#this was just my bookshelf and half desk area

[your-funky-human-companion]

i just cleaned my room and

I have realized how much of a hoarder I am, god DAMN

my wings of fire collection should be illegal and I can't believe (even though it was a great series) that I'm still attached to it

my hoARDING PROBLEM

[bontentrio]

do you think ghosts enjoyed it?

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

wooyoung + afab!reader

tw: smut (fingering + riding + unprotected sex + cum eating + slight voyeurism + lmk if anything else)

summary: hide and seek at a haunted hospital, but you get a little too scared so wooyoung has to think of a quick way to distract you.

a/n: first and *probably* last time i’m writing smut, i wanted to challenge myself and ended up hating it lol but i worked too hard on it to keep it drafted. KEEP IN MIND ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! also minors please do NOT interact with this post.

“it’s not too late to leave” you muttered, squeezing wooyoung’s arm as if it was a stress ball. “in fact i think it would be very smart to leave”

wooyoung giggled nervously, squeezing your arm right back. “it’s just a haunted hospital baby, we have to hide long enough and avoid everyone until we reach the back door to the garden”

“woo you are literally shaking” you said as a matter of fact. the scene was rather comical, you both were holding each other, taking one step at a time and shaking from head to toe. “plus if you think about it, losing the game is not that bad when you consider us dying by the hands of a crazy sadistic surgeon ghost”

“first, according to jongho, only patients and maybe some nurses died here. no crazy surgeons. secondly, it’s not about the game itself, it’s about our pride baby! i’m not going to lose my pride over this, and neither will you” wooyound replied, scanning the area to his left.

it all started when yunho suggested to do something fun for halloween. by “fun”, you, wooyoung and mingi thought he meant a night out dressed in hot costumes and getting drunk out of your minds. definitely not this creepy haunted hospital jongho suggested. on top of that, to make things more “fun”, he also suggested to play a game: some sort of hide and seek, where everyone hid except for two people, who had to search for the rest. the thing is, you could only win by reaching the garden at the very back of the building. the searching party would win if they found at least half of the hiding party. the trick? the main route towards the back was blocked by old furniture and some chunks of the roof that fell with the pass of time, so you had to get creative.

the area was dark despite the small flashlight that was given to you. “use it wisely” seonghwa had said before returning to jongho, who was his partner in the search team. jongho knew the place already, so it would be unfair if he played for the hiding team. regarding seonghwa, he lost rock paper scissors. poor hwa, but at least he had jongho with him.

the place was, also, awfully quiet. the only sounds you could hear were your steps and sometimes wind currents whenever you entered a room with windows. “let’s go through that door” wooyoung said, pulling you towards a door to your left. he entered first, shielding you from possible dangers from hypothetical ghosts, but never dropping your hand.

the room was darker than the rest, and it was filled with the smell of humidity. wooyoung pointed the flashlight to scan the room, probably in search of another door. the room had an old, unmade hospital bed, and a big desk filled with unrecognizable liquids in testing tubes along with medical papers. broken glass covered the floor near the bed too. definitely not a pretty sight.

suddenly, the door shut closed behind you, and as reflex you crashed onto wooyoung, tripping in the process. he caught you, hugging you close to his body and pointing the flashlight towards the door. nothing out of the ordinary, but a bookshelf fell down due to you tripping, now blocking the door. between the loud shut, your scream and the fallen bookshelf, you were sure about to get disovered, but that wasn’t wooyoung’s worry right now.

“hey, hey baby it’s okay, look at me, you’re fine” he said, holding you close to his body with one hand and the other cradling your face. you couldn’t stop shaking, and your heart was beating miles per hour. “breathe, it’s okay y/n” wooyoung said, holding your hand against his heart and taking deep breaths with you. thing is, he was nowhere near calm, he had, too, almost shat his pants from fright. your eyes filled with tears, that’s when he knew he had to switch tactics.

so he crashed his lips against yours, hard. your eyes widened in surprise, but after two seconds, you closed them, kissing him back. your lips moved against each other, making you both almost forget where you were. after a while, he broke away, causing you to chase his lips and earning a smirk from him.

“welcome back, my love” he said, pecking you. you rolled your eyes and brought his face back to yours. “shut up and kiss me again, i’m still scared”.

he kissed you again, but this time, slower, sensually. his tongue pressed against your lower lip, and you gladly let him in, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him even more closer than before, if that was even possible. his arms, that rested around your back protectively, slowly slided down towards your ass, hands cupping it and squeezing, earning a low moan from you. his mouth left yours, proceeding to kiss your jaw, and down your neck until he found your soft spot, sucking and biting lightly as to not leave a mark.

“please, woo” you muttered between small gasps. one of his hands traveled from your stomach to your breasts, massaging each one, giving them equally atrention.

“please what?” he asked in between kisses. “please fuck me wooyoung” you said. he smiled against your skin, biting a little harder before lifting his head to look at you.

the hand that was squeezing your ass moved towards your clothed cunt, pressing his fingers hard so you could feel them against the fabric of your jeans, making you moan. “here? when there’s a crazy sadistic ghost surgeon going around?” he asked, pressing his fingers harder and kissing your cheek. you stared at him warningly, not appreciating the way he was teasing you. “your wish is my command, my love”.

he pushed you against the desk, jars and testing tubes clinking. wooyoung quickly undid the button of your jeans and slid them down. his fingers returned to your clothed cunt, rubbing against the fabric in circled motions. “i can feel how wet you already are” he whispered against your ear, making you moan harder. your nails clawed against his jacket, making you realize he was wearing too many clothes. you managed to take his jacket off, throwing it somewhere behind him. after you were done, wooyoung kissed you again, desperately while his hand moved your panties to the side and his fingers entered you, filling you up. he moved them just the way he knew how, while his thumb pressed on your clit, making you moan louder against his mouth.

“baby we are still playing a game, you don’t want jongho and seonghwa to find us right? to find you like this?” he asked, before biting your lower lip. he removed his fingers, causing you to whine at the loss. “answer”

“n-no” you managed to mutter.

he went back to your pussy, playing with your clit while you tried desperately to stop your moans from leaving your mouth. one finger slid back in, curling it before adding a second one, and curling them again. he set a quick pace, making you see stars soon enough. before you could reach your high, he stopped altogether, removing his hand from you.

“wooyoung!” you squaled, earning a laugh from him. “relax baby, i got you” he said, before unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants along with his boxer. his tip was already leaking with precum, and he pumped his shaft a few times before aligning it against your core. “i always got you” he whispered against your lips, before sliding his head inside, making you both moan against each other.

you hungrily kissed each other while trying to muffle each other’s loud moans while he sled in and out of you, each time going much deeper than the last until he bottomed in completely. you felt so full, so good, and when he started moving again, setting up a constant quick pace you had to bite his neck to contain the loud whines and moans from escaping your mouth. he, on the other hand, had much harder time to shut up.

yes, you would pretty much get discovered soon if he kept it up.

you noticed a chair next to the desk, filled with old papers. so you decided to switch places, pushed him down to it, making him seat down. he quickly chased you and brought you towards his body again, needing to feel your soft gummy walls against his hard cock. he swore if he didn’t he would explode.

you positioned your legs on either sides of his lap, and aligned his cock to your entrance, slowly sliding him in again. you both sighed in relief. his hands flew to your ass, cupping and squeezing just the way you liked it as you bounced on his dick like your life depended on it. to stiffen his moans, he bit harshly on your neck while you bit on your own hand.

the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and he started bringing you down on him harder now that he was approaching his climax. you were close too, feeling the familiar knot on your lower belly each time his tip kissed your cervix. one of his hands left your ass to rub circles against your clit as he looked up towards you with his mouth opened in an “O” form. he was impossibly close, and you were too.

“let go woo, i got you” you said in between moans, capturing his lips with yours. that’s all he needed to hear, with a hard thrust, he bursted inside you, filling you to the brim. his movements slowed down for a bit, but never stopped, determined to make you cum too. with the last of his energy he thrusted up again, setting a quick pace and moving his fingers against your clit even harder and faster. the combination of the quick pace and the feeling of his cum inside you was enough to make you see stars, reaching your climax.

he stayed inside you for a little bit, as you both tried to catch your breaths. you interlocked eyes, before he kissed you slowly and lovingly.

“did we really just fuck in a haunted hospital?” he whispered, chuckling softly. you hid your face against his neck and said “i cannot believe we just did that!”.

you got up from him and his cum dripped down from you, staining his inner thighs and the papers that he was sitting on. you wiped up the cum from his thighs with your finger and licked it clean. “let’s clean you up before i get stupid hard again and fuck you in every room in this hospital” he said, searching for tissues in his back pockets as he buckled up his belt again.

once you were done, he kissed you one last time, sweetly, before asking if you were ready to leave. when you nodded, he took the flashlight that rested on the hospital bed and took your hand, leading you out.

strange, the hospital wasn’t as scary now and surprisingly you found the exit quick enough.

“finally! i was starting to think you both got killed by ghosts!” san exclaimed dramatically as soon as he caught sight of you. everyone turned towards you two, but their faces quickly changed from relief to confusion as soon as they took notice of the bruises on both of your necks and messy hair.

“did you-“ san atarted, eyes widening. “did you really fuck in there?!”

intense blushes covered your faces, making you look everywhere except your friends in front of you. wooyoung, never letting go of your hand, laughed and exclaimed “do you think ghosts enjoyed the view?”, earning a slap on his arm from you and laughs from the rest.

on the way back home, wooyoung stopped in his tracks, making everyone turn around to face him, questioning.

“i need to go back” he announced. “i left my jacket there”

[elzifelzi]

PHANTOM

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter 8:Ghastly recruitment

Vlad:”What do you mean Phantom disappeared!?You had one job, Skulker,bring me back the ghost boy and you failed!”

Vlad stormed around his office furious at the news that he’d just received,the thought that Phantom managed to escape his grasp multiple times was enough to drive him mad.

Skulker:”The boy is not lost Masters,I know exactly where He is.”

Vlad:”oh you do? So why haven't you successfully Captured him yet,since you're the self proclaimed greatest Hunter it should be easy for you,right?”

Skulker:”Like I told you before,the boy is of no USE to us at his current level,he doesn't even know how to fly yet.”

In anger Vlad flips over a nearby chair.

Vlad:”I understand that but we're running out of time!It’s getting harder and harder to keep your henchmen's work under the radar,first at the university that my employee's daughter attends,then in the middle of the damn city,I can’t keep covering your ass and ending up with no results!”

Skulker grew increasingly enraged with each accusation made against him,as he had the right to.Phantom was single-handedly destroying his credibility and he couldn’t have that.In a fit of anger he flung Vlad's computer across the room knocking him into a nearby bookshelf causing it to topple over.

Skulker:”IF I WANTED THE BOY ,HE'D BE MINES ALREADY BUT WE NEED TO WAIT just wait..and you’ll get results..in due time…”

Vlad:”I need more than just promises Skulker,the other night I got a complaint that Phantom and  3 of your ghost subordinates were blowing up cars near a residential area!My men were all set to go and I had to convince them that it was a false report!Sooner or Later someone is bound to put 2 and 2 together..”

The ghost lets out a loud scoff.

Skulker:”Getting cold feet Masters?

Vlad:”Hardly, I have invested too much time and resources into you for me to keep turning up with nothing.This ultimate prize that you need the boy for better be worth it!”

Skulker:”Believe Me it will be.Don’t worry, Phantom hasn't left amity which means that there is ample opportunity to bring him in,the most important part of this hunt…is patience..”

Then he took off in a gust of wind.

Vlad:”Believe me, regardless of whether or not your men succeed ,one way or another I will gain my prize.”

He pulls out his phone and calls someone,the phone rings for a few seconds before eventually the call is answered.

Vlad:”Yes,Hello Damon is Valerie with you by any chance?”

Damon:”Why yes she is,is there a problem?”

Vlad:”No No No not at all I was wondering if she could meet me in my office,there’s something I wish to discuss with her.”

On the other end Vlad could hear muffled whispers between the father daughter duo,the incoherent conversation went on for a little while longer before Damon eventually returned to the call 

Damon:”Sorry about that sir Valerie said she would love to meet with you .”

Vlad:”splendid! Thank you very much.”

He hangs up the call and takes a seat at his Desk and in a half hour  Valerie walks in much to his delight.

Valerie:”You wanted to see me Mr Masters?”

Vlad:”yes ,yes,please have a seat.”

As Valerie makes her way towards his desk She notices the shattered computer and toppled bookshelf on her way in but made no comments on it.

He gets up and pulls out a seat for her in an attempt to seem as kind as possible and Valerie, not wanting to be rude, accepts.

Vlad:”I've been told that our training program has been going splendidly for you. Is that true?”

Her face lit up with excitement like a child being asked about their favorite cartoon.

Valerie:”It has, all the combat and weapons training has been loads of fun.”

Vlad:”Glad to hear it!You know, the Junior Ghost Hunters started off as a way to teach young people how to properly defend themselves against ghosts but a good deal of our most promising ghost hunters started off in that program before being fully employed here.”

Valerie:”Yeah, my dad told me.”

Vlad:”did he also tell you that currently we’re looking to hire a new young ghost hunter?”

Valerie:”What are you saying Mr Masters?”

He reaches under his desk, pulls out a silver briefcase and hands it to Valerie.

Vlad:”I’m saying that we want to hire you..”

The young girl began bursting with excitement; she couldn’t believe that Vlad Masters himself wanted to hire her!This was like a dream come true.

Valerie:”I’m flattered Mr Masters but I've got school..my dad would flip if I didn't finish my degree.”

He waved his hands dismissively.

Vlad:”don’t worry about that, you can work part time until you are ready to fully join us.”

Valerie:”Really?!”

He nods.

Vlad:”there are however a few rules you’d have to adhere to,4 to be exact.”

He puts up 4 fingers to emphasize his point.

Valerie:”Which are?”

Vlad:”1.Since you’ll only be part time we can’t risk anyone close to you getting hurt because of this so you’ll have to maintain complete anonymity.No One can know that you work here, your identity and actions while under my employ must remain secret,and Inside the briefcase is a battle suit that’ll help you do just that.”

Valerie:”What about my dad?”

Vlad:”I’ll tell him that you’ve been hired as my assistant he shouldn’t question anything.”

Vlad:”2.You strictly answer to me,meaning that you take orders from me and all reports on Various ghost activities come to me.This also applies to weapon maintenance and restocking.”

Valerie:”That makes sense seeing that no one else can know that I work here for now.”

Vlad gives her a prideful smile.

Vlad:”smart girl! 3rx your main objective as my undercover ghost hunter will be to find and apprehend the ghost known as Phantom.When you do you return him to me in one piece.”

Valerie:”Phantom? you mean that scrawny ghost punk who's been playing hero?”

Vlad nods.

Vlad:"That's the one!”

Vlad:”And finally you are only to deploy on my say so,essentially if I don't give you a mission you don't involve yourself.”

He offers her a handshake.

Vlad:”Do you accept these terms?:

Valerie was ecstatic, the idea of hunting down Phantom alone was enough to get her to agree.Without a second thought she accepted Vlads handshake.

Valerie:”I accept!”

Vlad:”Welcome aboard.”

To be continued…

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

New Chapter out guys,hope you guys like it. This ones a slow one but its fun

[maybe-im-dark]

Half the boyfriend, half the fun

Chapter 2 | Chapter 1

The best way to pass the time until his legs fully grew back was to sit in Dopinder's car and eat samosas. Wade ignored Dopinder's complaints that his mother had baked them for him. She could make new ones. He had bigger worries. He couldn’t stop thinking about Logan and the fact that he was responsible for his condition. Damn, he couldn’t even remember exactly what had happened! If only he’d never convinced Logan to come along on this mission. But that was just another bad decision added to the long line of bad decisions that defined his life. He could practically hear his father’s voice. Idiot, faggot, loser! You can’t do anything right! Wade shook his head. No! He would make it right. He would find a way to fix this.

He pulled his phone out of his belt pouch and sent a text.

Wade: Hey :3

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: What do you want?

Wade: I need a fayvr. Big one

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: ?

Wade: Logan’s hewrt. U need to find out wat they're dooing to him

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Find out yourself

Wade: I...may or may not be bent from the promises

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Not my problem

Wade: Then I’ll brayk in

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: You’re gonna get in so much trouble

Wade: Aight bet

Wade looked down at his legs. A few toes were still missing, but otherwise, they were back in their scarred, pale glory.

"Dopinder, I have to go. You wouldn’t happen to have pants for me, would you?"

He eyed Dopinder’s jeans.

Dopinder shook his head vigorously. "No, you’re not getting mine!"

Wade sighed. "It’s probably for the best. These buns don’t wear Levi’s!"

Sneaking around the back of the building was easier than expected. There was no sign of security cameras, but then again, who needed them with mutants who could see through walls? Unfortunately for him, none of the windows were open, so his plan of entering quietly was thwarted. Concentrating, he scanned the ground until he found what he was looking for.

"Let him, who is without sin, cast the first stone!" he muttered with a grin, tossing a rock through the window.

After climbing inside, Wade realized he was completely lost. The mansion was a maze, and he’d only been there a few times. The wood-paneled walls all looked the same, and the portraits of old white men didn’t provide any hints as to where he was.

"Quentin, was that you? I told you to..."

Storm was descending the stairs. Her white hair was styled in a sassy pixie cut, and she wore a pink crop top with glittery letters spelling out, "RAINING ON YOUR PARADE."

When she saw Wade, she let out a sharp shriek and covered her eyes.

"Wade?"

"Yes?"

"Why aren’t you wearing pants?"

The mercenary puffed out his chest. "Marvel Jesus doesn’t need mundane things like pants!"

Storm sighed, still covering her eyes. "I’ll take you to the Professor."

Now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants emblazoned with the school emblem, Wade sat stiffly in front of Professor Xavier’s desk, arms crossed, staring at the wall. The spacious office felt confining to him, like a cage, despite the ample space and the light streaming through the tall windows. Behind the desk was a bookshelf set into the wood-paneled wall, filled with countless books whose gilded, ornate titles he couldn’t decipher. In one corner stood a large globe, and in another, a sitting area with a chessboard. On the desk itself were a few file folders, a Newton’s cradle, and a photo of the Professor himself, younger and with a full head of hair. Beside him stood another young man with his arm draped around him, presumably Magneto. It might have been more than a friendly gesture; they’d been arguing for decades like an old married couple.

"Wade," Charles said, giving him a calming smile. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

Wade shook his head defiantly. "I don’t want a drink. I want to see Logan."

The Professor’s expression turned somber. "You know that’s not possible."

"Urgh, okay. I’m sorry for calling you Egghead. Can I see Logan now?"

"I don’t think you fully understand the gravity of the situation, Wade. Something has nullified Logan’s healing factor. Dr. McCoy is currently treating him, and any outside influence could be harmful to him in this critical state."

Wade’s eyes narrowed. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

Charles thoughtfully placed a finger on his chin. "Well, you could help by telling us what happened. Jean mentioned that you also lost your legs. A failed mission, I assume. What exactly happened there?"

Wade ran his hands over his face. "That’s the thing! I don’t remember! I..."

His voice broke. Loser. He was a fucking loser. The love of his life was fighting for his life, and his brain had decided to shut down. Logan was going to die painfully, and it was all his fault. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Charles took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I could help you remember."

Wade nearly jumped out of his chair. "Oh no! After Cassandra Nova—did you know you had a psychopathic twin sister?— there’s no way I’m letting anyone into my head again."

"I’ll only see what you allow me to see, and only with your consent," Charles assured him.

Wade swallowed and nodded. After all, this wasn’t about him. Charles slowly extended his fingertips toward him. He’d nearly reached Wade’s temple when the screams echoed through the halls. Desperate, raw, agonizing screams. Logan’s screams.

Wade burst out the door, ignoring the Professor’s shouts. He ran down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet. He didn’t know where he was going, just following the sound of the screams, his chest tight with fear. His bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as he followed the sounds to a door with frosted glass. It was locked, but that was no obstacle for Wade, who’d served in a military special unit. He pivoted halfway, raised his leg, and kicked hard. The door burst open.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him. Hank was bending over an operating table. Logan lay on it, his torso crudely stapled back together at the hips. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What froze the blood in Wade’s veins were the tubes. Countless tubes and wires ran out of Logan’s body and back into him at different points. He looked like a machine. But unlike machines, he was screaming.

Wade was reminded of Weapon X. He quickly made his way over to Logan. Logan’s eyes darted back and forth beneath his closed lids.

"Oh God, what did you do to him?"

He reached out to stroke Logan’s face, but Logan’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. His eyes snapped open, revealing yellow irises staring at Wade from blood-red sclera. His lips parted, exposing razor-sharp fangs. Then he lunged forward and sank his teeth into Wade.

[mahiiimahiiii]

office hours

a/n: rizzard in his happily married middle aged glory, God dropped this plot in my head. finally posted, sorry for all the teasing. '

Cw: fear of voyeurism (and kind of like threatening it??), named tav, dw the door is locked, off-hours fantasy, gale is a bit chunkier, rizzard in his middle aged glory, notes on tav still looking young, (not similar life spans), lunch, notes on tav being a brown person, worship, uncomfortable (yet satiating) sex, sloppy as hell sex, breeding, notes of pain from cervix, squirting, ear play, vers gale, spit for lube (and the soreness that ensues), gale wears glasses, he also wears sock garters, I have a vision ok…….., whispering & dirty talk.

(Tav is a teifling with brown skin and some vitiligo pigmentation, she has curly hair that forms a little halo around her head, bangs with side pieces that fall longer than her typical length of hair. She is a bard!)

read here, or under the cut!

The halls of Blackstaff were magnificent as always, perfectly so. Decorated with filigree and the faint shimmer of enchantment. The halls were harder to navigate, ever turning, and ever changing.

This made delivering lunch weekly on your day off mostly difficult. Your husband, the wonderous gale of Waterdeep- or perhaps now, just professor Dekarios. he had said ‘just will the path into existence’, which you earnestly thought was stupid.

You had always been practical with magic, being a bard helps with that. But you stressed slightly, how many hours, perhaps minutes did he have left to eat and relax. And how many minutes would you have left for chores, and dinner prep.

Busy, busy, busy. Never a dull moment.

A sigh of relief left your mouth as you found his lecture door, his soothing voice echoing out in waves from the crack. Still in lecture! You gingerly slipped through the door, careful not to let the hinges creak behind you. Chalk tapped against the chalkboard as he sipped gently at a mug of tea and cleared his throat continuing with his speech. His hair was thrown back into a loose half up and down messy bun, staticky hair poking and prodding out like new spring buds. He wore a new suit vest, a stripped pattern with an argyle tie, and a light blue button down, paired with the same-colored magenta slacks. His tie pin was one of a crescent moon, (he had been on a theming kick recently). Today was on magic in other areas, written on the board were a

couple pooled questions by the students. Does music automatically equal magic? How do paladin oaths work? Is It possible for magic to be innate?

He finished off his mug tapping at pages to read on the board, waving off the students and their cloaks that looked way too large for them. A stream of bobbing heads, ears and horns followed out the door. You had to maneuver around the groups of students, slowly moving their way out, a few stragglers lounging around the professor’s desk.

“I hope I’m not too late- “you approach him, setting the tin of food wrapped in a handkerchief onto his desk.

He beamed when he laid eyes on you, cheeks flushed a rosy hue. “you’re right on time, I’ll see you in the office, I just need to help a student with a spell pronunciation- then I’ll be with you.” He caught a finger under your chin, kissing your brow. His breath smelt of an earthy green tea, sweetened with honey, and the zeal of lemon juice that followed. He turned his back to you, helping the student to write it out phonetically. You heard his bright praise as the thick office door closed behind you.

The office- you remembered dearly, you helped assemble. A room with high ceilings, decorated with diagrams of spells and sheet music. One wall was clad with photos of his family, a portrait of both of you front and center. Small linocuts of your companions sat on a bookshelf nearby, as well as tomes discussing your previous acts, which he so proudly showed off. He had asked for a new cupboard to house all sorts of dried teas, which he unhinged the doors of and installed onto the walls, framing them with delicate laces. It mirrored a little alchemical shop. The walls were a cozy and warm purple with white and brown accents. He had a little hearth and big windows facing the bay, a window ajar, the new tressym kitten may have gone out exploring. Tara the second, Gale called her.

The door creaked open as you admired the wall of portraits, you jumped within your shoes, tail swishing in a slight panic.

“I’m sorry little love, have I frightened you?” he kissed your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and swaying gently. His lips found their way up to the shell of your ear, nipping it gently. He spun you around, taking in your new sundress, yellow with pops of white blooms, a pair of lacy socks and brown kitten heels to match.

“You look positively divine- are you sure there wasn’t other intentions behind this?” he cocked a brow, the settled in features of his face creasing with mirth.

You’ll be completely honest with your feelings, jobs, children, life in general has led you two apart. Intimately it seems-

This you had no problems with, as gale had all the love in the world for you. He made sure to show his affections readily and often- with you in turn.

To this- you sheepishly nodded, tucking a curl behind your ear. “Perhaps there was motive… if you’ll oblige me of course.”

Something new swirled into his eyes, a fiery spark of desire. He cracked a grin turning heel to the door. “Shame lunch will be spoiled then; I do have an appetite for something else in mind. And I wouldn’t be a smart man to waste an opportunity like this.” With a quick flit of his fingers a secure spell of arcane lock was cast. His lashes dropped in amusement, striding over and draping himself over a dark velvet fainting couch near the small hearth of the room.

You bent down, unlacing the leather straps around your ankles and stepping out of the heels, setting them down beside his desk. He mirrored you, taking off his tanned loafers and crystalline spectacles.

“You look rather dashing today, I had meant to tell you before you left for work.” You glided over to him, tail wagging as he made space for you to settle into his lap. You clambered over him, your limbs not as refined and delicate in their actions as they once were. You settled into his lap, conscious of the warm throb in his pants. You quirked a brow, as he ground up against you his hands cupping and fondling your ass.

“Already my love?”

“Already…” his words were feather light, a wonky smile plastered on his place. “I am always ready for you.”

You bent over cupping his chin, thumbs and fingers running over the rim of his ears. He groaned gently into your mouth, his lashes fluttering. His hands wove into your hair pulling you close, one leg bouncing against the floor. You hummed, rocking your hips in time with him, the sensation felt delicious on your neglected clit. You ran your tongue against his lip, he bucked his hips in response- mouth falling open sightly. You ran a hand through his messy hair gripping the base of his waves eliciting a whine from his lips. You connected panting mouths again, warm groans spilling into your mouth as you found a rhythm of pressure. His hands settled and gripped your thighs, pressing your warmth onto him for stimulation. You ran a tongue along the indents of his teeth and the ridges of his mouth, the kiss became sloppy as you gently sucked on his tongue.  He broke away, hands shuffling to unbuckle his taught pants. He paused, watching you remove the flowing dress revealing the lacy blue set of underwear, completed with pink ribbons near the ruffles.

He sighed, shoving down his pants and taking off his sweater. He bemusedly slowed down catching your eyes as he slowly undid his button-down shirt.

A whine caught in your throat, crawling towards him- shuffling his hands away to undo his buttons. Once partially removed your ran a hair through the swirling patterns of hair on his chest.  You fit yourself into his neck, kissing the shell of his ears, nibbling and biting at his lobe. He shuddered, his hands going back to busying themselves to filling with your form. You kissed down his chest biting at him with your sharpened teeth, he squirmed under your touch- his hand gripped the back of your curls.

You glanced up catching his eyes, he nodded. You unlaced his boxers which crackled at your touch, tugging them off his legs and tossing them somewhere. You exhaled, tail thumping against the cushions in slight excitement. Gale pursed his lips and averted his eyes, pink warming his already rosy cheeks. You kissed down the happy trail that lined his soft stomach, inhaling the scent of him contained by his skin. Rose water, oak, pine and musk, he smelt wonderfully fresh.

He was slightly self-conscious of this newer version of him, a body softened by age like a ripe peach. You thought it fitting- the softness of course- he aged well. You cupped his sides, squeezing them gently. “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” you ask softly.

“Many times-why do you ask?” he quirked a brow.

You shrug, lifting his thighs around your hips, giving them a firm squeeze again. “Thought I’d remind you.” You mold to his body, thighs rubbing together adding pressure to his already neglected member. Your lips mark their place down his neck, staining his skin a soft pink from your lip balm.  You made your way down again, making sure your lips marked every surface of his skin. His hips strained for movement but found none to meet it.

You marred his inner thigh with bite patterns, his skin breaking into patterns of pink and red. Your tongue ran its way up his perineum sending flames to his stomach, a squeeze to his heavy sack had him tensing beneath you.

Your nose buried in his happy trail once more- you let out a contented sigh.

His hips bucked slightly his cock tapping your chin. “My dear- be kind please- “

You grinned “gale, I don’t intend to be kind- perhaps I’m trying to enable your behavior for later.”

He let out a strained moan, his lids scrunching shut. “God id like that so much- please- “

“Like what now gale?” you teased pinching the head of his pink cock, rolling the skin up and down.

His hips strained again, a low hiss through his teeth. “Gods, you know- I don’t want to spell it out, hells.”

You stopped your slow steady strokes to kitten lick the head of his member, his fists began to clench and unclench. “I’d like to hear what you’d like, professor Dekarios. Lecture me- if you will.”

He swore under his breath one open, “you-!” his chest heaved, trying to buck his hips up from under your heavy hand. “Fuck- fine- I want to be in you- I want you to bloat with my seed. Gods-! Want everyone to know your mine- so help me- going to fuck you over my desk-.” His breathing was labored, his thighs clenching under you. His eyes went wide as he covered his mouth, poor gale was surprised by even his own vulgarity.

“you’d like to try for another child Mr. Dekarios?” you squeezed his balls sucking gently on his inner thigh.

“By the weave-! Yes-!” he sounded exasperated, his lip quivering.

“Very well, you’ve been good. I suppose you’ve earned your treat” you lowered your mouth onto him, a groan rolling through his throat. You dragged your tongue against his skin, the salt refreshing to your taste. You found the small spot on his head and rolled your tongue against it. His hands shoved down your head, burying your head into the patch of curls framing his cock. He shuffled his hands moving to your horns squeezing and fondling the base ridges. Your moan reverberated around him, he lifted his hips, the garters that held his socks squeezing the meat of his thighs.

You tapped his hip, the wizard’s grip loosening from your roots. The air around you smelt like him, you sputtered a little coming up for air. His face was flush, lips gently parted in gasps for air, curls clinging to the sides of his face. Gale’s eyes, taken over by the darkness of his pupils, held only desire and need.

You cupped his ass, a growing grin on your face as your lips found his length again. He rolled his hips up, thighs snapping like a steel trap around your head. Youd hope that perhaps you’d die this way, buried in your lovers’ thighs. A heel to your back cuts off some oxygen making your head spin. You glance up at him, his eyes pressed shut in focus. You hollowed out your cheeks, taking him further into your mouth, feeling the muscle in his thighs tense at the sensation.

“li’ia- “he gasped “my darling- I’m certainly close- I’d feel bad if you didn’t have your fun as well.”

You let out a muffled acknowledgement.

His legs loosened around you, his hand gently rubbing at the sore part of your scalp. Your lips leave with a soft pop, lip balm well and truly smeared against his skin. He hissed at the cold, maneuvering around you to stand up.

“Desk.” His voice slightly roughed as he commanded. He followed you, catching small kisses on the back of your spine. He sighed happily as you bent over the desk, almost like a planned muscle memory. Gale’s knees popped as he knelt, tugging down the delicate lace of your underwear. He maneuvered to rest in the space between your hips and the desk. The professor tapped a leg to push up on the desk, giving access for him to be nestled into the wetness of your cunt. His tongue lapped a stripe between your folds, he shifted one hand on your thigh the other groping needily at his cock. You watched him work, hand steadying yourself on his desk. A framed page of your journal that you gave him of the two of you rocked gently against the desk.

Gale hummed, his lips buzzing around your clit, nipping at the bud carefully. His tongue dipped inside of you, laying it flat against your core to rock at an easy pace. He nipped the inside of your thigh, signaling his contentment. you lifted your leg out of its slowly cramping position, setting it on the floor. The wizard made his way up your body, hands squeezing and fondling anything it could touch, his lips placing gentle kisses up your stomach.

“Come- sit upon your bone throne.” He chuckled at his own bad joke, sharing a cheeky grin with you. You tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Someone with a lovely pair of thighs must sit for that feat to be achievable.” You pressed against him; his member throbbed in the small amount of space between your stomachs. The pads of his fingers trailed over your skin as he walked past. Seating himself with legs spread for better access to him.

You settled on his thighs, spitting a couple of times into the palm of your hand. The mixture of slick and spit in your palm coated his twitching member, running and cupping your hand against his length, he let out a low warble. Carefully, and as delicately as you possibly can manage, you lifted your hips and guided his tip to your awaiting entrance. He held his gaze in your eyes, both of his hands supporting your hips.

You lowered.

A brilliant flare of fireworks went off inside your head, the heavens parted for some foggy clarity of how neglected you were. Your walls stung and clenched protectively at the stretch; gales hips quickly snapped upwards out of reflex adding to the tinge of pain at your core.

You held a hand on his chest and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, “hurts- hurts.” Your tail strained behind you, every part of your muscles tensing.

“Come here- “he wrapped an arm around you, sheltering you with his arms, your nose found the notch in his neck and pressed small weepy kisses into it. His thighs flexed under you, impatient, but concerned at the hurt that he may have caused. He kissed the crown of your head, rubbing at your back in slow motions. “Let me remove this off of you” he whispered; words filled with reverence. You rocked your hips back, a pressure shifting to nestle itself under your bladder and against your cervix. Gale hooked his thumbs underneath the hemline of your cotton bralette.

“I like these- where did you get them? Lovely color too, suits such pretty brown skin. Then again, my star, you look delicious in any color.”

“I do find that reds make me look too red though.”  She hummed thoughtfully, “in Mephistopheles, it is better to wear blue. Within infernal societies we tend to note our heritage by the color of our skin. I often get mistaken for a teifling from Avernus if I wear red.”

“Blue doesn’t look as lively on your pretty face.”

“Oh shush. The recommendation was from a lovely spawn, who recently moved to the underdark.”

“He didn’t move until now? It’s been ten years!”

“He had to convince his partner, my love. Halsin doesn’t want to live without sun so easily. He sent me an assortment of things, new fabrics he said.”

“Perhaps I have let him in too much on my fashion tastes. Never again will I gossip with Astarion.”

“A wise decision, that one.” You chuckled.

He tentatively rolled his hips as a retort, hands finding the swell of your breasts. His head nestled in the crest of your chest, hands cupping your chest, fingers nimbly pinching your nipples. Your thighs tensed again, another, but thankfully smaller ping of pain emanating through your lower abs. “Would this be more preferable?” the pads of his fingers brushed against your throbbing clit, sending little electric sparks to your toes. Your exhale told him all he needed. He curled an arm around your waist, throbbing inside in tandem of your clenching walls. He pinched and massaged the mound, your tail beginning to wag. Your core warmed to him, the stretch and pain completely vanishing. He slowly rocked his hips, a hand cupping your ass,

reclining against his chair, his eyes all but rolling into the back of his head. “Gods…” he whispered. “Oh, how I long for you… oh how much I wanted this.” Words burbled from his lips, slightly incoherent. “Gods, if any of my colleges caught me like this- I would be fired for sure-! Oh, but they would truly witness what a goddess looked like.”

“I can’t grant you powers gale.” You chided, though secretly flattered. “I would gladly worship you instead of Mystra…my devotion- its eternally, irrevocably- only yours. God if they could watch, only to witness your own glory.”

“it’s a good thing I offer my light to you, beloved.”

“Oh, it’s such a good thing indeed. A little part of me wants to show those who would witness us what it looks to worship- what it means to be- utterly devoted.”

“My dearest gale- you are babbling nonsense; may Cyril bless you with the wit and constitution to say something meaningful.” You tease, adding a playful roll of the hip.

He rolls his eyes, aiding the lift of your hips up and down his length. “With you I forget myself, we are a one connected entity. You are my lifeblood.”

“You say such sweet things” you capture his chapped lips in a kiss, the rolls of your hips and the slick pooling at the cleave of his ass wrecking an echoed cacophony in the padded room. He pants into your open mouth, his hips pacing varying from quick snaps to slow languid thrusts into your warm and waiting walls.  The wizards’ fingers rubbed against your clit in circles, pressing the rest of his fingers into your lower abdomen to stabilize his wrist.  His fingers buzzed with a slight enchantment that he rasped into your mouth in-between nibbles and kisses.

You kissed his crows’ feet that crinkled around his eyes, the furrows of his brow from focus, and the mismatched dimples in his cheeks. The curl that settled itself in the middle of his forehead bobbed gently.

“Do you want me to-?” he stammered, biting down on his lip. He was close, his hips jumping at the chance to be fully sheathed inside of you. “I wanted to- if you’d like- I know we’re getting older, but I don’t think just a cat- would be my desire... to propagate- “he continued to babble. “My mother would- greatly appreciate, a child- from her only son.”

“She isn’t satisfied with a cat?” you pretend to be against between hearty sighs.

He bit his lip again, his eyes closing, overstimulated by the sensation of how tight you were around him. You braced his shoulders for better leverage, his head hit the back of the chair, gasping out for release. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, bumping your hips into his vibrating fingers.

“Hells- yes- id love that- Gale I’d love to be a parent with you. There is nothing that would make me happier- “he cut you off, shoving your hips into him, fully sheathed he could finally combust within you. His lips found yours for a feverish kiss, wrapping his arms around you. You ran white hot in your core, a series of fire rockets blasting off in your loins, sending dizzying signals into your head. It was like he cast cloud of mist into your head. He rocked his hips a couple of times, your walks milking him of cum. Ropes of cum spent directly into your awaiting womb. Another flash of heat, you felt a deep pressure release onto his hips below.

You press your foreheads together, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“Can you take the day off- “you murmur into his skin, a soft sinking feeling inside of you as he went soft. His seed within you dripped out and mixed with the rest of the liquids pooled in the seat.

He snuggled himself into your shoulder, watching your tail wag idly. He finally sighs, “I have classes in thirty minutes or less…but! You are welcome to stay in my office until you feel better.” He chuckled softly “earnestly, I’m not entirely sure I want to get up. My hips hurt.”

“You poor thing…” you kissed the crown of his head, scratching small circles into the back of his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up then- I’m certain we made a destructive mess.”

“No mess can withstand the realms of magic.” He puffed his chest out with pride.

You glared at him slightly, though you gave in and finally patted his cheek. “Fine, do your magic.”

He pumped the air summoning things to help clean up. With you, he took the utmost care.

[ineedseveretherapy]

Business pt.2

TW: implications of torture

Donnie was a little taken aback by how much fancier the interior of this floor was compared to the one he'd just been on. There were torches bolted to the walls, giving a very warm tone, the walls were a rich burgundy color while the floors were a more refined dark marble. It looked fancier, however it still gave off a strong mediveal vibe. They stopped at a door that, from the sound of it, was pretty close to Nexas arena. Big Mama opened the door to reveal a huge room, or at least way bigger than any room him or his brothers ever had. On one side there was a big bed with silk satin sheets and fluffy pillows, a dresser, a holographic tv, another closet, and huge bookshelf's filled with all sorts of books. It was like a mini apartment fit into one area of a room, there was a little door near the dresser which Donnie assumed lead to a bathroom, lord knows how big the bathroom was. The other side of the room however was a lot more barren, long and short tables meticulously placed in certain areas, tons of storage bins, shelfs, cabinets, boxes of tools spread out on the desks, adjustable tv monitors that were connected to the ceiling, a very comfy looking rolly chair, and basically as much space as one could ever need. He almost liked it, but the second the thought came into his mind he imediatly shook it away, don't fall for this! Donnie followed Big Mama into the room, she clapped her hands together and giggled.

"Oh! Isn't it just absolutely splendiverous? We had it all set up for you! And, we left more than enough space so you could develop your own in bedroom lab!"

Donnie was put off by her delight,

"It's... big... does one even need this much room?"

"Oh that's the point deery, it's incredibly large on purpose! Giving you plenty of room to experiement and build as you wish without any problems!"

She was right about that...

"Alright! Now, onto business!"

Donnie stopped examining the room and faced Big Mama.

"I will give around 2 months to set up and build any tech or accessories you might need to perform well. After that, I will start setting you up with regular meetings with my fighters, they'll come in, give you a rundown of their matches for the day, you'll access the situation and either make repairs or enhancements, go nuts!"

Donnie stared at her, confused once again.

"You want me to build weapons for you? You want me to make death flashier?"

"Indeed! In exchange both you and your human friend get access to luxury amenities and privilages. Although, after your two month period I will have a stationed guard come and check on you every day, to monitor your behaviour. Aside from that you get free range of the main areas of the hotel!"

"Great. So I get free access except when I'm being stalked by your guards which is everyday."

Big Mama's smile faded and became something more sinister. For a second, he'd almost forgotten that he was in actual trouble.

"What about my tech? My goggles? My battle shell? My wrist tech? I'm going to need those back since I don't have my ninpo."

"You will get them back by the end of the day, although they might be slightly damaged, but that is why i'm giving time for you to prepare."

She almost sounded proud of herself, like she was doing some selfless deed, it was disgusting.

"I'm being very generous you know. Only my top nexus fighters get this kind of treatment! And even then, not to this degree."

Donnie rolled his eyes, as she extended one of her arms gesturing to the other half of the room, the one that was supposed to become his makeshift lab. Was he supposed to be grateful? She still kidnapped him. She pulled arm back down to her side, and her smile left her face, replaced with a more serious and stoic expression, one that sent a slight shiver down Donnie's spine.

"However these fizzy wakle things are still privileges, and if you fail to meet my expectations, these privileges will be taken away, and there will be some rather putridous consequences. Is that clear, Donatello?"

Donnie's head flashed back to the shock he had experienced in the cell, physically he was fine, just like she said he would, but just the thought of it made his whole body sting. If the intensity of the shock was increased, would the already incredibly high pain increase with it? Or would it stay the same and the only thing that changes is the physical effects? Could the intensity even be altered? Had she done the same thing to Kendra? What was Kendra's conditions for all this?Donnie stood there, not even realizing he was zoning out, going through the mechanics and logistics of how the implants in his arm worked.

"Oh."

Donnie's head snapped around to look at Big Mama, her voice returned to it's friendly high pitched tone.

"Electrocution isn't the only thing that splendiferous device can do! You could probably imagine somethings it could possibly do if you let that mind wander for long enough, but I won't spoil the surprise! As long as you behave, then maybe you won't have to find out!"

She smiled at Donnie, knowing exactly what she had just done. What does that mean? What exactly did she do to him? Despite how much he wanted to tell himself that she wasn't really a threat, how much he wanted to just brush it off and continue figuring out what king of situation he was in, he couldn't. Something about that comment, something about her smile, sent fear shooting through his body, and he hated it. His imagination was wild and he didn't like to imagine what kind implications were there. He nodded, as a kind weak agreement. She made small noise in response,

"Wonderful! I'll let you settle in, your tech will be returned to you in about an hour and..."

She paused,

"Once i'm finished talking with your friend she will also be returned to you."

She walked out the door, Donnie swore he saw even pride in the way she strutted. Once the doors closed he sat down on the bed that was very neatly made. Kendra... She talked about her as if she was an object. She probably was in Big Mama's eyes, he silently prayed that was being cooperative, that she was in a slightly better situation than he was. Donnie was alone and, until further notice, safe.

Alright, I finally got all the terms down on the table, the limits of the implants however, I'd love to see some of your theories of it's capabilities. Anywho, hoped you missed Kendra, cuz next part she's coming back!

Pt.1 | Masterpost | Next Part

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.2<< >>Ch.4

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a leader. A leader who doesn't let anyone or anything distract him from the tasks at hand.

He's focused, unwavering, and ruthless.

But what happens when he abruptly pulls away from his territory and wanders into an unknown playing field he hasn't faced in forever?

Many say love holds no bounds, but how much will he be willing to break for you?

Chapter 3: That This Problem Lies in Me

Word count: 1.3K

Miguel awoke to an unpleasant thump in his brain. It wasn't intrusive, just inconvenient.

His eyes flickered, pupils constricted as a streak of gold marginally reached under his eyelids, rapidly removing his vision from catching any sort of light. Browsing his surroundings, he immediately recognized a major dilemma.

He had zero idea where the hell he was.

He struggled to recap the events from the previous night, but his memories were foggy.

He haphazardly slung his body upwards, a bunch of half-dried towels flying off his body onto a bedspread that he certainly knew didn't belong to him, the wooden floor, and a fluffy rug.

The room was abundantly cozy, yet relatively cramped due to its size. A bookshelf, computer desk, and dresser drawer were covered in knickknacks. There was enough space for one person.

But Miguel wasn't that person.

His head spun when he heard airy footsteps and something being opened and closed right outside the door that was separating him from whatever was out there.

Shifting his body until his feet were on the floor, he cautiously stood up, creeping towards the wooden object and placing his ear on it.

Silence until more slight footsteps crossed the ground, echoes of seemingly drawers or cabinets carefully shut. Whatever or whoever was out there clearly doesn't wish to be caught.

Miguel grasped the doorknob, calmly twisting it before hastily hurling it open.

You leapt, alarmed at the sudden, violent entrance. There he stood, exhibiting his full height, deadpan. You gulped harshly as you both remained glued to your respective spots.

Just like the park.

“Uh, good morning. How are, um, how are you this morning?”

Miguel skimmed over you and the surrounding area. Just like the bedroom, it resembled that snug yet cramped atmosphere.

“Where am I?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his watchful eye refraining to drop from you.

You dumped waffle mix and other ingredients in a silver bowl, biting your inner cheek.

“You're in my apartment. You nearly passed out in an alleyway until I basically dragged you here. You are one heavy guy, but I'm sure you’re highly aware of that.”

You chuckled, but promptly ceased when his stony aura lingered in the stagnant air. Sounds of butter sizzled on the waffle iron as you poured some now-beaten batter into it.

You didn't know how to exactly spark a casual chat with a stranger who happened to spend the night in your bed after indulging in whatever was affecting him.

Miguel's brain whirled with an abundance of questions. Why was he brought here? Why were you so mellow in this situation? Well, as mellow as you strained to maintain. What exactly did happen? Were you earnestly not anxious about his presence domineering over you?

Why did you help him?

“Do you like cinnamon? I was planning on adding some to the next mix, but if you don't, these are plain.”

You tried to wrangle any conversation from him to avert any more awkwardness as you scratched the back of your leg with your foot.

From head to toe, you were stiff.

“That's fine.” His voice was harsh, but he endeavored to get a handle on it.

You beamed as you mixed the spice with brown sugar. “I'm glad you're willing to eat. Last night, you gave me a huge fright, but I believe I squashed a good chunk of what was in you. Oh, do you need any pain medication? I don't know if that'll help, but it shou-”

“Why?” Miguel cut you off.

“Why what?”

“Why did you... why are you not afraid?”

You tore away from the waffle iron, your eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion.

“Afraid? What is there for me to be scared of?”

Miguel gestured to his sharpened claws, his eyes, and his fangs. Him in general.

You blink a few times before plating the rest of the cooked, fluffy, sweet bread. “Not proving your case.” You giggled and made a serving for him.

“You saw what I'm capable of. The brick wall, when I bit and injected my venom into that woman, tha-”

“That you used to protect me.”

“That you thought I killed her with.”

Sitting the syrup-covered breakfast on your round dining table, beckoning him to relax as he dubiously sits across from you.

“Yes, and I'm sorry for assuming that. Then you told me it was temporary and non-lethal. You didn't intend on fully hurting her, just enough to stop her in her tracks to prevent actual permanent and lethal damage.”

You munch on a giant part of one of your waffles.

“So once again, not proving your point.” A sincere smile formed on your face.

Miguel perched over, stunned. You didn't appear intimidated or turned away by his presence. It disoriented him in a way. Why didn't you view him in a negative light after all that concurred last night?

“Yes, but I still tried to just dump the body at the police station and walk. And then I attempted to frighten you away. What type of hero does that?”

“You were frazzled. You had unwanted drugs taking over from what you mumbled last night, and I didn't mind telling the police what happened.”

You took another bite, but a smaller piece this time.

“And I figured out what you were attempting, but I'm not allowing anyone to suffer by themselves, especially if they helped me. You were in pain and agony. And even if you didn't do anything for me, I would still help in any sort of capacity. And on top of that, it was on my own accord.”

You casually spoke, shrugging your shoulders, and planted your elbows on the table. Miguel once again hunched over in silence.

“So yes, you are still a hero. You made a few wrong calls, but it happens. We have our flaws; I certainly know I do; it's just how we go about them. We're humans; we make mistakes, but the intention is what shows. And guess what? Your good intentions are there. And from what I've witnessed, they surely do shine.”

You gave him another kind smile and stood up, offering him some juice. Miguel was muddled. He's expected to be a constant excelling leader, not just from the society and the citizens themselves, but from him as well.

Mistakes are made. They can be created, and when they are, they need to be attained and fixed. He's not allowed to have any slip-ups.

They can be easily created… but can they truly be mended? His purpose behind what he does is for the best. Yet hearing that it's fine for him to make mistakes spoken out loud…

Miguel shook his head, refusing to have his judgments and objectives sink into some provoking abyss.

If you weren't panicked by his appearance, then he can linger for a while longer and then return to his life as if you two never crossed paths.

“I'll take you on that offer for pain pills and coffee.”

You gradually shut the fridge as a nervous titter escaped.

“Righhht… coffee.” You pulled your phone out and pressed it a few times.

‘Do you not have any?” Miguel raised a brow, taking a few pieces from his perfectly cut waffles.

“I haven't been able to buy any for the past week. But I'll order you one, so you're gonna be trapped here until it gets here.” You teasingly stuck your tongue out, gaining a playful eye roll from him.

“That'll be fine by me. I'm getting a free drink from it.”

“Perfect! So how do you like yours?” You gleefully rush back over and place the phone near him, leaning in, interested in his choice. 

A one-and-done ordeal. Neither one is truly obligated to advance any further. He'll thank you for your help, express his extensive gratitude, and go from there. 

That's it. The lone, flickering candle he's retaining will remain that way.

Blunders happen. From the insignificant to the monstrous. It's a part of nature. 

Until it takes effect. 

They didn't deliberately aim to burn the candle flame any brighter. It was a mere accident.

[helianskies]

EngSpa, “you’re my little secret.” ;)

oh maiva, how i adore you and your ideas >:3

Tonic

Antonio sits in a hotel bar area, tucked comfortably on an armchair that sits in a corner of the large room, alongside an old carved fireplace, a bookshelf, a spare chair, and a table that carries his glass for him. 

It is nearing seven o’clock in the evening, and he is still waiting.

His stomach threatens to riot and rumble. It has been a long day, and he yearns for the good food—a fancy meal—that will come shortly. He just has to wait. He just has to wait. 

His head slips into his hand and he lightly rubs his forehead. Then, feeling that the few seconds he has just spent distracted is perhaps too many, he sits back up straight and glances around the room, studying a sea of faces to see if there is anyone he recognises. He hopes there isn’t. And, so far, he seems to be in the clear. It means he can breathe, relax again, and have a sip of wine to cure his—

“Sorry to keep you.”

Antonio pulls his glass away, swallowing his mouthful of white wine, before he sets it down and turns to the person who has taken up the adjacent armchair.

It’s Arthur, of course. The only person he wants to see for the rest of this evening.

“That’s okay,” he responds. “You’re here now.”

Arthur sets his drink down on the table—a gin and tonic—and offers Antonio a small, warming smile. The sort that makes the Spaniard’s insides feel like they’re being tickled.

“We’ve got about half an hour before our table’s ready,” Arthur reminds him as he settles. “Is that okay? I know that’s sort of messed with your routine, but I—”

“I told you, it’s fine,” Antonio promises, nevertheless. “I had a small something earlier. I’m sure I’ll survive another half an hour.”

The smile reappears, and now Antonio’s joins the party. Then a hand reaches across the table without a word being spoken, and he takes it. He holds it. Just for a few precious moments.

This is the closest they will come to an embrace in public. They may have been meeting in a hotel different from the one they are staying in for the next couple of days, but even so, they will only go so far. They know that there is a time and a place.

With time moving on, they take to talking as normal people do. They speak of how their days have been, about any personal developments since the last time they had been able to speak freely in person, about how bored they both already are with diplomacy again.

There is a clear consensus: at least they have each other. 

Antonio lives for these moments they have. For the dinners they can indulge in while foreign eyes look elsewhere. For drinks shared as old enemies and newer lovers while the world thinks they are neither of the sort. For sneaking glances in meetings, for lingering touches as they pass in corridors, for texts sent and read under a desk with a smile or even a blush…

One day, they’ll do these things without worrying about who is behind them, or who might overhear. For now, however, they must play it safe. Not rush. Be careful.

He doesn’t know what time it is when Arthur suggests they make a move towards the restaurant, but Antonio is somewhat surprised that that much time has passed.

First, they’ll finish their drinks—neither of them are in disagreement about that motion. That means, though, that the prospect of food is drawing near, and that makes the Spaniard(‘s stomach) feel a little bit happier. 

Arthur is the first to stand. He’s downed the dregs of his gin and tonic and stands almost flush against the side of the other’s armchair as he waits for Antonio to drink up, too.

“You know,” the blond begins, perhaps in an attempt to kill a few more seconds, his patience as imaginary as some of his friends, “Francis was asking me what my plans were this evening.”

Antonio nearly spits out the rest of his wine. He has to swallow it down carefully, a hand over his mouth, lest he start to cough and splutter and draw attention to them both.

“You… You haven’t said anything, have you?” he asks, fearful. 

“No, I haven’t,” Arthur reassures him, however. He brushes the back of his hand over Antonio’s cheek, a brief movement, before withdrawing it again (they are, after all, still in public). “Don’t worry. You’re my little secret.”

It’s a funny thing. It’s a funny thing to consider himself as and be considered as by Arthur, but he likes it. It is Antonio’s doing, after all. 

When he and Arthur sat down about a year ago and decided to rekindle something that had last lost its spark a few decades prior (it is a recurring pattern), it had been his condition. I don’t want anyone to know, he had told Arthur, and Arthur had agreed without much questioning.

It’s a matter of principle. 

Antonio wants to see who he wants to see and love who he wants to love without it being the whole damn world’s business. Having friends who gossip, and knowing in general that people are terrible at keeping secrets that aren’t their own, Antonio yearned for privacy—and that is what Arthur has provided him, like a tonic for his troubles. 

(Does that make Antonio gin…?)

They leave for the restaurant. Antonio is soothed, and Arthur rambles on about how he chose this posh hotel's dining hall not only for its fancy reputation, but because he recalls Antonio mentioning a few weeks ago that it would be nice to splurge on occasion and feel fancy, too. His worries cease to exist after that point, mellowed out by Arthur’s care and attention. 

It has been nice, you know. To be in a relationship in which he doesn’t have to pull the strings, do the thinking, lead the romantic gestures.

Arthur has a tender heart. Antonio considers himself lucky that Arthur has made room for him in it.

[ find prompts here! ] [ fic collection on ao3! ]

[blackjackkent]

As I mentioned previously, I think in this case Jaheira brings Rakha to the sanctum entrance partly because there are useful supplies down there they can use, but also partly to provide Rakha enrichment in her enclosure by letting her figure out the Harper pin lock.

Rakha spends a long time examining every inch of the room, carrying the pin loosely in one hand and looking for its keyhole. Jaheira and Wyll both watch this with slight smiles on their faces; Minsc looks on with the attitude of an engrossed viewer of a sporting event. Minthara is still outside getting questioned by Jhessem about drow nobility.

Eventually, and with an air of triumph, she locates the pin slot in the side of Jaheira's desk.

"Well done," Jaheira says dryly. "The record is still held by Fig - less than five minutes. But a creditable effort."

Rakha isn't sure what she expects from Jaheira's inner sanctum, but what she finds is - to her eyes at least - utterly beautiful.

The stairway opens up into a wide, high-ceilinged stone cavern lined with plants and smelling of wet grass and fresh water. Rakha's attention is less for these natural elements, though, and more for the play of the Weave all throughout the room. The path is lined with magical traps, all glowing and rippling and shifting and twisting as Rakha watches, waiting to unleash their power on the unwary visitor who enters without Jaheira's approval.

Just as in Ramazith's Tower, Rakha is struck by the sudden feeling that she could stay here for a long time in perfect contentment. No threats, nothing to kill, just the beautiful and unending ripple of magic along the surface of the world.

But there is no time, and too much to do. Jaheira knows this just as well as she does, and leads them at a quick trot down along the path.

(A/N: I pretty much lost my shit in this whole area on Hector's run, with all the throwbacks and references and massive numbers of Jaheira feels. None of this is a surprise this time, but just assume that the number of feels is still very high. XD )

Rakha looks around with great interest at the sanctum itself. She is no expert in the natural world but she can guess that a lot of effort must have been put into this place over quite a long time in order to make it.

She does, of course, immediately note the presence of the large badger and several rats prowling near the small cabin against the wall. She shies back a little from them, keeping Wyll's body between herself and the creatures; she remembers how she reacted, without warning or volition, to the squirrel in the Grove, the cat in Moonrise Towers. With Wyll's hand tight on her arm, though, she's able to make it to the small shack without incident.

(A/N: Lots of random little documents inside the shack which I talked about last time. None of them are really, I think, of much interest to Rakha or likely to catch her attention, but as usual because I am a rank sentimentalist we take "My Dearest Wife" out of the desk drawer and put it in Jaheira's inventory.)

Jaheira, I suspect, probably regrets putting Rakha into puzzle-solving mode upstairs when the half-orc manages to sniff out the hidden passageway behind the shack bookcase.

"Keen eye," she says, too sharply, arresting Rakha's movement as she lifts a hand towards the hidden mechanism in one of the shelves. "But if it's supplies you seek, weapons to aid in our fight - you won't find them behind that door." Her eyes flick away, studying the worn wood coated in dust. "There is nothing back there of worth to anyone but me."

Rakha hesitates. "I'm sorry, Jaheira. I didn't mean to pry," she says gruffly. Jaheira encouraged her to explore upstairs, and has unblinkingly answered any questions Rakha has put to her without hesitation. But it seems this bookshelf, and whatever lies behind it, is a barrier Rakha is not to cross.

She would be lying if she said this didn't pique her curiosity. But she lets her hand fall to her side.

Jaheira visibly relaxes. "Oh, you need not apologize," she says, in a more airy tone that fools no one, including Rakha. "I only seek to spare you some disappointment. On my word - all you will find inside is dust, and the moldering keepsakes of a much younger woman."

Minsc stirs cautiously, then leans forward into the conversation. "Jaheira," he says, unusually grave. "Our friend has put their trust in us. Boo thinks it only right to return the gesture, no?"

Rakha blinks. Trust. Jaheira has already shown her far more trust than she deserves. Jaheira has let her into this house, in among her children. Jaheira has kept watch over her while she's slept. Jaheira owes her nothing at all, least of all access to some hidden-away bit of her history.

But to her surprise, Jaheira smiles faintly.

"You so rarely make a habit of being right, ranger, that it puts me ill at ease when you are."

Minsc smiles contentedly as if she has paid him the highest possible compliment. Jaheira sighs, turning her eyes back to Rakha, and studies her for a long moment.

Then she sighs and jerks her head pointedly. "Pass, then," she says. "Go on. See what it is a foolish old Harper thinks worth hiding away."

Rakha almost argues, almost objects that she does not deserve this trust on top of everything else. But something in Jaheira's eyes says that it would be better not to. This offer took effort; asking her to take it back would be far worse.

[thejollywitchtaster]

The Welshman And The Angel

--Part One: An Old Friend--

It's a cool, sunny morning. Michael is mentally preparing for the day. His partner, Anna, is sleeping soundly, while his two precious, young daughters, Lyra and Mabli, are in the dining area doodling on scraps of paper he managed to find in the chaotically organized clutter of his desk. Meanwhile, Michael is quietly sipping his coffee in the kitchen peering out the window into his garden.

As he does so, he sees a man in a mint 1940s tartan suit idly staring at Michael's herb garden. The man seems deep in thought and unaware of Michael's watchful eyes. He notes that the man has short, cropped, and slightly curly white-blonde hair. For a split second Michael entertains the idea that it's Aziraphale from Good Omens only to shut the idea out of his head by the pure absurd notion that a fictional character that he enjoys playing can't possibly be real, can he?

He sighs, turns away from the window, and gazes over at his daughters who are now peering out the doorway of the dining hall at something or someone. Concerned, Michael sets his coffee mug on the counter and goes to see who or what has their attention. He makes his way to the doorway and peers above them and sees the same man from his garden is now in his living area, perusing his books on his small bookshelf adjacent to the TV.

Michael quietly squats down and softly says, "Lyra, Mabli, why don't you two go back into the dining room and let daddy talk to him, okay girls?"

They simply nod and go back into the dining room, while Michael, as calmly as possible, approaches the man in the living room. He pauses a foot and half away from the man before softly clearing his throat.

"Urm, excuse me, Who are you and why are you in my house?"

The man turns, warmly smiles, and chirps, "I'm Aziraphale, and I came here to meet you."

Michael's eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief.

"Uh, you can't be him...I mean it's impossible for you to uh...well, exist outside of the story you were originally created in."

Aziraphale looks at Michael with the look of a wounded dog.

"What do you mean? Of course, I'm real! You humans are all the same."

Michael takes a breath, pinches the bridge of his nose, and says, "I know you're not real because you are from a book called Good Omens that was adapted into a TV Series of the same name. Also, I played you in the TV Series."

Aziraphale stares fixedly at Michael, taking in what Michael had just said.

"But, if I'm not real then how am I here, right in front of you?"

Michael goes to respond only to stop himself. He's right, if Aziraphale's not real then how is he here right now? My daughters have seen him, and I see him standing right in front of me. How is this possible? Michael studies Aziraphale and wonders aloud, "Maybe I'm dreaming and this isn't real."

Aziraphale glares at him, puts his hands on his hips, and mutters, "You aren't dreaming, I'm real, you're just in denial."

Michael huffs, "I am not!"

"You are too!" Aziraphale retorts.

Michael grumbles, crosses his arms, and turns away from the strange man, named Aziraphale in Tartan. Okay, so maybe he is in denial that his character Aziraphale is in his living room right now. How is this possible? Did he manifest Aziraphale or something? He takes a breath, uncrosses his arms, and turns to face Aziraphale only to find that no one is there in his living room. Whoever or whatever it was has vanished into thin air.

Michael sighs and mumbles, "I'm losing it again."

The first time something strange happened, he hallucinated being abducted by aliens, as well as, being saved by The Doctor. While it's true that he lost time and somehow went down to the beach, fell asleep, had the crazy-arse dream, and eventually woke on the beach in the one place no one bothered to look for him, he's never been entirely convinced that it didn't in someway happen. Michael's therapist, however, said it was an escapist's dream and that he yearned for more excitement in his waking life.

Michael sighs saunters to the couch, and lazily sinks into it. His mind is racing a million miles a minute and is still processing what he just experienced. As he sits there, lost in thought, a deep aching pain envelops his right bosom. He sits on the couch and cups his right bosom as perspiration slowly beads at his hairline and trickles down his temples. He doesn't know what's causing the severe stabbing chest pain. All he knows is the pain is indeed real.

He weakly paws at his sweats trying to find his phone only come up empty. Michael feverishly looks around trying to figure out where his phone is only to realize that he left it in the kitchen by the coffee pot. He tries to stand only for the pain to start to burn. He collapses onto the couch weakly clawing at his chest. He feels his lungs squeeze themselves open and shut trying to suck in oxygen that won't stay. The last thing he feels is the slight pinch of a needle piercing his neck before everything goes black.

3 Hours Later:

Michael wakes up in a hospital bed. The pain has subsided, and he has his senses back. He peers around the room. The walls are an ashen grey and give a deep sense of gloominess and dread. There are no chairs for family or friends. The walls are barren of any and all art. There are no flowers or cards. There isn't even a window, which isn't all that surprising because most hospital rooms don't have windows anyway.

He even notices that Anna and his daughters aren't here with him. Where are they? Are they at home? Are they safe? He shudders to think that something could have happened to them. He studies his surroundings some more and notices that his bed and IV pole are the only two pieces of furniture/equipment in the room. He studies the IV pole and sees that the IV bag is filled with an orangish-yellow amber liquid. He follows the IV tube all the way to his right arm.

He doesn't know what the liquid is or why he's being given it. However, the room seems vaguely familiar. Has he been here before? If so, why doesn't he remember it? As he ponders this question, a soft click of a door alerts him to someone's presence. Michael glances at the door and sees a familiar person walk into the room. He sees that it's Aziraphale, or at least the person claiming to be him. Michael mentally notes that the person's facial features seem off, uncanny even.

The person's eyes seem larger than before. Their mouth is wide-set and thin, and their cheeks seem shallow and gaunt. The person's tartan suit is wrinkled, dirty, and a bit too big on the person's small frame. Michael stares at the person claiming to be Aziraphale and gets the sense that it actually isn't Aziraphale, but something or someone else. Something or someone he's forgotten.

Michael goes to ask who the entity is when it speaks to him.

"You're probably wondering what's going on, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am wondering what's going on and who you are"

The entity takes a breath and utters, "I don't have a name. I am only who you want me to be. I am no one and I am everyone. I am your sweetest dreams and your darkest nightmares. I am everywhere and nowhere. You can look right at me and see whomever your heart desires. However, The Doctor just calls me a Mimic because I can and will mimic anything and everyone around you to ensnare you into a false sense of security for a brief amount of time before making you disappear from existence without a trace."

Michael studies the entity a bit more before musing, "So, you weren't Aziraphale after all, then?"

The Mimic shakes his head and says, "That's right, I pretended to be him so I could check up on you. However, I didn't realize how stubborn you would be to convince now that you are older."

Michael furrows his brows in confusion and mutters, "What do you mean check up on me? What do you want from me? Where am I, exactly?"

"You're on my transport ship silly. You've been away from your proper treatments and the person who originally wanted you is asking for you back, so he told me to come and get you."

"Treatments? What treatments? What are you talking about? Who wants me back?" Michael rambles on trying to understand what's going on.

"Oh don't be silly. You know who it is I'm talking about. He's an old friend of ours and is the one who gifted you a second heart."

"I don't know who you're talking about and I definitely don't have two hearts."

"Oh don't be daft, Michael. I took you on March 13th, 1992. You thought you entered the Tardis only to find a bottomless black pit awaiting you that turned into this very cell that you are in now."

Michael looks around again. He notices that the room itself isn't meant to be a hospital room. It's just a room he's being held in. A room that seems familiar, as if he's...been in it before. His eyes widen as images flash in his brain. The ashen grey walls of the room surrounding him. He's wearing a grey full-body jumper. There's a bowl of greyish-pink mush in his hands and a voice tells him, "Everything is going to be okay" and "This is your new home now."

His eyes flicker to The Mimic and he blurts out, "We've met before, haven't we?"

The Mimic smiles, caresses Michael's cheek, and sweetly utters, "Yes, we have met before," before swiftly and gently pressing its lips against Michael's lips.

In that moment Michael remembers a man who looked like David Tennant and spoke in a Welsh accent. He was the one who gave Michael the greyish-pink mush that tasted like stale cotton candy and watermelon. The man was kind and gentle. He put Michael at ease and comforted him when he cried. There was a moment when the entity kissed Michael on the lips to show Michael that his new home was worth staying in.

When the images subside, Michael gently pulls away and stares at the Mimic that now looks like David Tennant instead of Aziraphale. Michael smiles, gently caresses the entity's cheek, and leans in to kiss him again only to feel the sensation of cool metal snaking around his wrist. He looks down and sees a silver shackle securing him to the bed. He looks at the Mimic in disbelief.

The Mimic simply utters, "I lost you once and I am not going to lose you again."

The Mimic leaves the room leaving Michael alone, scared, and utterly confused.

3 Months Later:

Michael is pacing back and forth in his cell. He can only pace in a three-foot radius due to an ankle shackle on his right ankle. For the last three months, he's been kept isolated and chained to the floor of his cell. He's been trying to convince The Mimic to let him go home only for his efforts to backfire and leave him with a black eye and a phobia of the word "home".

To make matters worse, the Mimic maintains his "David Tennant" persona. So, now Michael is slowly becoming scared of David Tennant. Which is not good at all. He doesn't want to be scared of his best mate. He loves his best mate and knows that the man with his best mate's face isn't David, however, his reality is blurring, and he can't tell the difference anymore.

Michael stops pacing and just stands still as his overwhelming loneliness causes his body to shudder as tears stream down his cheeks and splash onto the faded grey flooring below him. He misses Port Talbot, as well as his family and friends. He misses hugging his daughters, kissing and cuddling Anna, laughing with David, visiting his parents, interacting with his beloved fans, his acting, and his activism. Everything he holds dear is lightyears away.

He doesn't know if he'll see it again or if he'll die lightyears away from home and Earth. All he can do is stare out the small circular window at the endless inky blackness speckled with stars and wonder if The Doctor if they're indeed real, will ever come and save him from this damning isolation.

[jasper-pagan-witch]

2024 Grimoire Challenge Review - January Week 1

Well, I had to wait until Wednesday to get out of the house and get a binder and some paper for my challenge grimoire this year, so I basically speedran all of the December prep and the first week of January, because I will never learn and never improve on this habit of mine.

Keeping in line with other grimoires I've used in the past (such as the Epsilon Ledger and the Delta Book of Tarot Spreads), this red binder has been named the Eta Binder. I wrote down my proper name (let's go, trans mages!), tacked @2024-grimoire-challenge onto it to remind myself that that's what we're doing, and gave it a date of working. Since I started on Wednesday, that's 1/3/2024 (because I'm an American) to an unknown end date.

I had to scramble to come up with a list of 52 plants and stones to work on. I just went through the list of herbs and teas offered by my local ("local" being half an hour away) spice shop and capped it off with some Missouri flowers. For the stones, I just flipped through Judy Hall's Crystal Bible (somehow both a really good and really bad reference book) back and forth a bunch of times until I had a list of crystals I hadn't already done dives about.

As for my magical study ideas, I mostly just threw shit down that I've been interested in or have just gotten interested in. I gave each deity I worship their own bulletpoint and also split up the specific areas of pop culture magic I'm digging more into. I made sure there was a blend of comfortable old stuff, brand new stuff that I'm not sure of, and things that are generally outside of my purview.

Through the power of "work had too many 3-ring binder dividers", I have split my binder into seven sections - 1 is Plants, 2 is Stones, 3 is Work-Related Notes, 4 is Spells Designed (if I complete any, they'll be moved into my spell binder that also houses all of my correspondence lists), 5 if Journal, 6 is currently blank, and 7 is Empty Pages.

Then I finally got started on the actual projects. For the plant and crystal prompts this week, I used an integer generator online to choose two numbers randomly and received caraway (aka Carum carvi) and muscovite (aka KAl2(AlSi3O10)(F,OH)2), so I used my normal research process for the two. It was actually pretty fun, if you ignore the fact that my hand hurt so much because it ended up being 4 pages (well, 2 pages but front and back) EACH of information drawn from books and digital sources that I was all but copying word for word.

As for the Work-Related Notes, that's where I've saved things like my Definitions page, Spellwriting 101 (in my practice), and a page about my Common Tools.

I will admit that I skipped the year outline, mostly because the passing of the year means near nothing in my craft. I don't celebrate any particular "magical holidays", I don't work by the moon cycle, I'm definitely not Wiccan and thus don't celebrate the Wheel of the Year, seasons just mean whether or not I have to wear a coat, and I don't care about matching particular workings to days of the week. I'm starting to think I'm just a deeply boring person, upon reflection.

Then we get to the Work Spaces / Altars page, and oh boy! I don't actually do...workings at my altars, so they're probably better described as shrines. I have my Primary Work Space (my wooden desk, the metal microwave stand I've stolen from somewhere, and the tiny red bookshelf under the microwave stand) that is an absolute MESS at every given point that holds whatever the fuck I'm working on, regardless of what project it is. I have a Thoughtform & Spirit Shelf (which is actually a partial shelf) in my big red bookshelf that holds the anchors for my thoughtforms but also my PokeFamiliar. I have five altars around my room that are currently holding seven deities, a candle for an eighth deity, the Lokifam, three spirits, the Unknown Benefactor, the symbol of an animal spirit I want to reach out to at some point this year, and Jasper's Casper (an adorable little ghost that my coworker and her daughter crocheted for me to celebrate the first anniversary of me working at the library).

Shit's a bit cramped in here!

And today, I'm writing about my Personal Practices that have made it into my craft. I'm actually working on this now, but I paused to write up this summary. It's pretty neat to think about all the stuff I've done that I still do.

Results: My hand hurts and my head is throbbing, but c'est la vie. This is a really fun challenge, and I hope it goes all the way through 2024, unlike when I tried to do the 2023 challenge and the host of that one vanished into the aether.

[zushigirl]

Fall (Aka The Repairman WIP)

Continuing @ninzied tag game! It took me a while to find this one in my WIPs…then I decided to finish the story 😆 Enjoy!

“It’s only eighty degrees!” Karen rolls her eyes playfully at Foggy.

“Only eighty degrees!?! Only eighty! Karen -” Foggy holds up a limp piece of paper from the copier. “It’s so hot in here the paper is molting!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll call the air conditioning guy back.” She spins on her black heels as if she can’t escape the break room fast enough.

Foggy sighs, wiping the sheen of sweat off his brow. He wishes Matt hadn’t stayed on vacation in LA after that swanky legal conference was over. He needs those super senses right now.

Something is going on with Karen and he can’t figure out what it is…

…Or why the air conditioner is such a point of contention.

When the AC went out in mid-June, Karen jumped on the task of getting it repaired.

Combed through Yelp and Google reviews like she was their office manager again - not the firm’s PI. After she’d narrowed it down to her top choice, Karen did what any self-respecting millennial would do: She made an appointment with the AC company online.

Foggy was sure he’d return from LA to a cool and comfy office - not a humid, oppressive Amazon jungle.

It was…weird. Karen’s not the type of person to let things fall by the wayside.

(Though he was impressed with the indoor plants Karen bought to decorate Nelson, Murdock, & Page in his absence. There’s a tall fiddle leaf fig tree in the waiting area, some pathos hanging from the bookshelf, and the vase of white roses on Karen’s desk is a nice touch.)

“Thank you,” he calls out to her closing office door. Silence except the sound of Karen rummaging through her purse for her cell phone. Then…

“Hey…”

He can hear her talking to someone, but the tone sounds…odd. How he wishes Matt was here to eavesdrop.

Two days later, Foggy walks into the office at 7am and practically dies of shock. Karen is already there: She’s leaning against the break room counter watering the nearby spider plant. An iced coffee and a single white rose are shielded by her purse – as though she tucked them away in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

***

He pretends not to; he has more important things to discuss…like the state-of-the-art Dyson Pure Cool fan in the corner.

“Where did that…Why…Why are you here so early?”

“The air conditioning guy came by. He needs a part to fix our unit. Left us the fan in the meantime.”

“But it’s seven in the morning.”

“He had a full schedule.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that Foggy decides to drop his interrogation. He just nods and goes over to the filing cabinet to look up the notes for his upcoming deposition. It isn’t until an hour later – as he’s basking in the blessedly cool breeze of the Dyson – that he realizes how early the repairman must have stopped by.

“Karen…?”

“Hmmm?” She’s sipping her iced coffee, scanning through a stack of files.

“Nothing.”

He returns to his case preparation. So what if his friend flirts to get the AC fixed. Who is he to judge.

***

It isn’t until later that evening – when he pops in the bodega by Marci’s apartment to get some tomatoes for the spaghetti sauce he’s making her – that Foggy begins to suspect the cause of Karen’s absentmindedness.

Whatever Happened to the Punisher?

The New York Bulletin headline glares up at Foggy from beside the register.

Suddenly he remembers that summer day Frank Castle’s face was all over the news for escaping Metro General. He remembers Karen walking into the office half a day late with no shoes on. It’s been…however long it’s been since then doesn’t matter. The day still holds significance for Karen.

***

Two nights later, he runs three blocks back to the office; he almost forgot his apartment key in his desk drawer. Foggy can feel the humidity sticking to his skin and it makes him irritable. The new silk shirt Marci bought him will need to be cleaned and not even stepping back into the office will provide relief.

When the hell is that air conditioning guy going to…

-

-

-

Foggy stops short as he opens the door to the lobby. The first thing that hits him is the cold feeling of circulating air. The second thing is the sight of tools strewn by the AC unit. The third thing…is the realization that a broad-shouldered man in a black t-shirt and jeans is cradling Karen’s hand to his cheek.

Upon hearing the door open, Karen and the man both jump up from the couch.

“Foggy! I…this…our AC is fixed!” Karen’s face is so red she might as well have been at the beach all day.

He bobs his head, eyes blinking at the air conditioning guy.

“Counselor. Good to see you.” Frank Castle’s deep voice is still as scary as ever, but the slight pink blush of his neck helps Foggy relax some.

“I…you. The papers said you’re dead. But you’re not…You’re…here…with Karen.” And now Foggy wants to die.

Castle gives a small chuckle. “I made a…big career change…couple months back. Buddy of mine who's good with tech stuff help me set up my website…And…yeah. I’m with her as long as she’ll let me be.”

Foggy doesn’t miss the hopeful look the former vigilante shoots Karen.

Karen – composure regained – smiles. “Give me a ten percent discount and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

To his surprise they both laugh. He smiles at Karen – happy to see her happy – as pulls up a chair.

There’s a story behind all this and at least Foggy has a cool, comfy spot to listen as his friend shares.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

In Your Dreams

Chapter Five: The Sun Won’t Resign Until You’re By My Side

AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

I feel you crawling out my veins, leaving the walls inside with flames; burning the emptiness I’ve saved, until only you remain. But then my lungs collapsed, and you pulled me out; forever, I have changed. Honey, you can take me now, till it all runs out. Baby, it’s okay.- Cartel, Only You

Tim had been very clear that he wasn’t gonna last much longer. So when she hadn’t heard from him for a day and a half, she knew it meant he was gone.

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and pondering the ache in her chest. 

It felt like there was a black hole consuming her from the inside out, beginning where her heart had been.

Lea had never known anyone who’d died before. Did it always hurt so much?

She’d never get to kiss him again. He’d never smile at her again, hold her again. She’d never hear him say her name again. He was gone. Gone.

After awhile of considering this, it occurred to her that she’d been in love with him.

Too fuckin’ bad he was dead. She was too much of a coward to realize she loved him when he was alive. She never would’ve acted on her stupid feelings, anyway. Too much of a coward for that, too.

A knock at her door startled her, making her jolt upright. She trudged over to the entryway, her feet dragging over the laminate floors. When she opened the door, a woman stood there. She’d met her before, when Tim had taken her to have dinner with his parents.

“Nicole?” Lea asked, surprised.

The woman’s eyes were rimmed in red. She’d been crying.

“He told you?” Nicole asked without preamble.

Lea blinked. “I… I know what he is.”

“And that you’re his mate?” the other woman persisted. 

Lea nodded silently, looking down at her feet. “Is he still…?”

“Barely. He doesn’t have long now. He’ll be gone within the next few hours, if that.”

Tears filled Lea’s eyes for the bazillionth time that day. “Is he in pain?”

“He’s unconscious. They always are at the end.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath before lifting her gaze again. “Why are you here, Nicole?”

“To ask you for your help. If you’ll reconsider your refusal.” Lea looked away again, and so Nicole pressed on. “He told me why. He said he’d rather die than force you or guilt trip you. He loves you too much to ask, but I love him too much not to ask. Come see him. Please. If you look at him and still refuse, I’ll understand that. The situation you’re in is no more your fault than it was mine when Marc told me. But please. Come see him.”

She couldn’t refuse, she realized. She knew now that she was in love with him. Did she love him enough to put herself at risk? To save his life? Yeah. Yeah, she did.

Maybe… maybe if he got it out of his system once—just the once—, then she wouldn’t need to do it again. Maybe he’d be alright.

Lea finally nodded at the other woman. “Alright. Give me a minute.”

With that, she went to collect her purse and phone. Even on the off chance she’d stay with Tim for any length of time, he had plenty of her stuff.

“Where is he?” she asked Nicole.

“He wanted to be in his own bed when he went,” Nicole said softly, looking away. 

Lea nodded again. 

Tim’s penthouse apartment was just as pristine as his housekeeping staff always kept it. The three floor residence was huge, covering well over thirteen hundred square feet, but Tim’s bedroom was easy to get to, even if she didn’t know her way around (which she did). Directly to the right of the entry hallway was a set of stairs. She went up, Nicole following close behind, walked past the second floor living room (he had three living rooms; one on each floor) and into his bedroom.

It was a very long room with floor-to-ceiling windows—many of which were doors to a balcony spanning the length of the second floor—covering one side. Past the sitting area, his desk and bookshelf, his dad and sister were seated beside his bed. They were both teary-eyed and exhausted-looking.

When Lea got close enough to see his face, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

He was pale, even more so than he’d been before, and his lips were tinged blue. His chest was barely moving.

“How much longer?” Nicole asked, stepping over to her son’s bedside.

“Not long,” Marc told her in his thick French accent, not taking his eyes off Tim. “Maybe twenty or thirty minutes now.”

“I brought her,” Nicole told her husband softly.

At that, both Pauline and Marc turned towards the corner Lea was standing in.

“Am… am I too late?” she asked shakily.

Pauline stood, immediately rushing over to her and shaking her head. The older girl took Lea’s hands in hers. “No, you’re not. You can still save him. Are you here to save him?” Her voice was so hopeful, so desperate.

Lea nodded. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.” She didn’t want to disclose more than that to people she didn’t know too well, even under the circumstances. 

Pauline threw her arms around Lea, sobbing quietly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Nicole put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “There’s no time for that now, honey.”

Pauline pulled back, nodding.

Lea faced Marc, aware that if anyone knew what was necessary to save Tim at this point—to be honest, she was quite uncomfortable with initiating anything sexual, let alone while he was unconscious—, it would be the twenty thousand year old incubus. “What do I need to do?”

Marc stood from the chair at his son’s bedside and moved towards the door, followed by his wife and daughter. “He will wake up within a few hours of feeling your skin against his. As much of it as possible is best.”

Lea flushed, realizing that Tim was probably naked under the covers and that she would need to join him. She’d known that shared nudity would be a necessity when she’d agreed to, er… save him, but still. 

It’s a one-time thing, she reminded herself. Plus you love him and he loves you, so it’ll be okay. 

Still, she nodded her understanding.

“Lock the door behind us or Nicole may well barge in to check on him at inopportune times,” he warned.

Lea reddened further—and most definitely not in a good way—at the idea of being caught with Tim, and was sure to lock his bedroom door firmly once his family had left.

She stripped down methodically, letting her clothes fall to the floor in a heap and doing her very best not to think about the fact that she was currently naked in her best friend’s bedroom and about to press her very naked body up against said best friend’s equally naked body for life-saving purposes that required them to be naked. When she climbed into bed with him, pressed herself up against his side, and tentatively draped an arm over his chest, his cold, clammy skin immediately warmed up again and regained its natural color.

Lea wrapped herself around him further, and his breathing evened out. She watched as the blue slowly left his lips. When they were their obnoxiously perfect pink once more, she heaved a sigh of relief and let herself relax. 

It took awhile, but eventually, she fell asleep. 

She woke several hours later to a murmur of her name.

“Lea?”

She blinked her eyes open, lifting her head so as to look at him.

Tim sighed. “Another hallucination, huh?” His eyes closed again and he mused, “Thought I was done with this shit. Maybe it’s my brain’s last hurrah before it gives up.”

Lea frowned. “I’m, uh. I’m not a hallucination.”

He cracked one eye open at her. “My hallucinations of you always say that.” He closed his eye again with a sigh. “Plus, there’s no way I’d feel like I wasn’t about to die if I was awake, on account of me being about to die and all that.”

“No, really,” she told him. “I’m not a hallucination.”

Tim hummed, considering her words. “You admittedly don’t get into bed with me in my hallucinations, I’ll give you that. You usually tell me you’ll never love me or let me touch you, that you think I’m disgusting and hate me for the fact that my body chose you as my mate.” Another sigh. “Sometimes you show me that you got your Mark surgically removed. Those ones are particularly rough.”

“I could never hate you, Tim,” she said softly. 

He was about to speak again, adjusting himself slightly before he did so, and then his eyes shot open and he froze. “Lea, are you… are you naked?”

She flushed, very deliberately looking not at him.

“This… this might actually be real,” he said disbelievingly. “If you’re real—if you’re here—, what’re you doing in my bed? Why’d you come?”

Lea gulped anxiously. “Well, uh.” She attempted to swallow spit that had not yet gathered in her mouth. And then the words came out in a jumbled mess. “Okay, so your mom came to my apartment, right—“

“My mom did what?!” he demanded, but she continued on as if he hadn’t said anything, primarily because her nerves—at being there, at what she was about to confess, at her own emotions and the strength of them, at her nudity and his potential reaction to it, at his nudity, and also the inevitability of them having sex; a number of things, really—prevented her from registering that he’d spoken at all.

“—And I’d been laying in bed for, like, ever, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the fact that you were probably dead, and I realized that I loved you, and then when your mom knocked on my door—“

“Wait,” he cut in. “You… you love me? As more than a friend? Are you in love with me?” he pressed.

She winced. “I’ll, uh… I’ll get to that.” She felt his muscles tense against her. “So… your mom came and asked me to at least see you. She said you didn’t have long left. And knowing you weren’t gone yet, that it wasn’t too late, that I could save you…” She swallowed again, fighting back tears. “I had to save you, y’know? I couldn’t just let you die. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if I didn’t, um… feel the way I do about you, I still couldn’t have just…” 

Sobs overtook her then, and he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her scalp. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.” Another kiss, this one longer, more lingering.

She cried harder. “I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty friend, but I—“

“Hey,” he cut in firmly, placing a gentle hand on her cheek and lifting her face to his. “You’re not a shitty friend for not wanting to let me fuck you, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.” Before she could interrupt him, he went on, “Plus, I don’t want you agreeing to this just ‘cause we’re friends and you want me to not die. If you agree to this, I want it to be because you want it. I want it to be because you want me.” He hesitated. “I want it to be because you love me, and not just as a friend.”

Lea looked down, fairly certain that her face—and probably her neck, chest, and shoulders, too, if she were honest—were all approximately the same shade of red as her hair. “I do love you,” she told him quietly. “So much that it scares me.”

She heard him inhale slowly, then exhale.

“Are you here to accept me, then?”

“I’m here to do whatever I need to do to save you,” she mumbled, still not looking at him. “You need to sleep with me to live.” The reminder was extremely uncomfortable for her to think, let alone say, but it had to be said. “If that’s what you need to live, well. There are worse ways to lose my virginity than sleeping with the guy I’m in love with.”

“I don’t want you wanting to keep me alive to be the only reason you accept me, Lea,” he reminded her firmly. “Do you want to keep me alive or do you want me?”

“I wanna keep you alive,” she admitted quietly, “but I want you, too.”

“You’re certain?” Tim clarified, lifting her face up to his again. “You’re sure you want this?”

She couldn’t help but watch his lips as he spoke. Fuck he was pretty. “Yes.”

“Tell me you love me, then,” he pleaded, his eyes searching hers. “And don’t look away from me this time.”

She thought her heart would beat directly out of her chest, but still, she managed, “I love you, Tim.”

A small, hesitant little smile graced his lips, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I love you, too.”

Her heart beat even faster, if that were possible.

“This is the first time you’ve been naked with me in reality, y’know,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her face.

Lea frowned. “What do you mean?”

He stared at her for a moment. “Your dreams, remember?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “My what?” she squeaked, memories of riding him flooding her. “Fuck, I forgot all about those—“ She buried her face in his neck in humiliation.

Tim chuckled softly. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close.

“How can I not?!” she whined miserably. “I can’t believe I— and then I— ugh!”

Laughing outright then, he nestled his face into her hair. “Being an incubus means I can enter other people’s dreams, put certain images and scenarios they desire in their minds. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“And you, uh…” She gulped, hoping for one answer but fully expecting another. “How much do you remember of my dreams?”

“They’re like regular memories to me.”

She groaned. “You can go ahead and throw me off the balcony now, thanks.”

He laughed again. “Why?”

“‘Cause you saw me… y’know…” She couldn’t finish her statement.

“Bouncing on my cock and begging me for more?” he teased gently, his voice a soft murmur against her scalp.

Lea whined again. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” he wanted to know. “It’s what you did.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she insisted.

At the exact same moment, however, he declared, “It’s sexy.”

The second his words registered in her brain, she squeaked again. “You can’t say stuff like that—“

“Why not?” he repeated.

“It’s embarrassing!”

“Lea, sweetheart,” he began with great patience, “you’re my mate. I’m going to claim you the second you allow me to. I want you to beg for my dick. I want you to moan my name. I want you to be desperate from wanting me so bad.”

She whined miserably, reiterating, “It’s embarrassing,” yet again.

“I am very much looking forward to the process of getting you used to it.”

“Not sure I’ll ever be used to it enough to say things like that out loud,” she admitted.

He hummed, considering. “I’m not gonna have enough strength to fuck you right away, you realize,” Tim pointed out. “I’ll need an orgasm before I’ll be able to manage it.”

She pulled back, her blush intensifying. “I, uh…” She gulped. “You were my first kiss, so… I’ve never made a guy… do that… before…”

He frowned. “I don’t mean I need you to give me an orgasm. I mean I need to feed off an orgasm from you.”

Her mouth fell open. “Oh.”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “‘Oh’ indeed.”

It’s to save him, Lea reminded herself firmly.

“What… what do I need to do?” she breathed.

“Well,” he paused, “you could make yourself cum.” She squeaked at this prospect. “Or I could use my fingers.” Another pause. “Or shit, you could sit on my face if you wanted to. That sounds awesome, actually—“

“That last one is definitely a bit much for me,” she managed.

Tim did a very good job of not looking disappointed, but she could see it in his eyes. “Then do you wanna ride my fingers or show me how you touch yourself?”

Lea squirmed anxiously. “Um. If… if you could, like…”

“Yeah?” he prompted. 

“I’d like it to stay under the covers, so…”

“Why’s that?” he asked gently, sweetly. “Don’t want me to see you?”

“Sorry,” she told him bashfully.

“I’d never make you do anything,” he assured her. “Not gonna lie and say I haven’t been aching for that sexy little body of yours, though.”

“It’s not really little,” she muttered. That was the very thing she was afraid of, after all. She’d seen pictures of him with girls who were half the dress size she was. What if he didn’t think she was attractive in person, mate or no?

He snorted. “What are you, four feet tall?”

She whipped her head up to glare fiercely at him. “I’m almost 5'1”, I’ll have you know.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “you’re tiny. The point stands.”

“Does not,” she grumbled in annoyance.

“Does too,” he countered. “And anyway, it’s fine if you don’t want me to see you naked, I’ll do my best to avoid that if it’ll make you happy, but you should know that I’ve already seen your body and have subsequently had countless orgasms to the thought of said body.”

She blinked at him in astonishment. “You— you have?”

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “I’m an incubus and you’re my mate. Everything about you is inherently sexy to me and will inevitably turn me on.”

Lea frowned, finding it incredibly difficult to believe—despite the piles upon piles of evidence—that anyone could find her as attractive as he seemed to; the idea that someone so physically perfect, who was around supermodels all the time, could want her this way… Well. It just seemed far-fetched to her.

“You don’t believe me?” he murmured, gaze fixated on her lips.

She licked them self-consciously, and his eyes followed the movement. “Just a bit hard to grasp, I guess.”

“Want me to show you?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Show me?”

“What you do to me,” Tim clarified, albeit rather unhelpfully.

Brain too muddled to consider how he might go about doing that, she said, “Uh. Sure.”

With a downright astonishing lack of shame or modesty, he flipped the covers off of himself. She almost looked on reflex alone before realizing what was happening and keeping her eyes fixed on his face instead.

He laughed at whatever expression she was wearing. “Go ahead, baby. I want you to see.”

Lea gnawed on her lower lip anxiously before slowly—ever so slowly—lowering her gaze down his lithe form to his…

Well. The piercings from her dreams were not, in fact, made up, it would seem. There were those barbels along the base of his shaft, with another just beneath the head. He was startlingly—terrifyingly, really—large, and very, very hard, his dick jutting out proudly away from his abdomen.

She swallowed, and she honestly wasn’t sure if it was due to nervousness or if her mouth was watering.

“Believe me now?” he eventually asked.

“Y— yeah,” she stuttered, her face flaming. “So, uh. The piercings, they’re, um…”

“They’re real, yeah,” he confirmed. “I can get rid of them if you’d prefer.”

Lea wondered what they would taste like, what they’d feel like against her tongue. “No, that’s okay,” she murmured.

“Alright,” he agreed. She wasn’t looking at his face—how could she look away from his dick when it was, like, out in the open that way, all ginormous and hard and pierced?—but she could hear the grin he was most definitely sporting, the smug bastard. “You know I can sense your arousal, right?”

She bristled. “Shut up.”

He shrugged one deliciously bare shoulder. “Just sayin’.” His gaze traveled the length of her body as if she weren’t covered by the blankets at all. “Now that my desire for your incredibly sexy body is evident, are you comfortable with me seeing you naked or are you still wanting to be covered?”

She flushed—or rather, her existing flush deepened—and lowered her gaze to where her hand lay on his chest. “If… if you want to see me, I’d be okay with it.” When she spoke, her voice was quiet, barely a whisper.

“As a reminder,” Tim began gently, “I’ve already seen you, sweetheart. Your body in your dreams, I saw it. The subconscious mind is accurate in its portrayal of the individual in the dreams I plant. I know what you look like already, is my point.”

“Okay,” she told him hesitantly, nodding her assent.

“Here,” he murmured, lifting the hem of the covers and sliding them away from her body. “Let me see you, darling.”

Once her body was revealed to him, he stared at her for so long she was afraid that he’d been wrong and he really did find her repulsive. Finally, however, he croaked, “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

Her flush deepening impossibly further, she fidgeted, rubbing her feet together anxiously.

“Can I…” He gulped. “Can I touch you? And kiss you?” His eyes raked over her bare form. “Fucking hell, please let me kiss you.”

Lea nodded, and then they were kissing, tenderly at first, and then desperately, like he wanted to breathe her in. His hand was cupping her face, sliding into her hair so as to hold her against him, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, her breasts against his side. Feeling her bare body against his in such a way, knowing what they were about to do, what she was going to have with him— it made her nervous, but for once, it wasn’t a bad sort of nervous, maybe her arousal had burned all of that away; it was an excited kind of nervousness, like he’d set fire to her skin when he wrapped his arm around her waist to bring her closer to him.

Trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, Tim squeezed her hip possessively, his fingers flexing and digging into her skin. “Fuck, I love you. Can I touch you?” he rasped. “Please, Lea. Please let me touch you, make you cum.”

Trying to think clearly enough to formulate words felt like trying to wade through molasses, but she found enough scraps of sentience to say, “You can do anything you want to me as long as you keep telling me you love me like that.”

She felt his smile against her skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Fuckin’ love you, sweetheart.”

It was almost startling, how much she wanted this. How much she wanted his hands on her. Hesitantly, she put her palm on his cheek, guiding his lips back to hers.

In response to her initiative, he made a noise somewhere deep in his throat, slipping his tongue into her mouth and moving his hand from her hair to brush against the side of her breast. When she arched into the touch, light as it was, he grasped her breast outright, squeezing gently.

Lea panted into his mouth, whimpering desperately and wanting him closer, impossibly closer. Being pressed flush up against him wasn’t enough; she wanted to melt into him until they couldn’t be sure where one of them ended and the other began.

When his thumb brushed her nipple, she whimpered again, tilting her head and returning his kiss hungrily. He pinched her nipple then, and she moaned outright at that. She hadn’t been aware she was capable of being so turned on; it felt like her desire for him was burning her alive from the inside out.

“Wanna make you cum,” Tim muttered against her lips. “Wanna make you scream for me.”

“Yes,” she panted out, her breath coming in short little gasps. 

He hummed into her mouth, taking her lower lip between his teeth gently and trailing his hand from her breast down the front of her body.

“Spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” he murmured. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Her nerves were basically nonexistent by that point, so she didn’t hesitate in parting her thighs for him. His hand cupped her, stroking her with long, slender fingers, and she gasped sharply.

“I knew you were wet for me, but feeling it is something else entirely,” he groaned, trailing kisses down her throat to the tops of her breasts and brushing his fingertips over her folds. “You make the sweetest little noises. What noises will you make when you cum, baby? Hm?”

Tim’s lips moved up her neck again, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin there and effectively short circuiting her brain. She clutched the hair at the base of his neck in her fist, tightening her grip when he touched his index finger to her clit, just barely, hardly a touch at all, but the light contact made her jolt nonetheless.

Chuckling softly at how sensitive she was, he rubbed slow circles around her clit, and all she could do was kiss him harder.

“Yeah?” he breathed, inhaling her desperate whimpers. “That feel good, sweetheart?” Lea could hardly register that she’d been spoken to, let alone respond to him, and he chuckled again when all she could manage was a moan. “C’mon, baby,” he encouraged softly. “Tell me how it feels.”

“G— good,” she forced out, rocking against his hand as he slid a finger down to her entrance, teasing her and thumbing her clit.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he promised, dipping a finger inside her briefly and pressing a bit harder on her clit. “Gonna worship you till the end of time, baby, I swear.”

“Tim,” she gasped, and he circled her clit faster. He seemed to know just what her body wanted, just what she needed, even before she knew it herself.

“Tell me you love me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“I love you,” she moaned, and he rewarded her by sliding a finger inside her and hastening the movements of his thumb over her clit.

“Good girl,” Tim growled in her ear. His words—or maybe it was his voice, she wasn’t entirely sure one way or the other—sent a fissure of heat up her spine, and when he began to thrust his finger in and out of her, she bucked her hips on instinct. “There you go,” he encouraged. “Wanna watch you fall apart. Wanna feel you cum around my fingers, then around my cock.” She whimpered at that, and he kissed her neck, where he’d left the bruise before.

“Kiss me,” she begged abruptly, suddenly overtaken by a desperate need to have his lips on hers again. He didn’t hesitate, slanting his mouth over hers and rubbing her clit faster with his thumb, sliding another finger in with the first. He sucked her tongue, and she moaned, rolling her hips in time with every thrust of his fingers inside her.

He hadn’t even been touching her for that long, and Lea was already getting close. She’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so goddamn good that her brain had essentially turned to mush.

“Fuck,” he groaned into her mouth. “I can feel you ‘bout to cum. You gonna, baby? You gonna cum on my fingers?”

“Mhm,” she whined, her voice high-pitched and breathless. “I— I’m gonna—“

“Yeah,” he encouraged, “that’s it. Look at me, sweetheart. Lemme see your eyes when you cum for me.”

Lea hadn’t even realized her eyes had been closed to begin with; all sensation that didn’t involve his hands and fingers had been entirely forgotten. Still, she forced her eyes open, leaning into his palm when he cupped her cheek with the hand that wasn’t occupied between her legs.

It took her a second to register what she was seeing, which was… weird, to say the least. For one, his eyes were glowing. For two, they were bright red.

Strangely enough, however, this didn’t turn her off, or even startle her away from her building orgasm. On the contrary, it only served to arouse her further, though she couldn’t fathom why.

“So perfect for me,” he murmured, rubbing her clit in swift, firm circles as he thrust his fingers inside her, curling them each time. “Cum for me, baby. Give it to me. C’mon.”

Her moans escalated in volume and frequency, as if she’d lost control of her vocal chords, her entire body thrumming with the need for release, and then—

And then she burst, clutching at him tightly, digging her fingers into his shoulders. She came down slowly, blood pounding in her clit so hard that it resonated throughout her entire body.

He collected her into his arms, spent and panting, and held her close. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. He was pressing gentle kisses to her hair, murmuring softly to her, but the blood rushing in her ears drowned out his words.

After a couple minutes of him holding her and stroking her back, she managed to find the wherewithal to mumble, “Your eyes turned red.”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

“That an incubus thing?” she guessed.

She felt him nod. “Yeah. Happens when I, y’know. Feed.” She hummed, and when she didn’t say anything further, he asked, “Does it, uh… Does it bother you?”

“Nah,” she sighed contentedly, her inhibitions so lowered they basically didn’t exist anymore. “It was pretty hot, to be honest.”

Tim sputtered out a quiet laugh. “Hot? Really?”

“Mhm,” she confirmed, nuzzling him affectionately. “All demon-y and sexy.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna have to close my eyes every time I fuck you or give you an orgasm.”

“No, don’t do that,” Lea giggled. “I love the way you look at me.”

“I love you,” he countered.

She lifted herself away from his neck and was momentarily distracted by the green that had returned to his eyes before she leaned in to kiss him. “I love you, too.”

At her declaration, the arm he had wrapped around her waist tightened. Her skin was still kinda tingly from the orgasm he’d pulled from her, so when he kissed her again, it made her want more of his touch.

His fingers had felt so good—incredible, really—and she wanted to know what his cock would feel like. What would those barbels feel like? What sounds would he make? Would he talk to her, the way he’d done as he pleasured her?

He groaned into her mouth. “Fuck, baby, already? You already wanna cum again?”

“N— not exactly,” she breathed before quickly amending with, “Not that I’d say no, but, um…” Lea gulped anxiously. “Don’t you need to… y’know…?”

He cupped her cheek, his grin sharp and maybe a little bit predatory, which shouldn’t have turned her on, but apparently she was fucked in the head, so it did turn her on.

“Are you asking me to claim you?” His voice was soft and sweet, so at odds with the dangerous-looking gleam in his eyes, and her stomach fluttered with want.

“Claim me how?” she breathed, the words barely more than an exhalation. 

She licked her lips, and he stared at them before saying, “By fucking you, Lea,” in that gentle voice that sent shivers down her spine and set fire to her blood. “Tell me if you want it, sweetheart. I wanna hear you say it.”

Blushing to the roots of her hair, Lea managed to squeak out, “I— I want…” The rest of the statement failed her. She wasn’t even sure how to phrase it.

“If you want me to fuck you,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, “say the words.” She could only stare at him with wide eyes, so he continued, “Say, ‘I want you to fuck me, Timothée.’”

“I want you to…” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Iwantyoutofuckme.”

The words had spilled from her mouth in a jumbled mess, so he said, “Clearer, darling. Can’t understand you when you talk that fast.”

Lea glared at him. She knew damn well he could understand her just fuckin’ fine, thank you very much. He was a certifiable expert in deciphering her anxiety-speak. But she wanted this so bad, and she loved him so much, and she desperately wanted to please him, so…

Mustering up courage she absolutely did not feel, she exhaled slowly and said, “I want you to fuck me, Timothée.”

He smirked, and it somehow reminded her of both a knife and the Cheshire Cat, and then he was kissing her again.

She melted into him without thinking about it, kissing him back hungrily. He sat up, pulling her with him and into his lap.

“Tim,” she gasped out as he mouthed at her neck, “is— is this—“ As it turned out, it was very difficult to think or speak when he was in the process of giving her a hickey, so naturally, she cut herself off.

Tim, however, seemed to have a significantly clearer head. “What is it?”

Her mind felt unstable and wobbly, like jello during an earthquake, so it took her a second to remember what she’d wanted to ask him. “Is this, y’know. A meal to you?” He pulled back, looking somewhat offended, so she hastily added, “I— I know that you love me, I just… Would you still want this with me even if I wasn’t your mate, if you weren’t gonna die without it?”

He stared at her incredulously. “Lea, there is absolutely no scenario, situation, or universe in which I would not fall in love with you. Therefore, there is also no scenario, situation, or universe in which I would not want to fuck you senseless.”

Lea wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that, so she pressed her lips to his instead. As they kissed, he reached down between them to position himself at her entrance, and she gasped at the sensation. She could feel the cool metal of the uppermost barbel against her skin, and she was so entranced by it that she hardly noticed when he moved both hands to her hips.

“I love you,” he breathed into her mouth.

“I… I love you, too,” she gasped out, her brain muddled by the way his tip brushed against her drenched folds.

He tightened his hold on her hips, brushing his lips over hers again with a murmur of, “Sink down onto me, baby. Nice and slow, okay?”

“Y— yeah,” she managed to stutter out. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself onto his length. She winced, clenching her eyes shut. He was huge, and she wasn’t sure if this was gonna work.

“You’re okay,” Tim praised gently. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. You’ll get used to it, I promise. Just be patient.”

She was skeptical of this, but still, she trusted him—more than that, she loved him; adored him, really—, so she gave herself time to adjust before sinking a tiny bit further into him. He murmured soft encouragements into her hair; telling her how perfect she was, how much he loved her, how beautiful she was.

It took awhile, but eventually, she was seated fully in his lap, her arms draped over his shoulders and her face buried in his neck as she panted with exertion.

“This is not the way it was in my dreams,” she complained against his skin.

“No,” he agreed, running a gentle hand up and down her back as he brushed a kiss to her temple, “it’s better, ‘cause this is real.”

Smiling despite herself, she murmured, “Yeah.”

“How do you feel?” he asked her softly.

Lea considered this for a long moment. “I feel… full.” She paused, adjusting herself slightly. “And I can’t feel your, uh… your piercings as much as I thought I would.” She adjusted herself again, and he groaned softly.

“Until you’re ready for me to move, can you please stay still?” he practically begged.

She blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh. Yeah, sure.”

After a couple minutes of Tim holding her, he finally asked, “How you feelin’, baby? Does it hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” she said softly, pushing away from his neck to readjust and see how it felt. She flushed when she saw the red in his eyes and realized he was feeding on her again—why was that so sexy? Why was she into that? What was wrong with her?—before shifting her pelvis slightly. A quiet gasp escaped her, and she caught the smirk he tried to hide.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he drawled.

“Shut up,” she muttered, her face flaming in embarrassment.

“Don’t think I will, no.” The stupid prick was still smirking at her, and she tried to glare at him, but he was too goddamn sexy with his hair falling over his eyes like that, and having him inside her was really starting to feel good. One of his hands traveled up her body to cup her breast, squeezing and kneading it, tugging gently on her nipple. When she gasped again, his grin sharpened like the blade of a knife. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Lemme show you how to move, okay?” 

He pulled his hand from her nipple, and the tug made her whimper, but then both of his hands were on her hips again, and he encouraged her to move back and forth, rocking against him.

“There you go,” Tim encouraged lowly, his gaze locked onto where they were joined. “Go slow till you get used to it, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for me.” He reached for her hands, lifting them up to drape them over his shoulders again. “Roll your hips, baby.”

She did so, moaning at the way he filled her. “Like this?” Her voice was so breathless and high-pitched that she barely recognized it as her own, but he seemed to like it, judging by the way his eyes—still red, still sexier than they should be—flashed up to hers and his hands tightened on her hips.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Do whatever feels good. I wanna make you feel good.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, murmuring, “You feel good,” against his lips.

“Yeah?” She felt him grinning, even as he kissed her. “Can you go a little faster? See how you like it?”

She rocked her hips a bit faster, fisting a hand in his hair and sucking his tongue into her mouth in a way that she’d learned he liked.

After a few seconds of desperate, hungry kissing, he moved his mouth down her neck and murmured, “Gonna try something, okay?”

“Uh huh,” Lea gasped out mindlessly, unable to think of anything but the way he felt inside her.

He reached around her, gripping her ass firmly, and lifted her partially off of him. She squeaked in surprise, not at all expecting him to be that strong—it was an incubus thing, wasn’t it? It was totally an incubus thing, and she really shouldn’t find that as attractive as she apparently did—, but her squeak turned into a loud moan when he dropped her back down on him, the force of her own weight making her slam down onto his cock. Before he could pick her up again, however, she lifted herself off of him and slammed back down. Throwing her head back, she moaned again, gripping his shoulders for leverage.

“Yeah, baby,” he encouraged, his voice strained and hoarse. “Bounce on my cock. Fuck yourself on it.”

“Tim,” she whined desperately. “Oh god, Tim—“

“I know,” he gasped. “Fuck, I know.”

She’d had no idea sex could feel so good. She never wanted it to end, she wanted this forever—

“You’ll have it forever, Lea,” he pointed out, and she realized she’d actually voiced her thoughts aloud, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel embarrassed about it. How could she when he was making her feel so incredible? “You can have this any time you want. Gonna spend the rest of existence fucking you, sweetheart. Making you cum.”

She couldn’t recall why that was a bad idea at that exact moment; all she could do was bounce on him over and over, all she could think was, yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes—

“Your pussy’s a fuckin’ dream, babydoll,” he was babbling. “Can’t believe you’re mine, that I get to have this, that I get to have you, fuck—“

She moaned again, bouncing on him as hard and fast as she could. Her thighs were burning, but she hardly even noticed.

He squeezed one of her breasts roughly, and she wondered if his touch would bruise her— actually, she kinda hoped it would. She wanted him to bruise her everywhere.

“Tell me you like it,” he demanded. “Tell me you want more.”

“I like it, I like it,” she chanted, fucking herself on him, chasing that delicious sensation of fullness. “More, more, I want more, fuck, it’s so good, Tim—“

Something about the way she’d whined his name seemed to flip a switch in him, and he shoved her down abruptly onto the mattress. There was something feral in his eyes, and it wasn’t just the fact that they were glowing red— it was something else entirely, something neither of them could name, and whatever it was made him fuck into her so roughly it started to scoot her across the bed, but he pinned her wrists down to keep her there.

Lea spread her legs wider, wanting to take him deeper into her, as deep as he could go, she wanted—

She wanted—

Fuck it all, she wanted him to get her pregnant. She wanted it so desperately she was fairly certain she’d die if he didn’t. His eyes—still glowing red, fuck but it was sexy—watched her intently, and she could’ve sworn he knew somehow, knew she what she was wanting, what she was needing, what she’d always been needing. 

“T— Tim,” she whimpered. “I— I love you, I—“

“Love you, too,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss her. It was all teeth and tongue and hunger, and when he released one of her wrists, she immediately grasped his hair, tangling the curls between her fingers. “Touch yourself,” he demanded sharply, his voice serrated and edged, sharp and dangerous in a way that made her tingle down to her very toes.

His free hand grasped her breast, and he pulled away from her lips, only to fasten them firmly to her nipple. She moaned, arching up into his mouth and rolling her hips to meet his thrusts.

It took a few seconds for his command to register with her addled brain, but once it did, her hand shot down to where they were joined, and she barely had to rub her clit at all to stimulate it, what with the force he was thrusting into her with jolting her body so quickly and roughly, so she just let her fingers rest there, and that, combined with the sharp movements of him driving into her and the way he was sucking her nipple, had her hurtling towards the edge at a rate that would’ve been incredibly embarrassing if all sense hadn’t been so thoroughly fucked out of her by that point.

He knew Lea was about to cum, it seemed like, and she could’ve sworn his eyes burned an even brighter red than before when he growled, “Cum. Cum. Now.”

It was as if she had no control over her body whatsoever, as if she were a puppet attached to strings he alone held sway over, because no sooner had he given the command did her orgasm rip through her like a tsunami of pleasure so intense she wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t drown her.

Before her orgasm had finished, he kissed her, fucking her harder so as to prolong her release, and she knew, somehow, that the way he was kissing her—possessive, desperate, starving—meant more than she understood in the moment, but all she wanted was to kiss him back with the same amount of fervor he had for her. He groaned into her mouth then, the sound coming from his throat, and then his thrusts slowed before ceasing entirely, and he collapsed atop her.

“Well,” he panted out, “that was awesome.”

“Uh huh,” Lea said, her mind feeling as if it had been filled with cotton.

He lifted his head to grin down at her, and then declared, “Let’s do it again.”

Eyes widening in shock, she shook her head. “I’m gonna need, like… a decade before I can do that again, Tim.” For god’s sake, couldn’t guys not go again after they’d orgasmed? “Aren’t you, like, full or something?”

He frowned for a second before laughing, leaning down to kiss her nose. “It’s not like regular hunger. I can’t overindulge.” He sighed, lifting himself off of her and pulling out in the process, “But I’m sure it’s tiring for you. I don’t usually…” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Lea blinked up at him, propping herself up on her elbows to examine his bashful expression. “You don’t usually… what?”

“I don’t usually stick around after I’ve finished,” he admitted.

“Haven’t you, like. Dated before?” she asked, frowning.

“I have,” Tim confirmed, looking down at his hands. “But not humans.”

Lea’s frown deepened. “You’ve never dated a human?”

“I’ve dated humans.” He glanced up at her briefly before returning his gaze to his hands. “Just… not in a very long time.”

“Oh.”

Ah. Well. There was that jealous feeling again. Of both his human exes and his Otherworlder exes. Lovely. What did it even matter? This was supposed to be a one time thing anyway! Just to save him, right?

…Right?

“Lea,” he sighed, reaching out to take her hand in his. She didn’t look at him, though. “There’s no one for me but you now, okay?”

“Okay,” she grumbled.

“Hey.” His voice was firm now, and he gripped her chin and lifted her face to his. “I can’t feed off anyone but you, and I’m not interested in regular sex with anyone who isn’t you because I love you. You’re it.” His eyes searched hers. “Okay?”

Fucking hell, but when he looked at her like that, with those stupidly perfect eyes, she forgot about everything else. “Okay.”

“Good.” 

With that, he cleaned her up and pulled her back underneath the covers. He pressed a kiss to her forehead with a murmur of, “I love you.”

Lea’s eyes closed, and as exhaustion overtook her, she smiled and said, “I love you, too.”

Tag list

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake

To be added, please ask 💗

[bishop-percival]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

Something was bothering Bishop Percival. He was pacing around his personal vestry and office, two in the morning. He slowed to a stop in front of an ornate full length mirror. He stared at his face for a good while, then rubbed the top of his naked, unadorned head with a heavy sigh. “I don’t feel complete without one…”

Percy’s eye wandered toward a nearby chest. He popped it open and dug around a bit before pulling out a standard Hater Empire watchdog helmet. After a moment of hesitation, he rested it upon his head and looked back in the mirror. The sight disgusted him as he scowled. “That is not me..,” he muttered as he removed the helmet and frisbeed it across the room where it crashed into a bookshelf. 

“Aaaarhg!!!” He plopped down in his lush desk chair. “Waiting, waiting, waiting! I can’t stand it anymore! Why’s that damn Bowtie so… Breakable! UGH!”

Percival clutched the sides of his head as he laid it down on the desk, muttering curses. But then he sprang his head back up. A cheeky smile grew across his face as a really good idea formed in his head. “Heh… What am I moping around for? I have the power to fix broken things…”

He took out his phone and dialed a number. As expected since it was quite late at night, it went to voicemail. So the bishop tried again and again until he was finally answered.

“Urgh… H-hello, Your Excellency? What’s up?” 

It was Sam. Their voice was groggy and unsure. 

It had been about a week and a half since they dislocated Theodore’s shoulder. Bishop Percival had already tore into them multiple times about breaking the Glornch’s tailor at such an inconvenient time. Sam was incredibly apologetic (to Percival) and vowed to do whatever it took to make it up to him. So they figured this call might be about that.

“Slimy! My Slimeball! I have a really important assignment for you. Can you meet me in front of the medbay? Like right now?”

“Uh, y-yes sir! What is—”

Percy hung up. Sam sighed. She didn’t know if she should be glad Percy was probably taking her up on her offer to regain his favor, or if she should be worried that it involved going to the medbay, and likely by extension, dealing with Theodore. Regardless, Sam figured they’d get their answers in person. Once they made it down from the bunks they made a beeline to the medbay.

The bishop was waiting outside the main doors. “Oh, you made it here fast, Slimy!”

Sam gave him a deep, reverent bow once they approached him. “A’ course sir, only for you.” They sprang back up. “So what’s my assignment?”

“Come along…” The bishop led them through the doors and they made their way to an expansive concourse. The area was lined wall to wall with rows of cots containing sleeping watchdogs, too injured to climb the bunks in the Skullship's sleeping quarters but too healthy to occupy a medical bed. 

Bishop Percival gestured his arm across the room. “You see Sam, I’m trying to find Bowtie. But my, it’s just so crowded in here, I figured I could use your help! You’re so nimble and agile, I bet you could navigate the narrow walkways far quicker than me.”

Sam rubbed their head. “But sir… That’s gonna be like finding a very dull, lame, annoying needle in a stack of other needles. Or however that saying goes.” 

“Yeah, which is why I’m making you do it! If Bowtie carries his red robe around, then look for that if it’ll make it easier. And when you do find him…”

Percival removed his own outer vestment and handed it to Sam. “Text me, plop this on the floor next to you, and I’ll be there in a flash!”

Taking the robe, Sam looked down and let out a small sigh before meeting the bishop’s eye again. “Okay sir… M-may I ask why you’re sniffing out, uh, Bowtie now when you could’ve just like, called him to your office when he’s awake or something?”

“No you may not ask! Now git on out there!” 

Sam straightened up, puffed out their chest, and gave a firm “yes sir!” before turning. They only got a few steps away before Percy shouted “WAIT!," much to the alarm of a few watchdogs trying to sleep nearby.

The bishop somehow procured a large stack of informational Glornist pamphlets from his pocket and handed them to Sam too. “Might as well do some quiet proselytizing while you’re at it, eh?”

Sam draped the robe over his shoulder and took the pamphlets. “Sure. Good call, Your Excellency.”

With that, she took off nimbly sidling down the narrow aisles of cots, carefully placing a pamphlet on each sleeping watchdog she passed, looking for Theodore. 

This went on for some time. With each passing cot, Sam became less careful about their movements, awkwardly striding sideways and impatiently slapping down pamphlets, growling an insincere “my fucking bad” whenever she kicked a cot and awoke the watchdog within. 

Finally, just as he placed his last available pamphlet, he spotted a head that was resting on what looked like a red pillow. That was good enough evidence that it was their target. As instructed, they threw Bishop Percival’s robe to the ground and texted him.

Just a few seconds later, a bright red light flashed from under the robe and in an instant the bishop sprang up from under it along with a cloud of black smoke. He smiled wide at Sam before leaning over the sleeping watchdog and poking at him.

“Psssst… Bowtie….”

[magesticmagicqueen]

Part one

Ellie’s thoughts “She said u punched her” “I’m fine” “Me and Rosie are going swimming without you” “I don’t know” “She’s being stupid”

Jay: Ellie! Earth to Ellie! Are you ok? Ellie: Hmm I’m fine. What are we doing? Jay: We aren’t doing anything. IM filling out your paperwork. Where were you born? Ellie: Oh I was born here in England. A man walks past them both

Jay: Jackson! Can you take Ellie up to the quiet room to meet Sofia. Jackson: Sure! Come on kid!

Ellie follows Jackson. He takes her suitcase whilst she takes her backpack. They walk for a while before entering a room filled with all kinds of entertainment; books,computers,TVs,games etc… Jackson goes and talks to a lady behind a desk. Ellie sits down on a nearby beanbag and picks a book up off a nearby shelf. A few minutes pass and Jackson leaves the room smiling at Ellie on his way out. The lady he was talking to gets up and comes toward Ellie.

Sofia: hi my name is Sofia. This is the quiet room feel free to have a look around. Jay will be here soon. In the meantime if you need anything I’ll just be at my desk

She goes and sits back down. Ellie looks back at the book though she isn’t reading it but turning the pages and thinking intensely instead. Many people went in and out of the room so Ellie didn’t notice when Jay came in. As Jay went to Sofias desk Ellie realised there were tears rolling down her cheeks. Hastily she wiped them from her face just before Jay turned around and began to walk towards her

Jay: Ok all your paperwork is in order so I’m gonna show you your room, grab your backpack

He grabs Ellie’s suitcase and they both leave the quiet room. They go down a staircase and through a small corridor with a glass roff before reaching a house like area with a kitchen ,dining room, living room on the downstairs. Jay leads Ellie upstairs where there are a lot of rooms. He takes her one which is fairly large with a double bed, a nightstand, wardrobe, bookshelf, desk and a chest of drawers.

Jay: alright Ellie this is your new room we can get some of your other stuff next week but why don’t you unpack what you’ve got and if you need anything the office is two doors down to your left and there tends to be someone in there. To get back to the main building go through the glass corridors and there is one upstairs and one back downstairs which we used

He leaves and Ellie begins to unpack her clothes when someone knocks on the half open door. Ellie turns around to find a woman around her mid twenties with wavy blonde hair up to her waist standing in the doorway

Dove: hiya I’m dove, I’m a caretaker here. If you like I can help you unpack?

Ellie: oh that’s ok I can do it myself

Dove: if you say so. By the way this place can be a little confusing to start. If you ever need my my bedroom is the first door on the right after you pass the office

Ellie :ok thanks

Dove: no problem but if you don’t need anything I’ll be going now

Ellie: wait! Actually do you mind telling me where the bathroom is?

Dove: oh it’s diagonally opposite your room!

Ellie thank you so much

[sunflowergem]

💙 and 🧠 for the Stratum girls!

Yaaaaaaaah, my girls!🥰

💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?

So I'm going to give the blanket statement that all three of them have very personalized rooms, got to invoke that icon branding when it comes to their bedrooms so the colors and motif are personalized

♠️Spade: organized in like a record store way. Bit of a grunge style with like the milk crates as shelves. Slightly messy with some clothes on the floor and things like that but nothing too crazy. It came to me in a vision but I think she has a waterbed. Oh it should be set up next to like a speaker system too so that she can feel the vibrations through the waterbed that'd be so cool 😎 color theme is of course mostly orange with like browns and yellows as secondaries. Very warm feeling. Loveseat couch for some extra seating and like coffee table in the middle of the room with whatever laptop equivalent that I decide to write into this world (still working on how I'm going to depict some technology) she would prefer to keep her skateboarding things inside her bedroom but because of dirt and such the other two girls put their foot down about that staying in the garage. I think the garage might be an extension of her room to be honest. She has custody of most of the tools in the house and between that and working on skateboarding gear and such she uses a lot of that space most of the time. Speaking of which placement in the house maybe would be either super near the backyard or garage or alternatively a basement I'm still kind of up in the air on this.

🍀Clover: why do I low-key picture a dark academic bedroom for my popstar girly??? I guess the OC gods have spoken though so cuz I've been sitting on this for like 10 minutes trying to think of something else and nah. Not a canopy bed but definitely a big one with like those big wood pillar bedposts with some intricate carvings. Definitely has a reading corner with a comfy big chair and standing lamp with a bookshelf on either side. I could see a window she could sit into with some like cushions and such. Definitely has a desk set up probably also has a laptop but also has a lot of books with both notebooks and like textbooks all around that area. Not to mention all the stationery! Girly goes ham for some colored pens. Closet is super organized she hates not being able to find pieces of her outfits. Probably a walk-in closet to be honest. Maybe with curtains separating it from the rest of the room. Oh and definitely ensuite bathroom. She might have absconded with the master bedroom... Green with brown and super dark golds as the color scheme. Surprising considering her name but not many plants she might have like framed paintings of them though. Oh I could totally see her with some of those anatomical botanical drawings framed around the room.

💎 Diamond: Attic room with a loft and lights hanging from the rafters. I'm picturing an attic with a lot of like Windows and she's got a bunch of plants both hanging and in big pots on the floor little pots on shelves just so many plants. Sun catchers in all the windows so you get all kinds of multicolored lights at different times of day. Pseudo canopy style bed so she's got like typical bed frame and like hanging curtains from the ceiling all around out of different styles of fabric in different shades of purple and gray. One half of the room is more bedroom style with the bed, dresser, a rack for some of the clothes, probably a vanity. Other side of the room has several musical instruments and like a really good computer setup with recording gear. There's a pile of bean bags that usually gets shifted to the middle of the room to hang out on as well. Not messy but definitely cluttered.

I stumbled upon this as I was actually writing these out but I kind of love that I've got one girl in the Attic one in like either the first or second floor of the dwelling and then another that's probably going to be in the basement 😆 it's actually slightly reflects where grew up before joining up as a group.

🧠 - What is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn?

♠️Spade: freeze

🍀Clover: flight

💎 Diamond: fight