - i see a vision of this person walking forward and with every step, their footprint shows gold. when related to the nine of pentacles and its accompanying cards, it makes me think that this person will become very successful in their life. they may currently have finished a sort of prep phase(?) to prepare for the greater successes that are to come in their life.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here and this is part fifteen...somehow...

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Author regrets both use of Roman numerals and Old English but you know what? We ballin'. Also Danny woke up! With only some complications! woohoo! 🎉

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny comes in and out of consciousness in bursts.

Wherever he is, it’s not the Guys in White. He rules that out very, very quickly.

For one. The Guys in White would not hire a lady to sit around and mind him constantly. He has— The same few doctors come in and out of green-tinged vision consistently. Their tags are different de-saturated colors, but he can recognize most of them.

And, somehow, the lady is there. If not at his side immediately, at his side quickly enough.

With his space shuttle.

With a grip toy.

With…oatmeal.

The oatmeal is what really clues Danny in that this can’t be the GIW.

The GIW would never waste human food on him. Never. It creates too much of a logistical mess: a paper trail of payments, feeding people that don’t exist; the need for cleanup of bio-waste that no one wants to deal with; the cleaning and sanitizing of utensils, which could easily contaminate a living person.

And yet. There is oatmeal.

Mushy, unappetizing oatmeal.

The lady feeds it to him when she’s around. She spoons it into his mouth, quietly chatting all the while. She could be telling him how she’s going to cut out his organs to be chopped up and mounted on glass slides for investigation for all that Danny knows, but still, very patiently, she spoonfeeds him little mouthfuls of oatmeal.

She waits for him to swallow every time. If he stops eating, she lets him stop.

It’s kind. It’s gentle.

It’s…it’s the nicest thing Danny’s had in a long time.

It’s so nice that he stops being overtly weird when the doctors come in. He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he’s shooting himself in the foot probably.

But…but no one is being mean to him. Everyone is being careful. Gentle.

Quiet. Slow. Obvious.

One of the doctors drops a meal tray once and everyone rushes to quiet it, to check that he’s settled, to…comfort? Him?

The oatmeal tastes bad, by the way. It’s also how he finds out part of his tongue is numb.

Or maybe it tastes bad because some of his tongue is numb.

Either way. Ew. It’s bland and it tastes bad and Danny has to finish all of it, even though he has an IV in him that puts food into him.

His IV itches. He’s sad that he can’t move and can’t protect himself. He’s tired and he’s bored of sitting here. He doesn’t know where he is and no one can tell him because he can’t understand them.

There’s no TV.

There are other concerns to be worried about, but Danny would like a television, please. Something with news on it. Something that could ground him in a location, or a place, or…

The air hisses. For a moment, breathing is going to be easier as the air cycles. It hurts, still, to breathe—the GIW hadn’t thought Danny needed to breathe, so they hadn’t put him back together right. He breathes through cobbled-together organs and raw pink seams, but yet. He breathes.

Danny lays there, and he breathes. He clutches his space shuttle toy between his wrist and his thigh, because he can.

There’s a whisper against the door. The heavy mechanisms of the door clank out of place.

Danny’s eyelids flutter as they fail to either open or close. The green in his vision bunches and falls as they try. The lady must be back.

Surely, enough, she is. Her paper gown is a mint blue today. It matches her mask and her gloves, but not her pinkish-grey shoes. She comes through the door, and—

—there’s something behind her.

It’s. They’re. Humanoid? They’re…green?

Danny stares, his head against the pillow, his eyes wide. They’re. They’re floating.

He can’t stop staring. His eyelids don’t even twitch. The lady walks to his bedside, and the…the other one follows him.

“Wel mette,” the lady greets him again, her fingers on the very corner of his mattress and no further. “Eom hebbjan ure freond.”

Danny has no idea what that means. He stares; he stares at the…their… Is that a ghost? Is a ghost just…walking around??

The—the being has—their head isn’t super. Humanoid. It’s more oval and angular, to be honest. But the rest of them is; their outfit is certainly out of the world Danny has grown up in, and is mostly constructed of straps crossing around the larger shapes of their body. And a…cloak…?

Is this a ghost?? It has to be, right? But a ghost of what??

There’s a sensation. Danny doesn’t have control over his body in the way that he’s used to, but this sensation isn’t aimed at his—it doesn’t—it’s not physical. It’s just a touch. A feeling.

Like he thought. A sensation. But still. Its presence is…Danny’s pretty sure it’s a greeting.

He…he doesn’t greet back. He doesn’t know if this is a friend.

…Lots of ghosts pretend to be something they’re not. He doesn’t know who this ghost is. He doesn’t know who this lady is. His head hurts and it’s hard to think and he knows everyone just wants to hurt him even when they pretend not to. Or they don’t even know it yet.

So he turns his head and pretends he’s dead. (Or. Uh. Dead-er.) Dead things don’t have thoughts, duh. You can’t read mine if I don’t have any!

The ghost drifts closer. Danny can’t move—he can’t run, can barely flinch—but he can feel how taut he gets the closer they get, the further they get into his personal bubble.

The greeting comes again. It’s quieter on the second round. Gentler. The ghost is trying not to scare him, is trying not to hurt him. Just careful, gentle contact.

Danny squeezes his eyes closed. It doesn’t work (whoops) because his eyes don’t close right (he forgot about that) and then his head hurts a lot because he’s working a whole lot of muscles who were not prepared to put in so much effort at the drop of a hat.

The greeting turns a little…melancholy. It matches the tone that the lady takes on when Danny’s breathing stutters and his body screams with exhaustion he can’t shake.

He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to be poked and prodded and then attacked when the ghost realizes Danny’s not Fun the way the ghosts want him to be—willing to play around when people get hurt or ignore the pain around them. Danny just wants to be left alone.

The greeting is gently let go. From the ghost comes a question—something soft. Something celestial. Danny can’t tell the specifics, but there are moons and stars in the question.

…His fingers flex around the plastic shell of his model shuttle. There’s. He’s. Space?

The green ghost turns to the lady. “Læt uns ga an wealc”, they say, in that English Danny doesn’t know and doesn’t understand.

The lady says something back to them. They say something back to the lady. The lady goes to the wall, where there is a phone, and says something.

Danny tenses. This is it. She’s calling in for backup. More people are coming and it’s going to hurt.

The phone call ends. The lady comes back and Danny tenses—

But there’s nowhere to run and his physical body is too weak to hide properly. She reaches his bedside, reaches out her arms, and Danny flinches away.

He can’t shut his eyes. He can’t stop seeing her outstretched arms because he can’t shut his eyes.

“Mæg eom ahebbe eow?”

Danny doesn’t know what that means!!!

The ghost brushes their fingers up against the steel rail of Danny’s cot. There’s an image—of the lady, clear as day, in a red and blue and gold outfit, bridal-carrying someone from building rubble. There’s a prodding at his core that says you, there, in particular.

He’s dumbfounded. Like, to lift? To lift him?

There’s a sense of agreement, and then the image of a cot with wheels. The wheels are the focus of the message.

…They’re asking Danny permission? To go somewhere?

On one hand, no, Danny doesn’t want to be any further complicit into whatever horrible kidnapping scheme this probably is. This place sucks. He doesn’t want to see more of it. This is the second worst kidnapping he’s ever had and he wants no part in it.

On the other hand, however, this place sucks, and getting out of here, even if only temporarily…

Danny licks his lips. There’s craters in the soft tissue. He tastes orange pixie sticks and the sour tang of battery acid.

If Danny is very, very smart. And very, very careful. And very, very quiet… Well. What are the chances they wheel him past the exit on this excursion?

Sure, they’re pretty low. But there’s hope.

Danny hasn’t had hope in ages.

He nods. He hates that he does—his neck jerks upwards, and then he’s sore and tired everywhere and in his head and neck and shoulders, and he’s not going to be able to move much more than that for literal hours (sorry, oatmeal mush), and he’s said yes.

“Þancie eow!” the lady says, and the ghost translates that for him as thank you and then she lifts Danny up off the bed cot he lives on like he’s still a ghost, and not made of heavy, teenage flesh. Wow is she strong. Danny hopes her job isn’t to hurt him. Otherwise he’s going to be a smear of green on the wall and then what would the point of inspecting his insides be??

Danny gets lifted. Danny gets carried.

(It’s not an amazing experience on his aching body. He thinks some of his bruises start to leak ectoplasm in self defense. Her arms are as stiff as rocks.)

Being lifted is also how Danny finds out there’s something caging his legs. They don’t seem to be caged together—they hang individually—but they keep them taut and aligned so that all the pressure of being lifted is on his hips, and not his legs. Considering that Danny’s received pretty medium care for his troubles…that doesn’t bode well for whatever state his legs are in.

Danny gets gently, gently placed down onto a new cot. The side bars are metal, but thinner than on the bed he woke up on.

The world starts to move.

Oh. They’re moving. Danny’s moving.

It’s kind of startling. The world’s been so static and fuzzy for so long, and now he’s bedridden but moving.

The ghost opens the door, and Danny’s still body and the bed follow with it. The lady has to be pushing, then. They go through it and—

—Danny blearily squints. Ow. Bright.

Bright, LED light follows Danny down steel hallways and past strangers in bright outfits, their colors pale and washed out by Danny’s attempts to squeeze green eyelids together and stop seeing everything.

He wants to stop. This is too much. He bites his lip—jaw aching—and grunts—throat tearing—and—

The ghost that keeps trying to talk to him sends some other emotion, and Danny purposefully ignores them. It’s easy enough to block things you don’t want to feel. The green wall of a body floats out in front of him to open another door, and Danny is pushed inside.

The lights are off in here. The tension in Danny’s forehead gets a little quieter. That’s…nice. It makes the window in the room seem bigger and brighter, and—

Danny jerks. His whole body screams at him as he claws against the cot, trying to get closer, closer—

He hurts something in his back. He can tell. There’s something in his hips that’s strained, or possibly fractured, as he climbs across a horizontal surface. The beings around him make worried, scared noises, and that doesn’t matter right up until the bed moves so Danny can push his face right up against the glass.

Because that’s space out there. The stars are out there. And Danny is so, so close to them.

It’s so…

…Danny doesn’t know how much time he loses to starlight before he falls asleep.

*

“Did you see!” Diana gushes, the windows going by. The cot (and the alien in it) she pushes through the hall, the occasional curious eye turning to them as they go past. “J’onn, did you see, he had glowed! I know we had hoped that he would be receptive, but—“

“Diana,” J’onn murmurs, his voice low. Wonder Woman’s head tilts to find him behind her, and she only slows just enough to not run the cot or its occupant into any unsuspecting superheroes.

The first fear is for the worst scenario. “Did the excursion hurt him?”

The Martian hesitates. “…No,” he says, and nothing more. He drifts forward to the metaphorical prow of their vehicle, and Diana sets her shoulders into generating momentum. J’onn opens doors for them as they pass.

The alien child isn’t awake to consent to be returned to his newly cleaned bed, but Diana feels secure enough returning him to his usual haunt that she proceeds to do so.

Even when physical, he is frighteningly limp in her arms.

She takes care to support his head as she pulls him up to her chest. He is so fragile. When the light comes across his face as he moves, parts of his face are still ominously transparent. Ominously liquid. Ominously green.

Diana should not be able to see the inner airways of his nose, nor the thin, still-healing holes in his skull, or his irises while his eyes try in vain to shut with skin they do not have.

She lays him down. Gently, she tucks him under thin sheets with gloved hands.

J’onn drifts over to her side. His feet haven’t touched the ground—not since he was reminded that visible signs of non-human life might be reassuring to a non-human. “He doesn’t remember us,” he says. Diana hears him.

And then she hears him.

“He what?”

“He has no memory of his time on the base. He has no memory yourself, of our previous communication, of the junior heroes… He has no understanding of the layout of the base, nor of things we had already established: my status as an alien lifeform to Earth and the base’s lunar occupancy. As far as he knows, he woke up here a week and a half ago to strangers having taking up a caretaker’s role, and he doesn’t know why and if we will harm him.”

Diana stills. She…takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” she whispers. And then, louder: “Alright. We can fix this.”

And they will, although it will take time, because even if he doesn’t remember them, Diana knows him—a child with too much fear, who likes to be around others, who occasionally plays around but likes his boundaries respected. A child who put glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

“Oh,” Diana realizes at last, reaching a point J’onn had already understood: “Impulse is going to be so disappointed.”

[thewales]

Telegraph:

The Duke of Sussex has revealed that he has enough material to write another book, having held back disclosures for which the King and the Prince of Wales would not “ever forgive” him if they were made public.

In an interview with Bryony Gordon of The Telegraph, Prince Harry said the original transcript for his book, Spare, was twice the length of the final draft.

He admitted a lot of the detail that was eventually edited out concerned interactions with both his father and his brother.

800 pages, and now it’s down to 400 pages. It could have been two books, put it that way. And the hard bit was taking things out.”

He added: “There are some things that have happened, especially between me and my brother, and to some extent between me and my father, that I just don’t want the world to know. Because I don’t think they would ever forgive me.”

Prince Harry – who has accused Palace staff of lying to protect his brother Prince William – claimed that the media had “a s--- tonne of dirt about my family, I know they have, and they sweep it under the carpet for juicy stories about someone else”.

He said he knew he was “going to get trashed” for anything he included about his family, but insisted that it was impossible to tell his story without their inclusion.

The Duke also revealed that he felt “responsibility” to reform the monarchy for the sake of Prince George, nine, Princess Charlotte, seven, and Prince Louis, four. “I know that out of those three children, at least one will end up like me, the spare,” he said. “And that hurts, it worries me.”

He admitted that the notion frustrated Prince William, adding: “He has made it very clear to me that his kids are not my responsibility.”

Regardless, he said he liked to “fix” things and was approaching his mission with “long-term, strategic thinking”.

“This is not about trying to collapse the monarchy – this is about trying to save them from themselves,” he claimed. “I know that I will get crucified by numerous people saying that.”

The Duke demanded the Royal family apologise to Meghan and used the interview to address them directly, saying: “Because you know what you did, and I now know why you did it. And you’ve been caught out, so just come clean and then we could all move on.”

He said that “if people had listened” when he had raised the alarm they would not be in this position, adding: “That’s the saddest part about it – it was all so avoidable. But they just couldn’t help themselves.”

He likened his family’s silence on the entire furore to abuse.

Prince Harry said he genuinely wanted his brother and his father back in his life. His “technique”, he suggested, was to completely curtail the relationship between the Royal family and the press and, by doing so, protect them.

“When you’re trying to change an institution, and fundamentally the media landscape, that is not a small task,” he added. “The scale of the challenge is enormous, and I have to be able to protect myself mentally and emotionally throughout that process.”

He admitted he did not understand why it was considered so “shocking and outrageous” for him to tell his own “truthful” side of the story, but vowed to continue “the good fight” in standing up for Meghan “and other women” and encouraging other men to do the same.

“If you don’t lead by example, what is the point in living?” he asked.

He suggested that although his family might not like him at the moment, they would thank him in a few years for talking so openly about trauma.

Meanwhile, the Duke described how, as he got older, Prince William “went completely silent and completely shut down” over their mother’s death.

For his part, he said it was only after taking ayahuasca, a hallucinogenic, that he realised it did not matter that he had not cried and that his mother just wanted him to be happy.

Full article free

The transcript of the full interview

[starfall-spirit]

@officialfeysandweek2023

Read on Ao3

Summary: Feyre trusted Azriel and Cassian to keep her work as a Wraith secret. Perhaps they had, but it doesn't change the fact their High Lord knew what secrets were hidden in the shadows they share. Angered by her deception, Rhys sends Feyre home, freeing her from their marriage and bargain made Under the Mountain, all too soon finding that to be the worst mistake he's made in five centuries.

AN: The Silver-Tongued Bride, a Feysand fic based on 1,001 Nights/Arabian Nights, has been discontinued so I can write a book with a similar plot in the future, but UBC brought up the fic and I was struggling with my original project for Mates. So I'm closing this AU with a bang. As I said in a previous post there is a major time skip between Wife or Weapon? and Would You Like Me On My Knees? so reading/rereading STB is not vital, but the link is there if you want to see what the original story idea was and get a better idea of Feysand's history in this AU.

For those unfamiliar with 1,001 Nights, you can read the basic plot here.

CW: Dark!Rhys, Smut

“Feyre, you’ve told me a story every night for months now.”

“I have,” she murmured. “Would you like to hear another this evening?”

He gave her a slight smirk from across the oversized table between them, fiddling with one of the strategy pieces. “No, darling. Eager as I am to hear the ending of this last story, I have one to tell you tonight.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “One about a village girl brave enough to save her people.” She narrowed her eyes, accepting the chair. “Once upon a time a wicked foreign commander took control of seven High Lords’ power, trapping all but one in her perversion of a court.”

“Why are you telling me—”

“Be quiet and listen,” he hissed. There was something in his eyes tonight that for the first time stirred something like fear in Feyre. “For forty-nine years those faeries hoped and prayed for some salvation that never came. Until one day a village girl was just desperate enough to go Under the Mountain to save her sisters, and in her dealings with Amarantha, Prythian.”

Though he’d given her nothing but facts she recognized from her own story, something close to dread was coiling in her gut. “She succeeded, at the cost of her life, but was revived by the seven High Lords when their magic was returned to them. One would think after dying, our heroine would be content enough to keep a low profile and stay tucked away with her sisters.”

“You kept me from that, I’ll remind you.”

“Did I? Or did all of this start when you decided to play spy, Wraith?”

She ground her teeth, holding his burning stare. “You live in such wealth and privilege. Tell me, when was the last time you went days or weeks without more than bread and water? I did what I needed to to make sure there was food on the table and clothes on our backs, as I always have. Just because it took you three years to look at who you employ doesn’t mean I did anything wrong.”

He stood from his own seat. “You're right.” It took a moment for the words to register. That he had actually surrendered that small victory to her. “You haven’t actually done anything, beyond failing to mention your other duties to the Night Court. Which is why you will continue those duties, unrestrained.”

That dread began to seep back in, coiled and curdling deep inside of her. “Unrestrained? What do you mean unrestrained?”

“You are vital to Azriel’s network. I will not kill you, but you can not fully commit to your duties as my bride.”

Bride. Never wife, though she wasn’t quite sure why she cared about that little technicality during such a serious conversation. Because what his words implied…

She lurched from her chair.“Rhys, you can’t.”

“It is not your place to tell me what I can and can’t do, Feyre.”

“Rhys, please.” She was begging. Something she vowed she’d never do when it came to him. “Please don’t do this.” Her hand was fisted in the soft fabric of his shirt as if she could keep him there and hold his attention so simply. “They don’t deserve this.”

He cocked his head. “What would you give me, darling, to keep me from looking at another female?”

“Anything.” Dangerous words to offer the fae, especially one so powerful. “I will give you anything so long as these bride killings stop. Name your price.”

“Feyre, did you really think you could stop this, single-handedly? You never had a—”

He grunted as she pulled him down closer, one hand still holding his shirt while the other threaded through his silky hair. Though she initiated the kiss, he quickly took control, lifting her onto the table and disregarding the scattering of figures and marking pins so carefully arranged on the broad map atop it. He cupped the back of her neck, his thumb just brushing across her jaw. “Cauldron, Feyre,” he groaned, holding her in place to deepen the kiss.

She could say the same. Their kiss was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. His scent, his touch, and that cruel mouth working down over her neck, his tongue flicking that little sweet spot just higher that nearly had her whimpering. Apparently he remembered a few tricks from their time Under the Mountain. Each one left something inside her singing. And aching for more.

And then he was off of her, around the other side of the table before she could even open her eyes or try to assess what was threaded between them.

“No,” he growled, gripping the wood of the table hard enough his skin lightened. “You—we needed that distraction back then. I am not about to let you bargain with your body now, Feyre. You’ll leave in the morning, as usual. This time—” He waved a hand and a fresh horror filled her as the ink on her right arm vanished. “—free of our marriage.” Another wave and her left arm was bare. “Free of our bargain.”

She stumbled around the table. If Rhys was letting her go… “Rhys, wait.”

“It’s done. You’re free. You never have to see me again. What more do you want?” he snapped. She stopped in front of him, nearly close enough to share breath. Even wide and wild, those eyes drew her in. “What?” he growled.

“Promise me it will end.” His brow furrowed. “You’re a better male than this. I can see it. Your brothers can see it. I don’t know the others, but—”

“That’s enough.” He tilted his head as he assessed her, looking every bit the predator he proved himself to the world, any trace of the goodness she’d thought she’d seen just as absent as she ink on her arms. Her heart sank as he tutted, stroking his thumb down her jawline, this time almost condescendingly. “So that’s what you’ve been, little temptress. The martyr bride. One day my lover? My High Lady?”

“I’ll be whatever you need me to be if it saves others who are meant to follow me here.”

Reckless, stupid words, and yet she meant every one of them. She refused to release him until he listened.

Or winnowed.

Or layed her down on that war table and reminded her how easy it was to break a male.

Any other male, it seemed.

His hand dropped to wrap around her throat. One last security blanket, a means of control, even as she watched his resistance fracture. “Gods. Feyre, you don’t know how you tempt me to break the one code I can keep.” At this point she didn’t know how else to express she wouldn’t be as unwilling as he believed. Again, he tore away from her, leaving her cold and aching. What had gotten into her? “Your village and family will be pardoned in the future. If you’d like to take anything I’ve given you home then you’re welcome to pack tonight. As a Wraith, you can leave at your leisure. I trust you’ll be gone before breakfast?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, turning his back to her to repair the map she’d unknowingly torn. She should have felt relieved at the dismissal, but all she could currently think was that this was so wrong. On a scale larger than this sexual chemistry.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

It rang in her head loudly enough she double checked her shields. Still impenetrable. Body and mind steeled, she gave him five parting words meant to sting after all this time in each other's company. “As you wish, High Lord.”

And she walked away, gaining her freedom, and losing so much more.

But what was still the question. 

~~~~~

Her sisters were elated. At least, Elain was elated. Nesta only felt the need to interrogate Feyre about what she had done to earn her freedom. “I wanted out,” she lied. “I told him I was a Wraith and he decided that was important enough to the war to release me.”

Neither of them seemed to believe her, especially with her vow to keep telling stories to maintain her position as a Night Bride and save the girls he’d yet to draw into his cruel game. Half of the town had started to treat her like a plague. The other was in awe when they saw her arms were bare of ink and her head was attached to her neck. 

Feyre didn’t have enough energy to care.

That was more frustrating than anything else. That empty feeling that grated against the anger and hurt she couldn’t find a way to justify. The dangerous tumble of thoughts that kept her awake in her bed until she was watching the sunrise. Because Cauldron damn her, she missed it. Missed him. The smirk on his face and the light in his eyes when she encouraged his flirtation. The glide of his hands over her body before that brutal dismissal. The taste of him, endless and all-consuming. The abyss she was too ready to leap into if she’d find him at the bottom.

That desperation scared her more than anything, and opened up a very unwelcome thought when the evenings went quiet. So she locked it away in a little mental box, shoving it behind that wall of steel and stone, down, and down, and down where she couldn’t feel even a flicker of want or worry.

But then, she had never been very good at compartmentalizing. And too many things in the home and village around her brought those feelings back to the surface. What they meant. But if she didn’t give it a name it didn’t have to mean anything. Not after he freed her. And with that mindset, she kept going, day by day.

She kept moving though life, waiting to hear the Bride Killer had returned to find his next target. But he never did. Not for weeks. She didn’t think it was possible for a town or village to simply freeze, but there was a feeling in the air all the same. As if the villagers around her, the birds and bugs and cattle, the very land around them was holding its breath.

It was excruciating to endure.

Still, she made herself go about town. To the market each morning and social functions in the evening. Nodding along as other females tittered about the latest gossip and just how lucky she was to be alive and marriageable again. It was positively disgusting. But she’d endure that too, for Elain and Nesta. It was where they thrived and she could tolerate being labeled the odd ball a while longer. It’s what she’d been her whole life, after all.

She should have known things wouldn’t be left there. That she wouldn’t be given time to heal and pass this strange emotional lull without some grand interruption. And grand it was.

In typical fashion, Rhys arrived at the height of the evening, his announcement by rolling thunder. “What a pretty little party.”

~~~~~

The house cleared remarkably quickly between the families scurrying for the door or flat out winnowing as he commanded them to leave. The only people to disobey were her sisters, frightened as they were by the intrusion. There was something to be said for their improving loyalty, she supposed.

He didn’t speak again until the door snicked shut behind their last guest. “Good evening, Feyre darling.”

“Rhys.” His name was hardly higher than a breath, but its weight did enough to heighten the already unbearable tension. “What do you want?” she asked a bit more confidently, pushing off the wall and shoving the flare between them down as deep as she could. If he wanted the… connection… between them, he wouldn’t have sent her away like he did. “You said you wouldn’t return to this village. Especially not this house.”

“It’s not your sisters I’m here for, Feyre.” The promise in his voice paired with the heat in his eyes sent a fresh bolt of want through her. “The last time we spoke—”

“The last time we spoke, you promised me my freedom, Rhysand. Peace from your games.”

“I think you like my games more than you’re willing to admit, darling.”

She scoffed, putting more distance between them as she moved behind the couch. “What do you want, Rhys? Say it and leave.” Her father coughed pointedly from where he had joined them just seconds ago, some small effort as the technical head of the house. It was a reminder to check her tone, speaking to a High Lord. She snorted. “He won’t touch me.”

Rhys winnowed across the room, his broad figure a mass of warmth against her, his scent flooding her senses. She pressed forward, hips digging into the back of the couch as she focused on taking shallow breaths, pointedly ignoring everything her body was demanding she do. “The last time we were this close—”

“You sent me away. I didn’t beg and plead for you to erase the bargain and wedding vows. I said I’d stay there for good. I’d be whatever the hell you needed me to be and you sent me away.”

“Is that what you want from me? Do you want me to beg and plead you come home to me? Do you want to see me on my knees for you? Should I grovel, love?”

“It would certainly be a new look for you, wouldn’t it?” she spat.

Ignoring Elain’s squeak, she shoved at his arm to escape his hold, fiddling with anything and everything that was already in its perfect place to ignore the male behind her as best she could. The next time she turned around he didn’t give her the choice of distancing herself. 

One hand caught her hip, the other cupping her face. Though his touch was loose and gentle, after weeks apart she was helpless against the pull of their bond. She sank into his chest, trembling slightly, finding that thread between them raw and open. “Darling.” There was a tentativeness to his voice she’d never once heard. Not in their most vulnerable moments Under the Mountain and certainly not in their time together in Velaris. “I’m sorry.” His right hand slid up, winding in her hair to keep her eyes level with his. “You need to know, you are worth more than what you thought I needed. I’ll have you as my mate—my High Lady—or not at all.”

She stiffened. “I don’t know a thing about leading a court.”

“You’ll learn.” Before she could say another word about it or explain anything to her family, she felt him start to winnow. 

“Rhys, wait! Don’t—” Her protest was cut off with her air, as they were folded in shadow, surfacing in the dining room of the town house in Velaris, his family already occupying the table. She jerked free of his hold. “You can’t just abduct me from my home,” she growled, ready to send herself right back.

“Just wait. Please.” The house was dead silent. She froze, watching with wide eyes as he sank to his knees. “Feyre.” The vulnerability between his actions and that one word was enough to clear the house, leaving the two of them alone, save each other. “Feyre. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his face. “But this is a discussion we need to have… unmonitored.”

“Tell me it's over.”

“It’s over.”

“Tell me that even if I turn around and go home, no more innocents will die at your hands. By your orders,” she clarified.

“I will never kill an innocent again. I will not call a priestess to an altar unless it is you by my side. You being pronounced my mate. My wife. My High Lady. My Forever. Feyre, my name is a stain on the history of this court. That will not change.” She shuddered as he wrapped his hands around the backs of her knees. “Help me do what I can to pave a better future.”

Because what would the world think when their Cursebreaker willingly married the Bride Killer? When she bore the ink of his court again? What would the world think of her when they realized she’d fallen in love with their greatest evil? 

She sank down to the ground, knee to knee with her mate. “I’ll be your equal? Respected in this court and the others.”

“The other High Lords will favor traditions. Especially those of the seasons. I can't promise you their respect. But no citizen of Night will question your authority and keep their life.”

“And… the other expectations of a High Lord’s wife?”

“One day, with this war behind us I would want to build a family with you. Raise children beside you. But not yet, Feyre. Not with this war upon us. I don’t—”

She kissed him, throwing her weight enough that he twisted his legs, settling on his back to let her set the pace. Though he didn’t object to her straddling him she didn’t think the privilege of control would last long, considering his grip on her waist was already beginning to tighten. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, working them open with an impressive dexterity, considering her mind felt like a muddled mess.

“Wait.” Feyre paused, confused. Then they were winnowing again, this time to a cabin in the mountains. “We won’t be disturbed any time soon,” he promised, walking her backwards through the cabin until she stumbled, only to be lifted upright in his arms before she could hit the floor. She locked her legs around his waist, gasping against his mouth as he pushed her up against the wall, her hands pinned over her head. “I’ve been aching for you,” Rhys confessed, “from the moment you left my bed three years ago, I’ve wanted you back in my arms.”

Years. Not just the weeks they were apart, but since they found freedom from Amarantha. Feyre tried to look back on those days, recalling the vulnerability between the pleasure they shared. Where they had let those careful masks crumble to dust. A single brief moment where she had let herself wonder if Rhys was more broken than he let on.

She pushed those thoughts down. “You sent me away.”

“Love is a dangerous thing,” he told her, letting her stand on her own feet again, his arms braced on either side of her. “And you were offering yourself to protect others, not for your own happiness. You would have come to hate me if I tried to act on our bond. I couldn’t see you reliving my mother’s story.”

“It may have seemed impulsive then, but I wanted it. Even without the mating bond established I wanted you.” 

Now that they’d both said it aloud it felt a thousand times more real. They were mates. A perfect match by nature or fate depending on who you asked. “Oh, and if we’re to do this in some sort of reasonable order.” She parted the panels of her gown. “It has pockets, see!” He was clearly confused about the relevance of her dress having pockets but stayed quiet to humor her. “I was keeping this for myself since they were just about the only enjoyable thing at that party, but here,” she told him almost conspiratorially, unwrapping the small linen napkin holding the cookies she was saving for a snack. “I didn’t technically make it myself, but… Food. Eat. Now.”

Confusion softened to something like awe and she realized for as cruel as he’d been in his time as High Lord, he had grieved the simple pleasures he thought he’d ruined his chance of finding. Like a female offering him food and truly accepting an eternity with him. He had a better future to look forward to, starting with half-crumbled cookies. “You’re exquisite,” he breathed, his thumb sweeping tenderly across her cheekbone. “I don’t deserve you, Feyre.”

She just smiled, nodding to the meager offering again. They were gone in seconds, the napkin so clean she wouldn’t have believed there were crumbs at all if she hadn’t seen the mess of crushed dessert herself. There was something to be said for a newly mated male’s dedication.

“Delicious,” he purred against her ear, tossing the pristine cloth over his shoulder. “But I can think of something else I’d rather taste at the moment.”

~~~~~

Rhys had never gotten a female out of a dress so quickly. He had never felt so close to losing control of himself. Not just that spiral of desire and the need to please his mate and satisfy their bond, but something more. Ancient and dark and primal. The need to claim in every respect. 

He hadn’t felt the cage swing open. Not until the thing within him was stalking out, his skin itching and tight as onyx scales rippled over it in patches. He groaned against Feyre, the taste of her on his tongue was doing nothing to help his attempt at suppressing the creature he worked so hard to hide. He knew it was only a matter of time before his talons would make themselves known and draw his mate’s attention to the steady shift claiming his body. She gasped as one of those obsidian claws nicked her tender flesh and an ugly guilt began twisting inside him at the single drop of blood that bloomed. He released her instantly. 

“Rhys…” He had been bracing himself for horror or disgust, not this quiet curiosity. 

“I normally have better control than this,” he said, jaw clenched tight. He hadn’t lost control of his beast form since he was a youngling. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It's…” Her eyes shared the words her tongue couldn't find. She wanted this. Was hungry for it, even if it would temporarily cost him his sanity. 

He growled as she tried to guide him back between her legs. “As you wish, darling.”

She shivered at the next slow stroke of his tongue, her legs tightening around his head. “Stop teasing me,” she ordered.

A chuckle rasped out of him, even as he felt his control slipping little by little. “So my bossy little mate thinks she knows what she wants, hm? We’ll see about that.” While his body was only half-his own at the moment, he managed to retract the talons that had scratched her a moment before. Beast or not, he promised his mate his mouth, fingers, and cock tonight and he had no intention of disappointing her again. 

He didn’t quicken his pace, not when he had the absolute pleasure of drawing her steadily higher and higher until she was on the precipice of falling, flushed from head to toe and clenching around his fingers. He grinned as he heard her let out another frustrated whimper, her short nails dragging down from his scalp to scratch the back of his neck, bringing about as much pain as a kitten might. 

Do you need something, love? he teased, withdrawing entirely.

She gave a hard shove and he let her flip their positions, folding an arm beneath his head as he watched her straddle him. Seeing as her patience has been rather unremarkable thus far, he had ultimately expected her to take advantage of her position over him and claim the pleasure they were both aching for. It appeared she would once again surprise him.

“You take far too much pleasure in keeping me from mine,” she told him, almost in reprimand. “It’s high time the roles were reversed—” She slid back, wrapping her slender hand around the base of his swollen, scaled length. “—don’t you think?”

“I think, Feyre, that you should be very careful,” he warned her. Both of them knew she had no physical leverage over him. That he had let her turn the tables and could reclaim control the moment he decided he was done with this game. But for now he’d pretend he was a decent male, if only so his mate could feel proud of herself for this momentary victory. “Go on, darling. Do your worst.”

She grinned, sinking down to take the first inch of him in her mouth. Rhys could feel her smugness rippling down the bond, multiplying when his free hand flew to her nape. “Look at you,” he praised her, his fingers carding though her hair as a means of comfort as she took him deeper at her own pace. “So pretty, taking my cock down your throat.”

She wouldn’t be able to take all of him like this, not with him half-shifted this way. But she was trying her best and it wasn’t a sight he would forget anytime soon. She dragged her teeth against him and he jerked forward on instinct, choking her slightly. “Careful, pet,” he warned, the tension in his voice betraying his own state of mind. Her little hum told him she knew he was close to spilling down her throat and he had no intention of letting things end so soon.

He twisted her hair around his hand, pulling her up to face him, “As pretty as you’d look drooling on my cock, I think I’d rather watch you ride me, Feyre.”

She wasted no time, letting him guide her down onto him. “Look at you,” Rhys murmured again, his breath fluttering against her hair. She whimpered. “Slow down, darling. Almost there.” He hissed as she clenched around the full length of him, a new instinct roaring to life within him. Claim, claim, claim. 

For the millionth time that night he found himself grieving the absence of the  ink that clearly tied her to him before he granted her her freedom. He’d remedy that problem after they dealt with the frenzy.

He watched Feyre for a moment, taking in the glaze of lust in her eyes and the love beneath it, And deep down, even under that, the instinct that mirrored his own. He shifted on the bed slightly, preparing to flip them again. “Do you know what it wants, Feyre? Hm?”

She blinked down at him, trying to piece together what he was asking. “Do you know what the beast beneath my skin wants to do to you when you’re taking this cock like such a good girl?” She moaned again, hips jerking against his unyielding hold. “Needy little mate,” he admonished softly. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“I’ve been waiting. Now fuck me.” 

She yelped as he flipped her onto her back, pinning her hands to the mattress. “I told you to be careful, little mate.”

“Rhys—”

“I warned you to be careful, Feyre. That I was close to losing control. That there was only one thing the beast in me wanted from you.” She shuddered as he shifted both of her hands under one of his, bringing his free hand down to stroke her clit. She keened. “But maybe that’s what my little mate wants too.”

“Rhys.” A foreign, desperate sound left her as her release rattled through her. Rhys didn’t let her come down from it, refusing to acknowledge how she felt clenching around him as he aimed to bring her to her second orgasm. “Rhys, wait. I need—”

“Darling, I thought you needed to come,” he teased. He had almost forgotten how easy it was to overstimulate her, scrambling her senses and bringing her pleasure over and over. It had been his greatest joy in those moments they stole when they were stuck Under the Mountain. His only joy, actually. But that time was behind them. “So, so pretty like this, filled up with my cock,” he praised her, tensing slightly as the dark scaled patches rippled and spread over his skin. “Just imagine how pretty you’ll look when you’re carrying my baby.”

She let out a low groan that had new pride blooming, a jerk of his hips sending her over the edge once again. “Rhys, need you to fill me up.”

“I know, baby. That’s a good girl.” He sighed, pressing his lips to her neck as his slow drag turned more deliberate, bringing them to the next high together. He ducked his head again, slanting his mouth over hers as they came together. “I love watching you come undone for me,” he murmured. “I’ve missed it more than anything.”

She hissed as he pulled out of her slowly, watching onyx scales revert to brown skin, the possessive glint in his eyes fading to something softer. “What took you so long? The ward on the house was pathetic. Why did you wait so long to come for me?”

“Because I never deserved you. And one day I stopped caring about what was deserved and decided to be purely selfish. So I made you a Night Bride.”

“And then you sent me away.”

“I didn’t deserve a mate either. And I knew you would begin to recognize the bond for what it was. But the weeks apart, knowing it would be final, I couldn’t stand it. So I swallowed my pride and came to grovel.”

Feyre sighed, laying her head on his chest. “I’m very glad you did, Rhys.”

He smiled against her hair, holding her a little tighter. “So am I, darling. So am I.”

~~~~~

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[brian-in-finance]

Diana Gabaldon spoke at the University of Glasgow's Outlander conference. Photo: Martin Shields

Diana Gabaldon recalls how first Outlander book ‘almost cancelled’

Best-selling Outlander author Diana Gabaldon has created nine beloved books and a seven-season TV series - but the franchise almost didn't happen.

The American writer told fans in Glasgow her first novel was almost cancelled because publishers could not decide what to do with it.

It took more than a year to go on sale as a debate raged about where it would sit on bookshop shelves.

The series has boosted Scottish tourism with fans flocking to Scotland to visit the book and TV programme's locations.

The author spoke at the word's first international academic Outlander conference at the University of Glasgow, which has been the backdrop for several scenes in the Starz TV series.

Expert scholars and Outlander fans have come together for events in the city, exploring themes such as Jacobite history, screen production, Scottish tourism, Gaelic and Scots, costume design, fandom, main character Claire Fraser's medicine, and witchcraft.

Ms Gabaldon - originally an academic herself - was awarded an honorary doctorate by the university in June last year.

The drama series stars Catriona Balfe and Sam Heughan as Claire and Jamie Fraser. Photo: Starz

Speaking about her first book, she said: "It took the publishers 18 months to figure out what to do with it. I learned later that they came very close to cancelling the contract and giving me back the book because they couldn't decide how to sell it.

"This was before Amazon where a book can be classified as several things at once and people can pick off the web what they want, and they still get the same book.

"Back in the day it was only bookstores, you had to put a book on a certain shelf, the shelf had to have a label and the book also had to have that label."

She said the decision to sell it as a romance came as a shock.

"My agent finally called me up and said they had decided to publish it but sell it as a romance. I said, 'What?' that isn't what I wrote.

"He pointed out that a best seller in fantasy fiction was 50,000 copies in paperback while in romance it is 500,000 copies. So we sold it as romance."

'Too weird'

She said that the success of the books was down to readers' recommendations.

"My first editor said to me early on these have to be word of mouths books because they are too weird to describe, which is totally true and that is also true about the word of mouth.

"So that being the case it made total sense to expose the book to 500,000 people in the romance category who will go out and tell their friends and the word will spread.

"So we did that and that is exactly what happened."

The Outlander series is currently nine books, with the author working on the tenth - and believed to be the final - book.

It follows the story of a post-World War Two nurse visiting Scotland who accidentally time travels to the Jacobite era.

Roger (Richard Rankin) and Brianna (Sophie Skelton) are main characters in the show. Photo: Aimee Spinks

It has now become one of the bestselling book series of all time and spawned the popular TV series, currently in its seventh season.

Ms Gabaldon's talk was entitled, '"Why Scotland? Why Not Mexico?" Genes, Borders, Culture and Fiction: Why They Matter and When They Don't'.

In it, she explained why she picked Scotland as the location of Outlander.

She said: "What I learned from my research and contact with Scots is that Scots are, and historically were, very literate. They wrote down things. They also have a very strong oral culture, they told their stories.

"They also have a lot of history available. Then there is the nature of Scottish history, it has a lot of heroes and heroines as well as conflict which is what you need for a good story."

The conference runs until Saturday and has seen fringe events including music concerts and battle re-enactments in the university's famous cloisters.

Transformative impact

Senior Lecturer in Gaelic at the University, Gillebride Macmillan, who has appeared in the programme, said it had been really important for the Gaelic language.

"It's so important for a minoritized language, such as Gaelic, to be seen on a world level, on a world stage, and Outlander gives Gaelic that opportunity.

"And I think it's been fantastic to hear Gaelic spoken by the actors and in the books, and also the use of Gaelic music, Gaelic song. I've been very lucky myself to be a part of that and I think it's been an incredibly positive thing for the language.

"Which I think has been born out by things such as, one and a half million people learning Gaelic in Duolingo. Obviously, many people are learning Gaelic for many different reasons, but Outlander has been one of the major factors for that."

Prof Willy Maley, professor of Renaissance studies (English Literature), at the university, said: "Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series has had a transformative impact on Scottish culture, generating global interest in the history, languages and landscapes of Scotland.

"Vivid and visceral, Outlander is an otherworldly but never unworldly phenomenon that takes a time-travelling nurse-turned-doctor and propels her from 1946 to 1743, two worlds of war that collide in an elaborate and painstaking reconstruction that make the series much more than historical fiction and more an innovative and pioneering rethinking of how we excavate and examine the narratives of the past.

"Outlander has also been a brilliant boost for the Scottish film industry."

BBC News

Gifs: @scotsmanandsassenach S01E03 The Way Out, Gillebride Macmillan as Gwyllyn the bard

Remember… I think it's been fantastic to hear Gaelic spoken by the actors and in the books, and also the use of Gaelic music, Gaelic song. I've been very lucky myself to be a part of that and I think it's been an incredibly positive thing for the language. — Gillebride Macmillan