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lani-heart · 14 days

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|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> ( eventually ) enhypen x reader genre -> soulmate au, fantasy au, angst warnings -> angst word count -> 2.9k

abstract -> Humans were alot fragile than you think...

y/n's perspective

After accepting Jay we took things relatively slower than with Sunoo, Jungwon, Niki, and Sunghoon. Sunghoon was actually the one who didn’t rush things but everything was faster with him. Which is funny because so did Jungwon.

Jungwon went on for a week to convince me that Sooha wouldn't get in between what he wanted to happen. He continued to convince me… and Sunoo I already accepted but thought it should be a little harder for him. Niki was a troublemaker… but he was a peacemaker for me. He also took things slow which was nice.

Sunghoon was definitely like an overprotective boyfriend, whilst Jungwon was actually very jealous. He hated sharing attention since he was the only one who didn’t need to share since I accepted them. Sunghoon was a big puppy… protective but his wolf, Solon, was really cute. Really cuddly.

Jay though… Everything was slow. He was very caring though, which I appreciate.

Everything was nice… Heeseung was still complicated. I didn’t know how to feel about him. Jungwon And Jay explained how he’s been acting but it wasn't in my place to comfort him.

“You okay, love?” I heard as I saw my first soulmate. “Yeah, just tired?” I said and he kissed the top of my head. “You should rest up. Have you eaten yet?” he asked and I nodded.

“Jay was here for lunch a few hours ago,” I said and he smiled. “I’m glad he isn’t as bad as I thought he’d be,” he said and I chuckled. “With him and Sunoo you can’t forget to eat anymore” he teased and I smiled.

Jungwon was also the same where he forgot to eat so seeing them get along again was good for his health.

“y/nnie!!!” I heard as I saw Niki.

“Hello to you too,” I said and he laughed. “When are we getting the results for sports day?” He asked only because the vampires and Riverfield were betting if they won that they’d get to do anything to their class logo.

“It’s being looked over by the teacher administration” I answered and he grumbled. Despite not actually playing he did try to rig a few things.

“Sunoo also is fighting with Wonyoung about the masquerade ball they're organizing, '' he added and I sighed. The ball was something Bright Sun was quite known for. Now that we’re hitting the end of the year, we got the okay that we can do a ball to end the school year.

“I’ve seen the pictures of old Bright Sun masquerades, it looks so magical,” Jungwon said and I smiled. “What's so special about it anyway?” Niki asked and I chuckled.

“It's actually called Samhain. Usually, it's celebrated on another day but for the school, we do it at the end of the year. With the sudden merge this semester I didn’t think we’d be able to do it” I explained and they nodded.

‘What is it about?” he asked and I sighed. “Actually it's quite sad. It's to celebrate those who have passed but, we try to go all out with this event” I said and they nodded.

“y/n! Control your leeches!” Wonyoung said angrily. She must've gotten angry with Sunoo? “I’m sorry– Hey!! You can’t just shut me out now?!” Sunghoon yelled as Sunoo was next to him but passed through? So she was mad at Sunghoon?

“He wants to interfere in planning when it isn't his business! He just announces that's it!” she said as she now pouted on her desk. “Hmm, maybe you should keep him kicked out of here” Sunoo said as he laughed at Sunghoon who’s jaw dropped at the slander.

“y/n!!” he yelled in hopes of defense. “What did you suggest?” I asked and he smiled at finally getting a chance. “So, I suggested if it could be like a homecoming–” “No” I cut him off. “Hah!” Wonyoung let out. “You didn't even let me finish!” he whined.

“Just let them plan, it seems too important to add things to it. Be happy we were even included and not just their class” Jungwon said and he sighed as he was finally able to enter.

“That's true… if it was my decision it would only be a Bright Sun exclusive event,” Wonyoung said. “But that's mean” I heard as I saw Sooha. She walked through the barrier?

“Huh? How…” Wonyoung muttered as I saw Heeseung and Jake shut out the barrier. “She’s a human-vampire hybrid,” Jungwon said and Sooha smiled awkwardly and bowed in respect. “Why are you three here?” she asked. “Oh! We wanted to make a suggestion for the upcoming event!!” Sooha said and the boys next to me sighed. Wonyoung also looked like she could kill anyone right now…

“You're not even a council member,” Wonyoung said and Sooha smiled. “I am actually! Jungwon and Heeseung agreed to let me be a part of the Decelis Council!” she said and I looked at Jungwon who sighed. “When did this happen?” I asked and he smiled softly. “The morning,” he said and Wonyoung did not look happy. “What's your suggestion?” I asked and she grinned happily.

“So! I was thinking of maybe… having the school do a sort of Valentine-inspired event? Where you can ask to be someone's date to the event!” She suggested it and I didn't hate it. I looked at Wonyoung who looked at me back.

“I actually like the idea” I said and Wonyoung nodded stubbornly.

“Really?!” she said and I smiled. “We could do it to help fundraise for student council funding,” I said and Wonyoung nodded in agreement. “So telegrams, flowers, all the Valentine's day junk again?” she asked I nodded.

“We could announce it I suppose” Wonyoung also added, accepting the suggestion. “Could I help organize it?” Sooha asked.

“Oh? Well, the event planners would most likely do that so you could work with Sunoo and Niki in Decelis” I said and she nodded. “Who are the other event planners?” she asked.

“Me, Maki, Jacob, Kevin, Niki, Sunoo, and now you” Wonyoung said and Sooha looked disappointed.

“K is the vice president, he does errands for EJ so he mainly works around me and Wonyoung, Jungwon, Sangyeon and Juyeon” I explained in which she nodded clearly trying to hide her disappointment.

“Thank you for your suggestion Sooha! It was really clever” I said, giving her a compliment in which she grinned widely. “I wanna be of help!” she said as she skipped towards Heeseung and… Jake.

“Thank you, for being nice,” Jungwon said and I nodded. I never hated her… but I never did put in an effort.

Heeseung and Jake made their choice.

jay’s perspective

“No! Go away!” I scolded as I put the food down by the door of her dorm. “Come on I just–” “No Jake! You knew what you were doing… there's no explaining that. You chose Sooha so leave her alone” I said and he didn't want to listen.

I suddenly saw her stare at us in shock. She looked at Jake frozen as to why he was here. “I need to talk–” “No, he’s just leaving,” I said as I got in front of her facing Jake. “Quit the overprotective bullshit,” he said and I noticed she gripped her hands around my uniform.

She was scared of him.

“Jake, leave or I'll get Sunoo to make you” I said and he scoffed. “No, look y/n I just want to explain myself” he said now trying to look behind me to her but I decided to not let him near her. I wasn’t gonna let him accidently hurt her again. I defended him… it was an accident he does things based on emotion. She did nothing wrong though… and I won't let my friendship with him affect that.

“Can I please just talk–” “I don’t want to talk to you” she cut him off before I could. I could see his shocked expression but he didn't look like he was gonna give up.

“Why is everyone acting like I killed someone?! Look I know I hurt you but it was an accident!” he started getting emotional and I felt her now pressing herself against my back trying to protect herself. “Jake, just go, Heeseung–” “You don't understand!!” he said while he used his fire. I noticed how she now crouched down in a ball trying to protect herself. I crouched down petting her hair. “Hey, come on let's get you inside the dorm” I said but she didn't move.

“I didn’t mean to–” “You never do. Jake quit it… you rejected her move on. Go find Heeseung before I do… and you know he won’t be happy knowing what you're trying to do” I warned and he now looked frustrated with himself.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so scared of me?” he muttered and I scoffed. “You never understand why fire hurts because you're immune. You’ve never felt a burn in your life, and you haven’t had your soulmate hurt you and reject you” I said as I picked her up bridal style and grabbed her key to open her dorm.

“Go to the dorms, Jake. Whatever you’re trying to do is useless”

jake’s perspective

I left feeling stupid. I really just need to explain… but I didn't mean to use my fire again.

I went to the dorms where things were normal? Everyone was bonded with her besides me and Heeseung. He acted like everything was normal and there wasn’t anything different than before. Everything was different for me though and… I felt like an outsider.

Jungwon and Heeseung worked alongside each other like always whilst Sunghoon and Sunoo were friends again. They hung out outside the dorms often to go to the city and now they're the same as before, even planning on things they could do with their soulmate. Niki and Jay even got along again… Jay took care of a lot of the younger members and… I had no one.

Everyone was mad at me for losing control. The only person I had left was Sooha and she… she’s mated to that Riverfield wolf. I had no one… and now I was ostracized by everyone.

I opened my palm to reveal my power… it really was a curse. What would it feel like? Would it really hurt as much as people say it would?

I sighed and went again… I knocked on her door. Jay should be gone by now… I heard her footsteps rushing to the door and opened it only to slam it closed again before I could speak.

“I… I'm sorry you're so scared of me. I wanted to make a request… I want you to make it so I could feel burns” I said and I was met with silence. I was gonna walk away thinking it was stupid to try when she opened the door… only by a crack though.

“W-what?” she asked. I sighed… “I wanna know how it feels” I said and her eyes showed confusion. I could barely see her but I could see that she was wearing casual clothing… and the bandages around her neck.

“Why?” she asked and I didnt know either. “I think I just need to understand it,” I said and shook her head. “That goes against the rules under Bright Sun, I can't–” “It's only against the rules if you cause me harm. It wouldn’t be you, doing it” I said and she still shook her head.

I was disappointed but I understood it was a crazy request.

“Why… Why were you here earlier?” she asked and I was shocked she’d let me talk. “My fire works on my emotions… I didn’t mean to hurt you. It also may not seem genuine but I do regret what I did a lot. Your mates have made it very clear what it did and I’m sorry” I said and she nodded.

“I’m sorry, the thing with Sooha didn’t work out” she said and it shocked me. Why did she sound so genuine? She was supposed to be my mate… yet it seemed like she was content at leaving me at arms length.

“Me too… I'm sorry to have scared you and taken your time”

I woke up the next morning confused.

I didn’t like to be around Heeseung as of late because of my thoughts being about our mate. I hated how Sooha wasn’t our soulmate. I’ve loved her since… I've met her. Love at first sight.

Who knew it was one-sided? She was even my first kiss…

I walked out of my room to see Jay making breakfast for everyone.

Sunoo and Niki were at the counter while I assumed Heeseung, Jungwon, and Sunghoon were gone already. Today was the announcement… They're gonna announce a masquerade ball for Bright Sun and extend the invitation out to the other academies.

I left the dorm… I knew they probably didn’t want to speak to me. I went outside to get fresh air.

It's when I saw… y/n and K?

He was carrying a basket filled with flowers and I noticed the smell of blood. I wasn’t the best with control… the smell of it was sweet and almost addicting.

“Jake?” I heard him ask and I snapped out of it. She still hid from me. “Isn’t this scandalous? She has five mates you know?” I asked and he glared at me. “I was only helping her while her mates were busy. Besides I know the forest better than you all” he said as they started to walk away.

“y/n!” I decided to yell out to her. It made her flinch but looked back at me to at least hear me out. “Did you change your mind?” I asked and she shook her head. “I don’t understand why you want that,” she said and I smiled. “Jay was right you know… I’ve never felt an ounce of pain in my life. I just wanted to know how it felt” I said and she nodded.

“I won’t be the reason, you get hurt. However, I have a potion that you might be interested in” she said and I was curious. Potions? I didn’t hate witches, it was just a personal grudge that my soulmate wasn’t Sooha.

“Ok, if you think it’d help,” I said and she nodded. “I’ll tell Jungwon to give it to you,” she said and I shook my head. “No! They… can’t know of this please?” I asked and she looked confused.

“Heeseung will figure out–” “He won’t… I know how to trick him” I said and she nodded. “Uhm… I guess you can–” “I can bring it to him” K offered and I hated how he butted into this.

Who did he think he was? Sunoo and Niki were not the jealous type… but Sunghoon and Jungwon even Jay might be annoyed at how close he is with her.

“Oh! Then K will give it to you!”

“Jake!” I heard as I saw K approach me. He had a box wrapped in a cloth. “I don’t know what it is, frankly she didn’t want to tell me. But if you approach her again, I will tell Heeseung” he said and I scoffed.

I grabbed the box and I glared at him. “Who do you think you are huh? She’s accepted five soulmates already… she’s not yours–" "She’s not yours either,” he said and I felt myself get angrier but I didn’t want to ruin the box in my hands.

“The little crush you have on her, it's pathetic. When Sooha announced she was your soulmate, I even respected it. You? You’re running around trying to get her attention… how low of you” I said as I turned away to walk.

“At least I could treat her better than you,” he said and I sighed. I laughed it off and walked away. I was doing this to better understand people. So I couldn't ruin this box.

I went to the dorm where I noticed no one was here. I unwrapped the box to see a potion and books.

This potion is meant to make you human for twenty-four hours. Please be careful. Humans are a lot more fragile than you’d think. You’ll still be able to use your power but it will hurt if you do, you’ll also be able to bleed. I know you didn’t want them knowing so avoid anything that might cut you. I also included a book on human needs. If you need help, I'm open to helping, just be a little kinder and patient about it.

I didn’t know I was smiling until I looked up at my mirror. Why was I smiling? Her help? Her letter?

I shook it off and took the potion in my hands. I opened it and drank it. It tasted awful but I didn’t feel any different. I still felt thirsty… did it not work?

Vampires were supposed to take at least two blood bags a day to not feel murderous. I took one and tried to drink it when I felt sick. I immediately spit it out.

Did it actually make me human?

I looked in the mirror and noticed I didn't look any different. It looked like I was a healthy vampire drinking blood bags and not skipping any meals.

Meals… how was I gonna eat from the cafeteria?! I wasn’t allowed in the human cafeteria since my ID card was a vampire…

How was I supposed to play human?

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lunar-bat · 7 months

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Witchcraft 101: Wicca & The Wheel of The Year

Paganism - An umbrella term for many nature-based and polytheistic spiritual traditions. Note that not all pagans practice witchcraft. Wicca - A pagan, nature-based religious movement. Wicca blends aspects of witchcraft, nature veneration, and ceremonial magic. It places a strong emphasis on honoring nature and follows a duotheistic belief system often known as the Triple Goddess and Horned God. Wheel of The Year The wheel reflects the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth in the natural world and is central to the rituals, spells, and celebrations of many pagan and witchcraft traditions. The Wheel of the Year is divided into eight significant points, which correspond to the Sabbats or festivals:

Samhain (October 31st): Also known as All Hollow's Eve, marks the beginning of the Wheel of the Year and is associated with the end of the harvest season and the onset of winter. Samhain is a time for honoring ancestors, reflecting on mortality, and recognizing the thinning of the veil between the physical and spirit worlds. Samhain is a time to acknowledge the cyclical nature of life and death and to connect with the spiritual realm. Yule (Winter Solstice, typically around December 21st): Marks the rebirth of the sun, with a focus on light, hope, and renewal during the darkest time of the year. Yule customs include lighting candles or a Yule log, feasting, gift-giving, and spending time with loved ones. It's a significant part of the Wheel of the Year, emphasizing the cyclical nature of life and the changing seasons. Imbolc (February 1st): Marks the early signs of spring and the gradual return of light and warmth. Imbolc is associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid and is a time for purification, cleaning, and preparing for the coming season's growth. It's often celebrated with rituals, candle lighting, and dedication to Brigid. Imbolc highlights the theme of renewal and the awakening of life after the winter months. Ostara (Spring Equinox, typically around March 21st): Marks the arrival of spring, where day and night are in balance. Ostara is a time for celebrating fertility, new beginnings, and the growth of life. It is often associated with themes of rebirth, renewal, and the awakening of nature. Common customs include egg decorating, planting seeds, and celebrating the return of warmth and longer days. Beltane (May 1st): Celebration of fertility, love, and the union of the goddess and god. Beltane is often observed with rituals, bonfires, Maypole dancing, and other festivities that emphasize the vitality and growth of life in the natural world. Midsummer (Summer Solstice, typically around June 21st): Also known as Litha, marks the longest day of the year when the sun is at its peak. Midsummer is a time for harnessing the sun's energy, celebrating the abundance of nature, and enjoying outdoor festivities. Common customs include lighting bonfires, dancing, and gathering herbs and flowers for magical and medicinal purposes. Lughnasadh (August 1st): Also known as Lammas, marks the first harvest of the year and is associated with the Celtic god Lugh. Lughnasadh is a festival dedicated to expressing gratitude for the Earth's bountiful harvest and agricultural abundance. Traditional practices during this time involve crafting corn dollies, enjoying meals made from freshly harvested crops, and engaging in various games and competitions. Mabon (Autumn Equinox, typically around September 21st): Marks the second harvest and a time of balance when day and night are equal. Mabon is a festival for reflecting on gratitude, giving thanks for the fruits of the Earth, and preparing for the darker months ahead. Common customs include feasting on seasonal foods, making offerings to the land, and creating altars with symbols of the season.

#divination #witchcraft #witchblr #grimoire #magick #baby witch #witchery #witchcraft 101 #spirituality #broom closet #fyp #sabbaths #paganism #paganblr #wicca

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emilystheories · 5 months

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The Dusk Court: A Gateway Between Worlds.

There is so much mystery and intrigue surrounding the Dusk Court. Why did it vanish? Where did its people go? I've mulled over many different theories, but I always come back to how dusk (or nightfall) is described in Throne of Glass:

"Nightfall. That was when Maeve had told Erawan to meet. That liminal space between light and dark, when one force yielded to another. When she would open the portal for Dorian from rooms away."

Light and dark. Opening portals.

As such, I believe the Dusk Court was home to a Wyrdgate (portal) of immense power, where the people of Midgard and Prythian once crossed over into each other's worlds.

[Spoilers for ACOTAR and CC ahead].

Autumnal Equinox.

To explain this theory, I first need to break down some observations I have noted about the workings of the ACOTAR and Crescent City worlds.

The first involves the Autumnal Equinox, as mentioned in HOSAB. In a conversation between Hypaxia and Ruhn, it is noted that the Autumnal Equinox is when the "veil between the realms is thinnest."

"Hypaxia nodded sagely. “There is a ritual I could perform … It’d need to be on the Autumnal Equinox, though.” “When the veil between realms is thinnest,” Ruhn said."

We know this is true, as on the night of the Autumnal Equinox, Apollion visits Bryce in her dreams, and is able to physically touch her:

"This night, I might appear to you—as more than a vision.” He reached out a hand, and Bryce flinched as it touched her. Truly touched her, ice so cold it ached."

However, the Autumnal Equinox is also known as Death's Day. Note how it is described here (as it becomes important for a later part of this theory):

"On the Autumnal Equinox, we shall have our mating ceremony here in Lunathion.” A month away. The holiday known as Death’s Day was a lively one, despite its name: it was a day of balance between the light and dark, when the veil between the living and dead was thinnest."

The Autumnal Equinox/Death's Day is celebrated by people dressing up in costumes (such as Danika and Bryce dressing up as trash one year, lol). Because of this, one can assume that SJM is referencing Halloween.

[art by Emilia Mildner]

This is further corroborated in the Throne of Glass books, as Aelin notes that on Samhuinn, again, the "veil between the worlds [is] thinnest" (and this is when she interacts with Elena, the dead queen).

"Until the previous kingdom, the previous city, the packed streets full of revellers out to celebrate Samhuinn, to honor the gods when the veil between worlds was thinnest."

Samhuinn is in reference to Samhain; the Celtic version (and origins of) Halloween.

To summarise; in Midgard, Death's Day (or what we know as Halloween) occurs on the Autumnal Equinox. It is a day to honour the dead. It takes place on the one night of the year when the veil between the realms/worlds is thinnest.

Starfall.

In Prythian (and more specifically, the Night Court), we have Starfall; the one night of the year when the spirits of the deceased (which manifest as stars) make their yearly migration across the sky.

However, as many have already pointed out, there seems to be a connection between Starfall, and Midgard. This is because Rhys notes that the number of stars participating in Starfall is dwindling:

“Thousands,” he said. “They’ll keep coming until dawn. Or, I hope they will. There were less and less of them the last time I witnessed Starfall.”

This aligns with what we know of the Asteri, who, instead of letting the souls of the dead pass onto the next life (and presumably, participate in Starfall), will consume these souls for food.

[Art by Clarywhy]

However, Rhys mentions that no one knows why the stars choose this particular date to make their journey across the sky. But, I have a theory about this.

I actually believe that Starfall is happening at all times - every single night. Instead, the only reason that they can see the stars (spirits) on Starfall... is because on that particular date, the veil between the realms is the thinnest. This makes sense, as again - the stars are the spirits of the deceased; you shouldn't be able to see them.

Essentially, it's the Prythian version of Death's Day... a celebration of the deceased (which is exactly what Starfall is...).

But this is where it gets interesting; Starfall occurs on the Spring Equinox (or what is known as the 'vernal' equinox).

In Midgard, as we just discussed, Death's Day occurs on the Autumnal Equinox.

So, if there is only one single date per year when the veil between the worlds is thinnest... for Prythian, this is occurring on the Spring Equinox, and for Midgard, this is occurring on the Autumnal Equinox.

This suggests that Prythian and Midgard are... mirror worlds (which perhaps explains why Bryce was yanked across into Prythian, as opposed to being pulled down?). Or, at the very least, it suggests that these two worlds are operating as opposites to each other. It may also help to explain why SJM stated that there was 6 months between the ACOTAR timeline and the CC timeline.

The Dusk Court.

Towards the end of HOSAB, Rigelus states that the Starborn fae originated from an island of "near permanent twilight," that was "a few miles from the mainland."

“Not your kind of Fae, of course—your breed dwelled in a lovely, verdant land, rich with magic. If it’s of any interest to you, your Starborn bloodline specifically hailed from a small isle a few miles from the mainland. And while the mainland had all manner of climes, the isle existed in beautiful, near-permanent twilight."

This all but confirms that the Starborn fae originated from the Dusk Court, and that this was situated on the Prison Island (which is a few miles away from the mainland of Prythian). Rhys corroborates this by suggesting that the Prison Island once used to be an "eighth court."

"Rhys told me once that this island might have even been an eighth court.”

And, as even more proof, Nesta witnesses the marking of an eight-pointed star on the floor of the Prison; the symbol of the Starborn fae.

However, there is one other location that ties into the narrative around the Dusk Court - Avallen Island (in Midgard).

Avallen Island.

The Prison Island isn't the only place that is jam-packed with hints of the Starborn fae. Instead, Avallen Island, in Midgard, is too. For example:

Avallen Island was where Ruhn found the Starsword (where he was surrounded by the sarcophagi/statues of the "sleeping" Starborn Princes...)

The Avallen fae (or some of them) are said to be Starborn themselves (Cormac says he has Starborn blood, but "not enough to be worthy of the blade"). However, instead of starlight, their powers typically manifest as shadows.

With this in mind, it's also noteworthy that Bryce's star glows for Cormac (and we know that her star glows for those who are connected to Prythian).

Additionally, there are a number of stark similarities between Avallen Island and the Prison Island. Most prominently, both islands are enshrouded in the same mysterious mist, and both are guarded by ancient magic. For example:

Avallen Island:

"I want you in Avallen because it is a safehold. Even the Asteri cannot pierce its mists without permission, so old is the magic that guards it.”

Prison Island:

“When you’re in there,” Rhys said, the words barely audible over the wind and silver streams running down the mountainside, “you won’t be able to reach me.” “Why?” I rubbed my already-freezing hands together before puffing a hot breath into the cradle of my palms. “Wards and spells far older than Prythian,” was all Rhys said."

In sum, the similarities between Avallen Island and the Prison Island are so stark, that I believe they were once connected (and perhaps still are). There are two ways this could be possible:

A Wyrdgate or portal that once existed between the two worlds (joining the two islands together).

They are literally the same place.

Option 1: Wyrdgate or portal.

Towards the end of HOSAB, Rigelus tells us that the Dusk Court existed in a "near permanent twilight," but, that doesn't make much sense -- you can't alter the sun like that (which is why it’s not permanently night-time in the Night Court, or not always day-time in the Day Court, etc). So, what else could this be referring to?

I believe that the Dusk Court used to be the place where there was a Wyrdgate (or a portal) between the ACOTAR world (on the Prison Island) and the Crescent City world (on Avallen Island). They are two separate worlds, but the people on both islands merged and interacted due to the Wyrdgate (portal).

And, as I mentioned at the start of this post, there is evidence to suggest that the ACOTAR and CC worlds are mirrors of each other - or opposites. Thus:

If it's nighttime on Avallen Island, it would be daytime on the Prison island.

If it was dawn on Avallen Island, it would be dusk on the Prison Island.

As such, there is a continual contrast between the light and the dark between the two islands. And that is what dusk is; the merging of the light and the dark. This is what Rigelus is referring to.

Thus, I believe that Dusk Court -- as it existed 15,000 (+) years ago -- didn't just involve the Prison Island... but it encompassed Avallen Island too.

I believe this also explains the powers of the Starborn:

Shadow wielders lived on Avallen Island (and they are represented by Truth-Teller; a knife that glows with a dark, BLACK light).

Starlight wielders lived on the Prison Island (and they are represented by the Starsword, which glows with a bright, WHITE light).

Both make up the two halves of the Dusk Court.

However, although they were separate worlds, evidently, they interacted. Because of this, I believe Queen Theia (who possessed starlight) married/mated and had children with whoever was the King of Avallen (who likely possessed shadow powers). I believe this was High King Fionn, given that the ruler of Avallen is also referred to as "High King"... but that's a theory for another day.

Yet most importantly, this is why their children, such as Helena, were said to have skin that glowed with "starlight AND shadows."

“So does Helena’s,” Ruhn shot back, then recited, “Night-haired Helena, from whose golden skin poured starlight and shadows.”

Eventually however, it is presumed that something happened to the Starborn who lived on the Prison Island (and Nesta senses that they were stuck in stone, or perhaps sent in time somewhere using the Harp?).

"Fae screamed, pounding on stone that hadn’t been there a moment before, pleading for their children’s sakes, begging to be let out let out let out— Nesta had the sensation of falling, tumbling through air and stars and time— It was a trap, and our people were too blind to see it—"

This is likely why the shadow wielders (such as Cormac, Ruhn) still exist on Avallen... but the starlight wielders (such as Bryce) are much more rare.

In the present day, Bryce (a starlight wielder) possesses the Starsword, but resides in Midgard (the Avallen side of the Dusk Court).

In comparison, Azriel (a shadow wielder), possesses Truth-teller, but lives in Prythian (the Prison Island side of the Dusk Court).

Just in reference to their power, it's almost like they're both stuck on the wrong side?

Option 2: Avallen Island and the Prison Island are the exact same place.

In ACOSF, readers are given a hypothesis about how the multiverse works; that the worlds are stacked on top of each other, perhaps even SHARING THE SAME SPACE, but are then separated by time.

"Merrill’s brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. When she first came here, she was obsessed with theories regarding the existence of different realms—different worlds. Living on top of each other without even knowing it. Whether there is merely one existence, our existence, or if it might be possible for worlds to overlap, occupying the same space but separated by time and a whole bunch of other things I can’t even begin to explain to you because I barely understand them myself.”

But, given the mists and and the "ancient magic" involved in both the Prison Island and Avallen Island... what if the worlds are not separated in this one specific location? So, those in Midgard know of Avallen Island... those in Prythian know of the Prison Island... but, they're the same exact place.

This might seem insane, but there are two points of evidence that make me think it's possible.

The Avallen fae live and dress in the same way as the Prythian fae.

The Avallen fae are said to follow the "old ways." They don't have phones, and don't watch TV. Just like Prythian.

Then when Bryce lands in Prythian and meets the Inner Circle, she notes that they're all dressed the same as the Avallen fae.

"This female was … Fae. Clad in beautiful, yet thoroughly old-fashioned clothes. Like the stuff they wore on Avallen."

This is really damn suspicious. And it leads me to my second point:

2. The Avallen fae have the power to "veil the physical world."

As demonstrated in this passage here:

"[...] power to summon shadows or mist that could not only veil the physical world, but the mind as well.“

The Prison Island looks empty and barren... but is it? What if instead, everything is veiled?

If we entertain the thought that the Prison Island and Avallen Island are one and the same... then what if this has been hidden from the Prythian fae...?

Most of us agree that the Dusk Court is going to play a huge role in upcoming books. However, at present, the Prison Island is barren land. To re-establish the Dusk Court, they'll need to rebuild an entire court from the ground up... which seems rather implausible, given the timeline.

But if the Dusk Court is instead veiled, that's a different story...

Plot-wise, this makes perfect sense for CC3.

From the Midgard POV, exploring Avallen seems like the next logical step. It is the only place that the Asteri cannot enter, so if Ruhn, Hunt and Baxian manage to escape the Asteri's dungeons, it would make sense that they go there.

From the Prythian POV, it seems logical that Bryce will be finding the answers to 'Dusk's Truth,' and will end up exploring the Prison Island.

Both POV's are about exploring the Dusk Court.

As someone who is of the opinion that SJM is going full multiverse (and that CC3 won't be the end of Bryce's adventures in Prythian), my guess is at the end of CC3, when Bryce is at the Prison Island, and Ruhn, Hunt, Baxian are at Avallen Island... someone, on one side (likely the Avallen side), will be stepping through that gate.

Bryce's role in all of this.

It has been my mission over the past few months to emphasise just how important Bryce is to Prythian - that her returning home to Midgard at the end of CC3 (to then just pass the torch onto another character for a supposed spin-off novel) makes no sense.

Instead, Bryce has Queen Theia's exact starlight (to the point where I am pretty sure she is some sort of reincarnation). She is the heir to the Starborn fae, whose true home is the Dusk Court in Prythian (even her scent is of dusk!) And most of all, the star on her chest is a beacon for Prythian; she quite literally glows for the ACOTAR world.

Additionally, given how the Avallen fae tie into this narrative too, it's also worth mentioning that Bryce has been repeatedly foreshadowed to be the High Queen of Avallen.

"Cormac cut in, “One day, she’ll be Queen of Avallen. She’d be a fool to throw it away on a bastard angel.”

"Jesiba said, “I suppose I should consider it an honor, to be called a friend by the Starborn Princess daughter of the Autumn King.” A slight pause, and Bryce knew what was coming next. “And the future Queen of Avallen.”

In fact, Cormac's final words to Bryce were about leading their people forward.

But after today …” Cormac’s words grew heavy. Weary. “I think the choice about whether to lead our people forward will be up to you.”

Which, sounds an awful lot like the ancient fae prophecy connected to all of this:

"When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be."

[Art by wavyhues]

And, if Bryce is destined to become High Queen of Avallen, as well as High Lady of the Dusk Court... isn't it fitting that she possesses the Horn, which grants her the ability to enter other worlds?

The Queen who walked between worlds...

#sjm multiverse #acotar #crescent city #sjm theory #acotar theory #sjm crossover #bryce quinlan #azriel acotar #azriel #hofas #hunt athalar

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mummawitch · 6 months

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Sabbats

Witches, particularly those who follow modern Pagan or Wiccan traditions, often celebrate a series of holidays, known as Sabbats, that are based on the cycles of the seasons and nature. These holidays are divided into two categories: the Greater Sabbats, which are often associated with the equinoxes and solstices, and the Lesser Sabbats, which mark the points between the equinoxes and solstices. Here's an overview of the eight major witchcraft holidays:

1. Samhain (pronounced SOW-IN or SAH-WIN): Celebrated on October 31st (Northern Hemisphere) or May 1st (Southern Hemisphere). Samhain marks the beginning of the Witches' Wheel of the Year. It's a time to honor the dead, reflect on the past, and prepare for the winter months.

2. Yule (pronounced YOOL): Celebrated around the winter solstice (usually December 20th-23rd for Northern Hemisphere, or June 20th-23rd Southern Hemisphere), Yule is a festival of light and rebirth. It's a time to celebrate the return of the sun's strength and the lengthening of days.

3. Imbolc (pronounced IM-BULK or IM-BULG): Celebrated around February 1st-2nd (Northern Hemisphere) or August 1st-2nd (Southern Hemisphere). Imbolc marks the first signs of spring. It's a time to honor the goddess Brigid and welcome the returning life in nature.

4. Ostara (pronounced OST-AR-A): Celebrated around the spring equinox (usually March 20th-23rd for NH, or September 20th-23rd SH), Ostara is a celebration of balance and the arrival of spring. It's a time to honor the goddess Eostre and the fertility of the land.

5. Beltane (pronounced BELL-TAIN): Celebrated on May 1st (NH) or October 1st (SH). Beltane marks the peak of spring and the beginning of summer. It's a time to celebrate fertility, love, and the union of the god and goddess.

6. Litha (pronunced LEE-THA): Celebrated around the summer solstice (usually June 20th-23rd NH, or December 20th-23rd SH). Litha is a time of maximum light and the celebration of the sun's power.

7. Lughnasadh (pronounced LOO-NAH-SA, also called Lammas, pronounced LAH-MUS): Celebrated around August 1st (NH), or February 1st (SH). Lughnasadh is the first of the three harvest festivals. It's a time to give thanks for the first fruits of the harvest.

8. Mabon (pronunced MAH-BON) : Celebrated around the autumn equinox (usually September 20th-23rd NH, March 20th-23rd SH). Mabon is a time of balance and the second harvest festival. It's a time to give thanks for the abundance of the Earth.

These holidays are often celebrated with rituals, feasts, and various customs, including the crafting of seasonal decorations and the lighting of bonfires or candles. It's important to note that the specific dates for these holidays can vary slightly depending on tradition and location, as they are often calculated based on astronomical events.

#witchcraft #witch #green witch #tarot witch #witch community #witchythings #pagan witch #witch aesthetic #witchcore #witchblr

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atinylittlepain · 11 months

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Apothecary Chapter Eight

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

Samhain is here, and for the first time in a while, she has people to share it with.

word count: 5.2K

warnings | 18+ smut, angst, discussions of grief, spooky-ooky action

a/n | it's here! hands down this has been my favorite chapter to write so far. i would love to hear what you think as always, my inbox is open <3

..............................

Summer has been laid to rest under the whispered chill of fall. The mountains are burned up all orange and yellow, leaves fit to fall in the soon-to-come snap of frost. But for now, as October comes to an end, the days are still tinged with warmth while the nights shiver in the suggestion of the oncoming winter, and Halloween is just around the corner.

Joel had thought it silly, if not downright stupid, when he and Ellie first came to Jackson, all the holidays upheld and celebrated in town. But this year, as the annual fall dance comes closer, he’s hard pressed to be bothered by it with his woman flitting around him, obvious in her excited anticipation.

“Oh, Joel, before you go I have something to give you.”

“This– this is a rusty nail.” She just smiles, curling her fingers under his palm to close his hand over the, quite literally, rusty nail she just gave him.

“Just, humor me, alright? It’s a tradition, for protection. I gave one to Ellie too. Just keep it in your pocket for the next few days.” By now, he’s realized that sometimes it’s easier to just go along with what she tells him, no questions asked, so he nods, pocketing the nail with a smile that he hopes looks grateful. He can also tell that she’s nervous, and he’d bet that it’s because he’s started picking up patrol shifts again, leaving early this morning to meet Tommy at the gate. So if him having an old nail in his pocket is going to make her feel even a little better, he’s happy to oblige her request.

“Thank you, darlin. I’ll see you tonight, ok?” One kiss, a second, and a third, before he finally tears himself away from her, slipping out the front door and into the cool morning air.

“Morning, trouble.”

Mrrp

Stevie is quick to fall into stride alongside him, something he’s still getting used to on the mornings he has patrol, her watchful eyes seeing him out of the gate.

“I see you’ve still got a second shadow following you.” Tommy grins at him as he approaches, eyes glancing down to Stevie who lets out another meow, sitting down rather primly and looking between the two brothers.

“She ain’t–”

“Coming, yeah, you say that everytime, Joel. I’m pretty sure I could figure out that a cat ain’t coming on patrol by myself though.”

Mrrrrp

Tommy gives the cat in question a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised as he looks back up at Joel who can’t help the smug grin tugging at his lips. Tommy lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“Y’all are so fucking weird. Let’s go before the cat starts talking, goddamn.”

…

For the first time in a while, things feel simple, maybe even good. She’s hesitant to let her mind settle on good for fear of jinxing it all, but at the very least, things are really, really not bad. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that Samhain is only a few days away.

It’s the busiest time of year for her, in more ways than one. With the impending chill, more and more people around town are coming down with head colds and whatever else they might pick up in close quarters, a neverending rotation of sniffles and coughs that she’s been tending to while also trying to get ready for the sabbat. While she’s always kept the traditions alive for herself, this year is different, this year she gets to share it with people for the first time in ages, and she might be going just a bit overboard because of it.

Truly, she’s been pulling out all the stops this week. Rosemary and wild rose wreaths for protection through the transition from light to dark, soul cakes for breakfast studded with dried fruit just like her mom would make, and a fresh batch of candles ready to light her altar through the three nights of the pagan new year.

While Joel seems content to let her whirl around him in preparation, Ellie has enthusiastically taken part, listening intently to her explanations of all the rituals and traditions and helping out in the kitchen and in the shop when she can. She can’t help but be reminded of herself as a kid, her mom sharing with her all these things she now gets to share with Ellie.

“So, no bonfire?”

“Sorry, kid, not in this world. It’s just not safe anymore. But we can get the fireplace going and that’ll work just as well.” Though there’s still a slight disappointed slump to her shoulders, Ellie nods, her fingers continuing deft work on another wreath, perched on a stool at the butcher block in the back of the shop.

“You’re getting better at that than me, Ellie. Could I take that one to Maura? I was gonna check in on her this afternoon and I’d like to bring her something.”

“Yeah, for sure. Is she, like, doing ok?” Her own hands still where she had been pruning back some errant leaves, turning to fully look at Ellie with a sigh.

“I think so, yeah. I know Matthew hasn’t given her any more trouble, probably too embarrassed to try. And I think she’s settling in well to her new place.”

“What about Mason?” She swallows the thick heat in her throat at Ellie’s question, schooling her face in something she hopes looks like indifference.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. For a guy who seems to enjoy causing a lot of fucking problems it’s kinda weird how quiet he is all of a sudden.” She knows the truth that Ellie’s words hold all too well, and had been thinking about this herself for a while now. She hadn’t seen or heard from Mason since what happened at the town hall, and to her knowledge, no one else had either, keeping to himself and his shifts. And while she’d like to just forget about him, his bitter words and blatant violence toward her are hard to shake from her mind.

“Let’s just take a win where we can get one, huh, kid? I don’t– don’t even wanna think about that man so long as I don’t have to.” Ellie seems to accept her reply with a slightly distracted hum, holding up the wreath she just finished with a satisfied smirk.

“Fuck yeah. Am I good, or am I good? I mean, c’mon.” It might be silly, but she feels pride unfurling in her chest watching Ellie. No one else has ever been so interested in what she does, and it feels like a relief she didn’t know she was craving to get to share this all with her.

“Pretty damn good, kid. Thanks for helping me out.”

…

He gets back to town spooked, just a little. It isn’t like anything absolutely dire had happened, though it could have turned rotten real quick. He and Tommy had split off early in the day to circle the dam and meet back up somewhere in the middle. It had been a quiet morning, the woods wrapped in a faint mist, leaves falling like rain, when he heard a low, warbling groan from deeper in the trees. It was obvious to him that it wasn’t an infected, the sound had been so different from anything he’d heard before, and he couldn’t help but dismount and inch into the underbrush, trying to catch sight of what had made a noise like that.

A grizzly, that’s what had made the sound, brown fur matted over a hulking body that rose all of eight feet in the air when it stood up on its haunches and snarled at Joel. He was stunned still where he stood by the sight, gun uselessly cocked against an animal that could have killed him in one powerful swipe. And for a moment, it had seemed like that’s exactly what was about to happen, the bear letting out a rumbling roar, jowls warbling with the sound. But then, and it’s going to sound strange, the animal had paused, and had tilted its head at Joel like it was considering him, before slumping back down onto all fours, letting out a snuff that sounded like a conclusion, and trundling right past him further into the thickening forest.

The whole ride back to town, he can’t help but thumb the corroded nail sitting in his jacket pocket, a jilted energy running circuits in his veins. But the hitch in his chest is smoothed out when he does get home, opening the front door to warmth and the smell of food, something savory mingling with the scent of apples cooking. And the sight of her, comfortably moving around the kitchen, something in the oven and a large pot bubbling on the stove, has his heart kicking up in an entirely different way.

“I can feel you staring, Miller.” She glances at him over her shoulder, a crooked smile as she gives the pot a few stirs before turning and padding over to him where he’s leaning against the doorframe, her palm sliding from his chest to curl behind his neck as she leans in for a kiss. He reckons that this won’t ever get old for him, the apparent ease they move with together, how he can reach out and she’ll reach right back. She gives him a quirked look when she pulls away, brows furrowed.

“You alright?” She can clock him like no other. Sometimes it seems like she knows what he’s feeling before he even does, and if she hadn’t insisted that she most definitely can’t read minds, he would have guessed that she could.

“Mmhmm, just tired. Glad to be home.” Though her brows stay just slightly pinched, she seems to accept his excuse, a quick rub of her palm over her chest before she pulls away to check on whatever she has cooking.

“Is Ellie around?”

“At movie night with Dina. They’re playing Hocus Pocus from what I heard.”

“Got enough of that at home, don’t we?” She scoffs, elbowing him lightly where he’s sidled up behind her.

“Rude, and to think I was making you dinner.” She cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, hands finding his on her waist and tangling their fingers together as she scrunches her nose at him. He opens his mouth to say something smart back to her, but his eyes catch on the spoon stirring itself in the pot, drawing her attention back to the stove as well.

“Oops, got a little distracted.” Yeah, he still hasn’t gotten used to her getting distracted.

Dinner is warm and rich and near coma-inducing, both of them sitting back with contented sighs at the dining table, the sun long set, windows going purple and hazy in the glow of the kitchen lights.

“Was Ellie supposed to be home for dinner?” Her brow furrows at his question, head tilted in confusion.

“No, I told you she’s at movie night. Why do you ask?”

“You set an extra place, I just assumed–”

“Oh, no, that’s not– it’s another tradition. You set a place for the people you love who have passed on. Most folks just do it for the three days starting on Halloween. But we always started leaving a plate out a day early, don’t ask me why, it was just the way my mom did it.” It’s clear to him that she’s being careful about what she says, and how she says it. She’s been careful about explaining the holiday, and he can understand why. She had told him that this time of year is marked most by communion with and remembrance of the dead, a subject they’ve been skirting around ever since that night when she tried to talk to him about Sarah, and he bolted like a spooked horse.

“Is that who you set the place for now? Your mom?” Her smile tempers, eyes rounding with a familiar sadness as she nods.

“Yeah, other family too. And I have to admit, I know it’s not my place, but I’ve been thinking about– about Sarah as well.” It’s a leap for her to make, he knows it, and he’s willing to make it with her, reaching his hand across the table to rest over the top of hers, puzzle pieces fitting together in a shared silence.

“Thank you for thinking of her, darlin.” Another nod and a small smile.

“Could I– can I share something with you? And maybe you could help me with it?”

…

“So that’s what all this is for?”

“What’d you think it was for?”

“Honestly, I stopped asking questions about things like this a while ago. Just assumed whatever this was, you had some sort of plan for it.” She has to let out a huff of a laugh at his clearly truthful answer, shaking her head before focusing back on the items spread over the desktop of her bureau.

“Well, I do have a plan, and it’s called an altar. It’s a space made to honor the departed, and to keep them a little closer to us.” She’s already laid out candles, dried leaves, and small wreaths of herbs on the desk, now pulling open one of the bureau’s drawers to get out a worn, weathered photo, tenderly unfolding it. Holding it out so Joel can see, a small sound of recognition rumbles in his chest.

“Is that you?” His finger just hovers over the face of the girl in the photo.

“Mmhmm, and that’s my mom, and my grandmother. I must have been twelve, maybe thirteen, when this was taken.” When she glances at him, something like wonder is laced in his expression, lips parted in a slight smile as he continues to study the picture. Clearing her throat, and her mind, she tucks the photo in amongst the altar before looking at him again.

“It’s nice to include pieces of them, if you have any. I was wondering, um– I mean I don’t know if you’d even want to– but if you have anything of Sarah’s, I was wondering if you’d like to add a piece of her to it?” The words feel thick and clunky coming out, regret an almost instant aftertaste at the way his face falls. But then he surprises her, clearing his throat and nodding before silently unfastening his watch and placing it on the altar, a tap of his fingers to the face of it before he takes a step back.

“And it’s just for the next three days, right?” Worry is pinching his brow, eyes swimming, and she doesn’t resist the urge to reach for him, a hand on his cheek and one right over his heart.

“That’s right. It just lets them know that we’re thinking about them a little more than usual, that’s all. And then we go back to carrying them with us however we can.” He gives her a short nod, tears like silver in his eyes as he rests his hand over hers on his chest, his other palm coming to cup her cheek.

“She would’ve liked you, y’know.” It’s so unexpected, her breath catches in her throat at his words.

“You think so?”

“I think you two would’ve got on like a house on fire. Probably would’ve ganged up on me too, though you and Ellie already do that I suppose.” The warbly sound of her own laugh makes her realize that she’s started crying too, the soft sweep of his thumb brushing away a few stray tears.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but my mom would’ve hated you.” The spluttering laugh he lets out sends her into a huffed spiral of her own, quiet grins between the two of them.

“Would’ve hated me, huh?”

“Mmhmm, nothing personal though. She just believed that women should never get tied down to a man for long.” He hums at that, both of them holding back another laugh through their tears.

“And what do you believe, darlin?”

“I believe that you are the one exception to that rule, Joel Miller.”

…

Seeing as the last town dance he went to ended with him busting his knuckles open on a man’s face, Joel isn’t exactly raring to go to this one. But hers and Ellie’s shared excitement is more than making up for his own disinterest.

“Look, old man, Stevie and I match.” Ellie jumps off the last two steps of the porch, Stevie letting out a distressed mewl from her place in her arms at the sudden movement.

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny.” Ellie’s got on black jeans, a black sweater, and a black headband with two triangular scraps of fabric attached to look like cat ears, cradling Stevie in her arms as the finishing touch to her makeshift costume.

“What’re you supposed to be? A lumberjack with anger issues?” He huffs at her rather sharp question, glancing down at his flannel, the same flannel he wears at least twice a week these days.

“Sure, let’s go with that, kid.”

“You two ready?” Her voice pulls his attention away from Ellie’s smug grin, and when he catches sight of her, his mind goes so hazy he can’t be bothered to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“That hat is fucking wicked.” He doesn’t even have half a mind to scold Ellie for her language, too busy taking in the sight of his woman. She’s wearing the same mismatched sneakers she’s always got on, her bare shins peeking out beneath the hem of her black dress. A very nicely-fitting black dress at that, long-sleeved, with a deep neckline he can’t seem to take his eyes away from. It’s too good, the hat sitting atop her head, the pointed top and the wide brim an almost cartoonish calling-card, and the grin on her face as she stands before him tells him that she knows it too.

“Well?” She holds out her arms, a little flare in her wrists as she looks at him, and all he can do is let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Where the hell did you get a hat like that?” She pinches the brim between her fingers, giving him a wink.

“Found it in the attic of my old house when I first moved in. Been saving it for a special occasion. You like?” He pulls her in for a kiss, all crooked from their mirrored grins.

“Ugh, c’mon, Stevie. Let’s go before they inflict any more damage to our eyeballs.” She pulls away with a laugh at Ellie’s very vocal dismay, taking Joel’s hand in hers with a light squeeze.

“Sorry, kid. No more eyeball damage, I promise. Let’s get a move on.”

Once again, the dining hall has been fitted out for the dance, tables pushed aside to clear the floor and a ragtag band putting out half-decent music. But this time is different too. This time, he’s got an easy arm wrapped around his woman’s waist, holding onto her in a crowd that no longer stares and whispers, but welcomes with easy smiles and talk. Everyone is in some sort of attempted costume, and he catches sight of Tommy making his way toward them through the crowd, an old cowboy hat on his head and a bandana tied around his neck.

“What’re you supposed to be, brother? A slightly less pissed off version of yourself?” While he grunts at his brother’s teasing, she laughs easily, happy to pick up the social slack where Joel refuses to engage.

“Happy Halloween, Tommy. I saw Maria and your boy out front. I can’t believe how big he’s gotten, gonna be quite the little heartbreaker in a few years.” The clear pride in Tommy’s smile sets warmth spreading in Joel’s chest. It’s been a surprising bright spot for him, watching his brother step into fatherhood. Not that he’d ever tell Tommy, but it’s a good look on him.

“He’s something else, ain’t he? Not gonna be able to keep up with him at the rate he’s growing. But anyways, just wanted to come say howdy. Y’all enjoy yourselves, alright?” With a brisk clap to Joel’s shoulder, Tommy is moving back through the crowd, lobbing easy greetings to folks left and right.

“Alright, my angry lumberjack, are you gonna ask me to dance or what?”

“You heard that, huh? Don’t even know how the kid knows what a lumberjack is.” Her smile is easy, humor crinkling her eyes as she looks at him.

“Mmhmm, but for the record, you make a very cute, angry lumberjack.” What he does next surprises even him, taking her hand and leading her into the throng of swaying couples on the dance floor with a confidence he hasn’t felt in decades. The band is playing a slower song, light threadings of a guitar and the old piano, a sweet suggestion to pull her close, one arm hooked around her waist, his other tucked between their chests where their hands are tangled together. Judging by the widening of her eyes, lips parted in a crooked smile, she hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“You’ve been holding out on me if you’ve been able to dance this nicely this whole time, Miller.” He can feel himself going a bit sheepish under her praise, eyes turned down as he leads them in a simple string of steps.

“Haven’t danced in a long time, darlin.” They fall into an easy silence, the music and din of the hall lulling them into the movement. Though everything comes crashing to a jilted stop, music fizzling out under the sudden scuffle in the crowd. It’s instinct, the way his arm tightens around her, keeping her close as he cranes his neck to see where the raised voices are coming from, his stomach dropping when he lays eyes on who it is.

He can’t hear what’s being said, but judging by the steely look on Tommy’s face and the hazy sneer on Mason’s, it’s nothing friendly. And through the crowd, Mason��s bloodshot eyes land on him first, before sliding over to her, a grin smearing across his face that Joel would like nothing more than to smack clean off him. But Tommy is quick to take Mason out of the hall with a harsh grip on his shoulder, gone as soon as he appeared, though the damage has already been done judging by the slack frown on her face.

“Joel, can we go, please?” His chest tightens at the way her voice has flattened, the quiet question slipped from her downturned mouth, eyes stuck where Mason had been standing.

“Yeah, darlin, we’ll go home. Lemme find Ellie and let her know, alright?”

He keeps her hand in his the whole walk home, not letting go until they’re in their bedroom and she’s sitting down on the edge of the bed, a deep furrow between her brows.

“God, I feel so stupid for letting that affect me like I did. I’m sorry, Joel. We were having a good time and I– I ruined it.” He sits down as close to her as he can, tucking her under his arm and dropping a kiss to the top of her head, her hat discarded on the floor.

“Didn’t ruin a thing, darlin. I’m just sorry that pathetic bastard came around at all.” He can tell that she’s working through it in her mind, somewhere between the past and the present, lips slightly pursed and eyes focused on her hands in her lap, but she doesn’t get stuck on it, a long exhale bringing her back to him, tilting her head to look at him with a suggestion of a smile. She doesn’t say anything, slipping out of his hold like liquid and padding quietly over to her bureau where the altar is set up. It’s grace embodied, the way she leans over one of the unlit candles, pursing her lips and exhaling like you would to extinguish a flame, though instead the wick smokes and crackles into a bright blaze.

“Well now you’re just showing off.” A shrug and a laugh from her as she lights the other candles with the one she just lit, the altar being cast in a warm and pulsing glow.

…

Maybe she had been showing off, just a little, drinking in the way his eyes widen and don’t pull away from her for even a second as she turns back to him and extends her hand.

“Would you mind finishing that dance with me?” The light in the bedroom is dim, just a lamp and the candles casting a haze of warmth across the room, but she can still see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stands up and slides his hand into hers.

There’s no music, but they don’t need it, finding an easy sway in their close tangle. She rests her cheek at his shoulder, nose brushing along the juncture of his neck, breathing him in, feeling his hands splayed across her back, the insistent pump of his heart, stronger than anything she’s ever heard before.

“Think you mentioned something a while ago about dancing naked.” She can hear the smug crook of his smile in his words, making her laugh as she pulls back to look at him.

“Hmm, yeah, I just said that to seduce you.” He chuckles at the smarmy waggle of her eyebrows, pulling her tighter against him.

“Didn’t have to do that, darlin. Reckon I was gone for you from day one.” The kiss they slip into is more like a shared sigh, swallowing each other’s relief, muscles slackening under wandering hands. They move with patience, like time has stopped with the slow trails of fingers, the languid press of lips. A shiver runs through her when he tugs the zipper of her dress down, sliding the fabric down her arms, letting it pool around her still socked feet. She wants skin against skin, stepping closer to him as she slips her fingers through the buttons of his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders as soon as she can, leaving his torso warm and bare for her to press against, mouths open and receiving whatever the other is willing to give.

And all of a sudden that tender patience snaps into a snarling desperation, Joel’s hands a searing grip on her hips, keeping her close as he ducks his head down to mouth at the tops of her breasts, only giving her enough space to slip out of her bra before he’s dipping back down and taking one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth, teeth a dizzying graze. They’ve had slow and sweet, and this isn’t that, her back pressing up against one of the bedroom walls as he cages her in, warm and trembling breaths fanning over her skin as she tugs open his belt and rucks his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his flushed cock, resting heavy and heated against her thigh.

When they first came together, it had been all questions, all Can I? Like this? Is that good? Are you? But they no longer need words now, communicating in the hungry sweep of palms and the flicker of darkened eyes. He hitches her knee against his hip, opening her up to him, his cock an aching drag through her cunt before he presses into her, pleasure tinged with the throbbing stretch of him.

Her back slides up the wall with each thrust of his hips, his hand cradling the back of her head to keep her from thumping her skull. It’s all harsh breaths and broken grunts, her eyes scrunching shut only for Joel to coax her gaze back with a gentle let me see you, darlin– look at me, baby, eyes on me, that’s it. He presses his forehead to hers, holding her steady through every hard press of his hips, his cock grazing so deep it’s all she can do to let out a quiet whimper of his name.

“I know, darlin– fuck, I know– always so good, huh? Lemme have it, honey, just like this.” He knows her almost too well by now, when to pull back, to slow down, to draw it out, and when to give her more, to press her over the edge, to twist up her pleasure only to unravel it. His hips still against hers when she comes, a deep grind inside of her that draws out her high, spasming around him as she digs her nails into his shoulders. Slackening in his arms, her mind cuts through the haze, confusion settling in when she realizes he still hasn’t moved, his forehead pressed to her sternum.

“Are you– did you–”

“Fuck, darlin, I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I– Jesus christ.” He pulls out with a shuddering breath, and that’s when she notices it, the warm trickle of him making her knees go weak. Joel, meanwhile, seems to be in perfect remorse, muttering a string of apologies, his hands hovering at her waist like he’s afraid to touch her. Finally, she cuts off his rambling, her palm cupping his jaw to get him to focus on her.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. You seriously think I don’t know how to take care of something like this? Honestly, I’m a little offended.” His face goes completely slack at her words, a disbelieving laugh coming out on a long exhale.

“I– you– goddamn. God fucking damn, think I almost had a heart attack.” His words come out on another laugh, hands framing her face as he lands a hard kiss to her forehead, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“No heart attacks on my watch, Miller. I love you too much to let that happen.” This kiss lands a bit lower, a smacking press of his lips to hers before he pulls away with a sheepish smile.

“Love you, darlin. Let’s, uh, let’s get you cleaned up.”

…

It’s much later in the night when she untangles herself from his embrace, successfully slipping out of bed without waking him. Grabbing the blanket Joel had kicked off in his sleep and wrapping herself up in it, she quietly pads downstairs and out onto the back porch.

“Hey, little miss, did you and Ellie have fun?” Stevie is happy to jump into her lap where she has sat down on the porch steps, a content purr thrumming as she nuzzles against her palm. A moment, that’s all she wanted, to think about the people she’s lost in the cool closeness of the night. But she and Stevie aren’t alone, not anymore. Something like family, something a little magic.

...............................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #apothecary #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic

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wardenparker · 6 months

Text

Red Lipstick

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: Ghost!reader, drug use (cocaine), mentions of murder, mentions of past adultery, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, fingernails/scratching, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex while high. Summary: When Dieter moves into a new house, the last thing he expected was to end up with a sultry new roommate. Especially one that died almost a hundred years ago. Notes: Blessed Samhain and Happy Halloween everybody! Let's celebrate by having Dieter get both high and nasty.

"I think you're going to be really pleased with how things are set up, Dee." As his personal assistant, Kendra has spent the last month getting her best and only client packed up, moved into his new house, and unpacked again while Dieter Bravo has been overseas filming. He had decided that the mansion he had been living in, in Malibu, just wasn't doing it for him anymore and she had been dispatched to fix the problem.

This art deco colossus in the Hollywood Hills was her answer — supposedly having belonged to some long forgotten starlet back in the silent era. Poor thing was poisoned by her husband's mistress, if the rumors were true. But Dieter didn't need to know that. Instead, Kendra sweeps him inside the door with an encouraging smile on her face and tries to get him to look around. "If you want anything moved around, you just say the word," she promises him.

“It’ll be fine.” For all his bullshit, Dieter isn’t actually as fussy as a lot of people might believe. He just wants a comfortable, vibey place to relax, do drugs and fuck. He looks around and nods, impressed with how quickly they’ve set everything up. “Kinda creepy. I like it.”

"I found some of the original furnishings in the attic and had them cleaned up. Reupholstered as necessary. I thought you'd like them." Extremely pleased with herself, Kendra looks around the large front hall and smiles. "There is food in the fridge with reheat instructions and plenty of things in the pantry if you want to eat without fuss. Your chef will be coming by every other day like usual. Would you like a tour?"

“Sure.” Maybe it’s a little odd that he’s needing a tour for a home he now owns, but he couldn’t be bothered to actually look at the listings that Kendra had sent him. She knew what he liked and what he didn’t, and he had trusted her to pick the best one for him.

The first floor has all the usual rooms, and considering the place was built in 1920 it has some unusual ones, too. A library and a dining room make perfect sense. The sitting room has been transformed into a relatively normal living room. The conservatory with all the plants Kendra could reasonably cram into it has a big table for playing games at and a bunch of places to sit for when he has people over to work but they want something nice to look at. The former ballroom? She left it sparsely decorated so he can decide what he wants to do with it later. Upstairs, the five bedrooms all have walk-in closets and their own bathrooms, and the largest one has been turned into his new bedroom. The giant brass bed in the attic was way nicer than his so she topped it with his mattress and covered the whole thing in his favorite sheets, blankets, and pillows. His other furniture is all set up, and his assistant has set up all the other guest rooms to be ready to go. “What do you think?” Kendra asks, leading him into the room with dark green wallpaper and mahogany wainscoting.

Dieter frowns and tilts his head at the ornate bed. “Did– that’s not my bed, is it?” He asks, pointing at it. “I would remember being tied to it, and I – I’ve not done that yet, I don’t think.”

“I found it in the attic,” Kendra tells him, passing by the comment with just a half-smirk. “I thought you’d like it.”

"It fucking cool." His eyes are positively excited as he rushes towards the bed and caresses the brass scroll work on the bed. "It's mine? It came with the house?" He can't imagine that someone would leave this badass bed, he wouldn't. It's orate and beautiful, drawing him to it in a way he can't describe. Imagining amazing sex in this bed and the flash of a woman. Just a glimpse as his hand wraps around one post.

“It’s yours.” She’s pleased with his reaction and smiles as he inspects the looming piece of furniture. “I know you have a few favorite booty calls in town if you want to try it out tonight.”

He chuckles and almost agrees but he doesn't. Deciding he wants to spend his first night in the house alone. Settle with it and figure out what kind of vibes it's giving him. "Maybe," is all he says.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She nods when he looks back at her and heads for the stairs, leaving Dieter alone in his new house. He has the keys, he has his bearings, and he has dinner already made. She’ll be back tomorrow to check on him.

"Hello?" He calls out, just for fun even as the door has closed behind his assistant minutes ago. He's a firm believer in spirits, knowing that his aura projects out into the universe. It's why he doesn't like things messing with his brain waves like the bluetooth headphones.

“Hello sweetie.” From the doorway of the bedroom that once was yours, you place your hands on your waist and practically hum at the man standing near your bed. He doesn’t have that slick, smooth, buttoned-up look that men of your era did, but he has an undeniable appeal all his own. Not that he can see you — oh no — but at least you’ll have something nice to look at. The last family to own the house your fortune built was rather…unfortunate looking.

There's something. Dieter's skin tingles and he hums as he looks around the room. Swearing that he had felt something. "I'm– uh, I come in peace." He tells the room.

“Aw, sugar…” Tutting, you saunter into the room and cross your arms over your chest. The dressing robe you’ve worn for the last ninety-five years still gives you the feeling of swishing around as you move even though that’s now impossible. “You can’t see me, handsome. Or hear me. Nobody can.”

"Whoever you are..." Dieter's brows lift and he gives a sympathetic expression. "I feel you. Just know that I'm here to live beside you. And get really high."

“Feel me?” It would be too much to ask for it to be true, and you tilt your head at him curiously. “Sugar, I’d let you feel me in a heartbeat.“

"Can spirits get high?" He asks, mostly to himself and he chuckles. "We can get faded together."

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” You laugh softly to yourself. “Might be fun.”

"I'm hungry." Dieter groans, rubbing his stomach and then scratching it. "Gonna go down to the kitchen and get something to eat." He looks around the room. "Don't like– throw a knife at my head or anything, okay?"

That makes you laugh, a deep sound that is unpretentious and unexpected, and you decide to follow him down to the kitchen. The blandness of the last owners had been absolute, but this one is fun. And at least not a stick in the mud. Maybe his food will be worth smelling as well.

Rambling down the stairs, Dieter starts to hum a little tune. One that he doesn't recognize but he swears it from some old black and white movie.

“Now how do you know that?” The sound of the tune makes you hurry up, floating alongside this new man on feet that no longer touch the ground. You’d know it anywhere. The theme from a movie long gone and long forgotten — but that you’d sung yourself into that big studio microphone to be recorded and played for your first ever ‘talkie’. If only you hadn’t died first, you might’ve made a go of musicals.

"What movie is that from?" Dieter loves to get stoned and watch old movies. Having hundreds of channels that include a lot of classic movies, black and whites and even the great era of silent movies. There was something about that time that just appeals to him, the art of acting without saying a word. It took a lot more skill to portray emotion and your intent when you cannot say anything. "I'll have to look it up."

“Bernice Bobs Her Hair…” The film had been full of dances and a few good songs, all wrapped around that darling story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It was supposed to be a breakout. Reignite your star. Instead you were dead on premiere night. “It was called Bernice Bobs Her Hair.”

“B something,” Dieter frowns, cocking his head as he reaches for the fridge. “The chick who was in it died the night it came out.” He snaps his fingers and yanks the door open to see what Kendra had left for him, “Ohhhhh Thai!”

"Thank god I looked good, at least." You huff, crossing your arms again as you try to figure out what he's tying as he takes things out of the icebox.

“Peanut sauce, fuck yes!” He could kiss his assistant, knowing he’s been on a Thai kick lately and she has put all his favorites in there. “I can reheat the samosas in the air fryer. That will be good.” He talks to himself. “Pad Thai, that omelet thing I can never say right. Fuckkkkkkk, she got me the green curry. Imma get fucked up and munch.”

He's got a boyish kind of charm to him as he zips around the kitchen, and if you could you would be leaning back against the counter to watch. As it is, the small sound of your laughter and the smile on your face is private, but you find yourself hoping he might continue to speak to himself out loud from time to time. It's nice to be able to pretend that he is actually talking to you.

Dieter straightens up and looks towards the counter near the fridge. “Oh shit. Forgive me. I don’t know how to live with a – a spirit.” He shrugs. “Do you want to join me? Can ghosts eat? Probably not right? Fuck. That would suck. I’m sorry.”

When he looks right at you, you feel your mouth fall open and your eyes double in size. "You— can you— see me?" It's just a coincidence. It has to be. He can't possibly be looking at you, right? Just...in your general direction...

“I swear to fuck you are right there.” He points at you and sighs. “Or you’re so goddamn lonely you’re inventing ghosts to have someone to talk to, Bravo.” He blows out a breath, wondering when he lost his fucking mind.

"I am right here." Moving away from the counter, you get closer to him and closer, wondering how it's possible at all for him to sense you. If he has any idea who you are. "I'm right in front of you..." you murmur, wondering what would happen if you reached out to try to touch him.

“Right.” Dieter drops his head and reaches up to rub his neck. “Time to do some cocaine.” He grunts, sure that he’s answered his own question. “Or maybe that new shit Kevin brought me.” It amused him to no end that his regular supplier’s name was Kevin. He had him in his phone as ‘Home Alone’ for kicks.

"Ooo, cocaine. How darling and nostalgic of you. I miss cocaine." When he walks away you can't help but sigh. Or you would, if you still drew breath. Instead you occupy yourself in the most entertaining way currently at your disposal: following around the living person in your house.

There's a reason Dieter loves to have ornate or even simple flat mirrors around his home. One, it reflects light and brightens any space up. Two, it's great for setting up a line for coke. Making him think of those 80's parties every time he uses his credit card to line one up to snort, he giggles. "Too bad I don't have one of those fancy rings where you open the little compartment to take a bump." He grunts, knowing he would always have that thing loaded.

“Find my jewelry box in the attic and you’ll find a few beauties.” You hum, setting yourself on the nearby chair to lounge. That’s all you can do these days and it’s terribly annoying.

Once the line is as perfect as he wants it, Dieter rolls up a five dollar bill and bends over the mirror. It's quick, the pain of snorting something up his nose long since faded, and he throws his head back at the rush of pure endorphins. Eyes closed as the feeling settles over him like a warm blanket and he groans, dropping his head back down and opening his eyes.

Only to give a yelp when he spots a woman lounging on one of his living room chairs. "What the fuck!"

“You can see me!” This time there is no mistaking it, and you practically bounce and clap your hands with glee. “Sugar, that magical white powder of yours is a little more magical than you think!”

"Who the fuck are you?" Dieter stumbles back and bumps into a table behind him, rocking the lamp but he doesn't pay it any attention. "How the fuck did you get in. I– look, I don't want a crazy fan in my house. I'll call the police!"

“Call the police all you want, handsome. They won’t be able to see what you’re so worried about.“ It had happened with the last owners — when you had gotten fed up with being ignored and invisible and dead you had gone on a good old fashioned haunting spree that resulted in everything from police being called to exorcisms being performed. The family finally moved out in a rush and the house had been empty for almost ten years. “And darlin’?” You drawl, delighted that he can actually hear you. “You’re the one in my house.”

"Your house?" Dieter shakes his head and blinks again. Swearing that he's on a bad trip, but there is a shimmeriness around you and your hair is very styled. Despite the fact that you are wearing a vintage dressing gown, with the feathered sleeves that seemed to be in every old movie from the classics. He frowns, blinking again and then it clicks. "Oh shit. I know who you are."

“Oh, really?” Practically preening at the idea that he might recognize you since he clearly has seen at least one of your films, you instinctively strike a pose in the chair. “Guess I just have one of those unforgettable faces,” you purr.

"You're dead though." He shakes his head again and throws out a lopsided grin. "But you look really good for a dead broad." He says your name and then pauses. "Right?"

“Right as rain.” You chirp happily. It’s been so long since you’ve even been seen that being recognized again seems like a faraway dream. “But who is this handsome fella that’s in my house with my bed in his room?”

It can't be real. It can't be. You died. A fucking long time ago. Dieter hums, realizing he must be in another one of those hallucinations of his. They are getting more and more vivid the longer he uses. Maybe his agent was right and he needed a stint in rehab. For now, he shrugs and introduces himself. "Dieter Bravo. I'm an actor too. Oscar winner." He adds.

“Oscar winner, huh?” The brag isn’t lost on you, and you bat your eyelashes at him in your old accustomed way. “A big shot.”

"Maybe." Despite his air of arrogance that he wears, Dieter is like most actors. Neurotic and craving validation and love. "To some."

“I would’ve had one,” you toss one hand in the air flippantly, delighted that he can actually see you do it. “But they didn’t start those things until after I died.”

“Really?” He hums and tilts his head. “What year?”

“What year did I die, you mean?” A dramatic sigh from you is an effort since you don’t need breath anymore, but it’s so fun to play. “I died October 27, 1928, sugar. Right here in this house.”

“How?” He asks with a frown. “I mean, you look great. You don’t look dead.”

“Well, aren't you sweet?” A girl does like a compliment now and then. Especially when she hasn’t had one in almost a hundred years. “It was poison, sweet thing. Should’ve known better than to let someone else mix my drinks.”

“You were poisoned?” Dieter looks alarmed, too alarmed for a death that happened nearly 100 years ago, but he’s looking around like the murderer would pop out at any moment.

“Tale as old as time, handsome.” You shrug your shoulders, having had plenty of time to process the betrayal. “My best friend was sleeping with my husband and they wanted me out of the way. Don’t know why he didn’t just ask for a divorce…probably so he could keep my money.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sorry. Want a drink?” He asks, feeling comfortable enough to offer a ghost a drink. “Oh shit– no, you wouldn’t want me to pour you a drink. I’m an idiot.”

“If I could have a drink, I’d let you pour me one.” He seems sweet. A little lost. Maybe abandoned. But sweet. Like a puppy that needs to be pet more often.

“I can see you.” He reasons. “Maybe you can. After all…” he shrugs. “Ghosts can’t sit and you're lounging on my chair, sprawled theatrically.”

"Oh sugar, I can assure you that ghosts do sit. We do a hell of a lot of it, in fact. Or else we'd do nothing but float around or stand all day, and variety is the spice of...well...death."

“What else can you do?” Dieter latches onto the conversation with an eagerness that surprises him but it’s not everyday he converses with ghosts.

"I can push things over sometimes." You have managed that early on. Scaring the devil out of your husband and his plaything so frequently that they had abandoned the house and sold it as quickly as possible. "Flicker the lights. Cause breezes. You know...ghostly things."

“Hmmmm.” Dieter moves over to the bar and pours a glass of whiskey. “Come see if you can drink.” He urges you.

"I seriously doubt it, darlin', but why not." Shrugging your shoulders, you lift yourself up from the seat you had been lounging in and saunter over to the bar. It's been a hell of a long time before you were able to do anything at all, and this man – Dieter – is the first person who has been able to do as much as sense you in decades. Why not have a little fun? Once you're standing beside him you reach out, waggling your bejeweled fingers a little before attempting to wrap them around the glass. As hard as you can possibly concentrate, your hand slips right through the glass and the liquid inside, coming up empty.

“What if I hold it for you?” The rational part of his brain is screaming that it won’t work, but there’s this voice that keeps telling him to try.

“Why the hell not?” It won’t work, but it seems to amuse him to try, so you sway closer and tilt your head expectantly.

He's nervous, not because he needs to step closer to you, but because – what if this works?. He might be able to do something no one else has been and thats pretty fucking cool.

You really hate to see him get his hopes up, but indulgently tilt your head back for the liquid to – as expected – pass right through you to a puddle on the floor. “It’s alright, sugar,” you croon softly when he looks disappointed, and ingrained instinct makes you reach like you could somehow pat his face even though you’ve just proven the opposite. Imagine both of your surprise, then, when your cold hand neatly cups his burning hot cheek.

"OH SHIT!" Dieter jumps, nearly pulling away from your touch because of the temperature difference, but then he manages to keep contact. "Oh shit, you're– how? I thought you couldn't– what the fuck?"

“I don’t know— I don’t know!” As panicked as he is, you reel back instantly and stare at your hand, cradling it like it might combust. “I don’t know! That’s never happened before!”

"You touched me! Quick, do it again!" This time Dieter is reaching out for you. Seeing if he can touch a ghost and he yelps again when his fingers connect with you.

“How in the world?” It shouldn’t be possible. It doesn’t make sense. And yet— it’s happened.

"Oh god, are you sure you're a ghost?" Dieter frowns, fingers curling around your jaw, making sure it's not one of those celebrity masks things people sometimes wear. That you aren't tricking him even if he had just watched your drink pass through you. "You feel real."

“You’re the first person to have a feel in ninety-five years, darlin’.” And that in and of itself is why you’re sure this is actually happening. You were there — you remember every single one of those ninety-five years’ worth of days.

“Oh fuck, this is, this is so cool!” Dieter groans out with an ecstatic expression on his face.

“This is unbelievable.” Never in your entire afterlife have you ever tried to touch a living being. When Reggie and his trollop were still in the house you had haunted them right out into the street. The second owners could not have been more oblivious to your otherworldly presence if they had been doing it intentionally. The third had simply bored and annoyed you so deeply that you had spooked them just out of sheer habit. You had lost your zest for haunting for a long, long time. But this? This is utterly remarkable.

“This shouldn’t be happening, right?” Dieter asks, as if being a ghost makes you an expert on them. “What’s different? What’s making this happen?”

“Damned if I have any idea, sugar.” It’s almost too exciting to bear, but you test the thing by flexing your fingers against the rasp of stubble on his face. “But it’s never ever happened before.”

"Is it because I'm high?" He wonders. "My mind is just....in tune with the spirit world?"

“Maybe?” It’s impossible to know for sure, but your hands are making his face with enthusiasm because you’re afraid to touch his clothing and lose this magical ability to touch again.

Dieter reaches out and touches you again. "You feel so soft." He hums. "You've got a hell of a skincare routine."

“Being dead seems to have its advantages.” You joke with a wink. “Can’t wrinkle if you can’t age.”

"So you look like you did when you died?" He asks. "You were fucking sexier than the screen made you look."

“Why, Mr. Bravo, you flatter.” Even though your instinct is to close your eyes against the searing heat of him and how solid he feels against you, you’re fully afraid that if you do, he’ll disappear. And true to form, instead of facing fear, you continue to joke. “But really, gray makeup does no one any favors.”

"It had to be like that, right?" He asks curiously. Remembering the history of cinema classes that he had taken in college. "Because it would show up on film better?"

“Just so.” His hand is so broad it feels like it spans one entire half of your face. “But I always preferred red.”

"Red lips are always sexy." He murmurs, licking his own lips and glancing down at your painted red lips.

“Always?” The question hangs — if he’s going far enough out on that limb to actually be considering what he seems to be considering. And if you’re far enough out on that limb with him to go along.

"Always." He agrees, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. "Should I– would it be weird if I kissed you?" He asks. "For science?"

“Depends.” If you still had a heartbeat it would be frantic — excitement and nerves crawling up your spine. “Ever thought of kissing a woman born before 1900?”

"Am now." He admits with a self deprecating shrug. "I don't know if it counts, but I had a crush on Greta Garbo when I was a boy."

“Good taste.” You hum, chuckling from somewhere deep in your chest. “She was a hell of a woman.”

"You knew her?" He asks in surprise.

“Knew her?” You demure, all amusement and sly smile. “She was a remarkable kisser.”

"Really?" Dieter's eyes blow wide and he glances down at your lips again. "Are– were you– uh, lovers?"

“One or two parties that got a little out of hand.” A chuckle grows from your chest and you nudge his chin up to close his mouth, delighting in the not so simple act of touching him. “My husband wasn’t the only one dissatisfied with our marriage, I suppose.”

"So you're bi?" It's a fucking interesting development in the conversation and a fascinating one at that. “Uh, bisexual?” He isn’t sure if that phrase was used back then. “You like both sexes?”

“I used to just say ‘adventurous’.” You have heard the term, though. Through the decades you have learned a whole lot about the world.

"Adventurous." He chuckles quietly and smirks. "Then I guess I'm 'adventurous' too." He admits. "But I want to kiss you."

“We can try.” His hands on your skin feel burning when you didn’t think you could ever feel anything again — so wouldn’t it be foolish not to try?

“Let me know if you– uh, feel anything.” He’s honestly not sure if he’s so high he’s imagining things, or this is real, but it feel like the greatest fucking high of his life. Holding onto the silky waist of the dressing gown and leaning in to press his lips to yours ever so gently.

The last fading memory of a kiss that you have is from the night you died, and it is one of the most melancholy things to have past those lips of yours that you can still remember. This, comparatively, is like being set on fire even when it only lasts a second. The sound of a gasp comes from one of you — likely him, all things considered — but you could swear the world has turned on its axis just a touch, in letting the living and the dead collide like this.

Your lips are cold and yet the reason Dieter shivers isn’t because of that. It’s from the tingling, the way that his hair raises on the back of his neck and his cock starts to harden. He’s kissing a ghost and he likes it.

“Impossible…” Yet it’s undeniable. It happened. You both experienced it. A living man and the ghost of a woman long dead, sharing a kiss.

“Again.” Dieter demands, taking a step closer to you and sliding his hand down to your waist. “I want another kiss.”

There shouldn’t be any way in hell this is possible, especially with him now touching your robe instead of your skin, but you can feel him. The breadth of his hand on your back, his chest presses against yours, hot breath fanning over your face and the hardness against your hip. It’s all real. “Happily.” You hear yourself groan out, diving back into another impossible kiss.

This time there is tongue. Making him groan into your spiritual mouth and tighten his hold on you. Unable to believe this is happening and not another hallucination, he pulls back. “Pinch me.” He demands. “Scratch me, something.”

It should surprise no one that the shade of deep red on your lips matches your nails, and even though your eyebrows pinch with the same disbelief and confusion as his, you rake your nails down his forearm and gasp when they leave behind a trail of equally red marks in their wake. “How?” Is all you can ask, knowing that neither of you has an answer.

“I don’t know, but goddamn that felt good.” Dieter moans quietly. He slides his hand up, cupping a breast and pinching your nipple through the silken material of your dressing gown.

The gasp you let out shouldn’t be possible either, but the fact that you seem to be solid under his touch and him solid to yours is exquisite. Coupling that with an arousal like you haven’t felt in almost a century and you’re dragging him back to you by the fabric of his shirt, willing to live in this miracle for as long as it lasts. To feel alive again.

Making out with a ghost isn’t something that he could have imagined when he arrived at his new house, but he’s enjoying it. Backing you up, he presses you to the wall as he continues to kiss you.

It pulls another gasp from you, shocked when you don't instantly evaporate through the wall like normal. Somehow – some way – in touching and being touched by him, you are solid again. You can swear you almost feel your heart beating. Racing out of time as you start to pull at his clothing and he blindly attempts to untie the sash holding your robe in place.

“What the fuck?” Dieter hisses, breaking away from the kiss to look down at the knot on your robe. “Who the fuck tied this?”

"I did." But now, in retrospect, you huff about it along with him. "To discourage my louse of a husband."

“Fuck.” He grunts, shaking his head. “We need– fuck, the bedroom, we need to go to the bedroom.”

"Afraid to let go–" You admit, fingers still tangled in his shirt as you both pant for breath. To pant is such an exquisite sensation that you cannot possibly describe it and you must look positively ecstatic in the moment.

“Then don’t.” Dieter chuckles, deciding that he will be putting the weight training for his last film to good use when he pulls up your dressing gown and grabs your thighs to lift you up. “Fuck, you feel heavy for a ghost.” He grunts as he picks you up.

"Rude." A single swat at his chest is nothing, and you rope your arms around his shoulders to press hot kisses along the column of his neck while he moves down the hall.

Dieter groans, hands cupping your ass he stumbles towards his new bedroom. Trying to remember the way when half the blood meant for his brain is operating his cock. Realizing that you are no longer cold, but almost scorching hot in his arms.

"Your left! Not my left!" You mumble against his skin, giggling and trying to give him directions when you refuse to detach yourself from kissing any part of him that you can manage.

“Fuck. Fucking new/old house.” He grunts. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. You know that? I bet you had all your co-stars wanting to fuck you.”

"A few of them did." His fingers digging into your ass brush perilously close to your pussy and you moan. "But you've fucked some of yours, too, sugar."

“Yes.” He groans, pulling you against his cock. “Fucked them, ate them out, sucked them off. Whatever we felt like doing.”

"Bet you want to add me to that list right about now, don't you, sugar?" The nickname has stuck, and you've decided you like it. Leaning back in his arms and finding both your body and clothing have returned entirely to the corporeal plane, your eyes find his with the same fire he is feeling now. "I can feel how much you want me."

"Fuck, do I want you." He groans, unable to believe that he's ever wanted someone this bad, but how do you explain the attraction to a 100 year-old ghost? "I'm going to strip you down and bury my tongue and cock in your ghostly cunt. See what filling it with my cum looks like." At least here, he's almost certain there's zero chance of catching something or a pregnancy scandal.

As soon as he sets you down on the bed he’s diving into it after you, covering your body with his and drowning in kisses that make your head spin as you tug at the knot you tied in your robe. It is amazing how your skin has warmed up. Gone from being a muted color to technicolor. Like you are being brought to life by his touch. His mouth drags over your shoulder when the silk slips down and he bites. Chuckling in absolute delight when he leaves behind imprints on your skin.

With your head tossed back on the blankets you revel in a moan, looking up at him with eyes that feel hazy but have not seen this clearly in years. “If we only get tonight, let’s make the most of it. Sound good, sugar?”

“Absolutely.” He moans in agreement, ecstatic that you seem to be on the same wavelength as he is. Maybe that’s why this is happening. Your spirit is touching his. “I’ve never eaten haunted pussy before.” He jokes as he kisses down your body and pulls the gown down over one breast to latch onto it.

“Can’t say that again passed tonight.” You chuckle, gasping at the searing heat and eager grasping of his mouth on your flesh. It is electric in a way you have never been able to describe and adds to the incredible miracle that is tonight. “Good thing about being dead is that the pussy stayed shaved.”

“Very good thing.” He mouths from around your breast, hands pulling open the dressing gown when you finally get the sash untied.

The last time you felt a breeze on your skin was so long ago that you moan at it, back arching into him as he exposes your body to the bright electric lights and air from the open window. The fingers of one hand are in his curly hair and your other is pulling at his shirt, wanting him as bare as you are for everything that is to come.

He’s reluctant to let you go, but he has to. Has to hurry to pull his clothes off so he can have the wildest encounter that he could probably never even talk about.

Soft and strong is always how you’ve liked your men, and the corded muscles in his arms and back — when you catch a glimpse — that give way to a soft middle and full cheeks are just your type. When he’s entirely bare and pushing your silk robe away from your body with every ounce of concentration he has, you instinctively spread your legs wide for him to take his place between them.

“Fuck, I’ve never – fuck.” He groans, knowing that you will understand what he’s meaning. It’s not like you’ve done this either from what you’ve told him. Kissing and nipping down your body, it’s interesting to hear you moan at the sensation. “Here goes.” His eyes flick up to your face before he dives into your cunt.

The moan you let out is deep and unbridled, as earnest as you are eager to watch every single moment. You lean up on one elbow to prop yourself up, raking the fingers of your other hand through his hair to get yourself the best view possible. He’s gloriously messy — enthusiasm over technique — and it makes it all the more hedonistic to moan and sigh at the sensations you know are coming from the deepest depths of desire.

You feel real, you taste real. There’s nothing about this that would indicate that there’s nothing beyond a gorgeous, horny woman in his bed and Dieter is here for it. Moaning into your damp folds as he tries to find which flick of his tongue drives you wild.

Everything feels good, and if you weren’t always a ‘the deeper the better’ kind of girl in life, you certainly are in your afterlife. Simultaneously too much and not enough, the not enough side is winning a little more every second. Dieter pushes your thighs wider with his shoulders and shoves a hand up, desperate to feel himself deep inside you, even if it’s just his fingers. Wanting to see how high pitched your breathy moans can get.

"Fuck–fuck–right there, baby. Oh god–" When he finds that perfect place it has your hips rolling and your back arching off the bed, chasing every pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue. The sensations are divine combined with your own hand pinching and pulling your nipples to add another lick of sharp pleasure to the symphony. Even touching yourself feels amazing after so long with nothing at all.

Dieter groans, soaking up the praise, the moans. Doubling down and flicking his tongue even faster as his jaw works open and closed. Despite being dead, your cunt is dripping for him, coating his fingers in slick that makes it easier to push them deeper, curl them up more as he works you open.

Rambling praise takes over, your mind finding a measure of ecstasy in the ability in the simple fact that he can hear you while he is feasting on your pussy and fucking his fingers as deep inside you as they will go. It's only when your scrambled, breathy monologue starts to stutter and break that he knows how close you are – that, and the tight grip you have on his curls as you start to shake beneath him.

Panting, he grinds his hard cock into the mattress. Moaning as you tug on his hair, making his scalp burn and continuing to affirm that this is not a dream. Curling his fingers up one last time and sucking your clit into his mouth as your body bows up underneath his touch. The moment that snaps the thread of tension in your body is when the fingernails of his free hand bite into your thigh at the same point he curls the fingers of his other hand and barely scrapes his teeth along your swollen clit. The force of all three sensations makes your vision go white, and for the first time since all of this began, your eyes fall blissfully shut while your body shakes with the force of your orgasm.

He feels the way your entire body relaxes, slumping down into the bed. Humming to himself as he slowly works you through that blissful high. Keeping his fingers buried inside you as his tongue licks up every drop of your pleasure.

"Hell in a handbasket." Sighing out, you soothe your fingers against his scalp and grin down at him when he licks the last drop of cum from your cunt. "Get up here, sugar. Let me ride you."

“You want to ride?” His head pops up in surprise. He had expected you to want to be treated after so long, but he can’t deny the idea of a ghost riding his cock is appealing.

“Not very fair to make you do all the work, handsome.” Your smile is lopsided instead of pointed now, lazily drawn across your mouth like the human iteration of a contented house cat. “And I wouldn’t want to be rude to my new house guest.”

“Aren’t you technically my guest?” He lets you pull him up and roll him over onto his back. “Since it’s my house now?”

“Semantics.” Once he is on his back, you pin him down with one knee on either side of his thighs and wrap one hand around his cock to pump his length a few times experimentally. The precum beaded at the top is pearlescent and musky, the scent of sex from your own climax filling your nostrils and giving you the thrill of yet another sense coming back to life.

“Oh shit.” He grunts out, twitching in your hand. “I– fucking hell, please, please, put your mouth on me.”

“Ooo, he begs.” It’s a delightful discovery, and you obligingly bend over to kitten lick the tip of his cock just to see how beautifully he’ll groan.

Dieter is a whiny, spoiled little bastard who is given everything he wants because that’s how you treat celebrities, but he will beg. He will beg for anything and everything in bed. Slightly more submissive than most people expect. He moans your name loudly and closes his eyes as his hips rock up.

“Watch, sugar.” Something about it, the magical quality perhaps or what feels like literal magic, makes you want to keep him in this bubble with you. This state of hyper awareness. Your mouth hovers over the tip of his cock and you give it a long kick to get his attention. “You’re gonna watch me just like I watched you.”

Dieter whimpers, opening his eyes obediently. As soon as he sees the length of his cock disappear down your spectorly throat, he moans, twisting his fingers into the sheets under him. “Fuck, fuck, I’m getting my dick sucked by the hottest fucking ghost I’ve ever seen.” The fact that you’re the only ghost he’s seen is a moot point.

You chuckle low, deep in your throat, and it vibrates around his girthy length as you start to bob your head deliberately. Slowly. Wanting to savor every second of this for as long as it lasts. If you didn’t have a mouth full of him you’d be teasing him about the other ghosts he’s seen to compare you to, but you just don’t care. Not right now. Not with him at your mercy.

"Holy shit." He hisses, moaning loudly. "You're so good. Did you just– fuck, spend the last hundred years practicing on a ghost banana?"

It makes you chuckle again, and instead of answering you take him that much deeper. If he thinks you were showing off before? Just wait.

His toes curl, scrunching his feet up as you apparently have every intent of sucking his soul out through his dick. Could he die from a blowjob? It seems possible. “Fuck, baby doll.”

He wanted your mouth so he’s going to get every benefit of your focus right up until he can’t stand it any longer. He throbs against your swirling tongue, twitching in your mouth and against your fingertips where you are stroking the last few inches of his length that don’t easily fit in your mouth — there’s no way you’re ruining your vacation from ghost-hood by accidentally choking on a cock.

"Fuck, do you swallow?" Dieter moans. "You should swallow, I want– oh fuck." You keep sucking, pulling him closer every heartbeat until his vision blacks out, the hoarse cry ripping out of his throat.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum jettisons down your throat as his body bares down on itself, muscles tightening and extremities curling. The man is a geyser and every time he pumps more cum into your willing, waiting mouth you groan loudly and swallow around him. The feeling of being truly alive is not one that you are going to take for granted tonight and he is making it all the more memorable by just giving in to those most basic of human needs. There is nothing sexier than a person who has completely given themself over to the feeling of pleasure, and by the time you lift your head from Dieter’s cock, he has absolutely done that.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" Dieter yelps the last curse, feeling like you are sucking so hard it's to the point that it hurts, keeping him hard. He must have snorted that batch of coke that he had mixed viagra in, because he normally is a one and done for at least an hour kind of guy.

When he doesn’t soften at all after cumming your throat in cum, you pull off of him with one raised eyebrow and smirk. “You still alive there, sugar? Can’t have both of us dying in this house.”

He pants out a laugh and manages to lift his head to look down at where you are grinning up at him, your hand still wrapped around his hard cock. "Not dead. More alive than I've ever been."

“That makes two of us.” Giving his cock another few strokes, you shift forward and comb your fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “You want more, handsome?”

“Want everything.” He groans quietly. “You want to ride me, or you want me to fuck you?”

“Want everything.” You echo him with a sly grin and shift forward. “I’m gonna ride you to the edge and then you’re going to fuck me as hard as you can. Got it, sugar?”

"Fuck, I didn't know people were so fucking dirty back then." He groans, twitching against his stomach as you drag your wet cunt over him. "I think I would like it back then."

“The Kama Sutra is hundreds of years old,” you remind him with a throaty chuckle. “So is pornography and promiscuity.” Positioning yourself over his cock, you start to sink down slowly and sigh out in absolute bliss. “Humans have always loved to fuck.”

“Ghosts too, apparently.” He moans, grabbing onto your very solid hips as you settle down on his cock. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Least ghostly I’ve been in ages.” It’s also the first time since death you’ve experienced something as human as being aroused and it’s entirely liberating. “Maybe this thick cock is magic.”

He starts to giggle out of a groan when you clench around him. "Magic stick." He grunts, rocking his hips up. "It attracts allll the ghostly nymphos." He jokes, sliding his hand down to press against your clit.

“They can line — oh, baby — up.” You let your head drop back but your eyes are still open, arms raised up to let your tits bounce as you start to ride him in earnest.

He's never had someone ride him so fucking enthusiastically. It might be because it's the first time you've been able to feel in a hundred years, but he will take what he can get. Unable to fucking believe that this is happening, although the pressure around his dick and the way the bed creaks and groans proves that it's real.

The slight change in the angle of his hips when he plants his feet on the mattress has you crying out again and nearly growling. “That’s it, sugar.” And “Oh Fuck!” And “More, baby.” Echo through the room with the slap of skin on skin. The volume seems to rise along with the pleasure you’re both receiving, so it is nothing short of a beautiful noise the more you ride him.

Breaking in the new bed in his new house is an experience he could never, ever top. His hands slide from your hips up to the headboard and he wraps his fingers around the scrolled metal. Hanging on and using it as leverage to thrust up into you harder.

He propels you forward, losing your balance slightly so that you end up having to brace yourself with both hands on his chest and your tits bouncing in his face, but you really don't think that either of you minds. Instead, your fingertips instinctively dig into his chest, biting half-moon marks into his skin. Leaning forward changes the angle of his thrusts, letting him strike against entirely different places inside you, and you whimper softly without even realizing it when he scrubs against that perfect spot inside you to make you see stars.

“Right there?” His pants, recognizing the glazed look on your face. “Yeah, fuck, that’s the spot.” Despite the drugs that are pumping through his system, or perhaps because of it, he is attuned to the way you react.

"Right there." It has you breathless, how good it feels and how solid and real the feeling is.

"Holy shit." The feeling of you around him has him rolling his eyes back, your cunt even better than your mouth if possible. "Want to see you cum."

It certainly won't take long, not with the way his cock is shredding up inside you, and your previously loud moans are quickly being replaced with high pitched pants the closer you get to your own climax. Having the breath fucked out of you is such a stark difference from the existence you've been leading for the last many decades and it's such a welcome change. It takes barely another minute – maybe two – before you're sobbing out filthy praise and clenching down on his cock to wrench every last drop of pleasure from the moment that you can.

There's nothing sexier than a woman cumming, but you? You take his breath away. Steal it from his very lungs as your lusty sobs reverberates through him. Taking control and rocking up into you, working you through the most intense orgasm of your existence.

“Fuck.” Breathed out shakily as you let yourself fall down to his chest, your fingers comb through his curls and tug on the strands sharply as you’ve found that he likes.

He moans quietly, twitching inside you and humming as he lets go of the bed to wrap his arms around you to roll you under him. Eager to find his own release again and see how it looks dripping out of your cunt.

“That’s it, sugar.” Sprawled out on your back underneath him, you wrap your legs around his waist and tangle your hands in his sheets. “Take what you need.”

Dieter is normally not aggressive but there is something about your tone, your words, that spurs him on. Setting his jaw, Dieter starts to rock into you, keeping his pace harsh. Thrusting deep and moaning when you roll your hips.

Unconsciously mirroring him from just moments ago, you reach above your head and grasp the bars of your headboard. Every time he thrusts into you he shakes the whole frame, bouncing your tits and his curls and everything around you. The bed creaks and threatens to give but you know it won't – this one single piece of furniture is as sturdy as the whole house. It was made for you to fuck in.

"Fuck baby, fuck." Dieter growls, jack hammering his hips as he fills you again and again. Unable to brace his body above yours any more and dropping down to his elbows. He can't believe that he is still going, but he can't stop. He won't stop.

As much he wants to give or take, you are here for every second of it. With his head buried in your neck and the rhythm of his hips starting to stutter, your moan and whimpers are a symphony mixed with his own.

It flashes through his mind that this is some sort of sick hoax, that you are and have always been real, but he can’t worry about that right this second. The second that his mind goes blank to everything but his body’s needs and he thrusts deep, slamming his hips forward and groaning your name as a prayer.

“That’s it, sugar,” you croon again, this time cradling him close as rope after rope of hot cum fills you to the brim.

“Oh God.” Dieter pants, snuggling deeper and not sure if or when you might disappear, so he holds on tight.

“Hardly.” Your typical, throaty giggle rides through your body and you stroke his back gently. “But I’ll take the praise if that’s the mood you’re in.”

“Hmmmm.” He hums and shifts so he is not weighing you down, rolling to his side and bringing you with him. “I’ll give it.” He murmurs, suddenly sleepy after the vigorous sex and starting to come down from his high. “Stay.” He mumbles quietly, rubbing your back this time.

“You’re in my house, remember?” This time your laugh is a little less indulgent, tinged with worry as you wonder how much longer you’ll be able to feel him. Speak to him. Have him see you. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s right.” He smiles, turning his head and pressing his lips to your sweat damp hair. “But this is a spirit friendly bed.”

“I hope so,” you murmur, watching as he snuggles in next to you and lets his eyes drift close with a sigh. “I truly hope so, sugar.”

******

Dieter opens his eyes, slowly peeling them apart and blinking to try to get rid of the gritty feeling. “Baby doll?” His voice is rough with sleep and he had expected you to be weighing him down. “Where are you?” For a moment, for a split second he had thought he dreamed it. His gaze finding its way to the picture on the wall that he hadn’t noticed last night. A portrait of a woman, of you, gorgeously sprawled on a chaise with a sultry smile and ruby red lips.

He is almost convinced that the best night of his life was a figment of his imagination as he moves. Until it catches his eye. Red. More specifically, red lips. The sight of kisses scattered over his body and down under the sheet. Making him lift them to see lipstick wrapped around his cock, hard this morning and it makes him grin.

It hadn’t been a dream.

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #Dieter Bravo x f!reader #ghost reader #The Bubble #Spooktober #sexy and spooky #haunted sex #drug use

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