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winterarmyy · 8 months

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An alternate ending of Thin Walls, Thin Lines.

Note: Basically the smut content no one asked for our fuckboy!bucky in 《 Thin Walls, Thin Lines 》. So read it first for context! (if you haven't already)

Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.7k++

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, lil bit of angst, cunnilingus, finger fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, squirting, cum eating, needy bucky, an absolute filth and i'm sorry for bucky's behaviour in this one, he is just a horny mf on a daily basis also I just want to warn you about the sinful things he might say in this.

P/S: I don't know what to say. I love the fluff ending from the original version, but this... this ending. Even if i feel like it's a messy writing. but pheww. You can just tell why I refused to choose and ended up doing both.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.

But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"

And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.

Would he? Take advantage of her?

Of course not. But will he lie just to tease her? Yes. He would. "Maybe. Only if you let me." He shrugged.

And that made her blooming feature fell into a gloom. As if she was having a chaotic crisis within the pretty little troubled head of hers. Y/N didn't want whatever he was suggesting. She wanted more than a brief fling; more than a casual situationship.

Because she loved him; truly. It wasn't just a passing passion, or an accidental chemistry.

Seeing the frown on her face and the panic spiralling in her eyes, Bucky chuckled as he knew she was taking his joke way too seriously, "Okay, how about I let you on with a little secret?" He suggested.

It perked her interest that Y/N simply nodded to his offer. Bucky smiled as he leaned down, lips grazing the shell of her ears whispering a shocking confession.

She wasn't even high from any medication that Dr. Cho had prescribe to her but she couldn't believe what she heard. Her widen eyes questioned his smug smile hovering over her. Until she sneakily pulled the pillow next to her and threw it to his face.

Y/N kicked the blankets and changed into a sitting position, "Urghh you're such a dick, Bucky! I can't believe that I let you make fun of me!" She said with a biting tone.

"But, I'm not though?" Which only triggered her to smack him more with the pillow she was holding. Soon, the silent room were filled with the sound of her angry groans and Bucky's hearty laughter that cascade into a muffled chuckles.

The moment Y/N let her guard down, Bucky quickly stole the soft weapon from her and reclarified his confession, "I'm serious. I've been in love with you for awhile now." It's not she was blind; she saw no lies in his eyes and there was nothing but truth in the gentle of his voice.

She squinted her eyes into a glare and folded her arms across her chest, "Well, you have a rather funny way of showing it."

Bucky only smile to her snarky remarks, his hand finding hers to pull her closer, "I think I made it clear with the endless flirting that you have been blatantly rejecting, doll." He placed her perfectly on his lap, rubbing his big hands on her small back.

Y/N scoffed, "The only thing that was clear from that was how badly you wanted to get in my pants." Despite her objection, she let him pamper her body with his touch.

Bucky grinned, "And I do. But, only because I love you."

When she caught his gaze, she knew there was something magical about it; she have read so many books and poetry describing the look of his steel blues. A look that she can only dream of and not experience it; and if she was to make it come true, then this would be it.

Bucky moved slightly forward to nudge the tip of his nose on her own, hands intertwining with her shaky ones, silently asking for a permission to kiss her.

If she wasn't too focus on his presence on her skin, she would've noticed how the blood rushing to her cheeks were making her blushed in red. It felt good, it felt right.

Y/N gave her answer by leaning her forehead on his and he didn't waste any time to capture her lips, pressing an innocent kiss against it as his flesh hand gripped on hers while his metal hand find her cheek.

Soon enough the surrounding air heated and Bucky managed to slipped his tongue into her parted lips, his tongue wrapped around hers as her free hand reached back to gather his hair in her grasp. As they were blinded in sight by their closed eyes, they let sensory of their body ravel in each other's touch.

Out of instinct, her hand pulled from his back, then resting it on the prickly surface of his jaw before slightly pushing him away. Bucky took the cue and broke the kiss, "Babydoll." His hot breath blew against her cheek as he lean his lips on it.

Y/N realized what she had done; she let him kiss her, touch her but what does this mean? "I..I.." She hesitated.

"You're okay, y/n. Tell me to stop. Tell me to fuck off. It's okay, you can tell me anything." Bucky coaxed softly as he held her closer.

"I want this. I want you, Bucky. But... how can I trust you?" She really do. But, some part of her still reluctant to his history, "You've been sleeping around with those girls for months. Almost every night." Bucky cringed to his own behaviour. "How do I know it? That I'm not becoming one of them? That I'm not just some fucktoy you're gonna use and toss after?" She didn't care if she sound desperate. She needed him to be true because she know this won't work if he isn't willing to.

Bucky breath caught in the middle, as he knew that even the sweetest words won't satisfy her worry, so he only told the truth, "You have been the only one I wanted, y/n. And I know words aren't enough convice you. So let me show you, baby. Let me make love to you until you see how much I truly love you."

And he indeed fulfill his promise on that.

Bucky took his time undressing her until she was bare as the day she was born. He took longer time kissing her skin, loving each part of her perfect body and a much more lingering kisses around the bruises from today's mission.

Now that her pretty little cunt was right in front of him, exposed and bare, he wondered if this was all just a dream. Because it felt like it. No matter though; he'd devour her just the same whether she was just a creation of his dreams or his actual reality.

Bucky pressed several kisses on her clit, leaving the wet kissing noises filling the quiet room. He brought his tongue out slowly and started to lick her up; just to have a taste, "So pretty." he purred in between licking her fluids, teasing her. "So perfect." His fingers went to spread her lips apart and she made a strangled noise when she felt his long wet tongue, flattening through her folds, "Fuck." she cursed.

And after the first taste of her, Bucky realized how greedy he was getting especially when delved right back into her. "Bucky..." she whimpered his name as his warm lips wrapped around her clit, lewdly sucking on as if it was a tasty strawberry flavored sweet, just to release her moments after. He chuckled and slurred against her wetness, "Love the way you moan by name, sweetheart. Need to hear more."

His hands had moved from her waist to her hips in effort to pull her closer. If Y/N had anything to speak up in response then it was too late to say out loud because her head was swiftly wiped clean the moment his lips press into her clit again.

Bucky's grip on her thighs were almost harsh, just to keep her legs spread wide open for him to suckle on her clit, flicking his tongue over it deliciously. Looking down, she can only see the dark mess hair bobbing between her legs as he eats out her needy little cunt.

Y/N's mind was cloudy with ecstacy and pleasure crawling through her with each flick of his warm tongue between her folds. When it felt too good, she couldn't help but to catch his soft hair, holding on for her dear life as he devoured her cunt; noisy and messy.

"So fucking good, doll." He grunted into her weeping pussy, low and sensual as he pushed her legs further, allowing himself more access to her sweetness. "You taste so good."

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky was also enjoying every moment of this. Each time he moaned and groaned into her pussy, was the also time he thrusted his own needy cock against the mattress. The tip of was leaking with so much precum that it had left a wet stain behind.

With him getting that desperate, it felt like he was about to bust his nuts at any given time. But he wanted to wait; at least until Y/N gets her first high of the night. When his slick tongue deliciously fucking her pussy, exploring inside her, litters of curses of his name escaped from her lips as she moaned.

His wet tongue explored her insides as they clenched with lust and she choked out of air, not sure of how much longer she could take it because there was no way to deny it, she was about to cum, "Fuck,, Bucky. I'm cumming,,"

Bucky hummed into her when he pulled his tongue out, switching to rubbing on her clit, up and down, all the while was chasing his own orgasm, frantically humping on the bed like a rabid dog in heat.

Y/N gasped when he alternate between to sucking her clit and licking her up. Her back arched, pushing her cunt further into his hungry mouth in hopes to reach her release, "Please, please, don't stop.. need it, Bucky. Oh fuckkk"

Both of his hands; flesh and metal, slide up to grab her hips, helping her to grind on his tongue until her wetness came leaking out into his mouth, right on his tongue. Bucky came right along with her, grunting needily as the pink tip of his cock spurted out ribbons of his cream on in her mattress, marking his territory.

Bucky continued running his tongue up and down her wet slit throughout her orgasm, lapping away at her release that leaked out then gulping it down his throat as he watched her sighs with content.

When he pressed a soft kiss against her puffy, oversenstive clit, she thought it was end of it. But she couldn't be more wrong. The moment Y/N felt his metal finger trailed along her inner thighs, she knew that he wasn't satisfied with just eating her out.

She yelped when Bucky swiftly pulled her down, until her ass slides through the mess he made earlier, "What...?" Y/N herself didn't know what to ask but he knew exactly how to answer, "That's my cum, babydoll." He swiped some of the fluid from the sheets and smeared it on her throbbing cunt, making her instinctively moan.

Bucky smirked, "Eating your pretty pussy made me cum so hard, doll." With hunger in his gaze, he watched how his mess of a cum made her cunt glisten even more, "And because of that you deserve a reward, don't you think?" She whined as she nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, you do. You deserve to get your tight hole fucked by my metal fingers, don't you?" He continued to draw tight circles on her clit while his middle finger glides through her slit until he found her entrance, and pushed it in.

Y/N's head jerked up to the sudden intrusion. It was cold and reached much deeper than any of her fingers before. When Bucky twisted and curled the metal within her walls she cried out of pleasure. It was such new sensation and so fucking good.

A sudden entrance of another finger making her squeal from how sensitive her insides were to his metal fingers. And it made Bucky so full with pride to see her bending her back, her hips quivering, her walls tighten; all for him, "You can take it, sweetheart."

There was no such thing a pause when Bucky finger-fucked her hard; with his flesh hand pawing at her breast. He had his eyes locked on to the way her eyes roll back, panting breaths through those soft lips of hers, while his fingers drilled her tight pussy over and over and over, "That's it, that's fucking it baby. Such a good girl for me." He praised.

Endless moan were filling the room, along with the squelching sound of her wet cunt getting pounded mercilessly. Y/N lifted her hips higher; the feelings of Bucky's fingers inside her was different than her own. The stimulation and pleasure coming from his ways were distinct; like how the tip of his finger hits her unexplored g-spots or how his thumb pressed and twisted on her clit.

Bucky managed to pull the most sinful and desperate noises from her, "I-I’m going to cum,," she whimpered, hands balling into fists on the bed sheets as her hips followed his thrusts. "Yeah? Already, doll?" He taunted as he rolled her clit between his thumb and index finger.

Y/N nodded eagerly in between her moaning mess, before she let out high-pitched, satisfied whimper of his name as endless of fluid squirted out of her overstimulated pussy. "Oh fuck babydoll." He groaned as watched awe at her gushing cunt. "Did you just squirt? Hmm fuckkkkk, you should've done that when I have my mouth on you, baby. Shit."

Bucky scoot back to leaned his face right in between her legs. He darted his tongue out before he licked and suck the remaining fluid leaking out of her, making her squirm and whimper. And the slurping sound coming from him was such a sinful thing to hear, "Taste so good too. Gotta do that again next time, sweetheart. I wanna drink it all." he proposed.

"But now I need to be inside you." Bucky's declaration were cut short as his mouth captured hers in a heated kiss.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue as she kissed him back passionately, her body burning from all the pent-up frustration she had been pushing back for months. Bucky broke the kiss after a few mind-numbing minutes, before his hungry lips roamed around her neck, hands trailing over every part of her exposed skin as her heart rate spikes

"Need you, babydoll." Bucky groaned as he pumped his hard cock with his hand, spreading his dribbling pre-cum around his thick length. She whined as he gripped her legs, spreading them as wide as they'll go before rubbing the head of his cock against her slit.

He leaned again to kiss her one more time before sliding inside, slowly. "Oh god," Y/N moaned as she burned deliciously around him while he spreads her open.

Bucky's hands moved up find the crook in between her waist and hips, settling his veiny hands to the shape of her curves. His hips pounded into her, getting faster and harder with each thrust. As Y/N began to wrap her legs around his waist, he grabbed them and pulling he flused against his hips before he continued drilled his cock into her pussy.

The sensation was a combination of pain and pleasure and she feel as though she's in heaven. "Faster," she cried out.

"Look at you. You're so wet for me, doll. Feels so good around me--" Bucky's voice breaks into a groan as his hips meet hers, "--It's like your pussy was made for me. Gotta let me have you everyday now that you're mine, right sweetheart?"

"Mmmmhnn" she moaned; things took a turn when she clutched around him harder, it was abnormally tight as if it was trying to milk him right there and then. Bucky couldn't help but to groan in pleasure to the new sensation, "F-fuck" he cursed.

It took his less than a minute to figure out the reason why. Bucky smirked sinfully, "You like it when I talk dirty to you?" he slurred. Y/N's eyes were getting teary from all the pleasure she was feeling, from the stuffing feelings in her chest to the sensation of his hard cock thrusting in and out of her cunt.

"i- ahh I-i don't hhmmnn shit i don't know." she tried to deny him.

Bucky stopped his pace, pulled back slowly, "Really?" and slammed it back in hard, "Are you sure, princess?" He almost knocked her out of her breath.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that my pretty girl loves it when I claim her as mine while I'm fucking her tight little pussy. Does she?" Bucky's kept on slow and hard torturous thrust, it was certainly slow but oh it felt so good; especially when he was doting at Y/N like this.

Was she really a sinner? Because this felt way too good to be in hell.

"Can't speak? Come on, my sweetheart. Speak up, let me hear ya." He demanded. Bucking her hips, wanting for more, "Y-yes, Bucky. I love i-it"

Bucky groan as her walls clenched him so good. Fuck, how many times has he thought of this? Dreamt of this? Probably, countless.

"You know why I keep changing girls, doll?" He sneaks his hands between their bodies and started to rub her clit. Her body shivered to the sensation, shaking her head to the sides as answer. "Yeah,, I bet you have no idea why do you?" He taunted.

Bucky let out a satisfied moan before his thrusts started going back to it's original pace. All whilst his cock pumped into her, gradually growing more fervent, her soaking pussy welcoming him in easily. Her whines mixed with Bucky's as she grabbed on the sheets behind her.

"Because I've been moaning your name in their ears, y/n. Everytime I stroke on my cock in anything, I have you in my mind. And when I cum, I imagine your pussy milking me dry. Just like you're doing now. Fuckkk,, doll, just like that."

Bucky's eyes that was fixated on her fucked out face since awhile ago, traveled down to where they were connected. Looking at how her little pussy shallowed his dick so well make him hornier.

Y/N slightly bounced upwards, his blues eyes tended back to her breasts. He used extra strength to see how her small body shook uncontrollably every time his hips met with hers, and to see those beautiful tits bouncing around.

"Bet you have no clue how much I want fuck my baby in you, doll. Or imagining the way your wedding ring glides on the side of my cock when you stroke me in your hand."

Bucky angled her body again by throwing her legs over his shoulders and leaned forward. This new angle made her eyes roll back. "Oh fuckk-- ahhh bucky,," she managed to say between his thrusts. Her entire body shaking from the tension building in her body as Bucky fucks her hard and fast, "I love you, y/n. I love you so. damn. much. I want to live the rest of my life in this cunt." He punctuated his words with hitting her sweet spot each time.

Bucky briefly threw his head back to hold back his orgasm before his hazy gaze landed on her, "Fuck doll, you look so pretty with my cock in you baby, so pretty. And we're so wet now. Hear that? Yeah, that's the sound of your tight little cunt getting wrecked by my cock. You fit me so perfectly. We're perfect." His thoughts were spilling out just as much as his precum leaking inside her.

There were tears in her eyes now, not only her walls but her whole body were stretching under him. It burned and it felt so damn good.

"Need you to cum, baby" Bucky spoke lowly, "I can feel ya, come on doll. Cum for me." He growled while continuing to pound her pussy.

And that would be the final straw for her. "fuck, yes, yes!" her voice hitched as her thighs begin to tremble around him. "...cumming. fuck, bucky i'm cumming." loud and sensual moans falling from her lips without much of an effort. Screaming out his name in pure bliss as her orgasm snapped through her high.

"That's it baby. Squeeze me so good." Bucky coaxed ever-so-tenderly, as her cum leaked around his cock and her pussy continued to milk him; begging and needing to feel his cum inside her.

"Hmm. I'm cumming, doll. Fuck,, oh fucking hell,, you're so good. Making me wanna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want it? Tell me. Where do you want my cum?" Bucky nearly whimpered as he felt his heavy balls were about to combust.

"Inside. Cum inside me," she moaned breathlessly.

Bucky almost growled to her response, "Good. fucking. girl. That's the only choice, baby. I'm gonna cum in you eitherway. Fuck fuck fuck,, I'm cumming shit take it, babydoll take it yeaahhh"

Leaning into her neck in a loud long moan, she felt Bucky's cock ached as he spilled himself inside her. His huge amount cream kept spurting endlessly, so much that it leaked out of her hole. Bucky whined as he continue to roll his hips, unable to stop humping into her stretched out, cum-filled cunt.

As he come down from the high, Bucky tried to pull out but only to be stopped by her circling her legs around him. He chuckled at her needy behaviour; as he found it quite adorable, "Want me to stay, baby?" he whispered softly and got a drunken nod as answer.

Bucky carefully flipped their position without leaving the tightness of her pussy, lying her limping body on his own. "Hmmmm" she hummed sleepily as she snuggled into his chest, eyes heavy with satisfaction.

"Yeah? Need my cock to fill you up for you to sleep well, hmm babydoll?" He cooed as he grind her hips downward, thrusting his cock into her slow and gentle. Y/N whined and mumbled, "Yes, please."

Bucky smiled tenderly, "Okay sweetheart. I'll keep you stuffed as long as you need me to. Now, I need you to go to sleep, okay?" He said, getting simple "okay" from the lady in his arms. Bucky placed a kiss on her head, as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as both of them got more and more drowsy as time goes by.

And at the end of this night, it was safe to say that this had been the best and longest sleep they both had since forever.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Leave some thoughts behind? The sinful the better 🙈

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #thin walls thin lines au

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lokis-army-77 · 7 months

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Soul Searching

Demon!Soulmate!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Soulmates are rare, even rarer for demons, and yet here you are.

Warning: 18 +. unprotected sex, p n v, not really anything else I don't think.

Thank you to @my-malachai-stilinski for requesting more demon!eddie and @lofaewrites for beta reading💗

Masterlist

It’s closing in on nine at night. Eddie had started his reaping early, hoping there would be more souls to claim when the streets were busy instead of waiting until two or three.

He was right. Of course, there were more wicked souls to take with him back into the depths of his home, to dump upon some imp who loved to torture and torment.

As the night went on, he couldn’t help but feel a shift in the breeze as he crouched atop a high roof, watching and waiting for another bounty. Then, the most wonderful scent filled his nostrils. It was like heaven, if there were such a place for him.

He sniffed the air like a hound dog tracking its prey. Magically poofing into thin air only to appear three rooftops away, he searched for what could smell so delicious.

It only took a matter of minutes until he found you. Your sweet smell permeated through the air and he felt like he could get drunk on it if only he were closer.

Souls usually never smelled this good, this intoxicating. The ones he encountered on a daily basis, the souls of the truly evil, smelled of rot and decay. Some even smelt of sulfur, pungent, and singed the nose. But not you. Your soul was a bed of freshly picked flowers, honey drizzled on a warm pastry. He couldn’t get enough of it.

So, he followed you into the night. Sulking through the shadows keeping a watchful eye.

In his diligence, he sees you stumble and in a flash he's behind you, catching you before you land on your ass.

You let out a small yelp, expecting to feel the hard ground under you. You don't. You feel two warm hands holding onto your waist, keeping you steady.

You turn around to thank your savior only to stop suddenly in your movement. You've never felt this feeling before, this warmth spreading through your stomach and the small tingles in your limbs. Yet you know what it is. You've heard of others meeting their soulmates but never had you imagined this meeting would make the group feel like it were shaking beneath your feet.

As you look at him, you realize he isn't entirely human. The back of your mind is screaming at you to cower, to run away and hide. But you don't. The pull of your soulmate stops you from being terrified by those curving horns protruding from his mess of curly hair and the spade tail that had curled its way around your ankle.

It feels like a giant lump in your throat when you start to speak.

"H-" you swallow. "Hi."

He stares at you, his golden eyes slit like a cat, taking you in. "Hello."

His voice is deep and rich, almost a purr.

Eddie thinks you smell even better up close. His nose is picking up even the faintest scents now, the blood running through your veins, the wetness forming between your thighs.

"Are you my soulmate?" You ask, eyes wide.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He'd never heard of demons having a soulmate. At least no other demon he knew had one, they all just assumed that would no longer have one thanks to their so-called "fall from grace".

But that would explain your smell. How it was so unique he had never smelled it before. It would also explain why you weren't running from him, screaming, trying to get away.

Finally, he speaks. "I believe so."

He reaches out his hand, fingers long and thick, and he catches your upper arm. It's like his mind has been taken over by some primal instinct as he pulls you flush to him.

You don't try to fight it. Instead, you nuzzle into him. He smells wonderful, like the smoke from a burning cedar tree and something you can't quite place.

Then you feel it. The arousal that's started to pool in your panties. You've just met this creature and now he's making you hornier than you've ever been, and you know he knows too with the way his fingers are gripping your skin.

Eddie is trying to hold off, trying not to take you where you're standing. He's been so lonely for so long and now here you are smelling so sweet that he just has to have a taste.

He slides his hands up to cup your cheeks. He surges forward while also bringing you to him. When your lips connect, he feels a strong tingle down his spine to the tip of his tail.

You feel something too. A sense of want and need but also belonging. His lips on yours feel like home, like someplace familiar, where you are meant to be.

Lips pressing on each other's he opens his mouth and presses his tongue into yours, slipping past your teeth and into the warmth of you. He hums and how well you fit together like this and can't help but wonder how well other parts of you will fit.

He lets out a groan when you slink your arms around his neck, pulling him into you more.

You've both become needy. Trying to devour one another in the half-light of the street.

You whimper, legs pressing together. "Take me." Your voice is quiet against his lips, barely above a whisper. "Take me please." You need him, badly.

Eddie hums against you. Hands still pressing against your cheeks, still pulling you to him.

You know this is going way too fast and so does he but carnal desires can't be stopped once they've started. Not if you're a touch-starved demon and his soulmate.

A gust of wind whips your hair and your stomach drops like when you move way too fast on an amusement park ride.

You gawk when you pull away from the demon to survey your surroundings. You weren’t on the sidewalk anymore. No, you were in a bedroom.

He watched as you walked around the enormous room. Fingers danced over the wooden posts to the bed. Your eyes were full of wonder as you took in what could only be described as a room taken straight out of an episode of Game of Thrones.

There were red and black fabrics thrown about the room, several rugs covered the stone floor. Candelabras were lit sporadically around the room as well as torched lining the walls between tapestries depicting gruesome battles.

You turn back to him and are met with heavily lidded eyes. He disappears only to reappear directly in front of you. You gasp.

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face as he says, "You are mine now. Forever." Then he's crashing his lips onto yours once more.

You crave him, so deep down in your core that it hurts to not have him touching you. So you claw at his clothes. The 80s metal shirt you hadn't realized he was wearing and the leather jeans.

He follows your lead, taking each item of clothing off until all that was left was his pale skin glowing in the candlelight. He carefully begins to pull your own clothes off, only continuing when you nod your head at his questioning gaze.

Then, when you are both naked, he mounds his mouth to your skin. Kissing and nipping up and down your neck and shoulders. He walks you backward catching you with strong hands when your knees hit the bed and give out.

"You're so soft…" He speaks his hands roaming over your hips and backside. "Never felt something so soft in my whole existence."

You can't help but chuckle and let your own hands drift over his strong chest, nails scratching, creating long red marks down his pecs and stomach.

Leaning up, you kiss him again. Slow and soft and all at once. You pull him down with you as you fall back on the bed. He follows, catching himself with solid arms on either side of you.

His body covers you completely.

You break away from the kiss. His dark, lustful, loving eyes stare into yours with an intensity you've never encountered before.

As you look back at him, eyes exploring every inch of his face, you ask, "What's your name?"

He looks a little shocked at the question but answers nonetheless. "Eddie."

You hum in response. "I like that name." You bring his back to you and kiss along his cheek over the bridge of his nose to the other cheek.

"Yeah? I'll make you scream it after a while." He grins wickedly. "But for now I would like to take my time with you. Feel you. Own you."

He takes his fingers and trails them lightly over the contours of your body erecting goosebumps in their wake. Starting from your shoulder, over your collarbone, between your breasts, and past your navel. They stop just above your pussy.

Impatiently you buck your hips.

"Now now." He admonishes, taking his hand away. "Don't try and rush me, pet."

You whine but concede.

His fingers begin to touch you between your thighs. Massaging into the plush flesh. You sigh, in contentment.

"Eddie-" His name is a whisper on the wind.

His spine tingles when he hears you. He never thought those two syllables of his name could ever sound as good as they do when you say them.

He wants to hear you say it again. He wants to hear you say it over and over and over until your voice gives out.

"Say it again," He growls.

And you gasp it out. "Eddie!" When his fingers gently push through your folds.

The wetness he finds between your legs has him vibrating. All this just for him, your soulmate. He spreads the slick around, savoring how you shudder in his hold when he swipes over your clit.

He doesn’t want to wait any longer, he’s hardly holding it together as it is. He wants to feel you wrapped around him.

So, he moves. Thick fingers wrap around your ankles and pull your legs apart. He slots them on either side of himself before pulling you flush, the backs of your thighs meeting the tops of his.

With no moment to waste, Eddie takes his cock into his hand and gives it a few pumps. He’s huge. Long and thick around. You have no idea how he’s going to fit but you desperately need him inside of you.

“Please. Need your cock in me.” You beg and wiggle your hips ever so slightly.

He just chuckles and guides the tip to your waiting entrance. You think it’s fine when he first pushes in, slowly. But as he keeps going, he keeps stretching you. In seconds you are turned into nothing more than a whimpering mess.

People had talked about how the first time with their soulmates had gone. How the sex was the best they had ever had, how it was so good they couldn’t get enough. But this… This was earth-shattering.

Maybe it was because your soulmate obviously wasn’t human but you know this isn’t the feeling that normal soulmate copulation tends to elicit.

You can practically feel you becoming one. Your walls are molding around him the further in he goes, and his cock hits every single spot inside you that brings pleasure. It’s been less than a minute and you’re already shaking.

Eddie falls forward, caging you in below him. His head rests between your neck and shoulder where he opens his mouth and lets his tongue lave at the sweat beginning to cast over you. Even your skin tastes sickeningly sweet.

His mind is becoming foggy, your cunt is sucking him in, forming to him. He can't help but mutter, “You were made for me… Fuck you feel so good.”

His lips brush against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His chest presses against yours and you can feel his heart beating against your skin. It’s all so much for the both of you.

You’re moaning, loud, and uncaring as he ruts into you. You cry his name, “Eddie!” He just growls when he hears you.

“Need you so bad.” He grunts. “Need you so so bad.”

You can feel him all over you. Every place your skin touches, even the slightest bit, is lit up, tingling with a sensation akin to icy hot.

It hasn’t been that long. He hasn’t been inside you for that long but you can feel that tightness forming. That all too familiar sensation of ecstasy banging at the door to be let out. You moan, trying to hold yourself back. Your hands cling to the demon, nails biting through his skin.

You can feel him smiling against your neck as his hips move just a tiny bit faster.

“Let go.” He says. “Let go and show me how good I can make you feel.”

It’s like his words have some kind of power over you. You can feel yourself letting go. That tightness pulling ever tighter until it snaps.

His grip tightens and he's pushing deeper, faster. Your orgasm crashes through you, washing over you in a powerful, unstoppable wave. You feel yourself trembling, your body shaking, and spasming.

“That's it. That’s a good girl. Feel so good cumming around my cock.

Eddie is still pumping into you, close to his own release. “Say my name.” He mewls, lips coming to slot against your own.

“Eddie,” You moan.

“Again,” He begs.”

“Eddie.”

“Louder. Scream it if you have to.”

And you do. You scream his name and as soon as you do you feel his cock twitch inside you and right after he lets go. Moaning and whimpering against your mouth.

He doesn’t move to get off of you, even after he’s spilled everything he could inside of you. He lays there, his body weight a comfort to you.

You wrap your arms around him and close your eyes as you savor the moment. He finally pulls away and you open your eyes to see him smiling down at you. He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips.

“I’m so glad I found you,” he whispers.

You pull him to you, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and whisper in his ear. “Me too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #demon!eddie #demon eddie munson

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peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

Which Witch

Part 2 of 2 / Faerie masterlist

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish/witch!reader 13.3k words - AO3 - Part 1 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Explicit sex. Fae!AU. Blood magic. Faerie magic. Angst. Tenderness. Comfort. Pining. Sex magic. Praise kink, light breeding kink. Magical dubious consent. Possessive Johnny, Protective Johnny. "I'm not beat up by this yet, you can't tell me to regret, Been in the dark since the day we met, Fire, help me to forget." - F + TM

Johnny has never experienced a headache before.

The feeling is surprisingly uncomfortable, and has been blooming behind his eyes since the other day, when you advanced on him outside the pub in the mortal realm, when you caught him off guard with your fury, your heartbreak.

He tries not to think about that part, too much.

Tries not to think about the torment he saw in your eyes.

Tries not to think about his plans, laid to waste, to ruin. A dream, crumbled into a nightmare.

He tries not to think about the ache that’s settled beneath his ribs since the second you snatched your hand from his grasp and stomped away, the pressure of your magic making the stitching of the mortal realm feel too thin, too fragile.

He tries not to think about the extra weight of something that’s been added to him, nestled there in his side, the heavy feel of a magic that feels not unfamiliar, but alien at the same time.

“Bloody hell.” Gaz whispered. “No wonder ‘uve been keepin’ her a secret.” He whistled, low and sharp, as they watched you cross the street and slowly disappear from view, red and purple magic angrily arcing off from your body and tainting the air with a tart, burnt aftertaste.

You were the only being on the street, besides them. All the mortals had gone off, pushed by you, sent scurrying by your power. “That’s one powerful little wi-“

“That’s enough.” Johnny snarled in his face, the ferocity, intensity of his tone, the words spat at his own brother surprising them both, signaling Kyle to step back, out of precaution, with a gentle hand raised. Johnny panted harshly, while his magic thrashed inside of him, desperate to get out, wild and nearly out of control, fully brimming with the chaos that he knows so well.

It yearned for something, desperately.

“Easy, Soap.” Price had been on them then, appearing from where he had been inside the bar, inserting himself between their two bodies, like he needed to protect Kyle, a ridiculous sentiment by any of their standards.

“Sorry.” Johnny drew the word long, shaking his head from the pressure beating inside his skull. “’m sorry, Gaz. I dinnae- I-”

“It’s alright mate.” He assured, reaching out, clasping a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. It was warm, and comforting, and he nodded in response.

“I think you should probably get home. You’ve been here… too long.” Price follows up, and Johnny couldn’t argue. He felt drained, suddenly. Tired. A feeling that happens for them, from time to time. Especially when they’ve been in the mortal realm for an extended period.

“Alright.”

He thinks this discomfort, this ailment, whatever it may be, will pass, once he’s been home for more than a few days. He imagines it’s just a side effect of being in the mortal realm too long, and he can practically hear Price telling him he needs to stay put, stay in Faerie for a while, or at least until his magic settles and his body adjusts to its rightful plane.

After all… his kind doesn’t take sick. They can suffer magical ailments, wounds from weapons or other Fae, but to fall ill is incredibly rare.

And usually only happens to those of them who are incredibly stupid.

Still, the headache rots and spreads throughout his brain, festering in his magic until it becomes an unruly, ungovernable thing that barely recognizes him, and his muscles become excruciatingly sore, useless in his body when he tries to exert himself in any way.

The Isle itself seems restless, the sea raging tumultuously beneath the bluffs, the forests shielding themselves from the light of the sun. Johnny can feel her magic, biting and gnawing against him, yearning and screaming, the wind whistling through the oldest trees with a shriek that hurts his ears.

All the while, something else aches within him. An unbearable longing that builds and builds like a dark grey cloud growing heavy with rain.

“It’s your soul.” The Nereid, Ce, tells him softly. “You’re soul sick.”

“What?”

“Someone has bound themselves to you. Your soul, your magic, is woven together. When you’re separated, your soul will mourn for theirs.” The image of you pointing at him flashes through his mind, your gaze enraged, haunted, while you cursed him up and down.

Surely, you did not mean for this?

Simon watches him knowingly, before pulling her into his arms, rubbing his hand over the swell of her belly where their child sleeps, blissfully unaware.

“Do you know, who it could be?” She questions, and he grimaces, eyes flicking to Simon who betrays nothing, only gives him a subtle nod.

“A… witch. From the mortal realm.” She stiffens in Simon’s lap, and then shakes her head in disbelief.

“A mortal witch could not cast a binding such as this, nor survive it.”

“Well, ah… dinnae believe she’s entirely mortal.” She turns, looking between them, before glaring openly at her husband.

“The only immortal witches who still live in the mortal realm are the elemental witches…” she trails off, looking out the window to where the sea crashes on the shore, something distant flickering in her gaze, realization settling heavily upon her. “What have you done?”

“You were my priority.” Simon utters, face shuttering, eyes going grim. Johnny shifts nervously in the chair. Ce is sharp, intelligent, and it doesn’t take too long before she’s whispering her confirmation of the truth.

“The song. She’s a blood witch.” He nods, unable to break the eye contact. Simon holds her hip firmly, but she doesn’t look away from Johnny, and before he even realizes, he’s spilling more secrets.

“Blood spinner.” Her eyes widen, and then rips Simon’s hand free from her body, standing unsteadily on her two legs. Her balance has gotten better in her time here, but she still struggles with managing her new walking appendages, something that always keeps Simon hovering near by, just in case he needs to catch her.

“You must find her.” She implores Johnny, while turning on her heel to poke a finger into Simon’s chest. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done.”

“Little huntress-“ He begins, but is swiftly cut off.

“No. Do not use your sweet words to try to placate me.” She turns her nose up from him, while facing Johnny. “You must, she’s in danger. Blood witches aren’t meant to be bound to others. The effects could be catastrophic, the binding could kill her.” His heart speeds to a halt. The binding could kill you.

The feeling Johnny had a few days ago outside the pub compounds inside of him, the yearning infused with his chaos, the wild piece of his magic surging in his blood, eager to be set loose. He closes his eyes and reaches inside himself to settle his power, to soothe the uncontrolled pieces that are climbing closer to the top.

When he looks back to them, he realizes Simon is standing more than a few paces away, Ce shielded behind his body.

“It’s the binding! It can drive you mad, control your magic if you're separated too long.” She calls from around his shoulder, trying to peek out even though there is a formidable mass blocking her.

“Perhaps she planned this, Johnny.” Simon proposes, a sentiment that Johnny balks at. Were you capable of such a thing? His wife shakes her head reverently, and mouths a no.

Danger.

Catastrophic.

When he thinks about the way you looked when you thrust your finger into his face, fiery and full of rage, he realizes it’s much, much more than what he thinks he knows, or what he believes.

You tricked me, you Fae bastard.

Had you tricked him in return?

The lock on your flat’s front door is not complex. It’s not even spelled for intruders, or unwanted guests, something that’s always sat uneasily within Johnny, even when he was taking full advantage of it. His magic knows this lock well, is intimately familiar with it, and plies the deadbolt free with ease, door swinging wide like it’s been expecting him, just like every other time before.

You tossed in your sleep, brow furrowed, distress written across your face as you shook your head back and forth, trapped in your own dreams, your memories, your nightmares.

Your body, still battered and bruised, slowly healing from whatever had happened to you on Samhain, trembled beneath the sheets, and you made small, terrified mouth sounds against your pillow.

“You’re safe now, dove, you’re safe.” He stroked a thumb across your temple, down the apple of your cheek, whispering to you softly, sweetly. His own magic worked quickly, dragging you under, lulling you into a deep sleep, a near coma. He had hoped it would be enough, to keep you from waking while he worked, while he healed you from whatever ordeal you had been put through, whatever torture you had been subjected to.

He built you the sweetest dreams he could conjure, images of his own realm, lush forests and sparkling aquamarine seas, the moss-covered stone bluffs of the Isle, the three moons when they’re full, the sparkle of the night sky, webs of worlds and starlight stretching out as far as any being could see.

He had tried, so desperately, to burn the image of you from the previous night out of his mind, when you first answered his knocking with your broken soul and tearful eyes, abused body halfway hidden by the door.

What happened to you? Who could mistreat you in such a way?

He hadn’t known then, but he wanted to, urgently. Wanted you to tell him everything, wanted you to make him your tool, your harbinger of revenge. He wanted to kill for you, destroy for you, burn this entire realm for you. He wanted to lay all his promises at your feet, wanted to tell you that no one would ever touch you again, that no one would ever harm you if he was here.

He cursed himself. Cursed the truth. Cursed the spell that you put him under, the one that didn’t even exist.

He had gotten so lost in thought, lost in staring down at your now relaxed face, that he almost didn’t realize the sun was rising, the soft rays of light seeping across your room from under the curtain startling him into withdrawing his magic so he could allow you to wake and return with a coffee, maybe a pastry, some sort of breakfast sweet that mortals seemed to be overly fond of.

He leaned over you for a quick moment, unable to help himself, breathing in the scent of your hair, your skin, your very soul. It intoxicated him, the sweet citrus and balsam mixing with the minerality of blood, of earth, creating something that seeped through his own being, pulling him closer and closer until he grazed his lips across your temple so gently, he’s not sure he’s even made contact.

“I’ll be back soon.” He whispered above your ear, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him. “Have a good morning, sweet Fern.”

“Fern.” He calls, before stepping across the threshold, but there’s no answer. There’s no sound or sign of movement, no echo of your voice down the hall. “Fern!” He tries again. His blood feels hot under his skin, and he’s nearly feverish, off balance and unsteady, while the spot beneath his ribs throbs in pain.

He expects to see Jet, or hear her hiss, considering how much the little creature loathes him, but when there’s no sign of her either, something prickles along the back of his neck.

“Do not hide from me, little witch. I know what’s happened.” He calls, raising his voice, projecting it with a touch of magic so it rings down the hall, through every room, into your personal library, and beyond.

When there’s still no answer, his sense of discomfort grows, and like there is a hook in him, in his very soul, he can feel his magic being tugged along, down the hall to your bedroom.

When pushes the door open, his heart slams to a halt. Fear is the foreign sensation that pours through him, paralyzes him. It’s fear that anesthetizes him as he stares at you, crumpled on the floor, surrounded by books, ancient grimoires and other texts, your magic drained from your body like someone has bled you dry, eyes wide in agony and a rasping breath on your lips. The room smells like mineral, like clay rich soil, like earth, and he chokes on it when he realizes the stain that darkens the carpet beneath you is your blood.

“Oh, little witch.” He murmurs, kneeling by your side, wide palm slipping behind your neck gently. “What have ye done?” He tucks you into his chest, and you mumble something as he carries you to your bed, trying to lay you flat, propping your face up so he can look into your eyes.

“N-no.” you push against him weakly.

“Shhh, Fern. It’s okay.”

“Don’t.” you hiss, and blood leaks from your lips. His magic thrashes, barely contained, bubbling up and trying to break free.

“Tell me what to do.” He pleads, desperation rising in him like the swell of high tide, threatening to tip him over into fathomless depths, places where he cannot swim, or survive.

“Lea… leave.” You moan, and he shakes his head. “Leave. I don’t… I don’t need your ‘elp.”

“No.” He refuses, cradling your face between his hands, and you blink at him slowly, eyelids heavy, expression disorientated. Long seconds pass and you look… confused suddenly, like you don’t recognize him, like all the vitriol and venom that you were spitting a moment ago has suddenly disappeared, and he feels a surge of your magic, the snapping of something, the binding, twisting, and tugging at the two of you.

“Johnny?” You mumble, and a smile breaks across his face, a small one, an encouraging one, something he hopes brings you comfort.

“Aye. It’s me, dove. It’s me. ’m here.” You tremble in his grasp, and more blood drips from your mouth. The sight of it is enough to loosen the hold on his power, and the room floods with bright light, illuminating every corner in the flat, and every detail on your face.

You need help. You need help, now. Badly.

He’s never wanted to have your name as frantically as he does in this moment. He wants to force you to tell him what to do, how to fix whatever this is, he wants to reach inside your magic and your mind and root around in your soul until he can pull the answer free from your lips.

A terrible thought forms in his mind. It’s wrong, and one he is sure you will hate him for, one he knows you will punish him for.

If you live.

Danger. Catastrophic.

Blood witches aren’t meant to be bound to others.

The binding could kill her.

Ce’s warning plays over and over in his mind, and when you cough again, blood splattering on his forearm, his magic makes his mind up for him, spreading forward to try to soothe you, cocooning you in a soft, twilight embrace that tries to lull you to sleep.

He pulls you back into his arms, tucking you against his body and concentrating his power on the thrum of your heartbeat, the power in your veins. He needs to blink the two of you to the closest door, and the only one that’s remotely doable is in Sherwood Forest, nestled among a ring of birch trees that all lean suspiciously inward.

“Fern.” He tries to get your eyes to focus on him, jostling you slightly as he strides away from your room. “Fern, I need… I have to take ye away.” Your brow furrows, and somewhere in the very back of his mind, he remembers how cute you are when you look at him like this, when you’re well, and not suffering.

He comes to halt in the kitchen, where Jet sits on her haunches atop the table, watching him with her head cocked.

“She’s dying.” He explains to her, and Jet scowls before she answers him, disdain dripping from her words.

“Because of you.”

“What happened?”

“The binding was an accident. She lost control.”

“She needs help. Is there anyone?”

“Not here… she’s been shunned. Thanks to you.” She glares at him, and he shoves down his urge to scream. Jet slinks towards him, eyes wise and wandering, sizing him before she sits down next to where he’s got you hovering above the table in his grip. “You’ll have to take her.”

“I cannae. I need her name.” She flicks her gaze to you before hopping from the table, walking to where the door creaks open on its own.

“You need to get it on your own.”

“She’s dying, Jet.”

“I know you won’t let that happen. After all, this was your plan, was it not?” She says before slipping outside, into the night.

You shiver against him, and he tightens his arms around you instinctively, lowering his nose into your hair, trying to find the sweet balsam and citrus scent under the sour smell of scorched earth and black blood. It’s there, but barely. There’s hope.

“Little witch.” He taps your cheek, trying to get you to concentrate on him, to look at him. “Fern, will you give me your name?” He coos sweetly, sugaring his voice with honey, dropping his glamour to pull your focus. It’s wrong, he knows this, so wrong, a true violation, but what choice does he have?

He won’t leave you to die.

You lick your lips, and he smiles, fully aware that he’s probably partially blinding you, scrambling the signals in your magic and mind, his own power pulling desperately at the binding to get you to comply.

Come on, sweet Fern.

Give me your name, dove.

He grips your hand, twisting your wrist until your palm is facing him, and for the first time without his glamour, he lets himself kiss you there, right on the heel below your thumb, dabbing his magic into the veins that vibrate just beneath your skin. He pushes, and then for good measure, pushes again, until your lips are cracking on an intake of breath, and your free hand is reaching for his, bloodied fingers smearing your ichor across his skin as you slowly speak, mouth forming the one thing he’s needed all along, the thing he’s wanted more than anything since the day he’s met you.

Your name. Given to him. By you.

It sinks into him, heating his own blood with the power of your admission, pulsing through his magic until it’s settling in that spot behind his ribs, the same spot that’s been aching since the last time he saw you, the place where the binding is nestled.

“Okay.” He coos, and then repeats your name, while you nod. “Okay, hold on to me.” He whispers, and then pulls everything in the flat tight, all the magic that’s spilled from your body, all the magic that he’s let run wild since he got here. He moves himself, and you, into the blink, and then the ground shifts, room tilting and splitting until the walls are fading into trees, the tile of your kitchen becoming grass under his feet, and your ceiling is a night sky. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in his chest, and he knows it’s because the blink is uncomfortable, disorientating for those who are not Fae. Lesser creatures usually don’t even survive it.

But you are no lesser creature.

This fact, this truth, is the thing he takes comfort in as he barrels towards the door, his magic breaking through the threshold and crashing through the planes until he’s stumbling into Faerie with a blood covered witch curled against his chest.

“Are ye hungry?” Eilean asks from the threshold of the room, not willing to cross inside, but eager to see if she can help at all.

“No.”

“Should I bring some wine?” She tries, voice dipped in hopeful inflection. He rubs a palm over his face in part exasperation, part exhaustion.

“Please. Wine would be lovely, thank ye Eilean.” He placates her, and he doesn’t need to turn to know she’s smiling with approval.

He wouldn’t turn, regardless. He doesn’t dare look away from where you lay against the pillows in a bed that seems far too big. Where you lay, alone. Sleeping. Unconscious now, for far too many days. You’re weak, so weak, from travelling here, from trying to exist in this realm, a realm that you were not made for, a realm that no one seems to know if you can even persist in.

The Isle cradles you, fosters your survival. She holds you firm, holds you as he would, a casket of stone and sea weaving around your body, protecting you from anything. Everything.

Sometimes he fears she may be protecting you from him.

The waves crash against the rocks far below where he sits and you lay, sea ravaging against the rock, water pounding against stone over and over, the repetition enough to carve out caves and patterns in the walls, to change the physical manifestation of the Isle, to alter the very ground he lives on, walks on. The ground that he had hoped, one day, you may walk on with him. Beside him. The place he had hoped you might embrace with all her horror and secrets, that you might accept as a place of your own.

His hope fades with every breath you draw. It flickers like a flame being doused out.

Every now and then, you fidget beneath the blankets, body shivering and shaking, subdued whimpers escaping your lips as you twitch. He fears the binding may not need to drive him mad, because watching you suffer, watching you sleep endlessly, may do it regardless, in the end.

However, the bleeding has stopped, a small thing that Johnny is immensely grateful for, even though no one knows why.

“She needs time.” The healer tried to tell him, their effervescent magic embracing you in a halo while they worked to stop the blood that had started leaking from your eyes and nose, as well as your mouth. “Her magic is overloaded by the binding. The best thing you can do for her is stay close by. She will wake on her own time.”

“Her temperature-“

“We do not know. There are some things at work here, even we do not understand.” They explained, sympathy pooling across their face.

They wished him well after that, instructing him to call for them should they be needed further.

He didn’t know how to ask them to stay. He didn’t know how to tell them that for the first time in his eternally too long life, he was truly scared.

“How is she?” This voice, this one that calls to him from the threshold, speaking to him in his mind, startles him in the armchair, even though he knows it belongs to his brother. He turns to see Gaz, who watches him through lowered lashes. He’s keeping his distance, as every other being has, unsure about how Johnny will react with another coming so close to his… witch. “Price says ya’ve been holed up in here for days. Thought I’d come check, see if anything was needed.”

“Come in.” Johnny implores, out loud, and Gaz does, hesitantly, watching his brother for any changes, any indication he may lose control. Once he gets about two meters away, Johnny holds his hand up, a signal to stop, and Gaz conjures a chair, brimming at the seams with sun kissed light, a neat trick that benefits him when he plops down in it, like he too, is exhausted and weary.

“Well?”

“She’s… ‘m not sure. She still hasn’t woken, and her temperature, her body is hot to the touch. Too hot. But she’s stopped bleeding, which I take as a good thing.” He hasn’t left your side, constantly feeding the binding his own magic in hopes it would help give you some strength or help heal you.

“She’ll be alright.” Kyle encourages lowly, smiling at him. “She has you to look out for her, after all.” Johnny nods, even if he doesn’t believe it.

“Thank ye, for comin’.” He whispers, clearing his throat.

“We’re family, Johnny. Even when you run away to this damn Isle with a blood witch that you’ve stolen from the mortal realm.” He laughs with a wink, and Johnny’s lips curl into a very subtle grin.

“Not much better than Simon, am I?”

“Well, you didn’t drag us all around the mortal realm for nearly a decade so, that’s something.” He sighs, leaning back, slinging his feet over the arm of the chair. “Besides. I’m not exactly exempt either now.” Johnny nods, and he watches the flicker of discontent that washes over his brother, the way his magic pulses through him and the chair before returning to stasis.

Now, it’s his turn to ask.

“How is she?” Gaz shakes his head.

“Violent.” The word gives Johnny pause, and he feels his sympathy grow. His brother is the gentlest of them, the most kind. The one who others seek out, for comfort, for care. The one who wields the sun’s light itself. “Won’t let me near ‘er. Won’t eat. Won’t open the door, only yells at me through it. Hardly even speaks to her sister.” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with graceful fingers. “She wants me to let her die.”

“And will ye?” He doesn’t respond right away, and they both just watch where you lay in the bed, silent.

“Don’t think I can. I feel… something for her. It’s different, from anything I’ve felt before. It’s-“

“Frightening.” Johnny finishes for him, and some tension leaks from his body. It is unlike them both, to feel fear. To feel fear and acknowledge it.

You twitch, eyes moving behind closed lids, and Gaz gives him a nod as he rises.

“See you soon?”

“Aye.”

It’s late, two days later, when you start to wake. Your temperature has gone down, and you’ve finally slept peacefully through an entire night. The moons have already risen, and Johnny has the drapes tucked open, so the room is illuminated in a silvery purple glow that shimmers across the floor and onto the bed. Your lashes flutter, and he feels the influx of magic in the room, ebbing and flowing, growing stronger and stronger, spilling from you as you swim closer and closer to consciousness, your eyes slowly opening, brow furrowed, discontent pulling your lips downwards in a frown. The wild yearning cries out inside of him, chaos beating in his heart, and he struggles to contain it.

“What’s…” your voice trails off as you look around, and Johnny waits for the moment when you find him in the chair by your bedside.

It happens fast. Your expression goes from confused, maybe a little contrite, but still curious, to rage filled, and startled. Fear reflects in your gaze, and his stomach drops.

“Fern.” He tries to calm you, and you hold your hand in front of your body like you’re trying to ward him off.

“Stay away from me.” You hiss. You try to sit up, try to move away from him, but your body is too weak, physically, and you sink down to your elbows in a second while you press yourself against the headboard. “What did you do to me? Where am I?” He stands, casting a little bit of magic out, trying to relax you, but you beat him back with your own before you’re yelling as loud as you can. “Help! Help! HELP ME!” you scream, voice drenched in horror, and a piece of his heart chips away in an instant.

You’re terrified of him.

There’s a noise, behind him, like a soft chiming of bells, and then he feels the shadow of Eilean’s magic, her presence unmistakable. He holds a hand out to stop her in the doorway, and you gasp aloud, palm covering your mouth, eyes round with shock when you see her.

“Oh. My gods.” You look from her, back to him, and then around the room, tracking out the window to where the three moons glow, bathing the sea below in silky shades of lilac, before you try even harder to shuffle yourself away from the edge of the bed, your hands fully shaking. “You stole me.” You whisper it between your fingers. “You took me. We’re… we’re in Faerie.” Tears are coursing down your cheeks, breaths coming in frantic little puffs that grate at his soul, the spot beneath his ribs aching as you cry.

“I thought… ah thought I was goin’ lose ye.” He croaks. “I dinnae- I had no other choice.” You’re breathing too fast, too short, and he wants to tear at the unfathomable distance between you and him that seems to be widening by the moment.

“Get away from me.” You half yell, half cry at him, tone dripping in disdain, in fear. “Get away!” you scream, and the demand physically pains him, like you’re ripping him apart, like you’re taking a knife and jamming it up underneath his ribs, hollowing him out, destroying him from the inside.

He stumbles from the room, clutching his side like he’s been wounded, and your magic lashes forward to slam the door shut behind his back with a finality that hits like a killing blow.

“Well, she’s scared. And rightfully so.” Ce says with a hand on her hip, leveling Johnny with a look that he can feel burning through his skin. “I managed to get her to listen to me long enough so I could… explain everything.” He straightens.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth.” She sighs, and shifts her weight, reaching for where Simon stands. He takes her outstretched hand and brings her into his body, wrapping her up with a supportive arm around her waist. Johnny eyes the doors of the bedroom, clearly overeager, and she shakes her head immediately. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“But-“

“She’s traumatized. She was used by you, betrayed by you. And then you kidnapped her from the only home she’s ever known.” At that, she gives Simon a healthy glare, and he has the good sense to look at least, somewhat ashamed. “It gets worse, I’m afraid.” Simon watches closely, and Ce looks at Johnny with a face full of sadness. “The binding… she may not be able to undo it.”

“What?”

“It is powerful magic. Magic that she did not intend to cast. It came… from the heart.” Johnny lets his eyes slip shut at her words, jaw clenching tight. “You need to prepare for what is to come, if she cannot reverse it.” She ghosts a hand over her belly and implores him with a meaningful look, one that cannot be understated or misunderstood.

The magic that feels like you, the fibers that he believes are the binding, seem to flex within his power, like it’s being pulled, and he involuntarily takes a step towards the door.

“Soap.” Simon beseeches, and Johnny stops short. “You must give her some space for now.”

They’re right. He knows, they’re right. He’s violated you, forced your name from you, stole you from your home, betrayed you in every way.

But the binding, the burning ache in his side, cries out to him. Begs him to go to you. Begs him to take you into his arms, complete the binding right then and there, and steal you away forever.

He grits his teeth.

“Alright.”

Days pass, and Johnny fights himself every step of the way. He fights his magic, which has grown unruly and uncomfortable again, fights the gaping hole that seems to be forming in that spot behind his ribs, fights what he is sure now is the binding, the incessant pull that tries to drag him into your orbit. He fights how he feels, the deep-laid emotions that he’s spent months trying to bury, and the feelings of discontent, of missing something. Someone.

The estate is heavy with your ghost. Eilean keeps him informed of your comings and goings, your visits with Simon’s wife, your days spent locked in his library. She says you’re physically better, but tire easily. You only sleep for short moments at a time, like him. Johnny tries to tell himself he does not care that you refuse to see him. He tells himself that it does not bother him, that you were so willing to shut him out completely, so eager to escape him. He tells himself that the sound of your fear, of your cries for help are not burning into his memory, that they are not entrenching themselves into his soul, driving him mad. He tells himself it’s just the binding. That the binding is driving him to the brink, that the binding is to blame for his near descent into madness.

But he knows, it’s not responsible for everything, It’s not responsible for the yearning in his soul, his heart, his magic. For the wild edged chaos that brews out of control in his veins.

It's love. His heart bleats in the quiet hours of the night, when he holds his breath and feels for you through the estate, when he catches the barely-there scent of citrus and blood in a hallway where you must have recently lingered. It’s love. His mind screams when he closes his eyes to rest for a few precious moments, and all he can see is your face, smiling at him, giggling in the golden light of your kitchen at dusk. It’s love. His magic shrieks at him to go to you, to hold you, to tell you everything. To tell you about the way his power rioted in his blood the moment he saw you, the way his magic exploded in his chest the first time you shared your heart, your mind, your life with him, the way he knew after that very first day, that no other being would ever possess him, except you.

Eilean walks with you in the garden. He tries not to watch too closely, warily waiting for something to happen, for a decision to be made that he will not be able to fight, no matter how hard he tries. She delights you, when she shows you how to sow your magic into the fabric of Faerie, how to connect with Isle as you connect with the earth of your home realm.

Johnny does not allow himself the hope that lights in his soul, when she looks up at where he stands in the window, and nods. An approval. A yes. A piece of herself, given to you.

As time crawls by, he cannot stop himself from thinking about you, every waking moment. He cannot stop himself from wondering how you’re faring, if you need him, if you’re feeling well. His magic never lets him sleep, never lets him come, keeps him on the edge eternally, pacing, tossing, and turning while his mind is invaded by thoughts of you.

It is one of these nights, when he’s drowning in too many feelings, along with two bottles of wine, pacing fruitlessly, that Gaz blinks into the kitchen with an irritated huff.

“Look sharp. Been callin’ ya for hours.” Gaz spits, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Bloody hell, Soap. Get yourself together. Simon sent for us.”

The meeting is a long one.

Simon outlines recent inquiries, payloads for work, demands of their presence in places across the realm, old contracts that have long laid dormant being renewed with a fresh round bloodshed.

It is the same song and dance. The same battle cry of blood and victory.

Fae and mortals are not as different in their hearts as they seem, he muses, reading over a potential contract, a high paying job for the removal of a seated power. It comes with a catch, a royal child who requires protection, and he places it on the top of the list for consideration. Children cost extra.

He is not surprised, when both Simon and Gaz seem hesitant to agree to anything, especially work that will take them away from extended periods of time.

Johnny says nothing but shares their feelings. The idea of leaving the Isle for any amount of time makes his magic churn in his veins. Even now, anxiety builds like a storm inside him, and he agonizes about returning.

“It’s not optimal.” Simon declares, while Price smirks from where he sits with his arms crossed.

“Ye going soft, Riley?” Johnny ribs him, and Simon scowls.

“I’ll show you soft, Soap.” He shoots back, while Gaz chuckles.

“I’m not opposed to taking it easy, for a bit.” Price offers something, an inquiry that caught his eye, a short engagement, not very far away, while Simon counters it with a different one that’s even less time. They bicker, back and forth, back and forth, and Gaz slowly becomes more interested in a half open book laying on Simon’s desk than he does the conversation.

Johnny loses interest completely. The spot beneath his ribs is pounding like his heart, and his magic is swelling violently in time with the binding. When he says his goodbyes, no one is surprised.

“I want to know.”

“Witch business is no business of the Fae.”

“Fern is my business.” She laughed at his demand, the echo of it scraping across the front his mind like he had been scratched by her claws.

“So possessive.” She murmured. “Over a witch who does not even know the truth of who you are.”

“Jet.” He warned, and she growled a sigh.

“Divination is not practiced here as it practiced in your realm. It requires a sacrifice, and the visions are not easy, even for a powerful witch like Fern. It extracts a higher toll.” His blood curdled in his veins, and her tail whipped back and forth, green eyes watchful from where she sat in the kitchen. “Her participation is not voluntary.”

“They force her?”

“They’ve forced her since she was a child. The coven only cares for their power, their vanity, their immortality, and without the blood spinner, without the Divination, they would have none of it.” He pictured you, a small girl, alone, defenseless, victim to practices of your coven, your magic and mind a tool for them to use, to take advantage of, to torture. She licked her paw before rising to all fours, casting an underhanded glance at him. “The way they see it, Fern belongs to them. The blood spinner is not a being with a soul, but a thing to be used as the coven sees fit.” Outside, the wind howled, spurred on by the tethers of magic that spun from Johnny, the chaos that reveled in his distress, ropes and ropes of rage and desperation twisting together with the force of his power, sowing down deep into the earth, and expelling into the sky. “Should one protest… well.” She didn’t finish, just fixed her gaze beyond him, out through the window where the sky swirled with violent hues of black and purple.

“Her parents.” Jet refused him a response, but he didn’t need one to know the truth. “She doesn’t know.” He continued, and she slunk from her perch to the corner of the table.

“Have you considered what will happen, after your damage is done? What the coven will do when they discover her betrayal? Or worse…. you and your brothers are not the only ones who go bump in the night here. Fern is a magnet for creatures. Without the protection of her coven, she will be a target. She will be vulnerable.” She studied him, and he felt the shadowed point of her power, probing along his own, trying to peer into his mind.

He let a swirl of chaos break free, pushed out into the open.

He let a sentiment slip through, into her sight.

He had considered it, had planned for it. Anticipated it.

She met his eyes with her own, and understanding, recognition occurred between them.

“You plan to take her.”

He blinks onto the veranda of his own home, eager to escape the argument, rubbing his neck in exasperation when he catches the scent of balsam and citrus, mineral and blood, coming from the garden.

It’s you. You’re in the garden.

“Hello.” Johnny calls, stepping into the grass but no further, allowing you to see him, to recognize him as a non-threat. The light from the moons spills down your back and across your skin, making you shimmer under their glow, illuminating you in the brisk night air. The flowers around you are all in bloom, even in the middle of the night, and his lips quirk to the side with a smile when he realizes it’s your doing, velvety petals blossoming across the grounds in large swatches, vibrating with the signature of your magic.

You’re sitting amongst a variety of plants, long vines that stretch and strain towards where your fingers dance to entice them into reaching for you.

“Hi.” You don’t bother to lift your eyes, and it stings a little, disappointment settling heavy in his stomach. He takes a deep breath.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?” you bristle, and he grinds his teeth. About us? About the binding? About what happened? About how sorry I am? About how I cannot stop thinking about ye? Worrying about ye? Obsessing? He settles on, what happened, hoping that will ease you open to talking.

“About what happened.”

“About what happened, which time? The time when you used me to get information so your brother could abduct a Nereid, or the time you stole my name from me and then stole me from my own realm."

Well. Fuck.

“What’s wrong, Johnny? Cat got your tongue?” You latch onto his silence and dig in, not sparing him from your venom. His temper flares, needled on by the discomfort that is restless in his magic, and he pushes back at you.

“I will not apologize for doing what needed to be done to save ye, dove.” He snaps, drawing to his full height, and you glare at him, fury twisting your face into something that’s a little scary, and a little enthralling.

“Save me?” you hiss, incredulous. “Save me? You didn’t care much about saving me when you used me to get what you needed.” You stand, forgoing your plants to face him, fingers pointed to the ground, a hot flare of magic stretching across the space between him and you.

“I never wanted to hurt ye, I wanted to bring ye with me, but it was too late before ye knew the truth and I had no chance to explain.” He counters, and you laugh, the sound all sour and wrong, harsh, and unforgiving.

“You thought I would just go with you? You tricked me. You took advantage of me.” He feels the ground shifting, feels the earth growing under his feet, and your magic pulsing around him, strong and eager, pushing and pulling at something he cannot see. What is this? “You lied to me. You betrayed me.” The forest at your back groans, like the Isle herself is protesting this battle of wills, like she objects to the clash of power. The pressure in the air rises, and then something is tightening around his feet, restricting his boots, and tying him to the ground.

Roots.

There are tree roots, crisscrossed across his toes, snaking up his ankles.

“Fern.” He warns.

“Johnny.” You mock, and the magic crests, more gnarled plant life coming to sprout from the ground, lashing across his wrists, tying them tight to his sides wrapping him up like rope. “You won’t fight back?” you taunt, mouth curving into a wicked little smile. Another tendril of green binds around his forearm, and he grunts with effort to stay calm.

“No.” he grits out.

“No? No?” you hiss and step closer, bare feet pressing the grass down between your toes. You look like a predator in this moment, eyes sharp and narrowed, stalking closer to your prey. You’re enchanting, and unsettling, and the binding hums inside of him.

The plants twist past his forearms, tightening against his circulation, curling up his biceps and stroking the skin of his shoulders.

His power flares, distressed, confused.

In battle, if you were a foe, he’d already have struck you down, dealt you a killing blow.

“Fern. Stop this.” The vines squeeze him, and then crawl up his neck, holding firm beneath his jaw.

“Do you know what they wanted to do to me, Johnny? After they found out what I did?” He chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to wait you out, trying to see if you’ll draw back. “Answer me!” your voice cracks, and so does his heart.

“No.”

“They wanted to burn me at the stake.” You whisper, the words enough to take his breath. His magic thrashes. The spot underneath his ribs aches. “It wasn’t enough to shun me. They wanted to kill me.” He shakes his head furiously.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-“

“No, don’t say that. You’re not.”

“Ah wouldn’t have let them. No one will ever touch ye again Fern, I swear it.”

“Why even bother with more of these lies? You just needed to help your brother, and you didn’t care who was collateral damage. You used me.” You break, and a tear glitters on your cheek, refracting the light of the moons. “Just… just like them.” Oh, dove.

“No, no. That’s not… It’s not true. Ah care for ye, ye’ve meant something to me since the first day I laid-“

“Stop.” The plants squeeze him, and any tighter they’ll probably be strangling him. Cutting off his air. He fights against them, just marginally, enough to give himself some breathing room, and is surprised when they don’t loosen so easily. “I’m stronger here. Eilean taught me, how to feel this earth. How to hear it breathing, find its water, its blood.” You explain, tone bitter, and he nods a slow agreement.

“Of course.” Of course, she did. Because she likes you, dove. She accepts you. She wishes for you to make your home here. With me. With us.

He doesn’t try again, doesn’t flex in the web of plants that you’ve wrapped him in, just stands completely still, waiting. He urges his power to settle, to resist the call of blood and battle, to stand down as you seethe.

If he tried, only a little harder, he could shred the vines and roots in an instant. He could break free.

But a large part of him, spurred on by the gaping hole that’s been left by your absence, the pain that’s nestled in his diaphragm, doesn’t want to.

Most of him wants to stand here and take it, take everything from you.

It’s no more than he deserves, and he knows it.

Your hands are shaking, fingernails gleaming in the moonslight when you hastily wipe your cheek, and he wants so badly to reach for you. To hold you. To tell you how sorry he is. How he wishes he could take it all back. How he never wanted to hurt you.

“I trusted you.” It’s a whisper on the wind, spoken to the earth, to the sky, to anywhere but him. The words are hollow, like there’s nothing left there for him, like you’ve written your story, and his pages are long over.

“Ah know.” He murmurs. Your tears drip onto the grass, and he watches each one splash while dread swallows his heart whole. The ache in his ribs burns, magic howling through his limbs, tugging and digging against him to act, to move.

In the end, he doesn’t move at all. He stands trapped in the vines you’ve grown around him, stands trapped in time as you walk past him and up the veranda into the estate. The wind shrieks through the trees, whipping around where he stands immobile, and he watches the light in your room on the second-floor flick on, a warm yellow glow seeping out from behind the curtains as you peek around them, gazing down to where he stands, still like a statue in the garden below.

He stands there until your room goes dark.

The light sparkled across your skin, your hair, your eyes. He had never been fond of the mortal realm’s sun, always finding it too harsh, too abrasive, but the way it shone on you in that moment, he wasn’t sure he had loved anything more.

“Which was your favorite, then?” You extended the thing in your hand towards him, the fragrant, sweet ice cream treat, and he politely shook his head to decline.

“Ah dinnae care much for it, if ‘m being honest.”

“What?” Your other arm stayed looped in his, allowing him to subtly press his hip against yours, feel the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your skirt as the two of you took long, loping steps down the park’s path. “How can you not like ice cream?” You frowned. “We sampled so many. You didn’t like any of them?” He considered explaining he only sampled them because it allowed him to stand to so close you in that tiny shop. That he liked it because he was able to wrap his fingers around yours when you passed him the tiny spoons.

“The mint was alright.” He told you instead, and you huffed. “The lavender one too.” You gave him a curious look, and he couldn’t help himself, too eager to see you smile, too weak to resist the promise of your laughter. “It seems, I am overly fond of plants.”

The sea roars beneath grassy knoll where he hides. He swears it’s screaming your name, calling to you, crying about you.

He tries to clear his mind.

It’s why he comes here. To think. To be alone. To be unbothered. The hill is tucked away from his home, and he sits in the shadow of an ash tree, staring at the sky, waiting to settle, waiting to feel at peace.

A fool’s errand.

His mind is incapable of rest. It can only dwell on one thing, his desperation, his desire, his longing for you. The yearning in his heart that now works in tandem with the binding, trying to drag him towards you every waking moment of the day, trying to force him into your path.

You’re in the hallway when he returns, stack of books clutched to your body.

“Fern.” He chokes out, dumbstruck. He had planned a speech, for this, after what happened in the garden. A plea. A desperate sonnet of sadness and guilt. But in this moment, with you standing in front of him like a wild animal that may dart away at any moment, everything escapes him. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his brain feels blank.

You’re frozen, looking back at him, eyes wide, and a tiny sliver of relief fractures through his heart when he doesn’t smell any fear on you.

“Hi.” You whisper, and like a magnet, he cannot stop himself from stepping closer.

You do not flinch, or move, or even look away. You just… stare at him.

“Are ye well?” He tries, and you swallow so loud he can hear it rattling in his brain.

“I… am. Are you?”

“As well as I can be.” I’m in love with ye. I’ve been in love with ye. I’m sorry. All of these things echo in his mind, circling his consciousness but none of them come to the forefront. Instead, he stammers out a: “Ye look… beautiful.” Bleedin’ gods. It’s a massacre. He tries to smother his grimace and you give him a funny look.

“Thank you.”

“Are ye, getting on well here?” He motions to the too long, too wide hallway that seems to stretch farther and farther every second, and you nod slowly.

“Yes, you have… a lot of books.”

“Ah… ‘ve always been fond of them. The books.” He agrees, and your lips flick upwards in a polite smile. His heart races.

He takes another step.

It’s too much. You shrink away, moving backwards, and he curses himself.

“Sorry-“

“I should go.” You gesture the leather-bound volumes in your grasp.

“Of course.” He concedes, and you incline your head to him before turning around.

His magic screams through his body the entire time he watches you walk away.

You’ve made yourself at home in the library. He tries to push away the glee that it brings him, the fire that it stokes within him, the urge that it encourages. The binding warbles inside his magic, his soul, as he passes the door every day, tugging and dragging him until he’s trying the handle one morning, ignoring his prior commitments, opting to slide inside the heavy wooden doors just for a chance to see your face.

“You have books from my ho- from the mortal realm.” He winces, when you cut your words off abruptly and reroute them, all while staring at him from the desk in the library. Your fingers stroke the corner of a volume that lays open in front of you, and he takes a step closer, slowly, hesitantly, waiting to see if you’ll spook.

You don’t. You don’t even fidget, or flinch, just gently turn the pages as if everything is normal.

“Would ye like to see something special?” He cannot help it, this desire to impress you, to tempt you. He wants to catch you, keep you, hold you in a thrall like you hold him in yours. He thinks he should probably feel guilty, for using the things he knows you love so dear to entice you, to gentle you to him and draw you out, but he can’t find it in himself to feel poorly for it. He’s worried sick. He wants to see you smile again. Wants the life to come back to your eyes.

He wants his sweet Fern. His little witch.

He gestures to a book, one that sits in a glass case on a table next to his side, black binding shiny and perfect as if it were brand new and not thousands of years old.

“What is it?” You cannot help yourself, brushing past him to lean over the glass, eyes wide and curious.

“It’s a grimoire.” You inspect it with a frown, and he threads his magic through the air and into the glass, evaporating it into its original form, tiny spheres of sand that disappear before your eyes. You startle, and he smirks when you look up at him.

“Doesn’t look like any grimoire I’ve ever seen.” Your hand cautiously hovers above the spell book, and he can feel your magic probing along the edges, testing, seeking.

“It’s from a Netherworld.”

“Which?” you blurt, and then look half embarrassed, before tacking on a soft spoken, “And how?” He’s not surprised that you know of them, but it feels uneasy, knowing you may have been exposed to something from those realms, some sort of monster or creature, a Demon or worse, an Angel.

“The Below. I travel there, sometimes.” Your jaw goes slack, and you study him closer, something foreign flickering across your features before they turn doleful.

“I have seen them.” What? You turn a page with your magic, being careful not to let your fingers directly touch the pages. “Through Divination. I’ve seen both the Below, and Above.” You shudder, and his heart thunders, blood rushing through his ears.

A mortal witch, who’s not a mortal at all. Who spins blood and can see through realms, into the Below and Above. Places not even Gaz or Price dare travel to.

Formidable indeed.

“Dove, that’s… that must have been frightening.” Another page turns beneath your fingers, and you shrug.

“I have been Divining since I was a child. I’ve seen many things. It’s how I knew where we were, when I woke up,” Rage rips through him, unbridled and coarse, rousing his magic into a whirlwind of anger, the feel of it as violent as when he first learned the truth. It makes his blood boil in his veins, makes the shelves in the library vibrate in anticipation, his magic bouncing around the room, seeking to destroy, to sow chaos, to obliterate.

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice calls, echoing inside his skull, and he tenses, muscles turning to stone as he feels for his brother, locating him and Gaz outside, in the hall.

“Not now.” He grits in response, but he hasn’t forgotten his prior engagement, and knows trying to put it off is pointless.

When they come closer, when Simon pulls the doors wide, he bares his teeth, tension filling the air of the library. They stand at a respectful distance, not stepping inside, leagues away at the opposite end of the room, but he still feels overly exposed, can feel the pull of possession as he instinctually positions himself between your body and theirs.

You frown at his brothers before stepping into the shadow of his body, close enough that you brush against him, your fingers tracing a barely-there circle on the inside of his wrist.

“Why did you do it?” You break the silence, whispering to the ceiling, and he frowns.

“Do what?”

“Make me fall in love with you.” You still do not look at him, but he cannot tear his eyes from you, mouth wide with shock, the space beneath his ribs pulsing with chaotic magic, his heart beating too fast to count. “You could have just… used your magic. You could have taken what I knew, by force. Why did you spend all that time with me?” The confession slowly takes shape across his tongue, heavy and raw, ready to drip like honey from his mouth to yours.

“I- are ye in love with me, Fern?”

“Answer the question.”

“I knew what I had to do, to help my brother but ye were unexpected. The worst, and most wonderful surprise of my eternal existence.”

“Johnny.” Simon’s insistence echoes across his mind and he feels the urge to turn on them both, to banish them from the estate, from the Isle, from his life, just to keep his time with you from being interrupted.

‘Bloody terrible timing.”

“Clearly. But this cannot be delayed.” He clenches his jaw, and pulls your hand into his, smoothing a palm over your knuckles.

“I’ll be back later, if ye want to talk more.” It’s a hopeful thing, this sentence. Something that carries so much weight, without even being a question. Something that has the power to crush him, without a mere thought.

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Okay?” your head bobs, and you look down at the book with mock interest.

“I do not forgive you but, I’d like to… talk. Yes.” Yes. Yes. The word rings between his ears. He can work for your forgiveness, he can spend the rest of his existence earning it, if this means you’ll let him. If you’ll speak to him.

“Later then?” He manages to get out, and then squeezes your hand in a goodbye after you nod.

He does not see the way you stare at your own fingers after he leaves, does not see the way your magic explodes throughout the library, before settling back against your skin like a warm embrace, your side of the binding fluttering in your heart.

“My home is alive.�� He told your sleeping form, words quiet as he watched for any sign of you waking. “The place where my home is built, where I was born. The Isle. She chooses, who can stay, who can make their life there. She is a complex thing, a wild thing. Like you.” You twitched, and he paused, holding still as he waited.

When you didn’t rouse, he pushed a small spark of chaos into your sleeping mind, drawing you in deeper, settling you into your wildest dreams. “Jet told me, about what ye’ve been through. About what the coven has done to ye, forced ye to do… and I think, the Isle would accept ye. Ah think she would like ye, and welcome ye, Fern. With me.” You shivered, and he instinctually warmed the room, raising the temperature until you settled.

“Johnny.” Price called inside his mind, insistent, but patient. “We have business.” He sighed.

He had already been here too long tonight, and his brothers waited for him.

The kiss to your hair was fleeting. Gentle. Sweet. Punctuated with a whisper lost on the breeze from the open window.

“Gods, what have ye done to me little witch?”

“Ye come out here often.” He says quietly from the door, standing just beyond it after spotting you on the veranda, and you nod slowly in response, eyes dragging away from the sky to his, before returning upwards. The night is soft. Calm edged and serene, the breeze carrying a hint of sea spray from the foam below.

“I’ve never seen so many.”

“Stars?”

“Planets.”

“Surely there are other planets besides your own?” He knows there are, he’s seen them in sky, in the mortal realm.

“Yes, but not like this. There’s… there’s nothing, like this.” Your lips part, throat bobbing with a breath and he feels a strange tightening his chest as he watches you take it in. You look so amazed, so enchanted, so captivated by something he views so ordinary, that he too, tilts his head back to look up at the dizzying number of planets. Hundreds of worlds swirl in the inky darkness above them, their colors so vibrant they shine like gemstones, blinking in and out of the velvet backdrop that is the night sky. “There are so many worlds. So many places.” you whisper to him, a smile full of awe sloping across your lips. “Do you go to them? These worlds?”

“Some.”

“Some.” you parrot. “Some.” you laugh, like the notion is absurd, which it probably is, to you. Something inconceivable, improbable. “They’re beautiful.” Your hand raises to reach for them, as if you could pluck one right out of the night and hold it in your palm. He watches, entranced by the way the three moon’s light shimmers across your face, bathing you in a purple silver glow, spilling over your shoulders and across your skin graciously, framing you like a star, a celestial being. His throat feels dry.

“Aye. They are.” You lapse into silence, and he enjoys the feeling of being near you, his magic humming happily in his being, peace settling over him while you watch the stars, transfixed.

“Johnny.” You breathe his name, sweet and syrupy, magic dripping from each syllable. You look a little dazed, exhaustion pulling at your features, and he indulges in a daydream where he kisses your forehead, pressing a hint of power against your skin, wrapping you in a soft cocoon of his magic to comfort you. “I… I’d like to kiss you.” The words break him from his imaginations, and he jerks, pulling away to inspect your face, to see if were alright. Or if you were reading his mind. Or if you had become possessed by some Demon, some evil creature appearing here to make him suffer more than he already was.

But all he sees is his dove. His Fern. His little witch, face soft and open, expectant.

“Would you deny me, Johnny? After everything you’ve done?” You raise an eyebrow, and his heart sings, magic humming along happily, binding trilling in his body. You’re teasing him.

“Ye never have to ask.” The words are the same ones he said on Samhain, and he restrains his movements, keeping his body slow and steady while he leans into you, lowering his mouth to yours, the warmth of your lips against him sending his heart soaring, the intoxicating scent of you, the feel of your magic, the light caress of your fingers against his hip all amplified in this realm, and by the binding that seems to be stitching the two of you together by every moment.

He follows your lead, giving you space when you begin to ease off from him, and explosions rattle his soul as he stares down at you and your cautious smile.

“I love ye, Fern.” Your eyes go wide, and you startle, stepping a half pace away. “I dinnae how to tell ye, after everything. Ah ken, ah… there’s nothing that can be said, to make up for my treachery, for what I did to you.” He can feel the binding, the sailor’s knot tightening around the two of you, dragging you into one another, can feel the distinct signature of your magic, swirling around him, can smell the sweet citrus and blood dipped in balsam that floods his dreams. It’s enough to make his head spin.

“Johnny, this- this is the binding, it’s...” He shakes his head in rebuttal and reaches for your hand.

“I’ve loved ye since the first day I set foot in the shop. I’d burn the realms for ye, Fern.”

“You used me.”

“And ye will never know how I regret it, how I wish I could change it.” Let me love you. Let me hold you. Let me have you. The swell of the tide within him crests, magic churning into an excessive force, the binding burning, screaming, yearning against his lungs, and he pushes and pulls at it, twisting it up into something he struggles to contain. “Break the binding or leave it intact. It won’t change the way I feel.”

“I-“ Your words are snatched from your mouth when you draw a quick breath, bending at the waist, flat of your palm pressed to your belly with a soft groan.

“Fern?” His hand hovers at the small of your back, just above your skin.

“Sorry, I- I just had a cramp, is all.” You straighten, faint grimace sunken into your expression, and he frowns.

“What do ye need?”

“Nothing, I’m just gonna go lay down, I think.” You’re still holding your stomach, and worry froths in his heart, his mind as he watches you wince.

“Ye sure? Do you need-“

“I’m sure.” You wave him off, already turning away. “Goodnight, Johnny.” You murmur over your shoulder.

“Sleep well, little witch.”

The shockwave that ripples through his home in the small hours of the morning startles him from restless sleep. It jolts him into a panic, the binding clawing at his mind, his magic, tugging and pulling him towards something.

Towards you.

“Fern?” He calls, body teetering at the threshold of your room.

Are you dreaming?

Are you ill?

He can smell you from the doorway, balsam and citrus tinged with the scent of sour fruit, distress permeating through the air to where he stands, waiting. Holding his breath for answer.

“Fern.” He tries again, firmly, but you don’t respond, only moan into your pillow, the sound of your pain tearing at his heart until he’s blinkingacross the room, coming to lean over your trembling form, panic hammering inside his skull. “Hey, dove. Are ye with me?” He pulls you towards him, holding your face between his palms. Your eyes are nearly black, pupils so large they dot out your irises, and you thrash in his grip, nails digging into his skin while you cry out.

“Jo-Johnny. Johnny.” You’re sweating, sheets soaked beneath you, and the heat that’s blaring from your skin curdles his stomach.

The binding. The magic. It’s burning you from the inside.

You whimper, and his heart breaks for you, bleeds for you while you bury your nose in his neck, panting heavily.

“I’m here.” He tries to hold you steady, cradling the back of your head in his hand, the sear of your skin far too warm to be comfortable, the effect of the binding boiling in your blood.

You’re suffering. You’re suffering, and it’s his fault. He did this. He caused this.

Ce’s warning echoes sharply in his mind.

“You need to prepare for what is to come, if she cannot reverse it.”

The guilt fissures his heart in two.

“It hurts.” You try to tell him, weakly, and his frustration builds, the magic inside of him compounding, yearning to lash out.

“Ah know, Ah know it does.” The words are little comfort.

“Please. Pl-please make it stop.”

He can’t. He shouldn’t.

“It hu-hurts Johnny. Please. It burns.” You’re breaking apart in front of him. Inconsolable. Desperate. Dying.

“Shhh. ‘ve got ye.” He tries to calm you, holds you tight against him, pressing your body to his but all it does it make you squirm more, make you cry out against him, your voice broken with distress.

“Please! Please-“ you beg, and he slams his eyes shut.

He shouldn’t. He can’t.

But you’re in pain.

You could die.

The binding is heating your body past any measurable sense. You were not made to survive such a thing.

When he looks at you now, he knows his insistence on refusing this is pointless. He is too weak to give you up. He is not strong enough to say no. He has loved you since the day he first laid eyes on you. He would do anything to save you, to keep you alive.

Even if it meant this.

Even if it meant completing the bond the only way he knew how.

“I’m here, I’m here.” He kisses your breastbone, trails his lips down between your breasts, sucking marks into your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat like a dying mortal. “I’m going to make it okay.” He wants to take his time, wants to savor you, wants to have you the way he’s always dreamed about, slow and sweet, taking you apart piece by piece like you deserved.

There’s no time for that now.

“Johnny.” You whimper, something broken in your voice, a desperation unlike he’s ever heard before and it stings.

“Shhh. I’m going to take care of ye.”

A broken moan rises from your throat when he moves your body, shifting you underneath his weight, pinning your hips and teasing his tongue around one your nipples, nipping across you with his teeth just enough to sting your skin, to jolt you.

“I- I need- I want-“ You try to explain it, to direct him, and your magic flourishes forward, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for salvation.

“I know what ye need, Fern. Ah know.” His fingertips stroke over your navel, over where your lower belly tenses under his touch, and then to your cunt, where scorching heat mixes with liquid fire, your body wet and ready for him, desperate for him, magic burning you with arousal, with an undeniable need for him.

“Touch me.” You plead, and his lips find the inside of your thigh, dragging towards where you’re dripping, citrus and blood flooding his senses.

You taste like everything he’s ever dreamed of. Pressure builds up his spine, magic and desire burning like a fuse as he presses his tongue against your clit, and you shiver in his grasp when he lavishes you there.

His palm presses against your belly, holding you firm, muscles and sinew rippling under his touch, your voice peaking with a cry when he swirls around your swollen bud, over and over, working you relentlessly.

“Come for me, come on. Let me make it better, dove.” It won’t, and he knows it, knows only one thing will, but he hopes to the gods it will stave off some of your pain. He rasps against your skin and you keen, rocketing into an orgasm within a moment’s time, sharp and fiery, but only a balm for the burn of the binding, the incessant tugging beneath his ribs humming with miserable bliss over the moan of his name on your lips.

You’re still strung taut, seizing, the heat of your skin blazing against him. You tug fruitlessly at his clothes, fingers knotted up in his shirt, his pants, and he swipes a hand across your cheek to press his thumb against your tongue as he divests himself with one hand and a snap of magic.

His fingers are wet with you, with your spit, your arousal, and he coats himself with it, stroking the length of his cock, kissing the crown to your opening while he stares down at you indulgently.

His Fern. His dove. His little witch.

“Please.” You breathe your plea into him, into his mouth, his skin. “Please, it’s- I need you.” You choke and he pushes, your eyes going wide as he batters his way into your body, the tight clench of your walls strangling him as he moves. “Gods-“ you gasp, and he strokes some hair from your face, lips pressing sweetly to your cheek, your jaw to soothe you, to quiet the discomfort from the stretch.

“I know, I know.” He murmurs, keeping his movements slow and steady, watching how your expression eases, how your body adjusts, how your brows unknit with each passing moment. You relax around him finally, face going slack with bliss as he folds one of your knees back towards your shoulder. “That’s it, good… good girl.” He hums over your ear, before pressing a gentle kiss there. “Take me so well. So perfect.” He needs to fill you, own you, fuck you full and possess every inch of your being. It’s the only way, the only way to soothe your soul, to soothe his own. It’s always been the only way, since the day he saw you. Since the first time he kissed you, in the shadow of Samhain.

His heart flutters, the binding clawing at his power, wrapping itself around your heart, stitching across the bridge between your bodies to reach the other side, encasing itself and him in the warmth of blood magic, of your magic. It only grows stronger as his hips stroke, his body moving inside of yours, gasps of pleasure falling from your lips.

Your muscles clench around him, desperate, and it feels right. Everything feels right, it feels fated, it feels meant to be. Like you were made for him, born for him. You, his equal. You, his balance. He pads over your clit with a press of his fingers, moving against you in time with his thrusts and your power surges to meet his, interweaving until it’s impossible to discern your beginning and his ending.

“I’ve always wanted ye here with me.” He nips along your collarbone, tracing a bead of sweat up the skin of your neck to your jaw. “I broke into the flat, just to watch ye sleep, every night after Samhain.” He punches his sentence with thrust of his cock, brushing against your cervix, and you keen. “I’ve loved ye. Dreamt of ye. I have betrayed ye,” you mumble something, lashes fluttering, and he swallows your words with his mouth before continuing. “and will spend the rest of my existence, our existence, apologizing for my transgressions.” Your body shifts with him, the rhythm he set upon your clit forcing you forward, spine curling you into him, his name a whisper on your lips.

“Johnny, Johnny.”

He fucks into you harder, wild, primal, full of ferocity and you cry out, shuddering beneath him, squeezing around his cock. The urge to fill you, to breed you, is too strong to fight, and the binding croons to him in your voice, spurring him onwards.

“Gods, dove.” His voice is broken song, a plea, and you respond with a melody of your own. “Ye belong to me.” You nod in a daze, lips forming a word that sounds like please. “Going to give ye my come. Keep ye forever.”

“Ye-es.”

“Sweet Fern.” He coos when he feels it, the build of your climax, ushering you along with the press of his body. “My good girl, coming all over my cock. Like ye were made for it.” You hiss, and then your orgasm is washing you away, your voice shouting his name as you come. Your eyes spark, celestial light glittering beneath the black pools that have expanded across your irises, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulder, blood trickling down his chest, slicking between your bodies. It spills and spills, running like a river over the two of you, tracking across your breasts, down his abdomen, across your belly, down your thighs. It flows wildly, freely, rushing from him and towards you, spurred on by your mastery of it, your mastery of him.

You’re spinning him. You’re taking and taking, the binding drinking his magic in greedily, digging and scratching beneath the surface of his chaos, sowing vines that sprout and flourish, that tie him to you. His side of the binding shrieks in glee, in elation, and bends for you, arcing between your bodies to imbue you with cosmic pieces of chaos, a blend of blood and bedlam, boiling in your veins. In his.

Blood continues to gush from his body, his mouth full of you, of citrus and blood, of earth and balsam. You inhale him, pushing your tongue past his teeth, swirling in the mess there, and when you pull away, he can see the stains of ichor on your teeth under the curve your half-moon smile.

Your magic strangles him, strengthening itself, solidifying your power, absorbing what it can of his mayhem. The binding purrs, it sings to him, it sings to you, the sound chiming through his mind, echoing off the hollowed-out coves of the Isle, vibrating through its dark forest. He shouts against it, with it, orgasm just on the peak, both his body and yours trembling violently.

“Mine.” He snaps, and you answer easily.

“Yours.” You nod, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He cradles you there, back of your head in his palm, and then he thrusts up into your body as hard as he can, overcome with need, with the burn of the binding, with love. It’s so much, the pull of the magic, the wildness of your heart seeping into his own, and he spills as deep as he can into your body, filling you with himself, plugging his come deep, your own body sucking him in desperately while you cry and shake in his arms.

His Fern. His dove. His little witch.

Ancient celestial light streams through the curtains, the proof of an entire day passing, the rising of the moons stirring you from where you have slept for the last few hours, body and binding finally sated, skin scrubbed clean from the stain of his blood.

You blink, heavily with exhaustion, and he pulls you into his body, unable to resist cuddling you close, breathing you in and wrapping an arm around your back to still you when you start to fidget. You smell different now, like a swirling storm of him and you, and his free hand drifts to your navel possessively.

“Johnny.” You murmur, and he answers by pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here.” He whispers. “Ye can rest dove. It’s okay.” You settle against him, and just as he’s starting to drift into his own star lit slumber, you sigh.

“You should start makin’ a list.”

“Of what?” You kiss his chest, lips soft against his skin.

“Of all the things,” you yawn, breath hot and sweet, and he wants to drag his tongue over your skin again, take you apart while he savors every tremble, every moan that leaves your body. “you’re going to do over the next hundred years to make it up to me.”

“One hundred years?” he chuckles in jest, but his heart soars.

He knows, there is more hardship to come. He knows, the pain, the suffering, that you will experience, that you will unleash on the mortal realm, on him, when you learn the truth about your parents, about your coven. He knows the challenge ahead.

But in this quiet moment, with you in his arms, nothing about it feels like the end.

Only the beginning.

“Careful." you breathe into him. "Or I’ll make it two.”

#peaches writes #which witch #john soap mactavish #fae au #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #fae!johnny #john soap mactavish x you #fae!au #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod x reader #fae!soap #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #magic!au #magic au

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galedekarios · 5 months

Text

more gale & tara epilogue stuff

tara's epilogue conversation is so extremely devastating if gale sacrificed himself. since i can't bring myself to play it, i thought i'd look at it in the files and share what i find here.

tara can be found at camp and this is how the conversation with the player begins:

Tara the Tressym: Oh, hello, darling. I was hoping to see you. Withers informed me about this little get-together and I thought I'd show my whiskers.devnote Tara the Tressym: I can almost feel Gale here. Among his friends - in you. Some part of him remains, doesn't it? devnote: Gale has died so she's very sad and nostalgic.

this devnote is repeated for almost every line for tara in this convo.

from here, the player has various options to reply. i'll be going through them in order.

the first is one where the player points out the magically conjured image of himself that gale left behind in case of his permanent death:

Player: Well, his magical ghost is still here, if that's what you mean. Tara the Tressym: That thing's no more than a shadow of the real man. A nonsense. Though it captures some of his more insufferable qualities...

the second option is the player saying that they are feeling something similar, a presence that reminds them of gale:

Player: It does, Tara. I can feel his presence too. Tara the Tressym: A crackling in the air, isn't it? That flair of magic and mischief.

despite the tragedy of it all, i do love tara describing gale's presence as 'that flair of magic and mischief'. it's so very sweet and sad, especially remembering just long she's known him.

perhaps here she remembers the boy who accidentally set the rose bush on fire and cried, just as elminster does. or perhaps the boy who summoned a magma mephit, causing chaos, but also making a lifelong friend.

the third option is to tell tara that you miss gale, too, and this honestly made me tear up:

Player: I miss him too, Tara. Tara the Tressym: That's good. We should miss him. He was such a lovely fellow. Proud as a peacock, but... my little love. Tara the Tressym: Oh, what I wouldn't give to snuggle up on his lap one more time. Just once would do. Player: Would a fuss from me make you feel better?

"He was such a lovely fellow. Proud as a peacock, but... my little love."

PROUD AS A PEACOCK BUT... MY LITTLE LOVE

M Y L I T T L E L O V E

this is obviously completely fine so i'll continue with the fourth option:

Player: You can snuggle up in my lap later, if you like. Tara the Tressym: Oh, I couldn't possibly... unless... well, perhaps it's not a terrible idea. Gale would be quite pleased to know we've made friends, wouldn't he?

it's clear that tara needs some comfort. despite her stiff upper lip approach to most news devastating to her and the thin veneer of control she puts on here.

the fifth option is expressing that you know how she feels:

Player: I know how you feel. Tara the Tressym: Ah, to lose the one you love the most. What a terrible thing.

the sixth option is rather callous and tara's response to it once again heartbreaking:

Player: Alas, you can't. Tara the Tressym: No. Not in this life, at least.

the last option again shows tara's true grief at what happened:

Player: He's gone. We have to accept that. Tara the Tressym: I suppose we do. But I certainly wish we didn't.

most of these different options lead to the end of the conversation with tara, where she invites the player to visit her and morena in waterdeep:

again, the player has various choices to either accept or refuse her invitation. i won't go through them all and you can read for yourself in the screenshot i provided. but i do want to look at these two options here:

Tara the Tressym: Perhaps you'd be willing to come meet Gale's mother, some time? She misses him so - and I know it would do her heart a world of good to discuss her son with someone who knew him as he was. Player: I'd love to, but I'm leaving Faerûn after tonight. Tara the Tressym: Well if you ever come back do look us up in Waterdeep. Surname 'Dekarios'. I'd enjoy the chance to reminisce about the good man we knew.

i'm once more reminded of that one line in elminster's letter and i feel so sad for morena:

Does he live within his mother’s ageing heart, weeping for those roses?

Player: I'll consider it. Tara the Tressym: See that you do. We'd love to have you. Things have been rather quiet without himself cluttering up the place.

which made me think about gale's line that his tower has never been so free of clutter ever since he had to deal with his condition.

anyhow, i hope this was interesting to some of you!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #tara the tressym #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #gale epilogue spoilers #ch: gale dekarios #ch: tara the tressym #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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lovetei · 17 hours

Note

Obey me demon brothers reacting to mc being hit with a "special" potion by someone and them having to deal with mc being extremely horny and dominant plus having their back absolutely blown? (Btw I love your writing🫶🏼)

It's like 1 in the morning and my phone is at 8 percent, the best time to write.

--------------------------------------------------

MC was affected by this mysterious potion that makes them crave for some back-breaking fuck

Warnings: No proofreading, grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, smut, no censoring, reader is Implied to be wearing strap or having cock (a big one), fingering them, wrong use of car hood, choking, air deprivation, wrong use of ties, ovestimulation

Parts: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

LUCIFER

Are you being serious?

You mean to tell him that the reason why you came home looking like that

Why you came home and immediately went inside his room

Is because you were affected by this strange potion?

That makes you feel like you're in heat?

It doesn't matter, he needs to check up on you and see if it's harmful or not

Or to see if he can do anything to help you, at least.

"A-AUGH!" Moans and screams that sounds too whiny to be his escaped his mouth as your fingers moved wilder. "Wait a second!" He screamed the second time before you added another finger.

He was drooling like a dog on top of his desk as his cock spurt out strings of cum, staining the dark wood of his desk. "You better keep your back like this or I'll have to force it then." You ordered after you grabbed his shoulder and made him arch his back.

"G-Give me a break atleast..!" Is the last thing he screamed after he felt something hard against his used ass.

MAMMON

He was panicking

He knew that this ingredient had an aphrodisiac like effect on humans

But he didn't know it would be this much.

Plus he meant no harm!

He simply fed you this bread during your night out to make things a little exciting!

"Stop fucking moving." You cursed out as you slammed in his ass harder making him moan even more "I-I'm trying..!" He sobbed out as you bent him over the hood of his car, one of his legs raised on it while his dick continued to leak pre.

"P-Please don't be mad! O-One more! I promise I'll do better!" He begged like a whore as he pushed himself closer to you, trying to push your length deeper.

And the last thing he remembered is how he passed out and woke up again with his legs up your shoulder as you relentlessly pound into him.

LEVIATHAN

He kind of knew that it has strong aphrodisiac in it

It was said in the warning after all

But he's a high ranking demon so of course it has no effect on him

And he forgot that you're still human despite having that enormous amount of magic

"Shhh... Breath in." You chuckled at him as he shakily inhaled, sweat coating his forehead as you pushed your fingers inside of him once again "A-Agh~ I think I really can't do it anymore..!" Panic settled in when he felt himself on the edge with just your fingers.

His breathing got more ragged and panicked as you moved your fingers "Don't say that! I know you can take it..." You tried to cover your annoyed mood by sweetening your words.

"N-No... I-I think I'll die..!" His cock leaked pre but your patience is just starting to run thin "Levi how about we shut up?" You pushed your fingers down his throat "You made me like this so take responsibility." You threatened.

SATAN

He saw this unique spell in one of his books.

It applies aphrodisiac on foods without needing an actual potion

And so he though, why not try it on you?

You have gained a pretty amount of mana since time time you first came here

You can handle this much right?

Satan held on the bookshelf for his dear life as he bit on the tie harder to surpress his moans "You might break the shelf at this rate..." You panted out as you pushed yourself deeper inside of him.

A groan escaped his throat as tears does from his eyes "No mwore!" He managed to say through the gag as he caressed his ass, red from all the spanking he received earlier.

You just held his hands and slammed all the way in, his knees completely giving up and your hands holding his up is the only thing preventing him from falling "There, there... I'll start moving now..." You sweetly said, ignoring his please.

ASMODEUS

He didn't mean to!

You just looked so hot earlier that he forgot he had this ability!

Accidentally putting aphrodisiac on your food... How horrible!

Don't worry, he'll take responsibility!

Rhythmic moan is the only thing that can be hear inside the dimly lit room of Asmodeus, oh, the slapping sound of his ass whenever it hits your waist too.

"Augh!~ I-I'm getting a little tired honey~" He moaned as he continued to bounce himself on top of you as you lazily sat on his sofa "Maybe a little help..?" He guided your hands to his waist, implying that he wants you to move him yourself.

When you didn't react, he looked back at you over his shoulders and saw how you look completely out of it, dilated pupils and red cheeks "You know... If I started moving you yourself I might break your fragile little waist." You whined out as he felt you grip him harder.

BEELZEBUB

He's really sorry!

He forgot about this aphrodisiac and how it's harmful for humans...

What do you mean he can help cure the pain?

Sure, he'll help!

You played with Beelzebub's vibrant hair as his mouth worked wonders for you "Just like that~" You moaned as you looked down at him.

"Am I helping you relive the pain..?" He pulled away for a minute, a string of saliva and cum connecting his lips from your thighs "Yes, Beel. You're doing so good~" You leaned down to give him a little kiss

"I'm pretty sure this is hurting too~" You moved your feet closer to his clothed cock, visibly hard and straining against his pants "Then... Can MC help me relive it later too..?" He asked which made you smirk.

BELPHEGOR

It started off as a harmless prank

It was supposed to be a harmless prank

He didn't know it would reach this far

And he never thought that you'll let it reach this far!

"F-Fucking hell! MC!" He managed to say between the small intervals where you raised his head and let him breath, it's sad that this is what he decided to say.

You slammed his head back down on the pillow and moved your hip back and forth, enough to push him forward and have him holding the bed frame.

And then he tapped your thigh signaling that he's about to cum, and being a nice human, you let him, but this time, you didn't raise his head to let him breath and now you can see the panic.

How he was struggling to push himself up as cum leak out of his cock continuously, you harshly pulled his hair to let him breath "A-Ah~ I-I can't breath please!" He was holding your hands as he begged, tears and sweat messing up his face.

It was a sight to behold before you push him back down.

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #omswd #omnb #obey me smut #obey me Lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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kalims · 10 months

Text

the package deal

summary. random scenarios I think about daily

content. scenarios, fluff, not proofread

featuring. jamil, ace, floyd, gender neutral

note. @merotwst hello beh para ito sayo 🥺 SORY ITS VERY LATE I GOT BUSY

scenarios are by order of the names ^^ & double post as an apology for inactive-ness LOL

your personal basketball shield

"what in the great seven are you doing?"

"I'm doing nothing, I'm completely innocent." you nervously reply before adding; "and I'm um... a student from room C."

well the first part made you look suspicious now.

but the second part is a lie though.

you in fact, are not a student from room C. you purposely left out mentioning what year you were in all together in favor of hopefully, having your identity still anonymous the remainder you'd still be inside the court.

speaking of. you aren't even supposed to be here right now.

the student eyes you weirdly, and you refrain from sweating bullets under their gaze.

for your own sake you just ignore them and focus on the court, your eyes immediately zeroes on the seemingly tight block (attempt at this point) at floyd, but he doesn't have any problem getting past them at all. you blink and he had already slammed the ball in and hung off the net like he's trying to play monkey bars.

to be fair your getup is immensely out of place, you're wearing all black, the hood is over your head and you're wearing shades which wouldn't have been strange if you hadn't wore it indoors. a black jacket to match when it's 36 degrees outside? yeah right.

in all honesty you're trying to gaslight yourself that you're just here to show support for one of your friends but you hadn't spared a wink of a gaze in ace's direction ever since you had entered.

instead you're staring at an empty spot at the bench, usually occupied by a certain someone you know. yet it isn't, you're just staring in hopes that he'll magically appear out of thin air and leave you something to stare at.

you're a mixture of confusion, and disappointment. this isn't very independent boss of me. you sweatdrop, pining over a boy... was not part of your plan.

maybe getting hit by a basketball flying off court and miraculously in your direction wasn't too but thankfully before you could screech bloody hell and break your nose, a palm reaches out and literally slaps the ball away casually?

you peek out your arm and peek up at jamil who doesn't even look at you and stares in the direction of which where the ball had come from with unblinking eyes (it seemed kind of intense but you don't want to question it.) he's wearing his signature club wear, his water bottle present in his other hand and a towel over his shoulder. the slightly dampened fringes that frame his face tells you that he had gone to wash up.

"you should be aware of your surroundings." he chides.

and he finally looks at you, you swear you just exploded.

you don't have it in yourself to reply to the echo of an apology from the court but is only able to stare dumbly at jamil who stares back.

... this is awkward.

"thanks..." you trail off, flabbergasted and warm as hell. maybe you shouldn't have used a jacket? maybe it was the weather? definitely!

before you know it, he stalks off with a tilt of his head and you believe you're being delusional again when he keeps looking in your direction whenever he scores like... it's for you.

covering the edges of a table

"I can't believe you spend time with trey."

unsurprisingly there's a deadpan directed to ace, not from deuce, riddle, nor cater but from you. sure he's just teensy tiny little bit bothered because well, it's not like he considered those other people romantically and there's been a silent promise to himself to prove that he is in fact; not as dumb as you think he is when you look at him like that.

usually when 'that' comes into mind ace would have imagined it to be a look he gives you daily, like you're sure he's the biggest idiot of the world but he's your idiot. he definitely does not want to get into detail but it's those looks people in love give which he used to cringe about.

ironically enough he's one of the subjects daydreaming about it.

you get him? he wanted that look not this one.

ace throws up his arms in the air with a deep sigh. "I live with him but that doesn't magically make me good in cooking, plus... trey bakes!" he rolls his eyes, speaking with a matter-of-factly tone.

you squint at him.

"have you not tasted trey's homemade dishes for dinner? those are to die for."

"no I haven't." he snaps.

"to think you even have the resident cook of scarabia mentoring you..." you continue, dodging a spatula that was thrown at your head. you frown at him in mock disappointment. "now now, you really wanna get charged for assault?"

from across the counter ace gives you the forbidden triple fuck you fingers. there's a silly pink apron he wears because you stole the only one which doesn't give his eyes a seizure, a red one. red looks good on you, he thinks but then his eye twitches.

when he had invited you over most of the second and third years had gone out for a camp, right now the first years are rejoicing the absence of their strict dorm leader and cooped up themselves in their respective rooms, eating every single junk food in the rules.

so that meant no one was really willing to cook, even ace wanted take out but you gracefully intervened.

to be fair you were hungry and the food would arrive at like 2 hours with how much ordering the residents had done.

"I think it's ready." he scratches his head, looking more unsure than you.

"you think?"

just then the timer beeps.

"how hard is it to make curry..." you shake your head, grabbing a set of utensils... to use, somehow.. even you aren't that experienced because all crowley does is send you microwavable food from the convenience stores and only the pizza was decent enough to call nice.

his brow creases. "not that hard."

"do it then."

"..."

ace just stares at you, leans over and slaps you over the head. while you've been a victim of many of these, you didn't expect him to literally lean over the counter to do that. "assault." you comment dryly, you curse under your breath when it goes flying under the table.

"it's your word over mine." he shrugs. blinking when you crouch. "what are you doing?"

"I dropped them because of your criminal ass." you roll your eyes, reaching over to grab the scattered utensils all over the floor, great. now you have to wash them too.

only when you realize that there was a possibility of hitting your head (which by the way, was never a fun experience. you're sure there's a carved up line from how many times you've hit it on your head.) when your head indeed bumps, but it's not exactly the hard surface that sends a jolt of sharp pain up your head.

instead there is a soft cushion. it ruffles your hair a bit and you're immensely confused.

you immediately look up when you stand up, unharmed but ace is just looking away from you. stirring the... pot which is weird cause there hasn't been any seasonings put in it.

you shrug.

missing the red ears.

getting hit by a ball to his face but he pretends it doesn't hurt because you're there

you're surprised that basketball even exists in this world when they apparently can't tell the difference between magishift and football, you're practically itching to slap someone when you explain the similarities between the two and they still have the audacity to deadpan at you like they're the most different things to ever exist!

namely, some idiot named ace trappola.

maybe leona too since he was giving you a stinky side eye but you don't want to get slapped back too.

what you appreciate though is floyd, you can't tell if he's just a big, strong ball of idiocy or the smartest person between all the people listening cause he seemed to be the only one interested in what you were saying.

and he even agreed that they were similar! albeit even if his usual manners are confusing floyd isn't that much of a guy that agrees with people a lot so it's a shocker.

and you're confused why he seems to be so attached to you. the tweels are almost always together, where one is, always is the other trailing along. so you're a little concerned because you can't take the presence of the resident friendly terrorists of the schools.

floyd was always following you around till he just wordlessly shoves a flyer of a game that's about to occur in his club, a wide grin on his face as he boasts about how he's on the starting line up and 'going to crush the other team.' literally or figuratively? you don't know but.. probably both.

basically he wanted you to watch so here you are.

not to exaggerate or anything but he is indeed, crushing the other team. a whooping 17 point lead between them, of course NRC leading. you'd be more confused if they weren't the one in first if they have floyd. (who apparently attends practice like one time a week but just enough to stay at the club...)

not to mention before it even started floyd had mentioned something along the lines of decimating the other team for your name. which is floating around the borderline of romantic and insanity.

for your delusions you will believe it romantic.

you're torn if you should cheer for the team, cause you know. you are technically part of NRC so it's natural but you know floyd would get all pouty, in a bad mood so you hesitate. vice versa because if you cheer for floyd you're gonna get weird looks cause so far, he's been doing selfish plays, not passing but scoring.

well this is the least villainous thing a student from a school that worships villians can do...

floyd is playing well, you would not like to admit that you're staring because he looks a little too good in that uniform... sweaty, pushing his hair back with a grin as he glowers at his opponents and sends them into peeing their pants. it works though cause they almost always hesitate when floyd is the one they're up against.

just wow.

you're just 100% sure you're watching a basketball god who would ascend to a higher life form if he wasn't so lazy till there's an abrupt silence that definitely isn't normal.

thankfully you catch the sight of a ball being... shoved to floyd's face like a dunk? should you really be thankful to witness that.

and for once entirety of the room agreed on one thing for that person. rest in piece.

floyd rubs his face and narrows his eyes, it almost looked like he was about to tear up but you swear he looked at you and immediately forced a wobbly grin, closing his eyes so the tears wouldn't fall and opens them to stare at the poor guy intensely.

in the distance you could hear a vague chuckle of jade.

"you don't know where to dunk, lil' guy?" floyd flashes them a sharp toothed grin, ironically you witness their soul leaving their body at the sheer intensity he excludes. most held their breaths cause they're sure that he would have started quietly threatening them but... there's no threats.

almost like he's holding back to act unfazed?

the 'lil guy' gulps and can't even muster up an answer.

floyd smiles at him. "I'll show you."

before the game ended that player left with a red round stain on their face, clear evidence of floyd's 'accidental payback.'

... now he's asking if you've seen how he's carried the team.

#twstnexus #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twst fluff #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #x gn reader

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wakkass · 7 months

Text

Katara's Lightning: waterbending technique

Part 1

Book 3 provided some very good ideas for alternative uses of waterbending. Everyone knows bloodbending, one of the most powerful and conceptual techniques. In principle, I think the episode with Katara mastering this ability is the most interesting in the season.

But not only because of bloodbending, but also because of creative ways to obtain water. Get it out of the plants! Or even out of thin air! This opens up so many possibilities that, unfortunately, weren't explored during the season. Maybe this was considered in comics or LoK, but I would like to talk about my version of the development of the concept.

I was very interested in controlling water in the air. I thought that this was a very revolutionary approach, because you need to get water from essentially nothing, it’s difficult and at the same time convenient. A source of water is always at hand, great!

However, the question is: is this all? Is it really impossible to go further and develop the ability in some other way? Lately I have been very interested in this question, and my reflection has taken me in an unexpected direction.

I thought about storm clouds. We have already been shown how, together with an airbender, even an inexperienced waterbender can control clouds. However, in the future, when Katara develops her skills, she may well be able to cope with this task herself. Clouds are made of water, and thanks to Hama, she clearly learned to feel the element on a more subtle level and control it even in the air. Making water particles move in the sky might not be that difficult for her.

And imagine how cool it would look during the invasion of the Fire Nation. If Katara didn’t just fly on Appa and destroy airships one by one, but carried a thunderstorm across the sky, like Storm from the X-Men. Bad weather would prevent the air force from entering the battle, and rain would help the waterbenders on the ground and prevent the firebenders from fighting. This would not only be visually powerful, but also quite useful.

And then I thought about what happens in a thunderstorm. Lightning. The firebending technique can essentially be summoned by the opposite element! This idea amazed me…

Let's start with where lightning comes from in nature. In simple terms, when small water crystals of different sizes move very quickly inside a thundercloud and collide with each other, they form opposite charges in different parts of it. The result is natural lightning. That is, all that is needed is to be able to control the water particles in the air, and, as we know, Katara has learned this.

Imagine if, during the same invasion, she had gotten too caught up in creating a storm. The ice particles collided so quickly that at some point, lightning appeared in time with Katara's movements. Powerful, uncontrollable, dangerous. She and Appa were in the middle of a storm without any preparation or protection, it was scary. But at the same time exciting and intriguing. How does it feel to realize that you can create magic of the opposite element? This can't help but stun you.

But Katara would have to restrain herself. I don't think she liked it, but she didn't want to put Appa and herself in danger. As a result, the thunderstorm she created was not half as powerful as it could have been.

Why is it important? Because in my perception this is not just a technique. I feel like the storm, and in particular the lightning, in this case represents Katara herself in book 3. Remember her rage in the episode "Southern Raiders" when she expressed long-buried feelings about the loss of her mother. Remember how long and painfully she nursed Aang after his death, and subsequently experienced enormous stress in “The Puppetmaster” due to bloodbending. I think Katara needs some emotional release (which she got in "Southern Raiders", but more on that in part two). And lightning could personify that internal energy that strives outward.

Remember how Katara's anger manifested itself in book 1 through its effect on the water around her? What if it got bigger because Katara grew up as a master?

This time it is very dangerous to give in to feelings like this and turn them into the element, because Katara is not able to control the lightning itself, only create it. This can seriously hurt her herself, as well as those around her, just like words and deep resentments (for example, towards Sokka for not grieving the loss of their mother as much as she does). Therefore, there is nothing left to do but restrain the impulses of rage and irritation.

Perhaps she would even refuse to create new storms. Unfortunately, without someone who could control the direction of the lightning, she cannot guarantee the safety of herself and the people around her. But where can she find such a handyman?..

Part 2 >

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla fanart #atla au #katara #atla katara #zuko #atla zuko #lightning bending #waterbending #bending meta #this idea seemed so simple and so brilliant to me #water creating fire #and this is a phenomenon from our reality #subject to the laws of physics #I want to play with this idea #there are so many types of lightning that we can use wow

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jmliebert · 4 months

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I was wondering if you could write some headcanons of soft!crybaby!reader x Tom Riddle?

Take all the time you need! :3

gladly <3

♡ TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE x SOFT CRYBABY ♡

intrigued by your vulnerability, Tom observes you from afar

he’s confused about why he’s drawn to someone who embodies everything he detests

weak and… lonely and yet he finds it impossible to look away

there appears to be an inexplicable connection, something he can't quite articulate—a certain… sadness?

when you look at him your gaze softens and it makes Tom feel exposed, a feeling of an unsettling transparency washes all over him, catching him off guard

when he looks at you a shiver runs down your spine, you feel uneasy, no one ever looked at you like he did

and one time when he saw tears shimmering in your eyes, he understood. oh, how he desired to play with you, to take everything from you

devour your soul, make you cry but only because of him

it all begins in the quiet corners of the library. Tom materialize out of thin air, his smile beautiful and you can’t believe it’s meant for you

together, you share a quiet companionship amid the books. he’s studying unbothered and you just let him be

you didn’t want to disturb someone like him

“you seem to be enjoying that book” he said the other day, and it felt like a warm hug

as the days were passing by, you two engage more and more in late-night conversations, debating literature, history, and the intricacies of the magical world

Tom’s taking it slow, he doesn’t want to scare you, not yet- at least

when his long fingers brushed gently against yours it made you feel things you never felt before, it ripped you apart even though it was such a small gesture

and that’s when he knew, he knew you were at his mercy, “I just… adore you”, he said, looking at you as a predator may look at its prey

you were so eager to his touch… it was endearing really. when he was running a thumb over your lips, looking at you with those eyes piercing your soul, it felt like there’s only you and him in this world

when he was sliding his hands into your hair it felt like heaven

when he was standing slightly before you, tall and proud, you felt protected

when he tilted his head slightly and chuckled lightly at your words, you felt worthy

yet sometimes he hurt you, and no one could hurt you like he did. his words were sharp and when you cried he kissed away your tears

he seemed to love when you cried

but only if it was because of him

others couldn’t do it, you were his and his alone to play, so when somebody stood in your way they dealt the consequences, and trust me they weren’t nice

so it was truly just you and him at the end., but you didn’t feel lonely like before

“ I will never abandon you” he said softly, his nose in your hair, your hands in his

“you wont?” you questioned full of hope, voice betraying the strain of tears

“never. I would kill for you”, he said kissing the crown of your head and you don’t know weather you should feel comforted by his unwavering devotion or unsettled by the intensity of his declaration

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡

#lord voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle romance #tom riddle headcanon #tom riddle x soft crybaby #tom riddle

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annymation · 2 months

Text

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 17- To Give You Even More Than... This.

Chapter 16

"... I gotta go now" Aster's voice cracks, though his smile remains, as his eyes try to hold back some heavy tears.

"... Now?" Asha's voice vacillated.

She watched as Aster's dust floated up to the sky, slowly making them disappear, as if bit by bit the star is returning to the sky... Asha understands what this means, but she doesn't understand why. Why now? After everything, why can't they have one moment of peace?

"You can't leave now" She pleaded "W-we just WON! We got to celebrate, we can finally relax and..." Asha's nervous smile melted into a frown, it takes one look for her to see how he's just as heartbroken as she is. "... You don't have a choice, do you? Now that my wish is granted..."

Aster just nods slowly.

"... Hey! But that's okay!" Asha's smile returns, her eyes lit up with an idea "I can just wish upon you again! Then you'll come back-"

"I won't be allowed to come back." Aster blurts out the bad news as fast as he could, like ripping off a bandaid, thinking maybe if he says quickly it will hurt less... That didn't work.

Asha's hopeful smile disappears "Wh- What!? Why not?"

"I broke too many rules..." Aster murmured, watching himself slowly disappear "I let myself be seen by other people, I helped you WAY more than any star is supposed to... I fell in love." a bittersweet smile grows on his now almost transparent face "Heh heh pretty sure that last one wasn't a rule before, but now it sure is." He joked playfully, as a single tear ran down his cheek.

Asha didn't think that was funny at all though, she felt anger bubbling up inside her "You helped me grant my wish, and now you get punished for it? How's that even fair?!" She vociferated in frustration.

She's not angry at Aster, but rather at the world itself for keeping them apart.

A few people from the crowd finally notice what's going on with Aster, including Asha's friends. The 7 teens approach the pair. They already knew this was coming since Aster told them back in the forest, but they too weren't ready to see him go.

"It's not..." Aster lamented, but even then, he still tries to comfort her, with that same everlasting gleam of optimism in his smile "But hey, at least we got to enjoy our time together the best we could, right?" The star took a few steps forward, so he could be closer to her, or at least what was still left of him.

They both know that no time in the world would ever be enough for them.

"I... I wanted this to last forever..." Her big brown eyes already had tears threatening to fall "There's so much I wanted to show you, so much I wanted to tell you..."

Aster is just sketch lines now. He tries to dry her tears with one hand, but now he's translucent, he can't physically interact with anything. Aster frowns as her tears go right through him, he cannot comfort her anymore. The star's body is more in the sky than on land now, so he gives her his last words before leaving completely

"Up there, I'll still see you, and hear you... It won't be the same, but I'll always be there for you-"

"Even if I can't see you." Asha finished his sentence, that notion does comfort her.

"Heh... That's right-"

Asha leans forward to kiss him.

Aster gasps, but before he can react...

He's gone. His sketch lines erased, as he returns to the sky against his will.

... Asha's wide eyes stare up to the sky.

With her head looking upward, those heavy tears begin to flow down freely. A pained sob that was stuck in her throat finally comes out.

Asha feel's Dahlia's soft and warm hand on shoulder, and Asha immediately turns around to give her a hug, the other teens join in to comfort her.

"... How can we help?" Dahlia asked sympathetically, determined to comfort her friend in any way she could.

Asha lets go of the hug with her head low, glancing at the wand in her hand, it still has Aster's magic, and now, she can use it to draw anything out of thin air. She takes a few deep breaths and dries her tears. Looking around, she sees so many people staring at her, they stopped celebrating just to know how she feels, all concerned and sad for her.

She turns her attention to the buildings around them, some are entangled in giant thorny vines that the king and queen created to destroy the kingdom. The kingdom's gorgeous architecture is now practically ruins. Asha thinks of all the families that now have no homes to rest in after all this... And she concludes this is no time to cry, for her wish is not granted yet.

"Well... We can start by getting hid of those vines," Asha began, surprising her friends with her half smile "Only then we can start rebuilding."

The 7 teens are taken aback by how quick she dried her tears... But that's just who Asha is, ready to step forward to help those around, and they all happily follow suit.

"I can get some gardening tools to help with that hihihi" Bazeema is the first one to chime in, which is quite rare, but it seems she just can't contain her own excitement

"Yeah!" Asha agreed, now with a beaming smile despite her teary eyes "And I can use my wand to draw temporary houses for everyone."

"Woah woah woah EVERYONE?" Gabo cut in, motioning with his arms that she should calm down, though his smile is encouraging "Asha, you might get a broken wrist from drawing so much, chill." He warns cheekily but with a genuine worry she might overwork herself.

"You don't have to do so much" Simon reassured, his tone a lot more cheerful than ever before, and the bags under his eyes are gone "I mean, you already did A LOT for us heh heh"

"He's correct" Comes in a voice from the crowd.

Asha turns to see who it is, and it's the same street performing jester that sang to her (chapter 2). The jester gives her a formal bow, while holding something she feared she'd never see again

"And I believe you've dropped this, young lady." He says as he hands to her-

"My Saba's mandolin!" Asha exclaimed in relief.

Asha gently holds it. Last time she saw the instrument was when she threw it on Magnifico's head to save Aster, from that moment on, the girl worried he might have destroyed it, but thankfully it was in one piece... Well, sort of, she quickly notices parts of the mandolin have bandages to mend it, and some of the strings are new.

"You fixed it... Thank you." Asha gives the jester a grateful smile.

"Consider it an apology for disrespecting your point of view that day..." The man says feeling quite ashamed, but then he bows his head respectfully "And thank YOU for everything, miss."

The people from the crowd nod in agreement. Some gratefully curtsey and bow their heads slightly to her, almost as if she was a princess.

Asha gives them a gentle curtsy in response.

"Sooo how about some music to lighten the mood while we fix this whole mess?" Hal asked her, encouraging Asha to play the mandolin.

Asha was about to, but she remembers Aster's magic that made her able to play at all would only last a day

"Oh... I don't actually know how to play it anymore" Asha laments, her smile wavers when she reminisces of the time her and Aster played together.

Dario nudges her so she looks at him signing "That's alright" The blonde has a huge smile as he reassures her "You'll learn in time, just gotta practice it."

Safi adds on, or at least tries to "Just like we all- A- we AAAA- AAAAACH-"

Dahlia places a finger under his nose to stop him from sneezing, then finishes what he was about to say, probably.

"Just like we're all going to learn how to grant our own wishes." Dahlia says with a smile, giving Asha a wink.

Asha's smile is as bright as the sun rising, as she holds the mandolin ready to play it, regardless if she knows how to or not. We turn our attention closer to the cords as she begins to play them, which transitions to a song sequence with no lyrics.

In this sequence, we see the people of Rosas all work together to rebuild their kingdom. They cut down the rose vines, make bricks for reconstruction, carry the equipment and so on. Basically we get a sequence like the "All of You" song from Encanto, but without lyrics because we already had TWO LYRIC FILLED SONGS one after the other a few minutes ago and I think we had enough. Also I don't have the will power to write lyrics for this.

Anyway, Asha uses her wand to help everyone, drawing things such as a dragon to get all the giant vines out of the kingdom. She also draws houses for people to live in temporarily. Although the people are very grateful, they reassure her they can do a lot even without her help, which makes her really happy, both because it shows how the people are learning to not rely on someone else's magic to make their wishes come true, and also, not everything should fall on her shoulders, she has done more than enough.

We see the people painting over the illustrations of Magnifico and Amable that were everywhere. On top of it, they paint colorful and creative works of art that reflect who they are. The kingdom that was once all painted in tones of white and blues, so shallow and lifeless, now is filled with color, bursting with personality and life all around.

They destroy all the statues of king Magnifico and queen Amable, well, at least all the ones that were made by hand. They use the remaining pieces to make new building material.

Days and nights go by, imagine like a timelapse shot, and the kingdom is rapidly rebuilt to it's former glory, perhaps even better than before.

The song sequence ends with us seeing everyone celebrating that their home is restored, Asha and her friends front and center as they cheer together.

We fade into a scene of the kingdom now at night time.

The stars are shinning brightly and there's no clouds in the sky. Everyone in Rosas seems to be asleep... Except for one person.

Asha walks with Valentino through the kingdom's alleys. It's worth noting the baby goat has bigger horns now.

As she wanders, Asha admires the new paintings on the walls of the buildings, lighted by the gentle glow of the full moon.

She's not awake just for sight seeing though, she actually has two very important tasks. The young girl and and her goat make their way to... The statue of King Magnifico and Queen Amable. The only statues of them left in the whole kingdom.

The statue is on display, yes, but not to be admired or to show respect, but rather as a reminder of what they did, and so the fallen king and queen can see how the kingdom is prospering, now that they're gone.

But Asha is not going there for them neither, she's going to the lynx laying down on the statue's feet.

"...Hi Bravo, it's me again." She chimes in, getting the attention of the big grumpy feline, she has two bowls on her hands "I got more food and water for you." she says, as she cautiously places them next to him.

The lynx growled and hissed at her angrily, and yet he didn't get up, just kept staring at her with eyes full of resentment. She understands the message and backs away slowly. Valentino is surprisingly calm, as he knows the wild cat won't attack them, he hasn't done so in the past few days they've done this.

"... I'm going to the forest" Asha sighs, pointing to where they're going "Would you like to come with us this time?" She asks the feline, hoping today will be a different answer... But all he does is lower his head, curling up closer to the statues. Asha looks down disappointingly, but also understanding "I get it. You're not ready yet." She goes on her way, giving him a small wave goodbye "You can take all the time you need, okay? I'll come back tomorrow with more food... Good night."

As she and Valentino walk away, the feline's green eyes follow them. His grumpy face morphed into a sad one, and he turns to the bowls of food and water in front of him. The big wild cat seemed conflicted, as he gazed upon the water inside the bowl, he could see himself and also his petrified owners behind him... Bravo then rubs on the queen's dress and the king's legs one final time, as if to say goodbye, before he begins to walk away from them, following Asha to the woods where he belongs.

The statues are now left all alone.

So now... We cut to Asha on the tree. That same tree she climbed to make her wish.

She lays down on the large branch, holding her sketchbook full of notes. Valentino sleeps soundly on her lap. She gazed upon the stars, or rather, one specific star, as she talks about all that has been going on lately, and from the looks of it, she has already been talking for a while.

"- It's better than I could've ever dreamed of! I thought everyone was happy before, but- now they truly FEEL happy! Like, not just smiling ya know?" She rambled to Aster, her eyes sparkling with excitement "And- OH OH yeah! Dahlia's parents have been making the BEST meals we've ever tasted! In fact, everything in the kingdom just tastes better, and looks better too... I'm sure you'd love it." Her eyes become downcast for a moment, as she looks to a sketch of Aster on her new sketchbook. It has a star on the cover, different from her previous sketchbook that had a rose. "Then again, I guess you can't taste the food, right? Heh heh... And you're already seeing how much things changed from up there... But still." She stared at the drawing longingly for a moment, before snapping out of it and smiling to the small star above her once again "Oops! I'm rambling again heheh I should wrap this up, wouldn't want to stay here until sunrise... Again hahaha" She laughs it off, recalling a previous night she went to talk with him and stayed up the whole night long. She flips her sketchbook to a page with a small list of thing she wanted to share with him "Let's see what else, what els- Oh yeah! This morning a little girl called me "princess", that was pretty cute. I tried explaining to her we don't have a monarchy anymore, and she just looked at me like "huuh???" hahah... So I kinda just rolled with it." the girl shrugged, as she nudged Valentino to wake him up, so they could go home. The goat slowly opened his eyes as she continued "I'm no princess, never wanted to be one, but... I guess that's what people see me as now... And I don't know, I'm happy with that... At the end of the day, who they're seeing is just... Me. Just some girl who didn't give up on them... Maybe that's what being a princess is all about, right? Hehe" She chuckled as she got up from the tree branch, and carefully climbed down the tree. "Anyway, see you same time tomorrow!"

Asha begins to make her way away from the tree, back to the kingdom she goes... But then her eyes lit up, for she just remembered something really important

"I ALMOST FORGOT!" She once again turns her gaze to the star "Hahah wow I really am tired- Well, I don't know if stars even celebrate it but anyway... Happy birthday, Aster."

She knows it's his birthday, because it's the date her parents passed away, the date her grandfather wished upon a star, and Aster gained his purpose. That was 18 years ago.

However, when she turned to look up at him again... The small star is not where it was before.

Asha was smiling a second ago, but now she looks puzzled, she squints her eyes trying to find him, but it's like the star simply vanished. The girl was about to ask herself where they were, but her answer comes sooner than she thinks...

"Yeah, stars don't celebrate it actually" Aster's voice chimed in, with the usual cheerfulness she missed so much.

...

Asha felt her heart jump out of her chest, not believing her own ears. Her face is astounded as turns to the source of the voice...

Lo and behold, Aster is sitting on the tree branch, happily dangling his legs with his trademark cheeky smile.

"Buuut they decided to make an exception for me today, I even got a pretty neat birthday gift heh heh" The star added, trying to hold in their own giddiness, almost as if he's "playing it cool"

Asha stared at him, her jaw dropped and her eyes were so wide it's like they'll pop out of her face... She blinks, squinting her whole face a few times, like she's making sure this is not a dream.

"Maaa!" Valentino snaps her out of her daze, as he happily hops back to the tree to greet Aster.

Asha realizes this truly is not a dream. She feels her heart pounding as she sprinted back to the tree, almost tripping on the grass as she does so.

Aster let their emotions overtake him as he eagerly flew to her embrace, giggling with childlike joy.

The two lovers hug like they haven't seen each other in years, even though it's been only a few weeks.

"You're back! Did they finally agree on letting you stay here?!" Asha was overjoyed, as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and she felt that same warmth and safety she missed so much.

"Hheeheh Agree is a strong word" Aster chuckled, with his eyes pointed upward while he embraced her warmly "There's so many of them, I'm pretty sure they can't unanimously agree on something" He concluded with a smile as the two parted from the hug to look at each other, Aster admired the gleam in her eyes as he added "But I did make a deal with them."

"... A deal?" Asha still smiled broadly, but she raised one eyebrow at that comment "What kind of deal?"

"Heh it's a long story" The star admitted looking to the side. He hates to say it, but pretty much what he did was wish upon all the stars above to help him be with her, and after a lot, as in, A LOT, of convincing, they finally had a compromise. Luckily, Aster knows just how to summarize that story "... I think I can explain it to you... In my own way." Aster quotes the same phrase he always tells her before he begins to sing a song.

And sure enough, he leans forward, his forehead gently touching her.

As begins to sing.

And we get the song:

This Wish (Star Reprise)

So I looked up all the stars, just like me And I told them just how bright is your light "Her heart is bigger than any galaxy Her bravery outshines us all in the night"

(Asha blushes, as Aster describes what exactly he told all the stars about her, she hugs him tighter and so does he, he begins to fly with her in his arms, as he sings the second verse)

So I made this wish Asking for our everlasting bliss So I made this wish To give you even more than...

(Aster moves his head to look at her in the eyes as he caresses her face gently, Asha smiles at him expectingly to know what he's gonna say... Aster takes a deep breath)

*breathes in* *breathes out* ... This.

(They kiss.)

(Asha is stunned for a second, but quickly melts into the kiss, shutting her eyes as they slowly go round and round on the air. Valentino is jumping excitedly on the ground bellow them. With her eyes closed, Asha doesn't see that Aster and her are being enveloped in golden magic flowing around them. The music swells, with orchestral instruments being played triumphantly. The stars are shinning brighter.

Aster's magic is leaving his body, and we see that as they kiss Aster slowly turns from a 2D animated drawing to a 3D model like Asha. But not only that, his clothes also begin to change, as his long flowing cape is dissipating into star dust, floating around them like a gentle tornado.

Once they slowly and gently land their feet back on the ground, Aster's magic shoots up like a firework (That also happens in beauty and the beast but I couldn't find any gif with that part))

(Asha and Aster softly separate from the kiss. Asha still has her eyes blissfully closed, so she's yet to see how Aster has changed...)

So I made this wish To stay forever with you like... This

(Asha still has her eyes closed while Aster sings the first line. She opens her eyes during the second line, and her face grows into astonishment and wonder, as she sees Aster's new form... The focus turns to Aster when he says "This")

(Drawing by @uva124 I cannot stress this enough: GO. FOLLOW. HER! Aled is so talented!!! AAAAAAH!!!)

Aster is now a 3D character, but that's nothing new, we've seen him like that before in his human disguise... What actually changed was his clothes, because now, Aster is wearing a white shirt similar to the ones worn by any citizen in Rosas, with yellow embroidery on the sleeves. However, the most noticeable change by far is their hair...

It's brown.

With subtle curls forming on some hair strands.

Asha blinked in amazement. Her hand slides down to his chest and she realizes... He has a heart beat now, she can feel it beating fast. Asha smiled at him warmly as she notes

"You're human..."

Aster is just awestruck, as he looks to his own hands and new clothes with eyes wide and mouth agape. He feels so many sensations:

The cold air getting in his new lungs

The smell of the woods at night

The feeling Asha's hand on his chest, in a way that feels completely foreign to him, because now, he can finally feel her warmth too.

"How do you feel?" She asked curious, as the boy seems a bit overwhelmed with everything all at once, he takes a moment before he actually manages to speak

"I- I never felt better!" Aster blurts out, thrilled beyond words as he tries to describe all these new sensations "I can feel the wind, the ground under my feet, the air filling chest I-... I can feel you." Aster looks at her lovingly, and hugs her tenderly "You're warm." He sighs, like he's about to melt into her arms.

Aster's legs shake slightly like he's getting used to standing up, so Asha helps him while also hugging him back, feeling how the now young human's embrace is just as comforting as it always has been, somehow even warmer than he was as a star.

"You too." Asha says softly "So this is your birthday gift from the stars, huh? That's quite a gift heh heh" Asha giggles, now looking into Aster's brown eyes.

"Yup, and it was NOT easy to convince most of them, let me tell ya ahaha" Aster laughs cheerfully, till he looks up and notices something new in the sky, he smiles once he sees it "But they decided that if I managed to give you a true love's kiss, they'd make me human... Not only that, but they'd also use my magic to create something really, REALLY, special."

Asha looked puzzled, and turns her head up to look at whatever Aster is staring at... And she gasps, perplexed by what she sees...

Up in the sky, there's the brightest, biggest and most beautiful star Asha has ever seen... The North Star.

Asha and Aster are holding each other closely, as they look up to the brand new wishing star in the sky, both admiring the awe-inspiring sight.

"It's so beautiful..." She breathed softly, leaning on Aster as she looked up "I bet a lot of people will wish upon them."

"Yeah... Wanna make a wish?" Aster asks.

"Hmm... No need." She says, as she turned to Aster and placed a hand on their cheek "I got everything I could wish for, right here."

She kisses him on the lips once again.

The music swells as we pan out away from them.

We can see Aster lift Asha up and spin her around in the air, while Valentino hops happily around them, and we can hear their laughter as the perspective goes away from them and into the night sky.

We focus now on the night sky, the north star shinning brightly on the corner as we see the stars writing something, like a constellation forming the words:

The End!

End credits roll, with the song When You Wish Upon a Star sang by Sara Bareilles playing

youtube

(Thank you so much to @frogcoven88 for recommending the song and following this story from the start, you were right, it really fits the end credits!)

The credits end, and we get a post credit scene.

It's Asha playing "When you wish upon a star" with Sabino's mandolin, she's playing it perfectly. Aster is sitting next to her. They're both gazing upon the North Star.

"You're getting really good at this." Aster compliments softly once she's done playing.

"Thanks!" She replies happily, leaning her head on his shoulder, and he leans on her head, as they look up to the sky.

The screen fades to black and the last thing we see is the wishing star blinking.

The End.

Final Thoughts

... So... That was something, wasn't it?

Before I gush over how writing this whole story was an unforgettable experience for me and all that emotional stuff, let me list off my thoughts about everything in this chapter.

First, why did I make Aster leave and then come back a few weeks later? Well initially I was just gonna have him and Asha kiss and he turns human cause the stars were like "Fiiiiiiine you two are cute, we're convinced" but then I realized that would mean having their whole kiss and emotional goodbye IN PUBLIC, and I just felt very uncomfy with that idea, so I thought "TIME SKIP!" and so we get them ALONE kissing and confessing their love in the same place where it al began, sweet.

Also I wanted Asha to have a moment with the people of Rosas, having the jester represent all of them, with the gesture of fixing her grandpa's mandolin as an apology, but also as thanks for everything she did to save them. Initially I was gonna have a child give her the mandolin, but I think the jester from the first song returning is a nice touch.

We see how most of Asha's friends, or at least the ones that needed personal growth changed, Bazeema is less shy, Gabo is more caring, and Simon of course isn't sleep deprived, yay!

The Bravo scene broke me ya'll, I have a soft spot for animals, and truly I don't think Bravo was even evil, like, sure he wanted to eat Valentino... What predator wouldn't? He just wanted to please his mama and papa, and now they're gone and he kept waiting for them to come back like one of those dogs waiting for their owners at a train station and WAAAAA- WHY DO I MAKE MYSELF FEEL BAD FOR THE VILLAINS?! Anyway, Bravo went on to live in the forest and he's fine.

Asha was called a princess a lot in this story. Sabino said she was a princess because her dad was a "Prince" and her mother was "A fairy", she was called birthday princess by her friends, the villains wanted to make her a princess so they could control her, Aster said she was pretty like a princess, and finally, the people of Rosas see her as a princess because she saved them. In conclusion, there are many ways to be a princess, but at the end of the day, Asha is just herself.

And I'm sure ya'll are gonna ask me how Aster managed to convince the stars to let him be human, right? Well, like he said

"So I looked to all the stars, just like me And I told them just how bright is your light "Her heart is bigger than any galaxy Her bravery outshines us all in the night""

Which is a fancy way of saying he fangirled about how amazing Asha is to all the stars like

"YALL DONT GET IT! She's deeper than the universe itself! If happiness was a tangible thing, it would be her! I love her so much guys! I need to go back, please! Her eyes shine brighter that all of you combined! People search for a wonder like her all of their lives! Her smile is warmer than the sun! Her laugh is like-"

And the stars are just staring at Aster like "Sir, this is a wendy's" "We've talked about this child, it was decided you're to be in time out remain in your corner of the galaxy for the next 1 million earth cycles, so you may reflect on why you should've listened to us."

But eventually some stars that were already sympathetic to Aster and other ones that weren't before but slowly start to feel bad for him realize even though Aster didn't do what they thought was best... His way of doing things worked, and if it wasn't for his love for Asha they wouldn't have ever won.

So the stars discussed it, and they agreed that they could bend the rules for Aster this time, to do something that was never done before.

I think of it like that scene in The Little Mermaid when Triton turns Ariel human and he's like "Then there's just one problem left... How much we're going to miss him." because like, although they gave Aster a hard time, they really were just his family, his family with more than a billion people but still family.

Soooo Aster got Rapunzeled lmao.

Brown hair Aster my beloved, I've waited so long for this, the plot point of Magnifico saying all wishing stars have blonde hair was just for THIS.

And we get a proper origin story to THE wishing star, aka the portal to Neverland, aka Evangeline, aka The Blue Fairy.

It was kinda what Disney promised us, wasn't it? To tell us where that star came from... Well now you know.

And now... I honestly don't know how to express how grateful I am for everyone who has been following along on this journey, I never thought this would become something so special, I never shared a story before, and seeing the art, the comments, the creativity and inspiration that sprouted out of this makes me feel so happy that I did step out of my comfort zone to put this out there.

The story is over but the journey has just begun, as I still plan on expanding the lore by sharing backstories from the villains and short stories of what happens to the protagonists in the future. Fell free to send your asks to get more ideas flowing out of me hehehe.

And, for the last time... At least in this chapter of the journey...

Thank You So Much For Reading!!!

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