#she wears the collars on her horns to stop anyone from trying to calm her down

[kabutoden]

i look at you and my eyes are so so so wet like with tears tears of pure emotion and extend out my closed fist and then I open up my hand and you see her. my troll oc. the greatest oc. from 2013. I brought her back and redesigned her and im insane about her again. i begin sobbing on the ground. she’s so small. itty bitty……….

#this is melosa she is everything to me #weeping crying sobbing oh my god look at her awwwww AWWWUGHHH WEEHEHHH #sorry for not answering asks I was drawing this and buying some little bug guys who really rule. #id like to answer them soon im just a little burnt out #yeah she has an ankle monitor and hidden shock collar… little guy gets into a lot of trouble. #she’s the first jadeblooded cicada on her colony so they haven’t culled her for her antics. #the cicadas are essential to communicating with the mother grub #however by sabotage/accident she was given to a lusus for a more normal jadeblood and the nest parasite process went wrong #leading to her being rejected by her lusus : ( <im sooo edgy. #she spent a good deal of her time as a pretty young wriggler wandering around stealing from other trolls in the complex. the youngest troll #are raised in the interior layer of the planet. #she’s always been a rambler. she’s in the WALLS. she managed to break into somewhere super secret she wasn’t supposed to which got #The tracking device stuck on her. if she gets into areas she’s not supposed to be the collar might shock her. #she’s pretty miffed about the whole thing!! it doesn’t help with her exsisting issues with aggression #she likes making people mad and making people fight. just an angry wrath filled little guy #she wears the collars on her horns to stop anyone from trying to calm her down #bugstuck #buggy trolls #homestuck #homestuck oc #fantroll

[sarcastich]

Crown Made Of Barbwire

Everyone got their wings, sooner or later.

Feathers of every color, size, variation.

They start as two little bumps on your back, itching like a growing tooth, around the same time you hit puberty. A bit earlier for girls, a bit later for boys. They grow over the course of your teenage years, and stop once all their feathers have reached their full size.

Some people could fly with their wings, some couldn’t. Most people’s wings were two meters on each side when they were outstretched.

Peter’s wings had only taken two years to grow fully, and were beautiful, pure-white angel wings.

He’d never seen anyone with wings like his. All the other white wings were more like snow owls, speckled with browns and grays, or had underlying colors that gave the top feathers a tint.

He couldn’t quite fly with them, but they were perfect for gliding. He’d scale the tallest buildings in his area, and get a running jump off of them, plummeting for a moment before he got pulled up and flew around the neighborhood until his wings got tired. Of course, you couldn’t just fly anywhere whenever you wanted to. You needed permits, licenses, there were laws to uphold. Most people preferred staying on the ground, anyway.

But not everyone got to keep their feathered wings.

Peter had always heard stories of the burnt ones.

His aunt used it as a reason for him to be good, or when his friends were yelling about seeing criminals they’d allegedly seen out ‘n about.

“-Eat your greens or your wings will burn right off, Pete”

“-I’m telling you, man! His wings were all black and torn up, I’m not kidding!”

They were the result of corruption, evil, immorality, and sin. Once soft feathers scorched, charred, and turned into soot. They blackened and burned away, turning into a shadow of their past wonder, skeletal and black.

Peter had never imagined that one day he’d be standing at the Four Seasons, shooting photos for The Bugle, trying to get a good shot of the Tony Stark.

Peter was among the crowd of journalists and other photographers, rapidly clicking away, aiming his camera lens at Stark. Reporters were yelling out questions, waving wired microphones and recorders over the barrier between them and the walkway Tony Stark was walking down.

There was something about his wings that set them apart from a normal burnt set. Most CEOs, businessmen or just rich, successful, famous people had burnt wings.

But Tony Stark’s weren’t just burnt.

They had horns cascading from the tips to the forearms. The burning away of the pure white feathers had revealed bat-like structures. Stark had no idea why, or how. That was just how they were. Or so he’d told the public.

Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Stark focused on him, looking into his camera and flashing a well-practiced smile. Peter fumbled for a moment before he looked through the viewfinder and took several photos.

And again, he’d never imagined that he’d get a personal request for a photoshoot, by the Tony Stark.

He packed his camera bag with shaky hands, taking extra drives and lenses.

His boss had pulled him aside earlier that morning, and told him that Stark had reached out and asked for Mr. Parker to be the one present and in charge of the interview’s photos. Peter, of course, had accepted in a second. He’d be an idiot to decline. Tony Stark’s picture on his portfolio? What kind of artist would he be if he said no?

Peter stepped out of the glass lobby of The Bugle offices half an hour later and looked up from his phone, his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a deep red sweater over a white collared shirt, the front tucked into his soft beige dress pants. He hoped his outfit wasn’t too casual for the occasion, but he didn’t really have time to change anyway.

Just as he looked away from the screen, a sleek black car pulled up in front of him. The driver’s window rolled down.

“Peter Parker?” the driver, a roundish man, asked.

“Y-yeah- yes!”

The man jerked his head towards the back seat door.

“Get in, kid.”

Peter did as told, nervously sliding into the car, barely moving when he sat on the leather seat, hugging his bag.

“Wh- Where’re we going-?” His voice came out a lot squeakier than he’d meant for it to.

“Stark Industries Tower, where else?”

Almost an hour later, the car stopped in front of the blue, glass building. The driver got out and opened Peter’s door. He hadn’t moved since he’d gotten in.

Getting out of the car and almost forgetting his bag, he mumbled, most of his attention drawn by the tall tower.

“Thank you- uh, mister- um-”

“Hogan. Happy Hogan.”

“Yes! Thanks!”

With a nod, he closed the car door and got back in, driving off. Peter took a deep breath, held his bag properly again and started towards the building.

After a short chat with one of the three receptionists, he was led to an elevator a bit farther away from the general area of the entry. He and a shorter woman entered the lift. Judging from her formal attire, Peter guessed she was an assistant. Her wings were far smaller than his own, made up of light blue feathers with streaks of royal blue. He kept his own wings contracted to offer her enough room in the small space.

“Friday, take us to the penthouse, and please let Mr. Stark know that Mr. Parker will be arriving shortly.”

Peter looked at her, confused until a soft tone went off and the elevator started its ascent.

She smiled at him before he let out a soft “Oh-” and averted his gaze.

With another soft tone, the lift stopped and she gestured for him to step out.

“Thanks-”, he started to say, but the elevator door was already closing behind him.

The elevator had opened to something like a living room area. Two sleek, white sofas were facing the rounded glass walls, with an ornate sculpture between them that looked like five giant bowls stacked on top of each other. Everything Peter could see was modern and minimal, with a white-gray aesthetic throughout the penthouse.

He looked around nervously, holding on to his bag by the shorter strap.

“Mr. Parker, welcome.”

Peter gasped and turned around with a jump, startled.

“M-Mr. Stark! Y-yes, hi, I’m Peter Parker, I-I’m here for the Bugle interview shoot?” He inwardly cringed at how he sounded, stuttering, his voice a lot higher than it usually was, clutching his bag for dear life.

Stark smirked at him. “I know, kid, calm down.” He gestured towards the sofas. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Peter stuttered out a thank you, and sat down at the far end of one. He kept his wings close to his body, feeling like he was taking up too much space, still hugging his bag to his chest. He looked up shyly, taking Stark in properly. His wings were relaxed as he walked to the sofa facing Peter, sitting down comfortably.

“Are you afraid of me, Mr. Parker?”

“N-No sir. I mean, you’ve obviously done s-some- uh-.. Not so great things- but uhm- You’re an icon, people admire you-”

“Would you like anything to drink?” Stark cut him off, motioning to the minibar that had very literally risen from the ground.

Peter stuttered out, “Oh- N-No, thank you, I can’t drink on the job-”

Stark poured himself two fingers of whiskey in a lowball glass, without ice, and gently pushed down the top of the minibar, and it reclined back into the floor, looking like another dark grey ceramic tile.

He took a sip, eyes trained on Peter.

Peter cleared his throat, relaxing a bit. “So, where d’you think would be best for the uhm- the shots-?”

They talked about light placement, the conversation somehow dragging over to technology and science, Peter engaging a lot more, and forgetting his nervousness eventually.

After about an hour, they got up, Peter set up his camera, and took his photos.

A behind-shot of Tony Stark with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, wings stretched out behind him. A side profile, while buttoning his suit, and various other shots.

Peter was on his knees, getting a photo of one of Tony Stark’s iconic shades on a small table, the city line stretching out behind it.

Stark had excused himself to take a call, and told Peter to take photos of anything that he wanted. Peter didn’t hear him step back into the room, too focused on trying to set his camera’s shutter speed. Stark quietly took long strides to him, stepping in front of the table.

“Oh, Mr. Stark-! I just wanted to take a shot of the glasses, they’re-”

He stammered into silence as Mr. Stark softly ran the back of his finger along his cheek. He held it under Peter’s chin, tilting his head up. Peter was blushing furiously, but couldn't make himself look away.

“Let me see your wings, angel.”

Three months later, Peter’s life had changed drastically.

He was decked out in the latest designer clothes, a skinny white Etro strap top to match his wings, baby blue Dolce & Gabbana shaded glasses perched on this nose, sitting by a marbled kitchen counter, a Valentino white leather clutch bag resting on it, and inspecting his manicured nails.

A man in an obsidian black suit entered the room, buttoning his jacket and running a hand through his hair, smirking.

“Ready, angel?”

Peter looked up, a cheeky smile on his lips. Wings fluttering, he slid off his high stool and made his way to him. He straightened Tony’s tie and pecked his nose.

“Yes, daddy.”

He leaned away, but Tony let out a growl, grabbing Peter by his waist and pulling him flush against his body.

Peter gasped, “You’ll ruin my outfit!”

“Angel, I bought it.”

Peter pouted, “Well yeah, but you gave it to me”

“I’ll buy you a new one, you spoilt brat.”

Peter giggled and cupped Tony’s face, looking into his eyes and leaning into his touch. “Y’know I love you, Tones.”

They kissed softly, Tony not letting go of his vice grip on Peter’s waist.

“Tony, we’re gonna be late... I want you to check the set up one last time-”

“Angel, I had you set things up. I trust you.”

Earlier that day, Peter had gone to the hotel’s restaurant on the top floor, under a different name and reservation. He’d checked the entire place for wires, mics, or anything that could put them in any sort of bad situation. He checked exit points, weak spots, and all the cameras. He’d been thorough.

He had taped a Glock 9 mm handgun underneath their side of the table, checking repeatedly to make sure it was fully loaded and had its safety off.

Peter grumbled a bit, before letting go of Tony, dramatically sighing, rolling his eyes and picking up his handbag from the counter.

“Well, we should get going anyway.”

Tony shot him a wolfish grin before grabbing his wrist and pulling him back.

“You missed something, i mio angelo.”

He tilted his head to the counter, a navy blue felt box sitting on it now. Peter was surprised. He knew it was a jewelry box, but he hadn’t asked for anything, and even though Tony loved showering him with gifts, there was usually some silly occasion he used as an excuse for it.

He curiously looked at the box, wondering what it was. Something beautiful, no doubt.

“Go on then, Angel, it’s yours.”

Peter stepped back up to the counter and set down his bag on the nearest stool. He pulled the box closer to himself before glancing at Tony, who was smirking at him, arms crossed against his chest.

He slowly opened it, keeping his eyes on Tony until the lid was completely vertical.

His eyes flicked down to the box, and he took in a sharp gasp, hands flying to cover his mouth. “Tony, you didn’t!”

Tony’s smirk grew into a full grin again as Peter rushed around the counter to kiss him, cradling the box in his arms, even though he could easily just hold it in one hand.

“Of course I did, mia carissimo.”

Tony took the box from Peter’s hands, setting it down on the counter. He pulled out the choker he’d gotten for his princess, with Round Brilliant cut, D rate diamonds in the center of Cushion cut diamonds arranged like figure eights.

Peter lightly grazed his own neck with his fingertips, already feeling the weight on his neck, even though he hadn’t touched the jewels yet. Tony held up the necklace.

“May I have the honor?”

Peter silently turned his back to Tony, holding his head high. Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s bare neck and gently ran his hand through Peter’s feathers, making him shudder before placing the necklace on his neck and fastening the tiny clasp. It didn’t have a chain at the end, it had a specific size. Peter’s size.

Half an hour later, Tony held the passenger door of his Audi R8 Spyder open and led Peter out, Peter giving him his hand like a princess, to the entry of the hotel. There was no swarming press, just the coming and going of guests of the hotel.

Handing his keys over to a valet, Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s hand.

“Relax, angel.”

They walked into the lobby hand in hand, people stopping to stare at them every few feet. Even if they didn’t know who Tony Stark was, they’d stop to look at the man with the bat wings and the boy who looked like an angel.

They didn’t stop at the reception, they walked straight to the private elevator that led to the restaurant, Tony’s security detail already armed and ready at the top. Once they got there and had been patted down and checked for weapons by Osborn’s security, Tony walked them over to their table.

It overlooked the city skyline, winking lights dotting the land underneath them. He pulled out a chair for Peter, getting a soft smile in return. Sitting in the chair next to him, he held his hand again. Peter shot him a worried look.

Peter kept his voice low, “I thought you said he’d be here on time?”

“Princess, he’s only five minutes late. His detail’s here, he’ll be here, too.”

Peter toyed with the table’s centerpiece while they waited. After about ten minutes, Tony abruptly got up, rebuttoning his suit.

“C’mon bambino, we’re leaving.”

Before Peter could get up, there was a short yell and a loud muffled thump from the elevator.

The glass wall beside their table shattered, rapid shots taking out most of the security team. Tony yanked Peter down by his suit collar, looking out at the building in front to try and see the snipes. The elevator doors ominously opened, a man in black armour stepping out. His wings were plated with metal.

It all happened in the span of two seconds.

He shot the remaining guards before training his gun on Tony. Before he could get a word out, Peter pulled the gun he’d hidden earlier. In an instant, he cocked it and aimed for the man’s head.

The assassin had been a split second too late in aiming at Peter.

Peter fired.

The shooter fell to the floor, dead.

Peter dropped the gun, falling to his knees, a sudden hiss sounding behind him.

His wings had burst into flames.

He yelled out, pain blooming in his wings and along his back. Tears sprung from his eyes and ran down his face, ash falling around him, smoke rising behind him as Tony rushed to his knees beside him, holding him as he cried into Tony’s shoulder, his agonized screams muffled.

In the matter of minutes, his angelic wings were gone.

#starker #starker fic #starker moodboard #wings au #hope yall like it #gonna go cry now #reposting bc im a bit of an idiot

[kaz11283]

Of Course I'm Here

Characters: Come on you know by now how this goes (Loki x you) (Team x you, platonic)

Warnings: None. And really if you ever see anything that I might need to able as a warning please let me know... I'm the person who forgets there are people out there that get offened by the word F*** if that is an exapmle of anything.

Summary: Mid battle and the avengers keep looking for an answer as to why the God of Lies hasnt showed up yet. Of course you have no idea but at least he proves them all wrong.

ANNOUNCEMENT TIME: hey guys Im back, I know it hasnt been long but I also know I havent been posting every single day like I was, i got into a weird little funk where I didnt want to do anything, I was just feeling completly drained, and I felt bad because I have my little and I didnt even want to play with her because I have just been so TIRED, but I'm feeling better. Work has been kicking my ass here lately and ive been working over 50 hours a week so ive literally been coming in, eatting / feeding the little, getting us ready for bed, and crashing as soon as she falls asleep. But im here now. I will probably be more active on weekends than during the week because I have more time to spend working on stuff but I will be posting also during the week just not daily. At least until after state comes. Thank you so much for the reblogs, likes, comments, follows, and messages please keep them coming! If you would like to be tagged please ask or message, and requests are open. Love you guys so much! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~

"Y/N, BACK UP I NEED BACK UP! EYES IN THE SKY!" Tony yelled from above, you and Clint stood back to back on a roof top shooting as many bad guys as you could. Clint took aim at another carrier, shooting at the engine causing the entire thing to blow up raining debris and hot metal around you.

"Damnit Clint! Farther away make sure they are farther away!" You yelled popping him on the head with an arrow before aiming it at the thing that was chasing Tony.

"Where is lover boy at? You.sent him the location right?" Nat asked into the com.

"Yes I sent him the location, no I dont know where hes at." You mocked.

"Did you send him the right location?" Sam asked.

"One time, one dam-"

"Language!" Steve chimed in causing everyone to groan. Gun shots where ringing all around you and you could here metal on metal paired with Hulk screams coming from another building over.

"Language." You mocked muting your com son that no one but Clint heard you. "I am a 26 year old woman, I think I'm old enough to cuss if I want." You drew back your bow and sent another arrow flying into another goon that had Nat trapped aginst a wall. She shot you a thumbs up before running off. You hit unmute on your com.

"Jesus, 26? Baby, you sure you don't need to be at a babysitter instead of on a building killing things?" He laughed.

"Dont worry Hawk, when we get done here I've already booked you a nice nursing home to be put into." You put your bow around you and stood on the edge of the building. "I need a better view." You looked round, the top of a taller building caught you eye. "There Hawk, we can cover a better radius from up there, get closer to the action."

"DOES ANYONE KNOW WHEN THE GODS ARE GOING TO BE HERE? WE NEED MORE HELP WERE GETTING TIRED AND OUT NUMBERED!" Tony came over the coms screaming.

"How do we get up there? Or do I even wanna know?" Hawk came to examin where you were talking about.

"Im jumping, you cant tell me that someone wont catch me." You shrug.

"GODS WHERE ARE TH- Y/N DONT YOU DARE JUMP!" Tony stopped and hovered right were you was standing.

"Then take us over there. We need higher ground, we cant cover everyone from down here." You crossed your arms.

"Where are the gods at y/n?" He asked again

"I. Dont. Know. Jesus you guys act like I'm suppose to be there keeper!" A simultaneous you are came from everone through the com causing you to roll your eyes. "Hes gonna be here I swear it! Now take me to the building or I jump. 1.....2....-" Tony grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and flew you to the building.

God these things were everywhere and you were starting to run out of arrows. After shooting another ship and causing it to blow you heard what was unmistakably pounding on the roof top door leading to where you currently was at.

"I have some univited guests about to join my party. Anyone available for some assistance?" You yanked out the two emerald green and silver daggars that your boyfriend had given you not long after you had started dating after throwing your bow around you.

"Buy some time kid, I'm on ground level right now but I can try to get up there as fast as possible." Bucky called over the com.

"Buy some time? Ok. I can do this. I work better from afar but a little hand to hand never hurt anyone, just easier to get stabbed this way." The first of the things busted through the door running straight at you. You jerked out of the way missing his staff by just a few inches. Quickly turning you flipped the dagger like Loki had showed you and stabbed him in his side causing him to fall to the ground before the next one tried to impale you.

"I have two daggers and they have freaking staffs! Back up! WHERE THE HELL AR-" you were interupted by static in the air and a bright light. The bitfrost had just opened up leaving to gods standing in front of you and taking out the remainder ofnthe bad guys. "HES HERE! I TOLD YOU GUYS THEY WERE COMING AND THEY'RE HERE." You pulled two extra coms from you pocket and gave them to Thor and Loki.

"Always a pleasure to battle beside you Lady y/n." Thor smiled takkng the com and putting it in his ear before taking off again.

Loki sauntered over to you and put his arm around you waist, you put the com in his ear as he rolled his eyes. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

"You got a new outfit." You smiled at him. God the way he looked in his battle clothe always did something to you, the horned helment was a plus.

"You like it." He smirked down at you pulling you closer.

"Your wearing your horns to." You reached up and brushed a peice if hair behind his ear.

"STOP. STOP NOW. WE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING AND ITS GROSS." Tony yelled causing you both to roll your eyes.

"Quick run down, bad guys everywhere, no end in sight, and I'm out of arrows pretty sure Hawk is too." Loki waved his hand over your quiver making more arrows appear.

"I see you had to use your daggers. I am sorry for not being here. Are you hurt anywhere?" He asked stepping away from you to examin you.

"Small cut on the side, nothing I havent dealt with before, Ill be fine. You go make sure Hawk is fully stocked up and help the others. I got a birds eye view of you right here." I leaned in kissing him one more time before smiling at him and pushing him away. He kissed his two finger before placimg them over his heart and you did the same, "always." You both said before he disappered.

You could hear Thor laughing at the chaos going on and Steve trying to direct the god of thunder on what to do. You had learned earlier to just let him do his own thing and he would be fine. Tony was still trying to micromanage everything when you heard Loki mumble something in an old language and his com cut out. You had figured it wouldnt have stayed on to long though but at least you had tried. It had calmed down up on your end so you decided to finally go back down to where Clint was at shooting an arrow with heavy duty rope you glided back down next to him to watch what was going on.

"Hello, earth to y/n." He snapped his fingers in front of your face. You had been to busy staring at Loki and that damn helmet. "I dont even understand why were friends." He rolled his eyes propping up on the ledge watching as the rest of the team secured the last of the bad guys.

"Because we both shoot arrows, because we are both the best in the team, or because we both know we are the best looking one on the team so we have to stick together." You laughed jumping up so you could sit on the ledge.

"The birds can come out of their nest now." Bucky called over the coms causing you both to sigh.

When you and Clint had reached the bottom you walked over to Thor theowing your arms around the big goof ball.

"You are amazing during battle as always." He beemed patting you on the shoulder.

"As always? Thor youve only fought with her twice." Steve said beside you.

"I had a week off. Went to Asguard, spent time with the boys. Someone had to keep them in line." You shrugged like it was no big deal.

"She was amazing!" Thor went on telling the story of the fight you had all gotten into.

"Mothers been asking about you by the way dear. Wants to know if you've decided to come stay for a while." Loki leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I think I'm leaning toward a yes. I can't stand being away from you, you had been gone forever this time." You reached for his hand as you both walked to the quinjet.

"I was making arrangements to have our room redone. I figured you would come with me." He gave you a knowing smirk as he reached up to take off his helmet.

"Leave the horns on. I have a suprise for you when we get home." You pulled his hand away from his head and smacked his butt.

"You are a little minx." He laughed chasing you into the jet while the rest of the team groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Even if you wasnt moving i would be kicking your ass out! I am so sick of the PDA between you two." Tony hollared after you.

"Leave them alone Tony, they are courting. Im just glad my brother is happy and not trying to stab me." Thor clapped Tony on the back.

~~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki avengers #loki daily #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #lokilaufeyson #loki one shot #loki (marvel) #loki imagine #loki masterlist #loki and thor

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker - Angel Fire

Tony is an Angel-Hunter, and Peter is...

Peter Parker is beautiful.

Then again, all angels are. Tony’s been following him for a couple of days now, his latest mark. He’s seventeen years old, one of the youngest Tony’s ever encountered, but really, that just makes him easier to kill. 

Not that there’s anyone around to teach him how to fight anyway. His mother is human, and Tony’s a good guy, so he’ll make sure she’s not home when he kills Peter. She’ll mourn, of course, which is a shame, because she isn’t his real mother. His real mother’s an angel- hopefully killed already- and now Peter’s here, pretending to be her child. Pretending he can feel real, genuine human emotions. Pretending like he doesn’t feed off the souls of others. 

Tony feels for her. 

So, he waits and watches and follows.

Peter doesn’t have many friends which doesn’t surprise him. Angels are horribly standoffish beings.

What does surprise him is that even as he follows Peter in every shadow, he never sees the boy feed. 

Well, he is a young angel. He doesn’t need as much as the older ones. 

Tony wonders how many humans this one has killed.

The perfect opportunity presents itself on a Saturday morning. The mother’s out of town, and Tony sneaks into the apartment by quietly busting the lock, his gun in his pocket, as the sun begins to peak over the horizon outside.

It’s nearly seven am. 

The apartment is still and warm when he enters, and he closes the door behind him silently. It’s painfully normal looking. Throw pillows on the couch, homework on the kitchen counter, left overs in the fridge. They’re struggling for money, that much he knows. At least the mother will only be feeding one after he’s done.

Right on cue, he hears Peter start to stir, so he presses himself behind the sagging armchair and the curtains, and watches.

Goddamn, he’s seen a lot of beautiful angels. But Peter Parker takes the cake. He watches as the boy ambles into the kitchen, rubbing one eye with his dainty fist. His skin is smooth and flawless, like a pearl, and his eyes are the warmest brown with flecks of honeyed gold. He’s wearing these skimpy little silk shorts; white with little painted dandelions, showing off those long legs and shapely thighs, and a flimsy button up sleep shirt that exposes the lovely sharp collar bones he has.

Goddamn. Such a shame. 

The boy potters around the kitchen, eyes still half-closed, yawning every so often, and his thick, hickory locks tumble into his eyes, and Tony levels his gun, and takes a deep breath.

It’s second nature now, to see the lavender glow that shines around angels. It’s like a fuzzy aura that hovers just over their skin, he sees it without trying. But the halo? That takes effort. A lot of mental strain. 

He draws on it now. He’ll need to see the halo. It’s the only way to kill an angel. A bullet will shatter it, and they’ll drop-

When he opens his eyes, he nearly drops his gun.

There’s no halo.

Above those brown curls, is nothing. Just air. Almost like a…

He steadies himself, and tries again. His head starts to ache with the strain, but still nothing. 

He can feel his fingers trembling. What the hell? How is this- how is this possible-

And then, he gapes, as he watches Peter dig his hands into a box of Lucky Charms and inhale them noisily. He crunches happily, letting out little moans of contentment and…

He’s eating. He’s eating- human food- with no one around to prove anything to- just for- just for-

For one, absurd moment, he wonders if he got it wrong. Maybe he’s been tailing the wrong person, but-

no. He can still see, clear as day, the lavender light that glows over Peter’s skin. The sheer beauty of him, the elegant slope of his neck, the long flutter of his eyelashes- unnaturally stunning. 

What is he? 

There’s a clatter, as cereal spills all over the floor, and Tony looks up to see honey-gold eyes staring at him.

Oh shit.

Peter screams, immediately bolting for the door, and Tony strides over, and grabs his arms.

“Please!” Peter cries, yanking ineffectually, tears blossoming like crystals, “please, please! I don’t- I don’t have anything, oh god-“

If Angels can’t feel, how is- how is Peter crying? How is he shaking like a leaf with fear so tangible Tony is crushed with guilt? 

But the lavender light- this boy is-

“Please,” Peter sobs, pulling harder, “please, I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, I swear-“

Tony can’t think. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t- 

He twirls the boy in his grip, and Peter startles, and Tony gets him in a sleeper hold.

Peter struggles, and then slumps.

Tony can’t breathe. He draws in deep, worried breaths. What the fuck. What the fuck is happening? 

No halo, there’s no- there’s no halo- he eats, he cries-

The dawn makes everything looks clean. The air is fresher, and birds are tweeting as they start to wake. The city is almost silent; the calm before the storm; the cacophony of car horns and exhaust pipes yet to come.

Tony carries Peter to his car without any problems at all.

Apart from when he gets there.

The front seat? The back seat? The boot?

He’s not sure. The Jeep is pretty high off the ground, and the back lights are doubly secured- no chance the kid could kick them out. 

But- if he’s not an angel, and Tony’s vision is just a little wrong, he doesn’t really want to put the kid in the trunk. 

Jesus, he tries not to feel the skin under his fingertips. Peter’s soft thighs are over one hand, his shoulders in the other as he carries him bridal style, and the slip of a thing is so light, so silky.

In the end, he picks up front.

He buckles the kid into the front seat and then zip ties his hands under the dash, before getting in. Peter’s limp body slumps against the window, and it looks like he’s dozing.

He’s a gorgeous sleeper. His lashes cast shadows against his sharp cheekbones as the sun moves farther up the sky, and his chest rises and falls languidly, like a princess in a story. 

Tony peels off into the road and curses himself as he does so. The mother will be back in two days- but she’ll know something’s off before then. When Peter doesn’t answer her calls. She’ll go to the police- there’ll be posters- missing persons.

This is sloppy. Tony doesn’t like sloppy. But he doesn’t know what to do. 

He could report to his boss. It’s a long drive up to Canada, but he could make it, he thinks. Hopefully. If the boy’s story doesn’t go national. 

His fingers are deathly tight around the steering wheel, and he tries to get ahold of himself. Glancing to the right, Peter’s breathing gently, and the sound soothes him, as dangerous as that is.

The lavender light still glows beautifully from his skin. 

Fuck. Tony exhales slowly, trying to get himself under control. Canada it is. 

***

The kid wakes up a few hours before Connecticut. 

He makes a soft noise, before he seems to remember everything, and he jerks desperately- letting out a whimper when the zip ties cut into his delicate wrists, and he spins to face Tony- eyes huge and petrified.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, yanking frantically, “please- oh god please-“

“Settle down, kid.” He warns, even as his stomach ties itself in knots. He better not be abducting a fucking innocent child. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Yet, he thinks uncomfortably. If the boy is an angel. But how would they even kill one without a halo?

“Why? Please,” he begs, “we don’t- we don’t have any money, please, my mom- she’ll-“ his breath becomes fast and shallow, “she’ll freak out, Sir- please-“

He’s tossing and turning in the passenger seat now, his wrists already marked red with how he’s trying to free himself, his gaze wild and manic like a trapped animal, as he watches the motorway whirl past. “Calm down,” Tony tries, keeping his voice low, “kid, calm down- stop- jeez, just stop wriggling!”

Peter screams, ear-piercingly loud, and Tony nearly swerves the car into oncoming traffic. 

“Shut the fuck up!” He snarls, and is immediately rewarded by silence.

He doesn’t look over for a while, heart pounding. Sweat is budding at his temples.

But when he does look, his heart breaks.

Peter’s got his knees drawn up to his chest, and his cheeks are red with tears- eyes glistening, and he’s muffling his sobs into his arms. 

It cuts Tony up. “Kid, please,” he says, more softly, reaching out- only for Peter to flinch away in fear. He’s shaking so bad Tony thinks he might burst.

Okay. This isn’t going to work.

He pulls over the next chance he gets, and parks the car. 

Peter doesn’t move. He’s still crying.

Tony rubs his face with his hands, feeling sick. The kid can’t be an angel. The fear and sadness is so strong as it rolls off him in waves Tony feels suffocated by it. He wants to let the kid go. Just drop him off here. But the lavender still hovers over his skin.

“Peter, listen.” He begins, but the boy only makes another choked off sob.

“You know my name.” He weeps, and Tony groans-

“Kid, kid, look at me. Seriously. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You were pointing a gun at me,” Peter wails, cringing into the window. Tony swears he can almost hear the frantic jack-rabbiting of the boy’s heart. 

“You’re not human, Peter.” Maybe the truth will do it. 

Peter squirms. “You’re crazy,” he whispers, looking like Tony’s a delusional kidnapper, gaze swinging to the window, desperately searching for help. 

It’s not an unfair assumption. “Peter, I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m an Angel-Hunter, okay? I kill angels. I was sent to kill you, but, you don’t have a halo.”

Peter looks at him for a long moment, before he hollers for help again and tugs at the dash so hard that the plastic creaks warningly. “Help! Help, please, somebody!”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. Thank god for his soundproof car. “Believe me or not, this is what’s gonna happen: I’m driving us to Quebec, that’s where my boss is. She’ll tell me whether or not you’re human, and if you are, you can go home, if you aren’t…” he shrugs, “I’m going to have to kill you.” How they’ll do that if the boy doesn’t have a halo, he still doesn’t know.

Peter seems to pause at that. He stops shaking so much. He looks at Tony tentatively. “If your boss says I’m human- you’ll let me go?”

“Probably reimburse you for your trouble,” Tony promises. “She’s very good like that.”

“Okay,” Peter whispers, nodding, even as his cheeks glisten with tears. “Okay, so-so- we just need to go there, and then you’ll- you’ll let me go?”

“If you’re human.”

Peter nibbles on his plush bottom lip, before he seems to sag into the seat. “Okay,” he whispers hoarsely, “let’s go to Quebec, then.”

Not that he has any say in the matter, but Tony doesn’t point that out. He doesn’t want the kid freaking out again. He just nods, and starts driving. 

*

Silence, as it turns out, is not Peter’s strong point.

The kid’s a babbler. Asks a ton of questions. If Tony were a real kidnapper, he’s not sure he’d have bothered keeping the boy this long. As it is, he answers tersely, and then flips the radio on as an excuse not to answer anymore.

Of course, it doesn’t deter the boy. 

“So, how long have you been angel hunting?” Peter asks over the thrum of a pop song.

Tony shrugs noncommittally. “Born into it. My dad was.”

“And-and what do angels do that’s so bad? Aren’t they meant to be, like- good?”

He snorts. Common misconception. “Not these ones. They look like people. But more beautiful. They feed on human souls. Drain the life out of someone and kill them. The death looks natural. It makes them hard to track.”

“Feed on human souls?” Peter repeats; horrified. “Oh. We didn’t learn that in Religious Studies.”

Tony almost cracks a smile. Damn, the kid’s a little cute. “There’s a lot you don’t learn at school, kid.”

“But- if they look just like humans, how do you catch one?”

“You have to train. Every human has the ability to see auras, but they have to harness it.”

“Auras?”

“A light that hovers over people. Humans have white, Angels have purple.”

Peter pauses. “You think I have purple?”

“I’ve been doing this for over twenty years, Peter. You do have purple.”

Peter looks down at his arms, and squints a little, before sighing. “Wouldn’t I know? If I was an Angel, I mean? I don’t kill people.”

“I know.” Tony frowns, “therein lies the problem.” Peter eats food. 

On cue, the boy’s stomach rumbles.

His huge eyes look at Tony hopefully, before they quickly dart away. But it’s been a bit of a morning, and he hasn’t eaten bar a handful of Lucky Charms, and Tony has technically kidnapped him, so he follows the route to the nearest drive-thru. 

Peter’s relaxed now, thankfully. Doesn’t seem so frightened. Seems desperately hopeful. He’s the optimistic sort, then. Awfully trusting, too. Naive. Innocent. It’s troubling.

“What do you want, kid?” he asks, as he pulls-up.

Peter vibrates with excitement. “A chicken wrap? If they- um have it?”

Tony rolls his eyes, and turns into the microphone- just before he does, he gives Peter a look. “You’re smarter than to cause a scene, right, Pete?”

Peter nods, pressing his lips together. He looks as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

Tony doesn’t want to, but he can’t risk it.

He takes his gun out, and sets it on his thigh. Peter’s eyes go wide, but he nods his understanding. 

Tony turns to the microphone. “I’ll have three chicken wraps, a cheese burger, a black coffee and…” he turns to look at Peter, sizing the boy up. He’s sweet. “and a double chocolate milkshake.”

Peter smiles so beautifully that Tony feels a small lurch of arousal. 

The thought is horrific. Not only is the kid seventeen, but he may not even be human. Tony shudders, and carefully doesn’t look at the boy as he rounds the corner, and gets to the window. The spotty teenager who hands over their food barely looks up, which Tony is grateful for. He doesn’t need anyone remembering they saw Peter.

He only has a day or so before he’ll have to get Peter to duck when they drive through busy areas. 

He hands over the wraps and the milkshake, one hand on the wheel, before he takes a bite of his own meal. 

Peter’s making contended little sounds beside him, opening the wrap carefully, making sure none of the foil falls on the floor, and biting.

His moan is pornographic, and Tony feels himself grow warm, and starts ahead resolutely. 

The kid devours two of his wraps, and leaves the third one, before starting on his milkshake. Which Tony now realises is a mistake. Even in his peripheral, he can see the way the kid’s lips purse around the straw, the hollow of his cheeks as he sucks- fuck. 

More significant than his arousal, though, is the fact that Peter can get nourishment from food. 

If Peter is an Angel, he’s an Angel who doesn’t kill humans. And if that’s the case- then- would he have to be killed at all? Even if he was-

There’s some shuffling beside him, and he turns to see Peter attempting in vain to get comfortable on the seat. The boy notices he’s watching, and then blushes. He’s got freckles dappled all over his nose. It’s irritatingly endearing. “Could you um, maybe, just tie my hands together? Not to, the car- I mean?”

Peter’s wrists are very sore. Tony doesn’t like the sight of them. He wants to help the kid out, but…he shakes his head. “Sorry, Pete. We’re not there yet.”

The boy nods, and then shuffles some more, trying to find a position that’s comfy.

Tony falls into the lull of driving. He keeps thinking. If the boy doesn’t kill, then he’s not a threat. And if he’s not a threat, Tony could just…let him go. But it’s not up to him. He needs to see Peggy. She’ll know what to do. He just…he rather hopes that killing the boy isn’t the way she’ll handle it, but again, not up to him. 

Maybe he should stop thinking of him as a boy. Because of the lavender light but- innocent until proven guilty, he supposes. 

When he looks over, Peter’s got his cheek smooshed into the dash, curls spilling out over the plastic, hunched over, and fast asleep. 

Tony smiles before he can catch himself. It can’t be comfortable, like that, but the kid’s clearly exhausted. Coming down from an adrenaline rush and some warm food will do that to you. Tony turns on the heater, and leans back into his seat, and tries not to think too hard at all. 

***

It’s a reflex as they drive through towns, to keep his eyes peeled for any spark of purple. 

There are a lot of Angels still around, but Tony doesn’t see any. Probably for the best, really. He doesn’t want to kill one in front of Peter.

He doesn’t know why. 

He just passes trees and people until he gets past the border.

Then the people disappear, and sunlit woodlands spread out all around them.

When Tony pulls over, Peter stirs.

He blinks to awareness slowly, smacking his lips together and blinking hard.

His eyes seem to glow like liquid gold in the light. 

“Bathroom break,” Tony says, by way of wake up call, and Peter lets out a sleepy little muffle, before sitting up. 

Tony’s fingers brush against Peter’s wrists as he slices through the zip tie. He can feel Peter’s pulse; slow and lazy with sleep, and he wants to press his lips to it. 

It’s so fucking dangerous. He’s walking a thin line-

“Are we in Canada?” Peter asks in surprise, as he looks out the window. His voice is still syrupy with sleep. 

“We crossed the border about an hour ago.” Tony confirms. “My gun’s in my pocket, kid, I’m gonna open the doors, we’re gonna do our business, and you’re gonna stay in my line of sight.”

Peter nods, squirming like he already has to go, and Tony bites back his smile and unlocks the door.

Peter jumps out, flitting around the car to Tony’s side and hurrying towards the privacy of the trees.

Tony has no such qualms about privacy. This stretch of forest road is deserted. The sun is hot on the back of his neck, but there’s a nice breeze that sends the branches and the flowers dancing. 

When Peter finishes, he heads back over to Tony obediently, before his eyes go huge and stare at something in the road like he can’t look away.

Tony turns and rakes his eyes over the environment. The blades of grass sway, the branches creak with old age; craning up to the sun, but nothing else moves.

And when he turns back to Peter-

the boy is gone.

*

Alright, Tony is almost impressed. 

It was a sloppy technique, but the kid got the job done. It’s Tony’s fault really, he’s not on high alert. He should be. This case is more important than the others. 

So, he makes his way through the forest. He’s slow and methodical. He’s quiet and he listens. Peter, no doubt, will be running as fast as he can. The kid’s smart. Acting docile so Tony will let his guard down, and what’s more infuriating is that that such a junior technique was effective.

He won’t be so lenient with the boy after this. It’s straight in the trunk. No more drive-thrus. No more nice guy-

He comes to a halt suddenly, when he breaks into a clearing.

A gap in the canopy, where sunlight is streaming down onto a meadow of grass- and there, sure enough, is Peter.

He’s on his knees, feet folded neatly underneath him, his profile as beautiful as the statue of a cherub, and he’s before the hulking great mass of a grizzly bear. 

Tony thinks his heart does a horrible sort of jerk. He stares, uncomprehendingly for a long moment at the scene. The bear- huge and immense- and Peter- tiny and defenceless-

It’s the final thought that kicks him into gear, reaching for his gun when-

“I was calling for you,” Peter murmurs, and Tony creeps forward, gun in his hand, before he sees that the bear is holding it’s gigantic paw in Peter’s lap, and that Peter is pulling thorns from it. It’s horrifying. It’s beautiful. It’s something from a children’s story book. “But I realised I didn’t know your name.”

“It’s Tony,” Tony manages; wrecked. 

Peter’s pulling thorns out of the paw of a fucking wild grizzly bear.

The bear looks at Tony, with horrifying black eyes, and Tony levels his gun. 

Peter shakes his head without a word. “Put it away. It wouldn’t even leave a dent.”

Tony wavers. The kid’s probably right. A bullet against that. Fucking goliath. Have bears always been so big? But where’s the sudden wisdom come from? Where’s the kid who inhaled a milkshake-

“Couldn’t you hear it calling?” Peter asks.

Tony just stares at him. The sun throws its rays against him, and there’s a halo of sunlight around Peter’s curls.

He looks like an Angel. A real one, not a monster.

“No,” Tony whispers hoarsely, as the bear lets out a guttural moan, pulling his paw away as Peter wipes his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

The bear leans down and rubs its nose against Peter’s head, before turning away with its massive weight, and disappearing into the forest.

Peter’s still glowing lavender.

“Oh.” Peter frowns, turning to look at Tony with his big gold eyes. “I could hear him. That’s why I came, I didn’t…” he trails off, looking unsure. “You didn’t hear him?”

“No.” The woods had been silent.

Peter looks very troubled, and he doesn’t resist when Tony comes over and offers his arm. Peter gets up, grass stains on his knees. He’s still in his pyjamas- all floral and soft. He looks like a flower child. Like he grew here, in the forest, surrounded by nature. 

“A bird fell in the playground in middle school.” Peter says, and he sounds far away, as Tony guides him back through the forest. “I heard it in class and no one- no one else did.”

“Peter.” Tony says, because it’s all he can say.

“Is that what-“ his voice drops into a whisper, “am I an..?”

“I don’t know.” Tony confesses, “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of an Angel being able to hear animals.” But then- he doesn’t know much about them. Other than that they glow, that they feed off humans, and that they can’t feel. “I don’t think they do, though.”

“What am I?” Peter asks helplessly, and Tony’s touch is more protective than it should be. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’ll- figure it out.”

*

The incident sets Tony on edge.

Instead of driving right to Quebec he pulls over at a nice looking hotel. It’s expensive, but he has the money, and the receptionist’s smile turns much warmer when he slides over his card.

But he has eyes for no one but Peter. The boy’s staring at his hand. Squinting hard. He looks utterly dazed.

Tony supposes wondering whether or not you’re human will do that to you.

It doesn’t mean he should want to reach out and comfort.

Tony’s leather jacket is hanging over Peter’s shoulders, draped there, but the bare feet and grassy legs have drawn a little bit of attention.

Not too much attention, but even a little can be dangerous.

Tony gets them up to their room as fast as possible. 

Peter still looks dazed. He doesn’t take in much of their room even though Tony’s sprung for an enormous, gorgeous, airy suite, he just sits on the edge of the bed where Tony settles him, and looks down at his lap. 

Tony checks all the windows and shuts the curtains, and locks the door, before turning to look at the boy. Peter peaks up at him through his curls. “I’m scared,” he confesses. 

Tony’s heart. He pads over, and lays his hand awkwardly on the kid’s shoulder. The boy’s so small. “I know. We’ll figure it out.” We? 

“I can see…or maybe I’m imagining it.” Peter lifts up his hand and squints, “It’s purple. My head hurts.”

It’s a relief, that the kid can see it too. Tony nods, before flipping off the lights. “Get some rest, Pete.”

Peter flops down onto the bed, and wriggles under the blanket with the sort of fatigue Tony’s seen on men back from war. ��I don’t have any friends.” He whispers, “I feel alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Tony says fiercely, automatically, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’ve got me.” 

#starker #peter x tony #au #half angel peter #angel hunter tony #angel fire inspired #protective tony #kidnapping #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart

[themadauthorshatter]

If you're up to date with my posts, then you know what's about to happen.

I've read the books, WE'VE ALL READ THE BOOKS, but this is a somewhat fun switch-a-roo.

Expect a BUNCH of changes that I'll try justifying, especially painful ones, so bear with me🙏

OTP SWAP PART 1: THE CRUEL PRINCE!!!!

I'm starting with the first book for obvious reasons

Like before, we start in the mortal world with Ashley Duarte(yes, human!Cardan's last name is Duarte, but like I said, bear with me) making tacos in the kitchen while one of the MANY dogs and other animals wait for her to drop some food. Baby boy Cardan and his older half-sister Rhyia are watching some human stuff, maybe Looney Tunes or old Mickey Mouse cartoons, when the door is knocked on, which alerts the animals and wakes a half asleep Cardan; Rhyia does not wake up.

Cardan answers it and finds a cloaked Madoc at the door. Rather than ask who he is or call for his mother, he stares at this man, who kneels and asks as evenly as possible if his mother is home.

Cardan slams the door in his face, which prompts Ashley to ask why he did so.

Madoc BANGS on the door and shouts, "Asha!" and Ashley pales as she realizes who is at the door.

She demands Cardan to go upstairs as Madoc kicks the door open and walks inside, giving the same speech as the original, that Balekin told him she'd ran away with his daughter, that she killed a woman who was just as pregnant as her, that she ran away and married some lowly farm hand and blacksmith. He thought it was a lie, but nope. Here she stands.

Asha(which is her real name) is deeply ashamed at his words, and tries to pull Cardan away; an angry Madoc is an unstable Madoc.

Like before, Justin rushes in to save his family, but ends up getting kebabbed with his wife.

Rhyia does wake up to see both and Madoc spills the tea that she's his and needs to pack her bags because they're leaving, and Cardan's coming with.

Cardan, despite being seven, is outraged and tries to kick Madoc into oblivion with no avail. Rhyia, however, swears that she'll never love a monster like Madoc, who simply scoffs and tells her to wrangle the human and gather her things in half an hour, because they're leaving for Faerie.

Reluctantly, they do and they never see the mortal world again for a very long time.

Jump to the present day as Cardan, a now seventeen year old human heart throb, is getting prim and proper for a revel. His hair is getting styled nice, he's in a nice suit, he's wearing a cool belt that makes him look like he has a tail, and has ear cuffs that make his ears look pointed like a faerie.

He also has rowan berries on his wrist, because he doesn't want the necklace to be easy to see as a lot of his shirts show his chest.

He's dolled up and meets Locke, his brother that came around when Madoc married Oriana and had Oak. The two did not get along, at first, but they began to tolerate each ither as they realized they were the only humans in Faerie that were gentry kids.

Locke is more of a bard or a poet, always seen with a little book, and doesn't wear the same stuff Cardan does, so no pointed ear cuffs for him. He's also more accustomed to Faerie, being good with half truths and minor deception. He's on good terms with both Madoc and Oriana.

Cardan, however, is not on good terms with either of them, as he has tried multiple times to leave Faerie, with and without Rhyia with him, and every time ended with Madoc outside scowling at him and leading him back to his room. Still has that 'no kill' rule, but he's better with sneaking and a sword, having been able to lighten his steps so he could sneak past Madoc and his guards whenever he tried to leave. He's not bad with a sword, but he still has a lot to learn, being 17 and all. When he doesn't have a sword in his hands, he has an animal in them, i.e. a foal, a dog, or, at one point, a skunk that was calm enough to not spray him. Yeah, animal lover that can hold his own.

The two exchange banter and Locke shows show rare excitement for this revel, saying the two will have the time of their lives. Locke, who isn't as close with her, wonders where Rhyia is, but Cardan reveals she's not attending, instead going to visit some friends in the mortal world.

Her funeral as the boys saddle up with Oriana amd Madic and go to the revel.

Similar events occur, like Oriana telling the boys to be careful, Madoc talking to Dain and Balekin, and Locke leading Cardan through the revel so they can have a good time.

IT GOES DOWNHILL WHEN THE GREENBRIAR TWINS AND THEIR FRIENDS ARRIVE. Jude, her older sister Taryn, and their friends, Edir, a bard that can sing and play anyone under the table, Valerian, who's a sadist, and Nicasia, the princess of the Undersea.

Jude and Taryn may have the same face and body, but don't be fooled, Jude has horns, always wears a sword, and will slap you in a dress and then set it on fire without a second’s hesitation. Taryn, however, always has a bunch of flowers in her hair, always wears a dress, and uses words as her weapon. Did you know that she broke on of the most boisterous men in Faerie qith nothing but her words? True story. Edir is the guy that keeps them both in check, an order of Balekin's, which we'll learn later. He is also more of Jude's friend and Taryn's bed buddy, in SFW terms. Nicasia is Jude's friend, like FRIEND, and Valerian is the same, really, just more of an ass now that he has more even targets.

Everyone bows to these guys, even Cardan and a smirking Locke. That smirk vanishes when Taryn winks at Cardan, who Jude GLARES AT.

Locke feels the same way, cinfused and angry, but no time to think in it because Valerian storms toward a confused Cardan and grabs him by the collar, snarling that he can play dress up and make believe all he wants because it won't hide his plain hair or round ears or barn dog smell, so he shouldn't even bother.

Valerian throws him back and Locke rounds on Cardan, asking him what the hell that was between him and Taryn. Cardan brushes him off, as it was just a wink, not a lap dance. Before they can REALLY go at it, crying draws their attention and see that Jude just pincushioned someone who didn't bow, said someone nkw having a hole in their stomach and a slash across their torso. Taryn is annoyed, Nicasia and Valerian are trying not to laugh, and Edir, who's embarassed, is scolding Jude for losing it at a revel.

Jump to after the revel and the day of school. The boys do indeed get dirt kicked on their food, but instead of 'make me,' Cardan snaps, 'TRY me,' because Nicasia asks if he's as filthy as other human boys. Locke talks him down, but Valerian, kicking more dirt and even throwing some IN Cardan's face, asks if the two qould like them for friends.

Locke apologizes for Cardan, but Jude commands he prove it by dropping out of the tournament, it'll be less embarrassing than getting his ass beaten in front of everyone.

Nicasia spots one of the ear cuffs and pulls it off, asking if he stole it. Big mistake because the cuff burns her hand, as it is iron and iron hurts Faeries.

Cardan smirks and the group leaves, Locke scolding him for being stupid.

Later, at dinnner, after talk of Dain's coronation, Cardan, despite some minor objection from Rhyia, asks Madoc a question: May he please have a green sash for the tournament? Why? He would like to be a knight, please and thank you. Madoc chikes on his wine, Locke coughs to hide a laugh, Rhyia winces, and Oriana os shicked into silence.

Madoc gives it to him straight: he's not bad with a sword, he's good on his feet,and he's the best damned rider that anyone's ever seen, but no. He cannot compete for knighthood, on the count of being the furthest thing from a killer imaginable and just being in over his head.

Cardan protests that he can do just fine, but Madoc warns him to stop before he gets himself thrown in a dungeon instead if his room until the coronation of prince Dain.

Cardan relinquishes and we get the salt prank like before, except Locke is pissed beyond all reason at his foster brother. Cardan doesn't mind until he's grabbed by Edir and Valerian, Locke being pulled by the hair by Jude and both are thrown in the river, which has Nixies in it.

Thier supplies get yeeted, Locke gets pulled out by Valerian and is made to kiss Jude on the lips and both her horns, but, when asked, Cardan does not give up, vowing that he will never give up, which makes Jude laugh and the group leave.

Locke and Cardan walk home, get some baths, and go to bed, except they go to the mortal world with Rhyia and meet her friends Vivienne and Heather at the mall. Vivienne apologizes for Jude's behavior, and we learn that Rhyia is planning to leave Faerie, and is probably going alone.

The boys return and endure a lesson, but Jude pushes Locke's buttons, so Cardan pushes her into a tree. Challenge accepted.

TOURNAMENT TIME!! Cardan fairs wellin that Valerian is lazy, Edir is out of shape, and Jude got cocky, so he wins.

Jude fumes at him, later grabbing him by the tail on his belt amd demanding he beg for her forgiveness. He does... NOT! And spits in her face that she may push him down, but he'll pull her down with him, and it will hurt her like hell.

Taryn approaches him and expresses interest in him, saying that she once took both Edir and Nicasia from Jude because people just like a sensitive girl.

She leaves and the tournament eventually ends, which leads Cardan to return hime and meet Dain, who requested one of Madoc's people to tell Cardan one of Eldred's children had come for a visit.

Dain and Cardan get talking and Dain offers him something that isn't knighthood: spying. Plus one wish.

Cardan knows what he wants: to not be controled.

Granted, but Dain can still control him and the fruits of Faerie will still effect him.

Screwy, but deal, he's a spy now

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!!!!!

#the cruel prince #the cruel prince trilogy #folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #locke #taryn duarte #otp swap #jude x cardan #jurdan

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 10

Luz appraises herself in the mirror one final time as she gets ready to leave. She holds her mask in her hand as she looks at the eyeliner King had carefully applied for her after she’d gotten out of the shower, as well as the glyphs inked carefully behind her ears, giving them a pointed appearance. 

For someone with no eyelids, he's really good at it. 

She steadies herself on the sink, as she stares back at herself in the mirror.

Was their milk in her lunch? Her stomach is squirming uncontrollably. 

Aye dios mio

Shes is so nervous. 

She decides talking to her mom might make her feel better. She pulls out her phone and starts the recording. 

"Hey Mamì, I'm about to go to a magical masquerade party and confess my feelings to one of my closest friends…well, wish me luck!" When the vlog is saved she pockets her phone.

She takes a deep breath and exits the bathroom and walks down the stairs where everyone is waiting on her.

Eda and Lillith are sitting on the couch talking quietly to each other, King is curled up on a cushion beside them.

She clears her throat softly, drawing everyone’s gaze.

“Well, how do I look?” she asks nervously, holding out her arms and doing a little spin.

A black vest fits snugly, buttoned around her frame over a dark violet dress shirt tucked into the waist of her black dress pants, which stop just below the ankle, too rest on her polished black dance shoes. Her hair is slicked back much like at grom and the flower she had picked up at the market is pinned to the vest on her chest, a bright pop of white against the darks of her clothes. 

She feels really fancy actually and she kind of likes it, even if it’s a little strange for her.  

Eda lets out a long, low whistle as she stands and walks over to Luz with Lillith trailing behind. 

“You look fantastic, Kiddo.” Eda grins, walking circles around her.

“Very dashing.” Lilith agrees, smiling.

"You will conquer your enemies and the heart of that measly girl!" King raises his tiny fists into the air.

Luz puffs her chest out at the praise.

"That illusion on your ears is pretty impressive," Eda hums. "Maybe we could do something like that with the other ones.

Luz is momentarily sidetracked by the idea.

"Do you think if I drew the fire glyph on the palm of my hand I could shoot fireballs?" 

"That sounds incredibly dangerous…," Eda says.

Lilith is relieved that her sister is being sensible for once.

"And totally awesome! We'll wait till after the party to try it though."

Lilith slaps a hand against her forehead.

She puts on her mask. It covers her face from her forehead to her cheeks, leaving her eyes and mouth exposed. It's black with bright swirls of purple around the eyes and a pair of upward curved horns on the forehead.

“Wait, how am I going to find Amity if she’s wearing a mask?” Luz suddenly remembers. 

“The Blights will be wearing masks, but they aren’t enchanted with the glimmer spell. They’re the hosts and it would be quite problematic if no one could find them.” Lilith soothes her worry.

“That and they’re too proud to hide,” Eda huffed. Lilith doesn’t disagree with the statement.

“Oh, well, I guess I’m ready then.” 

"You got this kid, show that girl of yours some of that bad girl coven charm." Eda winks, prompting her sister to roll her eyes even though she's smiling. 

"Right!" She smiles and bolts toward the door.

"Hey, hold on!" Eda calls and she slides to a stop looking back at her mentor. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Eda questions.

"Uh, bye?" She tries and Eda chuckles, looking at the girl fondly.

She holds out her hand and a few seconds later her staff flies into the room landing in her outstretched fingers before she tosses it to Luz, who scrambles to catch it before it can clatter to the floor. She looks at the staff in her hands and then back up at Eda.

"Be careful, and try not to make too much racket whenever you come back in." She smiles and Luz's face breaks into a bright grin.

"I won't, I love you!" she calls as she runs out the door. 

Owlberts wings pop open and she straddles the staff and takes off toward her destination, wind whipping through her hair as she flies above the treeline.

Eda and Lilith watch her go from the doorway.

"She's got this." Eda crosses her arms and leans in the doorway. Lilith hums in agreement.

The cool air helps calm her nerves some as she directs Owlbert toward her destination. 

"You can do this, you're Luz Noceda, you've done way harder stuff than this!" She hypes herself up on the short flight to Blight Manor. 

Though, nothing she's ever done before has had such power to potentially break her heart…

She shakes it off and clutches the staff tighter.

She's going to do this!

As she rides through the air she can see the moon in the sky, it's large, full and not surprisingly, blue.

A bright cobalt in fact.

She knows what a blue moon is in her world, it's just a second full moon in one month, but she's not surprised at all that in the Boiling Isles it's actually blue.

Soon Blight manor comes into view, it’s as large as Luz imagined it would be. It reminds her of a Victorian-era house she saw in a history book once. She glides to the ground outside the large black gate that encircles the house. 

A pair of stone gargoyles sit outside the gate and suddenly their eyes light up.

“Invitation” an eerie, breathy voice drifts out of the statues and Luz jumps.

“Oh… uh.” she digs the paper out of her pocket and holds it up, then the gate swings open and the statue’s eyes go dark.  

“That’s so cool…,” Luz whispers, starry-eyed as she walks up to the house.

She knocks on the door and after a few seconds the door opens up and Emira is standing there in a long golden colored dress. Her hair is out of its normal braid and done in long ringlet curls around her head. Her mask is the same color as her dress and studded with little crystal gemstones.

“Hey, Emira,” Luz greets with a grin.

“Hey, come on in." She stepped out of the way and gestured inside. By the lack of recognition on her face, Luz can tell that Emira has no idea who she is.

She follows the older teen inside.

"You can leave your staff here." She holds a hand out to a rack affixed to the wall that already has a number of staves hanging from it. 

Luz carefully hangs it up and follows Emira through the entryway into the main room which is already filled with people in masks chatting and helping themselves to the refreshments. 

"Enjoy yourself," Emira says before disappearing into the crowd.

Luz looks around at everything. Everyone is dressed to the nines and there are some very interesting masks among the crowd. She doesn't recognize anyone, but that was the point she supposed. 

The lights are low but there are floating sconces with fire to give the room a certain ethereal glow and upbeat music is wafting around the room. She just happens to look up and her mouth falls open. The ceiling is a rounded dome of glass, allowing for a clear view of the night sky and the moon slowly moving overhead, it's blue light shining onto the high polished floor.

Luz has seen a lot of amazing things since coming to the Boiling Isles, but this really does make the top five.

The food looks amazing but she really can't bring herself to eat right now.

 Instead, she begins scanning the room, looking for a certain head of mint green hair.

She glances over the dance floor where a few people are already dancing but doesn't see who she's looking for among them. She walks around, taking it all in.

She catches a few people's eyes and they wave or nod. She smiles but doesn't stop to talk, she's on a mission.

After five minutes she finally turns around and freezes.

Amity

She'd recognize her anywhere... provided she wasn't wearing an enchanted mask of course.

She’s standing on the other side of the room, looking around, and Luz hopes it's her she's looking for. 

She finally really looks at her and her mouth goes dry.

Amity is wearing a dark, magenta-colored dress that stops at mid-shin and the ‘v’ shaped collar dips just below her collar bones. The long sleeves go all the way down to the back of her hands and are affixed to gold rings on her middle fingers to hold them in place. Luz swallows thickly as she takes in the girls’ entire appearance. She’s pretty sure those are the same shoes she wore to grom and there’s a black choker wrapped around the column of her neck. Her mask is black with fang-like points framing her cheeks and little white stars painted on it. 

She’s never seen Amity with her hair down before and it does weird things to her insides.

A gleam catches her eye and her gaze is drawn to the brooch pinned to the left side of her chest.

The brooch Luz had given her. 

Seeing this sends Luz’s heart too thumping loudly in her chest, but it also emboldens her.

She squares her shoulders and straightens her vest before walking confidently across the room toward her, carefully maneuvering around the other guests but never taking her eyes off Amity.

Amity is facing away from her when she stops just behind her and, resolved, reaches up to tap the other girl’s shoulder.

Amity looks over her shoulder and her curious face turns surprised before she spins around to face her.

“It’s you,” she says, softly, eyes wide behind the mask and Luz’s heart is beating so hard she’s surprised Amity can’t hear it, but her nerves are tempered by a lack of reaction that tells her that Amity really doesn’t recognize her.

“Hi” Luz smiles and dips herself in a half-bow, holding out a hand. She’s seen this in more movies and books then she can count so she figures, why not?

The greeting gesture is familiar to Amity, being from the upper echelons of Boiling isles high society. 

She slips her hand into Luz’s and her anonymity emboldens Luz to a level she could never even begin to dream of without it as she leans down farther and skims her lips over the back of Amity’s knuckles, hardly a touch at all but it’s enough for Amity to make a surprise choked noise.

Luz straightens up and scratches the back of her head with her free hand and chuckling sheepishly.

“Sorry, too much?” She asks.

“No! No, it’s fine.” Amity chokes out as her hand is released. "You look very nice." Which is an understatement of unparalleled proportions she thinks. 

Her 'date' is about her height, lean and cuts a very nice profile in her fitted suit. 

Something is so familiar about her, but the glimmer on her mask keeps Amity from really focusing on what it is. She supposes that she'll know before the evening is through.

"Thank you." She seems to straighten up at the compliment. "You’re beautiful." She smiles and Amity flushes behind her mask. At the many parties her parents had dragged her to over the years she's heard a variety of compliments. Cute, adorable, pretty. 

Usually Adults talking to her like she’s a baby. 

This is the first time she's been told she's beautiful and it makes her knees weak because she knows the girl standing in front of her means it. 

"Thank you." She smiles shyly. 

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down… it’s nice.” Luz says and the young witch flushes all the darker and Luz can’t help but grin. 

"I thought I'd do something different…" She shrugs and is reminded that this person knows her.

Before they can say anything else, Edric and Emira appear on a nearby raised dais in a puff of blue smoke.

Edric is wearing a gold colored vest and mask that matches his twins' but it's over a black dress shirt tucked into black pants.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Blight manor." Edric holds up an arm and takes a dramatic bow, making the tails of his vest swish about with the movement.

"Remember not to reveal yourselves to anyone until the party ends when the blue moon is directly overhead." She points up and all the guests look up at the celestial body that is only just peeking past the edge of the glass to be in view. 

At least two hours before it's overhead. 

"And enjoy yourselves!" the twins echo with a wink before they draw a spell circle and disappear as quickly as they had appeared.

"Those two are a riot…," Luz chuckles once the twins have finished officially starting the party.

“You know Ed and Em?” she asks, trying to think of some way to make conversation but then just wants to slap herself for that. “Oh… well, duh, they invited you, so obviously you must…,” she trails off, embarrassed and Luz can see the pink dusting her cheeks. The mask doesn’t cover much and she smiles.  

“Ah, well, I wasn’t exactly on their list of invitees,” she chuckles. “I asked them if I could come.” she shrugs.

"You willingly wanted to come to this? Why?" Amity asks with a laugh.

"Of course!" Luz grins. "I knew you'd be here." She says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Amity feels like tonight is going to be a theme of her being red faced and embarrassed. She thought it was bad when Luz was around.

She stiffens at the thought, but quickly pushes it aside.

“Emira seemed to figure out how I felt about you and I think she took pity on me.” Luz chuckles with a shrug.

Amity’s brows furrow at that, Emira knows how she feels about Luz, why would she encourage some secret admirer? Then again that seems like the kind of teasing thing her sister would do. 

Now that the party has officially begun, more people have moved out onto the dance floor and a quick upbeat song is playing.

Her date looks at her smiling, and there's something so achingly familiar about it that tugs at Amity's heart strings.

"May I have this dance?" She holds out a hand, open palm inviting. 

She smiles and rests her own in hers.

#Lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #Eda Clawthorne #Lillith Clawthorne #King #TOH #the owl house #fic #Moonlit Masquerade

[voltagesmutter]

Jealously Head-Cannon: Shaw

Jealousy head-cannon with shocked boi pikachu

*Smut and NSFW*

Shaw didn’t care where you were, when his jealousy kicked in you sure as hell knew.

On a day out to the market, a man had smiled at you whilst you were alone waiting for Shaw to bring back some refreshments. You gave a simple smile back, looking around waiting for the lavender locks to come into your view but as you turned back the man before had taken a few strides towards you. ‘Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be left alone’ He raised an eyebrow to you as he came closer, you back away until you felt your back, back into someones chest, an arm coming over your waist. ‘What makes you think she’s alone?’ You relaxed against the familiar warmth of Shaw, ‘I suggest you fuck off and leave my girlfriend alone’. The tone of his voice sent the other man apologising with a mumble and backing away, Shaw spinning you to face him, the muscles in his arms tensing as held you close, you swear a tint of green traced over his amber eyes. He refused to let you go at any point of the day, keeping an iron grip and always in his eye-line, finally pulling you down an empty alleyway. His lips furiously pressing against yours, the anger and jealousy pulling through his actions as he bit your lip, pulling it between his teeth and letting it ping back. His hand traced over your body, the need for him to touch you properly became a desire you craved, regardless of where you was the bustling market still happening only around the corner. His lips moved to your neck, pressing a harsh mark over your pulse, a cry from your lips at the redding form. A mark, his mark, to warn off anyone else who even dared to look at you. Unable to resist him, your hands flew to his belt but the smirk on his face and wrists latching over your stopped you. Without a word, he lead you back onto the street, the desire for him burning within you at his teasing motions. It continued like this for the rest of the day until you was on your way home, both of you huddled close together on the bus.

You lent your head on his shoulder, the pleasant hum from you as he placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing it with re-assurance. Sitting at the back of the empty bus were you two, the only other being was the bus driver who was too focused to notice the pair of you. His fingertips tracing circles of your exposed thighs, why did you pick to wear a denim skirt, your legs automatically parting as they began to roam higher before dis-appearing under the mater. ‘Shaw’ it was so breathless against the crook of his neck, a plea for him to stop as he rubbed the tender fingers over your slit against your lace under. ‘Relax baby,’ was calm from his mouth as whispered into the shell of your ear, the heat of breath sending a clenching motion down into your core. The nerves inside you tingling with excitement and fear, sending your lower stomach ablaze. His fingers pushed aside your underwear, to rub against your slickening folds, a tremble in your lips against his neck. Coaxing his fingers with your wetness as he circled over your clit, the devious smile on his face as he pushed his index finger inside you. Your pearly teeth took the collar of his leather jacket in an attempt to withhold your moans, the shame of your wetness growing as another finger joined inside you. He pumped his fingers into you, the squelching sound of your wetness was loud enough for him to hear but not to travel to the front of the bus, Shaw’s eyes watching your body tremble in the seat to him. Adding his ring-finger inside, the coldness of his steel ring as he buried knuckles deep inside you a jolt of electricity against your core, your hand mercilessly gripping at the edge of the seat. His thumb flickering over your neglected clit, as the heat within you rose, the clenching of your walls over his fingers gave away your closeness. With a smirk, he got you right to the edge, attempting to remove his hand but the fierceness of your thighs clamping to prevent him withdrawing, the heavy pleading in your eyes as you gazed at him was too much for him to deny. ‘Don’t get us caught baby,’ he winked, thrusting his fingers back inside you as your head rolled onto his shoulder, every inch of self-control on high alert to keep you from crying out. His fingers hit the deep spot that caused the heavy release you seeked, the flood of essence drenching his hand and your thighs as you clenched tightly around him. The horn of the bus and another vehicle outside being a savour to cover the lewd moans that slipped from your lips. The triumphant look on Shaw’s face as he pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his lips, licking them clean before commenting ‘how he can’t wait to taste you properly’ sending a shiver down your spine. The next stop you came to Shaw pulled you off, the trail of wetness seeping into the fabric of the seat, also spreading over your thighs luckily covered by your skirt. 

Shaw always felt a switch flip inside him when it came to his brother, a rage within him to prove and dominate his claim to you over Gavin.

It was Gavin’s birthday and you insisted with Shaw that you celebrated all three of you, at first it was just the pair of them but given their previous history you decided it was best to not leave them alone. Inviting him over to Shaw’s apartment, the night went off without a hitch, until Gavin’s taxi home cancelled due to the down pouring storm that sent lightning crashing around the city. Refusing to let him fly home out of concern, he ended up residing in his Shaw’s guest room, the room located right next to Shaw and yours.

The flat of his tongue hovering just under your clit, the tiniest flinch of a flicker would release that deep calling ache within you, but again he denied you desired treasure. Your muscles clenching, your thighs clamping shut, the pressure just at boiling point crashing down, the withdrawal sending a pulse of ache throughout you. The tears that now ran down your cheeks, head thrown back in pure frustration, the pressure to bite back your lip to hold your moan subsided and without control ‘Shaw please’ trembled through your lips. “Louder baby,” through a shit-eating smirk, his fingertips slicked with the clear thick wetness, dripping from him as he held them up to admire the glossy liquid through the moonlight crack in the curtains. You had tried to not give into his jealous actions, knowing he wanted his brother to hear you, you calling out only his name but Shaw’s teasing grew to the point you was trembling under him. He flew into a jealous hiss after you spent a good part of the evening reminiscing with Gavin over your high school memories with a glass of wine. Shaw's arm possessively wraps around your waist, pressing a ghostly kiss to your neck each time Gavin looks away, sending goosebumps down your body. Each tease got worse, a finger circling your inner thigh, pushing his lips against yours as he nipped at your bottom lip as his fingers pressed against your clothed core whilst Gavin was in the bathroom; leaving you a flustered mess when he returned, Shaw with a low-key smirk. His jealousy came through his actions, teasing you to the point you saw stars, refusing you a release until you begged his name. You had tried and succeeded to bite back the moans for Gavin’s sake but the agony of your denied release was too much .‘Shaw’ you cried over and over, like a wave laps at the ocean, his thick cock now slamming into you in replacement of his fingers. The three build ups of being edged, the sensitivity of your core being at breakpoint, the first slam into you had your walls clenching him tight, a strangled growl from his lips. Unable to withhold the growing higher moans from within, ‘Shaw’ between each one, the attempted bitten back moan of your euphoric bliss which sent electric shocks down Shaw's spine. The explosion within you going off like a spectacular firework show, sparks and warmth flowing across your body. You could be heard from the bed on the side of the wall, Gavin trying to hold back the slight tears at the torture happening within the bedroom next door, the woman he had loved since a teen singing in the purest of harmonic pleasure for his brother. Shaw had planned it in his head from the minute he saw his brother place a hand on your thigh as you re-told a story of your shared experiences. He felt that thick line of self control snap in half life a twig at the cry she made when she came, never having heard her produce such a more desirable noise for him to hear. He couldn’t help but hold back the smirk as he cradled you in his chest after, knowing he had taught his older brother a valuable lesson, that you belonged to Shaw.

Did you return his jealously? Of course.

The small crowd of young girls had turned up to the live house for the third week in a row, one comment hitting your ears, ‘the bass guitarist is so fit’. The pure hatred towards of them coursed through your veins, they was here to see your man and you would be damned if you would let Shaw’s eye wander from you (Not that they ever would). Flashing your id to the backstage pass, allowing entry you seeked out your lavender-haired boyfriend, determined to give him a good luck charm he would always remember. You found him in the confinements of the outdoor smoking shelter, a reserved space flooded with cardboard boxes and hidden from any prying eyes. ‘Hey babe,’ He smiled, throwing the end of cigarette butt to the floor, you steamed over pushing him against the wall with force as your lips met. He stunned slightly at the action before meeting your lips back with the matching force, his hands buried in your hair as you ran yours down the front of his chest. Reaching his trousers you palmed him over his jeans, a slightly hardness beginning to grow with your actions as he pulled his lips off yours, ‘What’s gotten into you,” he flashed you his mischievous smirk, the pure adulterated lust for his man flooded you. ‘Just shut up,’ you hissed at him, hands flying to undo his belt as you dropped to yours knees. Pulling out his hardening cock, your mouth buried it inside, the hiss falling from his mouth at the pressure you delivered. A gloved hand flew to your head as he thrusted into you, fucking your mouth with pure content, a risk of anyone walking in and finding you. ‘There baby,” He groaned, throwing his head back, the grip of his hand becoming tighter as you worked him harder. ‘2 minutes to go guys,’ A voice called out in the corridor, Shaw panting against the wall as your face pressed hard against his pubic bone, the meatiness of his cock spreading your mouth wide as he hit the back of your throat. A few more thrusts and a strangled groan, he shot his seed at the back into your throat, you humming with pleasure as you lapped over his cock with a swallow. Pulling yourself up as he panted for a moment, before pulling himself back into his trousers, pressing a heavy kiss to you. ‘What was that all about,” He winked at you. ‘I just wanted to give you a small taster of what's happening the minute you get off that stage,” You purred, leaning over and licking the crook of his neck. Shaw had never prayed for a set to be over so fast, refusing to go back onstage after the final song, too busy ploughing into you from behind in one of the dis-abled bathrooms. 

#mlqc #mlqc shaw #mr love shaw #mr love queen's choice shaw #mr love queen's choice #mr love ling xiao #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc smut #mr love #mr love mobile

[youllallriseintheink]

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #(sort of) #susie campbell #norman polk #abby lambert #my fanfiction #Story: prison cell

[ratedbangtann]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 | 𝙅𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣!𝘿𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 

"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐..." 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗, 𝟹:𝟾

                                      𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 • 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Pairing: Jimin/F Reader Word count: 4.1k Warnings: demon/devil, religious themes, paranormal, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, spooky stuff

a/n: hi so um this is unedited and probs littered with typos. i do not wish  to undermine anyone’s beliefs or religion; this is simply fiction based off christian and catholic ideologies. please enjoy.

                                      "Is this such a good idea?" your friend protested, her face pale and expression terrified.

"It's just a game, Julieta," you roll your eyes, placing the ouija board on the floor of your bedroom and sitting down in front of it, positioning the planchette in the centre of the board. Your friend sat down with you, desperately wanting nothing to do with this. But she couldn't leave you to do this alone. "What's the worst that can happen?" you tease. "My abuela warned me about these though, Y/N. She said you can let in all kind of bad stuff..."

You rolled your eyes again.

"Just put your hands on the planchette," you instructed as you placed your fingertips just barely on the edge. She mirrored you from the other side of the board, her fingertips shaking slightly. You took a deep breath, and spoke to the spirits...

"Hello. We'd like to contact you. Talk to us, are you here?" You call out. Nothing. No movement. You sigh. "We mean you no harm." Nothing again. "Is there anyone here?"

You start to feel a vibration on the planchette, but you put it down to Julieta's shaking hands. She was staring wide eyed at the board, too scared to even blink.

"If there is a spirit here, move the planchette. Use our energy, or whatever. Are you here?" you call out once again. The vibrations get more vigorous, and the planchette starts to move towards the 'yes' answer on the board. Julieta's eyes widened and she started to freak out. She couldn't breathe properly, a panic attack taking over. "Are you doing that?" she asked, frantically.

"No! Are you?" you matched her tone, surprised at the sudden movement.

"Of course not!" she shouted.

"You must be!" you yelled back, angry that she was pranking you this way and lying about it. You knew this shit was fake. You knew it would never work. She was just trying to scare you. "Fine, if it's not you, who is it?" The planchette started to move again under your fingertips, spelling a word. Slowly but surely, it became obvious...

E-L-D-I-A-B-L-O

Julieta flinched back from the planchette with a shriek, tears starting to build in her eyes.

"No... no, no, no... no me gusta esto," her fear was evident on her face, and she couldn't help but let her religion and her heritage take over... "Padre nuestro,

que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino..." she began reciting the lord's prayer in Spanish, trying to protect herself. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself, not buying her theatrics.

"No nos dejes caer en tentación y líbranos del mal. Amén." The second she finished her prayer, the planchette shot across the room, hitting the far wall with a loud smack and leaving a small groove in the plaster.

The two of you screamed, and Julieta bolted out of your room as quickly as she good, running down your stairs and our you front door with you hot on her tail, trying to stop her to calm her down.

"Wait, Julieta! Come back!" you yell from your porch, but she doesn't stop. She keeps running away, down your road and around the block. There's nothing you can do; she was too shaken up.

You sighed and shut your front door, making your way back up to your bedroom to put the board away. You were still shaken, but you didn't believe in this stuff. There must be an explanation? Maybe Julieta was just trying to mess with you. Maybe there was a spirit, but there was no way you were going to believe the 'spirit' was who it said it was. There was no such thing.

The room was freezing cold when you walked back in, almost enough to see your breath. The board lay on your floor, the planchette upside down on the other end of the room. You sighed, and started to pack the board and planchette away in the box they came in.

And then, someone cleared their throat.

You froze in place, not daring to look up at whoever had just announced their arrival in your bedroom. It didn't sound like Julieta. It didn't even sound female.

"You know, you should really say goodbye before you finish with those things. Otherwise, anything can come through; like leaving a door open," a smooth male voice said. You stayed frozen in place. Who the hell was in your bedroom?

Footsteps approached you slowly from behind, where the planchette had landed. The footsteps clicked like they were made by expensive shoes. Your deductions were proved correct when the expensive shoes stopped by your side; you could see them in your peripheral vision.

The intruder crouched down beside you, holding out your planchette in his hands for you to take. You look at his hands. They look so smooth, so soft; not a single imperfection. Your eyes trailed up his arm, his neck and finally, you looked up at his face.

He looked perfectly human, but above all he looked perfectly perfect.

His hair was blonde, his skin lightly tanned and flawless. His jaw was angled beautifully, yet still looked silky to the touch. His eyes were deep brown pools that looked like a glass of whiskey, glistening as they looked at you. And then, his smile; sweet and innocent looking, showing off his pearly white teeth.

He was wearing a deep red, velvet suit paired with a black shirt, a small gold chain hanging from the points of his collar.

"Here," he held the planchette closer to you for you to take, trying to snap you out of the trance his devilishly good looks had put you under.

You took it out of his outstretched hand and slipped it into the box without a word, never looking away from his deep whiskey eyes. The two of you stood up together, still never breaking eye contact.

"Wh-who are you?" you manage you choke out.

"I have many names. I don't like many of them. I like Jimin," he grins. Many names? What the hell did that mean?

"How did you get in here?"

"You invited me. Or at least, I was passing by, and you opened yourself up to me." He turned on his heels and stepped towards your bed, taking a seat on the edge. "I just wanted to scare your little friend really," he laughed, "but something intrigued me." You stayed glued to the spot.

"What?"

"You," he looked up to you again, his smile turning to a smirk. "There's something about you; the way you don't believe in me, even now as I sit before you."

"B-but I don't know who you a-"

"Yes you do," he interrupted. "You just don't want to admit it. Come here," he instructed. For some reason, you followed his instructions, slowly stepping towards him and standing in front of him. "I'm going to show you who I am," he looked up at you with a cocky expression.

You kept staring at him, waiting for him to do something. Nothing about him changed. He didn't move. He didn't say anything. You waited, but nothing. But then, his eyes... like someone injected some kind of thick black liquid into them, they clouded over into dark spheres staring into your eyes and consuming whatever humanity was inside of you.

You stepped back in shock, fear encapsulating you. He stood up and closed the distance, stepping forward with you as you took steps back to escape his close proximity.

"Y-you're-"

"You can call me Diablo," his voice had deepened to a scarily demonic voice, like the voices you hear in paranormal horror movies. "You can call me Lucifer. You can call me the Beast. You can call me the Deceiver. You can call me Leviathan. You can call me the Devil," his eyes lost their black hue and faded back to his beautiful whiskey colour, and his voice softened back to his original tone. "But like I said, I prefer Jimin."

How could he be? He was so... beautiful? You imagined the devil to look like the portrayal of him in historic literature and art; red, scaly skin, large black horns, two hoofed feet, a long, split tongue; the beast. But here he was; a human-like, beautiful young man. It confused and intrigued you.

"But... you're beautiful," you couldn't help the words slipping out. Something about his presence made you more honest, despite being in the presence of the deceiver.

Jimin threw his head back in laughter, bellowing out of his throat.

"Now that, I didn't expect. Thank you. You seem shocked though. Do you not know the story of how I came to be?" You shook your head no, never being a religious person. But now, you weren't sure what to believe. "Take a seat my darling, let me explain."

You perched yourself on the end of your bed where he had sat previously. He stood in a few feet in front of you, ready to tell his legend.

"I was an angel. I was one of God's army of good, if you can believe that," he scoffs. "At this point I think I'm open to believing anything..." Jimin smiled at your comment, laughing to himself.

"That's why I'm beautiful, y/n. Angels are immaculately beautiful, perfect in every way. So, in the kingdom above we were celebrating the creation of earth and all living things on the sabbath. We all took our turn to speak of the beauty of our world, choosing our favourite things and thanking God for them.

When it came to my turn, I told him I was grateful for the beauty that he gave me. I was grateful for my looks. I told him I was gorgeous and he had created art the moment he breathed me into existence. He didn't like that response much. He started shouting, screaming that I was a sinner and had committed the sin of pride. When I told him that he had created all of us with perfection in mind, as we were angels, he saw red. That's where the expression comes from, by the way. And why I'm drawn as a red beast; that's god's own anger. So, I fell from grace. I wanted the recognition and the attention I deserved, but that was seen as the sin of pride. You know that's one of the seven deadly sins, I'm sure. I had sinned, and it was unacceptable. So I fell from heaven, down into the pits of a vile land, hot and burning. You know it as hell. From then on, any other angels who fell from grace, or sinners from earth after they had perished, were sent to me under the pretence that they would burn with me for eternity. Hell is nothing like that, though. Hell is a wicked place, that's true. But it's full of lust, sex, gambling, drinking etc etc. You know; FUN. Why would I, Prince of Evil, want to punish those who do bad? I want to reward them," he grinned widely.

"Sin is fun, y/n. Don't you agree?"

You stayed quiet for a moment. I mean, did he have a point? Some sin was fun, I suppose...

"Murder isn't fun," you spat, suddenly angry at a man who thought that behaviour should be rewarded. "Oh no. No no no, darling. I do not reward murderers, nor sexual offenders or those who have committed particularly cruel crimes. This is where the world is wrong about me and my ideology has been exaggerated. Those people really do burn in hell. But the smallest thing can be a sin. I mean, look at me. I liked the way I looked, and was cast out of the pearly gates. The smallest indiscretions are supposedly evil. The smallest pleasures," he steps closers to you, his eyes fixed on yours. "I am simply in the business of not denying ourselves those sinfully pleasurable moments." He took another step closer to you, close enough now to step one foot between your legs. You looked up at him as he looked down at you, lust clouding his mind. "Wh-why did you come here today, Jimin?" You asked, your voice shaking as you stared back at him. His skin had this glow to it that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. You followed it, down his jaw, his neck, to the small exposed part of his chest peeking through his dark shirt. He was beautiful. Temptingly so...

"To scare your weak willed friend. Scaring people is fun. That's why I came. You, y/n, are why I stayed." You looked back to his eyes and gulped.

"What do you mean?"

"You are, in itself, a work of art. Jehovah did well with you. Not only do I not want to deny myself the pleasure of defiling one of God's most beautiful creations that I have ever seen," your eyes widened at his words, "but I didn't want to deny you the pleasure of feeling what it's like to have a real cock between your legs, darling." Your jaw dropped. H-how did he...?

"I'm the devil, sweetheart. I know exactly what you do on a Sunday evening, alone in the house with nothing but a wild imagination and a silicone cock," he smirks, taking another mini step towards you and crouching down to your level. "And on the sabbath day, for shame." He winks.

"Th-that's private..."

"Nothing is private with me, my darling. And there's nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, the images I have seen are a sight to behold," he lifts his hand to your reddening cheek, delicately sweeping his thumb against the soft skin. "Would you like to feel a real cock, my dear? Would you like to feel the ultimate pleasure?"

You heart raced against your chest, your brain not thinking clearly. Jimin's beautiful lips were merely millimetres away from your own, his warm breath hitting your already hot cheeks.

"Y-yes..." you couldn't help yourself. All those Sunday nights home alone with your vibrator were heavenly to say the least, but all you wanted was the touch of another. And here was a beautiful man, offering himself to you. Was he using some kind of power to manipulate your feelings? You didn't think so, nor did you care.

"Yes what, darling?" he teases.

"Make me feel the ultimate pleasure... please." Jimin smiled and stood up straight, reaching out a hand like a gentleman. You took it, and he pulled you into his arms and against his chest. He looked deep into your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to look up to him.

And then he pressed his lips to your own.

They were so tender, plump and juicy that you got lost in his kiss. The second he started to move his lips, it was game over.  You melted against him, your nervously tensed body melting against him.

He gently ran his tongue along your bottom lip, the alien feeling of the wet and warmth was something you could easily get used to. He skimmed his teeth on your bottom lip too, hooking them on and tugging at them, blood rushing to the surface to fill them out a little more.

His hands slipped down your arms, snaking to your waste like serpents. His fingers danced with the hem of your t-shirt, grazing the skin underneath and igniting a fire inside you that blazed and burned with such ferocity that you couldn't help your hands from gripping onto his neck to pull his lips onto yours hard.

Jimin gripped onto the hem of your t-shirt, lifting it over your body, splitting the kiss apart to take it off your head. He gazed down at the perfection before him, clad in a deep red bra. He chuckled to himself.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you knew I was coming today." His lips found their way to your ear, nibbling on the lobe before his lips pecked your neck, further and further down until he reached your collarbone, where his teeth bit down on the bone and mouth sucked, leaving a dark purple mark.

You threw your head back, the sensations sending a ripple effect of pleasure through your body. Jimin dropped his hands to the button of the jean shorts you were wearing, popping it open and undoing the zipper. He backed you up against the edge of the bed once again, the edge hitting the backs of your knees and making you fall to sit in front of him. He crouches, slipping off your shorts and panties.

"Lie back for me, my darling," he instructs. "I want you to feel the ultimate pleasure." You press your back to the mattress, and he lowers himself to his knees, placing your thighs on his shoulders as he leans in closer to your sex. "Darling, you're practically glistening for me already. Such a bad girl," he taunted. You took a deep breath in, but before you could breathe out slowly to steady your nerves, Jimin placed his whole mouth on your core in a large '0' shape, his tongue laying flat against your folds to taste you. You choke on your own breath, the sensation new and oh, so exciting.

He moved his lips and tongue against you as if you were a forbidden fruit he was sucking the juice from, savouring every drop. He paid particular attention to your clit as his hands worked their way around your thighs to hold you in place. His thick lips were useful for more than just kissing, it seems, as he used them with expert skill to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

You couldn't help your moans spilling from your lips along with expletives and the devil's name.

It turned him on to hear you spewing such filth, letting the pleasure take over, giving yourself to him completely.

As he drew you closer to your orgasm, your hands wound up in his perfect blonde hair, crushing his lips to you. He sucked on your lips, his tongue flicking your clit over and over. Your stomach twisted and flipped with each new feeling, until it felt it had twisted into a very tight coil, just begging to spring free.

Suddenly, Jimin bit down on your clit. Not hard enough to cause any pain, but definitely enough to cause the nerves to spasm to the point of their absolute demise, the coil in your stomach not just unravelling, but shattering from being wound too tight.

Your legs shook and your body convulsed, the noises coming from your mouth absolutely inhuman. Jimin's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them as still as he could as he still had your clit between his teeth like the sadistic demon written in all the literature.

Only once your convulsions stopped did he offer you and kind of relief, pulling his head away from your sex to stand over you.

You looked up at him, satisfied and stimulated, to see him slip his velvet blazer off, folding it neatly and placing it on your dresser beside your bed. He unbuttoned his shirt agonisingly slowly, licking his lips to taste the delightful juice you had left on them. His chest was sculpted like a Greek marble statue with the definition carved into his flawless skin.

His eyes focussed on you, out of breath and weak on your bed, and his true self took over.

The black cloud injected itself into his eyes yet again, completely taking over the iris and whites of his eyes leaving them completely black and dangerous. But you weren't scared anymore. If anything, it made the adrenaline in your system rush uncontrollably through you, and you sat up to watch him fold his shirt and put it with his blazer.

He stepped towards you, offering the last articles of clothing as yours to discard. Your shaking hands undid the button to his velvet trousers and the zipper too, before they hooked themselves in the waistband of both the trousers and his underwear.

'Hm, so even demons wear underwear...' you thought to yourself, slightly amused.

Your prize beneath his clothing was a prize indeed; the size of him larger than the substitute you were used to.

Suddenly, the demonic voice fro before was back. "Lie back, against the pillows," he ordered. You obliged without hesitation, and strangely, without fear.

He crawled between your legs again, coming face to face with you. He stared at you with his demonic eyes, like he wanted to devour you. He lips hungrily attacked yours again, his hand gripping onto your bra where the wire connects between each breast and pulling, ripping the material with ease and throwing it away.

As he manoeuvred his way to your neck again, he muttered in the same dark voice, "tell me what you want, my darling. I want to hear it."

There was no resisting this, not that you ever wanted to. You were so turned on again,  wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you.

"Fuck me, Jimin. Show me what a real cock feels like," you plead.

He runs the head of his cock against your pussy, wet again with fresh arousal, before he slowly pushes himself into you.

Your walls expand to his size, nothing but pleasure erupting through you from the waist down.

Jimin growls above you, feeling his own pleasure ripple through him. He let's himself enjoy your warmth for a moment, before he starts to move his hips against you, deepening his cock and hitting you right where you needed him most.

He was a skilled lover. He had to be; he was a demon. The Prince of all the Demons. He knew where he needed to be. He knew what he needed to do. So with each thrust, he'd hit that soft spot inside you that would spark your pleasure like jumper cables being touched together.

"F-fuck," you breathe out. You can't help yourself. You moan loudly, sounding like a whore. But you don't care. You love it. And he loves it.

He picks up his pace, his demonic powers starting to bubble to the surface. His absolute strength pinned you to the mattress; his unholy speed pounded you into oblivion. Electricity flowed out of his hands, sending literal shocks to your skin as he gripped your hips.

With every devilish growl erupting from within him, something in your room was thrown against a wall. He never needed to touch anything, the power within him simply destroying your surroundings; photo frames, ornaments, a mirror, books; they flew across the room with such force as he fucked you.

As he destroyed your room, you dug your fingers into his back, pulling him closer to where his forehead was pressed against yours; his black eyes staring into your own as he continued his satanic growls.

You screamed as a new spring coiled in your stomach, impossibly tighter than before. Jimin was close, his growls getting deeper, his hips moving with such precision and such speed into yours.

"Jimin, I... Oh, fuck I want you to cum. Let it go," you begged him, not giving any kind of shit about your own orgasm, but wanting to see the devil himself reach his climax. You wanted to see the devil fall from grace once again; this time, because of you.

Jimin threw his head back, using one of his hands to rub harsh circles on your oversensitive clit. You were screaming again, the coil ready to splinter and shatter for a second time. And you hit it.

Your vision went black, your body inhumanly bending like Jimin had possessed you from the inside out. You moved like a contortionist, your lungs projecting your final screams. Jimin continued, ready to let himself go too.

He roared like some kind of animal, all the broken remnants of your belongings all over the floor levitating 6ft in the air. His body went rigid as he came inside you, your own climax simply sending him back down to hell.

He held you there as he roared, letting the unspeakable pleasure take over. His body fell on top of yours, the two of you collapsing into the sheets as the levitating debris fell to the floor once again.

The room fell silent; only your rapid breathing could be heard. You looked down at your demon, his head looking up at you and panting. His eyes had returned to their natural state, looking up at you wide and... shocked?

"What did you do to me?" he asked, confused and almost scared of you. You didn't understand. What did you to do him? That... wasn't normal for him?

"I-I... I don't know. What did I do? I don't understand." He propped himself up to look down at your face again, his face red and flushed, covered in sheen of sweat.

"It's never been like that... I am never letting you go. Something about you... I don't understand it, but you're more addictive than heroin. You're the girl who brought the devil to his knees."

                                    𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

#jimin #park jimin #demon au #demon #demon jimin #smu au #smut #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #religious themes #supernatural au

[fierypen37]

Virtue a Veil, Vice a Mask Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 Raquira was under way again. The sailors kicked the boarding bridges free, tossed the corsair corpses overboard and unfurled her sail to catch the strong eastward wind. The ship’s cook, who doubled as their healer, tended the wound to Jon’s leg under Daenerys’s sharp eye. The gash was jagged, but shallow—thank the gods. No need for suturing. On the edges of her hearing, she heard the cook grumble over the lost rum. She and Missandei had done enough to ensure their freedom and Daenerys didn’t feel a speck of misgiving over taking what they needed, yet perhaps she should offer to repay their purser. A problem that can wait.

The captain and crew milled about on deck, trying to set everything to rights.

“Where is your dagger, khaleesi?” Aggo asked. Daenerys wiped a smear of blood from his craggy cheek with the hem of her cloak. In answer, his black eyes warmed with tenderness. The wind buffeted them, and Daenerys wrestled with the cloak flapping around her.

“I stuck a corsair bent on capturing me near the stern,” she said. Though she had no skill with it, Jon’s wry advice rang in her inner ear: Stick ‘em with the pointy end. Aggo nodded.

“I will find it.”

“All the bodies were tossed overboard, milady,” the first mate said. Kovarro’s scowl turned murderous. He hauled the man close by handfuls of his tunic and shook him.

“Who took it? Who steals from the khaleesi?” he barked, his accent thickened in his ire. Aggo loosed his bloody whip from where it lay coiled around his chest. Daenerys laid a stalling hand on his arm.

“Peace, blood of my blood. There is no reason to think it was--” a thud. One of the sailors tossed the sheathed Valyrian steel dagger at her feet. The captain lumbered up hefting a heavy sack and laid it beside the dagger.

“Take this. It’s all our coin. A fair sum of gold,” he said.

“Ser, I cannot--” He held up a hand to stall her.

“Without you and your men, all of us would be dead or wearing slave’s collars by now. Take it. We will sell our cargo in Pentos and make a lean profit. We thank you.” Daenerys scanned the crowd of faces. Though nonplussed, none seemed to protest the offer their captain made in their stead. His words rang true. Without her and Missandei, the corsair ship would have chased them down. Without Grey Worm, Aggo, Kovarro, and Jon, more of them would have lost their lives.

Under the healer’s ministrations, Jon uttered a half-stifled grunt of pain. Daenerys hid her wince.

“You have our thanks, captain. My husband and I will retire now. I would appreciate some hot water to wash with, and food at your earliest convenience,” Daenerys said.

“As you say, milady,” the captain replied.

Once Jon was settled in their berth bed, Daenerys set to washing away the soot and seawater. An ewer of hot water, and a dish of her favorite lemon-scented soap from Pentos went a long way to restoring her composure. As she washed, the weight of Jon’s ink-dark eyes felt . . . odd. Worshipful, almost. Twined together in the throes of passion, she understood that impulse—she’d felt it too. Now it was unnerving. Her belly felt taut as a drum.

“What is it?” she asked, draping her clean, dripping hair over one shoulder to comb. Jon shrugged.

“Nothing.”

“No, what is it? Forgive me for not telling you about it earlier. I did not mean to cause you pain,” she said, focusing on the strokes of the comb. A delicate scrape on her scalp, through the heft of her wet hair, snagging on a tangle. A glance darted at Jon saw another casual shrug. He took a long draw from his waterskin.

“It’s all right. Have you . . . have you always been immune to fire?” he asked. Daenerys uttered a bark of mirthless laughter. Gods, how it must sound to him! In her heart, as the pyre burned, she knew no harm would come to her. Her sons needed her to be born.

“I don’t know. Looking back, I never remember burning myself cooking or the like. Bathwater was never too hot.” Jon’s dark eyes widened.

“You heard your dragons sing, and walked into the fire not knowing if you’d survive? You truly are a wonder.” Daenerys threw down the comb in frustration.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Jon asked, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she snapped.

“Like what?” Jon said, matching her in sharpness and volume.

With a wince, he swung free from the bed and stood. Daenerys cursed and moved to help him.

“Jon, your leg--” he waved off her concern, instead pulling her close to him, rock-steady against the pitch of the sea beneath them. Gods, the strength of him, the woodsy smell of his skin. She was fast becoming addicted to it.

“It’ll keep. Now, what’s this about?” he asked more softly. Daenerys rested her forehead against his chest.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some goddess or blessed one.” She was mortal, fallible. She would fail him in some way, and what would be left of her once he moved on?

“But you are, or as close as any mortal woman can be. You walk through fire unharmed. You wake dragons from stone. How can I not look at you and think you’re a goddess? A myth from the Age of Heroes at the very least?”

“Demoted from a goddess to a myth?” she teased. Jon laughed.

“Aye,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Jon, I can be vain and foolish and petty like anyone else. I just don’t want you to think--” Jon stoppered her words with a quick kiss on her lips.

“I know that, Dany. But that doesn’t make you any less miraculous to me. Now stop fretting and come kiss me,” he said. Daenerys grinned. It was so easy for him to cajole her out of a mood with a bit of humor. And kissing sounded wonderful.

“Very well, my dragon.”

 The rest of the journey to Pentos was uneventful save for the fact that Jon’s stomach refused to calm. Bless him, he was only able to keep down dry bread, and that only half of the time. Between that and his injured leg, he was by turns clinging and snappish. Daenerys sat with him, telling him lighthearted tales of the places she’d seen. How the Sealord of Braavos had spilled his wine and stained his new tunic at the Titan’s roar at sunset. How the street performers danced in the streets of Myr. There she’d learned the deft cutpurse’s trade when she was no older than eight. Though the stories often educed his half-smile, half-grimace, his misery deepened as the journey wore on as the sailors fought an indifferent wind. Jon paced and growled around their cabin, cursing the ship, the waves, the crew, the food.

At the helmsman’s horn on the morning of the fifth day at sea, she sighted land. Jon limped to the prow, squinting into the sun.

“Land,” he said. His tone was caught somewhere between lust and hunger. He looked thinner, his face drawn and wan. Dark circles cupped his eyes. Daenerys shared a worried look with Missandei. Her friend squeezed her arm in passing. Perhaps her Dothraki women could mix something for her new husband. It was midday by the time the ship docked and Kovarro led the horses off.

“Thank you for allowing our passage,” Jon said stiffly to the captain.

“Thank you, my prince and my silver lady. Enjoy Pentos,” he said. Jon and Daenerys walked arm in arm down the pier, staggering drunkenly as they shed their sea-legs.

“Land, thank the gods! There were times I thought that voyage would never end. I could kiss the ground,” Jon said. Daenerys eyed the grey timber pier spattered with gull droppings and furred with lichen.

“I wouldn’t,” she said. Jon snorted in reluctant amusement. Already, his color looked better. They found Kovarro, Aggo, Grey Worm and Missandei with the horses at a cookstall. Kovarro peeled morsels of fried meat off a stick with his teeth.

“Here, Jon of the Dragon Tent. Dormouse. Very good!” he said, grease shining on his mustache. Daenerys watched Jon’s jaw flex, sweat popped on his brow. He stalked away toward the pier to retch into the swampy shallows. Her own stomach lurched in sympathy.

“Milk men,” Aggo muttered, crunching on his own morsel. Daenerys reprimanded him in Dothraki. Her gaze followed the flex of his shoulders as he retched. Wiping his mouth on his cuff, he approached them. A stormcloud had a gentler look than Jon.

“Jon--” she said.

“Leave me be,” he snarled. Daenerys shared a bewildered look with her group.  

“Come now! We must find Rakharo,” she said briskly, swinging astride Ciri. Jon climbed astride his bay, adjusting his sword at his hip. Still wearing his scowl, his silence tasted like hoarfrost. Daenerys exhaled a frustrated breath, trying to master her irritation. Was it a Stark trait to be so mercurial?

Riding two-by-two, they meandered through the busy markets of Pentos. Larger than the same sort she had seen in King’s Landing. The world seemed broader and more vivid in Pentos. Criers boasted of their wares in half a dozen languages. The air was alive with spices and cooking oil, perfumes and dung. Here were rich Myrish textiles, there the reek of Ibbenese tar. As they passed a gated manse, there was the tang of Yi Tish saffron in the air. Palanquins carried by servants stoppered surging foot traffic. Jon nudged his bay even with Ciri.

“I thought there were no slaves in Pentos,” he said in a low voice. Oh, have you calmed, Husband? She bit down the words. No use to quarrel in the midst of the city.

“There are ways of bending the law, if you’re rich enough. Some servants are slaves in all but name,” Daenerys said. The thought made her feel ill. Through her childhood, she’d seen their plight and loathed it.

“It is the same amongst the smallfolk home. It is a shameful thing,” Jon said. Daenerys’ eye fell to a woman trailing after her mistress, arms laden with packages while yolked to two large water pails. The careworn face. The downcast eyes. Nausea roiled in her belly.

“Yes, it is,” Daenerys said softly. The image of her collar lingered long after the slave disappeared from sight.

The Dothraki would shelter in manses when it suited them, but they preferred the cloth and leather tents of their fathers beneath an open sky. Dragons too, did not do well cooped up in stone walls. Thus, their camp sprawled on the bluffs on the outskirts of Pentos, just as she’d left it. So much had changed in little more than a sennight. They arrived, dusty, thirsty, and unkempt in the heat of mid-afternoon. Daenerys urged Ciri into her liquid-smooth canter as the summited the bluff. She stood in the stirrups and shouted: “Drogon! Tessarion! Vyrmax!”

The bond between them was young, fragile like a dandelion bloom. But through it, she felt such joy. They had missed her. Tears pricked her eyes. Her loves. Her sweet sons.

“Look, Jon!” she said, swinging down from Ciri. In the deep blue of the cloudless sky to the north, she saw them. At this distance, they could have been mistaken for birds.

“There, you see? Drogon is in the center. Black as midnight,” she said to Jon, watching his face. Though stoic in the fashion of his mother’s people, Jon’s ink-dark eyes were as wide as a child’s.

“Tessarion is aloof, a hunter. See his bronze?” As he rolled in the air, the bronze streaks of his chest scales flashed in the sun.

“And to the left, Vyrmax. My youngest and the swiftest. White as snow.” White and gold. The colors of snow and sunrise. Mayhap he and Jon would be a good match. Their music filled the air, shrieks and clicks. Too small a sound to be roars, just yet. But fierce and valiant. From the tail of her eye, she saw her people gather in a ring around them.

“They’re beautiful. Gorgeous beasts,” Jon said softly.

Closer now. Gods, they’d grown! Daenerys braced herself, used to her children’s rambunctious greetings. The three of them flared their wings at the last instant. Drogon struck her chest, Tessarion and Vyrmax either shoulder. Her feet knocked from under her, Daenerys wheezed out a breathless laugh. Her sons had never gotten the knack for landing on her gently. It was a confusing tangle of wings and limbs. Each of them butted her face, clamoring for attention. Daenerys laughed, petting their warm scales.

“Peace, peace my loves! Settle. Settle, now,” she said sternly. Drogon nibbled her first finger, Vyrmax climbed on her shoulder and burrowed under her braid, Tessarion nestled in the crook of her elbow. Jon tentatively offered a hand to help her up. Drogon growled, black smoke curling from his slitted nostrils.

“Hush, darling,” Daenerys said, accepting the proffered hand, “my children, this is Jon. My husband.” She looked into Drogon’s amber-red eyes, then Tessarion’s bronze ones, and then Vyrmax’s citrine-gold. Through the bond, she unfurled her feelings for Jon: love and joy and fear and welcome and worry. Her dragons watched her husband. To his credit, Jon bore their scrutiny well, calm and focused. Not even her bloodriders could boast that. Vyrmax broke the moment by slithering down her leg to sniff at Jon’s boot. Tessarion followed suit, while Drogon was content at his usual place on her right shoulder.  

“Husband, khaleesi? Is this so?” Rakharo asked, eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Whispers rippled through the gathering. Hard black eyes scrutinized Jon. Another thing he bore well. No doubt he had been bearing up under harsher scrutiny since he was born, due to the circumstances of his birth.

“It is,” Jon said, “wed in King’s Landing some sennight ago.” Though his attention was fixed on her dragons, Daenerys could hear the steel in his tone. Vyrmax tilted his head this way and that, clicking in a friendly dragon greeting to Jon. The wonder hadn’t left Jon’s eyes and he squatted down to offer his flattened palm. Vyrmax hissed and scurried back to cling to her leg.  

“Irri, Jhiqui could we have baths drawn? I would like to wash off the memory of the poison water,” Daenerys said. Her handmaidens giggled and did as they were bid. Later, after rest and refreshment, she and Jon would join her people. They would see him as she did: brave and strong, kind and trustworthy.

“As you say, khaleesi. I am eager to hear tales of the Sunset Lands,” Rakharo said, “I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Daenerys ducked under the lintel and waited for Jon to follow. She looked about the tent, trying to see it through his eyes. The interior was cool and dim. A section of either end was raised partway to allow in any breeze. Woven grass mats covered the floor with cushions scattered here and there. Her bed was a heap of sleeping furs with a few plump embroidered pillows. At the foot of the bed was a battered chest that held Daenerys’ clothing and possessions. Sitting atop it were two candles on either side of a clay bowl. In it were the shards of her children’s eggs, gleaming like jewels in the light. An oil lamp hung suspended from the central pole, casting wavering light in spangled shapes. Blue threads of incense burned, filling the room with the scent of wildflowers. Not a palace or a castle, but clean and comfortable. Home.  

Her dragons flapped to settle on the rug, snapping and pawing at each other. Jon set down his pack, the whole of his worldly belongings was even less than hers. A prince scratching out a place to sleep in the dirt. Anxiety wound her belly taut. Was it too wild, too rash a choice? Chewing on her lip, Daenerys took a moment to furtively admire him. Even sweating, with dusty boots and trousers, Jon was more handsome than any man had a right to be. The hard neat lines of him. That lovely wild hair, his stormy eyes, his square jaw and full lips. His curls disliked the more humid air of Essos and lay in a riotous tangle around his face. Perspiration gleamed on his skin. He rubbed his mouth, eyes wandering over his surroundings. Tessarion climbed up to his niche. Vyrmax nipped at Drogon’s tail. Drogon snarled at his brother, bursting into flight. His wing knocked the oil lamp. It jangled in protest.

“Drogon, zohhe!” {Down!} Daenerys said sharply. Drogon settled on her shoulder, butting her chin with his head.

“Don’t fight with your brother,” she said in Dothraki, setting him in his niche. Vyrmax, not one to be left out, picked his way up her leg. She kissed his frilled head and set him in the nest of straw.

Jhiqui ducked through the leather partition with a whisper of sandsilk.

“Your meal, khaleesi,” she said, setting the tray down on the low table along with a clay carafe. Steam floated up in white tendrils along with a tantalizing savory aroma. Daenerys’ mouth filled with water. It had been much too long since the stale biscuits on the ship. Skewers of goat meat roasted in garlic and black pepper, spiced goat cheese, round loaves of brown bread speckled with seeds and—

“Lemon cakes?” Daenerys asked, delighted. Jhiqui’s smile was broad.

“Yes, khaleesi. I tell the cooks to make your favorites for your return.”

“You spoil me,” Daenerys said, kissing her cheeks. Jhiqui shrugged, uncomfortable with thanks as most Dothraki were. Another thing Daenerys planned to change.

“Irri draws your bath, yours and . . . and the khal’s,” she said with a wary glance towards Jon.

“My thanks,” Jon said with a nod. Dothraki followed strength, her strength in walking through the flames and birthing her dragons. Jon had proven his valor in fighting the corsairs on the ship, but some of her khalasar might cling to stubbornness. Jhiqui took her leave. Daenerys knelt and settled on a cushion at the table, pouring two horn cups of water.

“Are you well enough to eat, Jon?”

“Aye. It smells delicious. I think I could eat a whole side of beef myself,” he said with his half-smile, half-grimace. Daenerys giggled.

“Perhaps I could teach you Valyrian. To speak to your dragons.” Daenerys nodded, covering his hand with hers. Jon twisted his wrist to hold her hand.  

“I would love that, thank you,” she said. He shrugged, as uncomfortable with attention as her Dothraki.

“You are a daughter of Valyria as well.” She made a mental note to speak with her bloodriders on fitting Jon with Dothraki clothing. Sandsilk and rider’s trousers breathed easier than Westerosi leathers. They slaked their thirst and sated their hunger with alacrity. The two of them shared a plate, teasing morsels from the skewers, tearing bread to scoop up the cheese. Jon offered her a bite and she nibbled delicately from his hand, ‘accidentally’ tracing her tongue over his knuckle. Jon’s lips parted, eyes dark and longing.

“Dany,” he whispered, “forgive me. I’ve been . . . boorish.”

“You’ve been ill. Ill and injured--”

“That’s no excuse for snapping at you like a jackal,” he said. Daenerys uttered a rueful laugh.

“You’re forgiven, Jon. It has been a tumultuous wedding week, hmm?” Jon gave her a solemn nod.

“Though . . . I could use some tending,” he said.

Daenerys moved to rise.

“Do you need a healer? Jon, you should have said something--”

Jon grasped her wrist and tugged her down for a slow, drugging kiss. Mm, oh yes. Arousal unfurled, hot and sweet. Daenerys bit her lip.

“Would the khaleesi tend me?” he whispered, turning his attention to her hand. He pressed hot kisses on the tender skin of her wrist, her palm, her thumb. Daenerys shivered.

“Gods, Jon. Yes.”

Jon pulled her to her feet, seizing her mouth. Daenerys whimpered. His kisses melted and inflamed her. She lost herself in the sweet duel of hungry lips and tongues, twining her arms around his neck. Her fingers sank into fistfuls of the thick hair at his nape. Gods, he filled her senses. He smelled of sweat and leather and male. He tasted of salt and the lingering tang of meat. Warm, rough hands smoothed over her body, tugging and insistent at the laces of her trousers. He slid a hand down to caress her, gentle fingers fluttered along her inner seam. He found her wet, already greedy for him. Daenerys squirmed, straining her tiptoes as he circled her pearl. The pleasure was sweet. So achingly sweet. It made her throb and thrash in his grip.  

“Fuck, Dany,” he panted, tracing his tongue over the shell of her ear. As she peeled off his jerkin, his pale skin gleamed in the low light. They parted only to pull off their boots and shuck off their trousers. Jon made a sound very much like a growl, seizing her bodily. Daenerys hummed in approval, notching her arms and legs around him. A loud hiss broke the haze. Three pairs of eyes watched them. Amber-red, bronze, and gold.

“Will they eat me, do you think? For touching their mother?” Jon said, gently biting her bare shoulder.

“Hmm, depends on how well you treat me,” she teased. Jon chuckled, kissing the underside of her chin. Daenerys gripped his hair, moving his head so she could kiss him. Yes, so good. Daenerys sucked on his tongue. Ground her hips against the hot throb of his cock trapped against her mound, weeping silky fluid. They fell back onto her bed of furs. The musty smell and sleek texture felt sumptuous on her bare skin. Jon ground his hips into the cradle of hers. Daenerys tightened her thighs and twisted, rolling Jon beneath her. Jon craned his neck to kiss and suck on her nipples. The pleasure was sharper, hotter. The pressure of his thick cock against her—oh gods. The crest swept her up.

“Yes,” he hissed. Jon twisted her beneath him and slid inside her. Daenerys gasped. Jon cradled her head, watching her face, her eyes as he thrust.

“Daenerys. My wonder, my wife, my love,” Jon whispered against her lips. Daenerys scraped the thick flexing muscles of his back, his buttocks, spurring him on.  Jon rose up on his hands, thrusting deeper, faster. Tendons stood out on his neck.

“Dany, I’m—oh gods!” he said, throwing his head back as he spilled inside her. Gods, she loved it when he let go. His pleasure brought on hers. A glorious clenching euphoria. In the sweat-slick aftermath, Daenerys kissed his neck, petting his hair. They drowsed in silence for a while. A faint clap outside.

“Your bath, khaleesi. When you’re ready,” Jhiqui’s voice floated in from outside. Jon cursed and rolled off of her. Wild-eyed, he clutched one of her furs. Daenerys laughed.

“Do you think they heard us?” Jon asked. Her mighty, brooding husband was blushing!

“Of course they did. The Dothraki think me prudish for needing walls at all. It is sacred in their culture to couple beneath an open sky.” Daenerys drew him down for a lingering kiss.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll guard your virtue.”            

#jonerys fanfiction #fp37fic #virtue a veil #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #fanfic

[dragon-fics]

HA: Ch. 4 Khonsu

Chapter summary: after their meeting with Queen Zubeia, Heather and the caterpillar make their way down to the humans and Rayla. While Rayla tries to get close to Réalta, he bolts, almost crashing into a familiar face.

Prologue, Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3 , Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6 , Pt. 7, Pt. 8, Pt. 9, Pt. 10, Pt. 11, Pt. 12, Pt. 13, Pt. 14, Pt. 15

“Well, at least that wasn’t as terrifying as I had imagined,” Aaravos said. Their meeting with Zubeia had gone well, and within a few days, they would travel to the Human Kingdoms.

“Couldn’t you just see into the future to see how the meeting was going to go?” Heather asked, walking down the last fraction of stairs of the Spire.

She looked down at the humans and Rayla below. Callum was sketching Réalta while Soren and Ezran talked to him. Rayla, on the other hand, was sitting off to the side, looking dejected as she stared at the butterfly blade in her hands.

The caterpillar looked down at the group below. “What is your history with Rayla?”

Heather started down the stairs again. “We lived with the same foster parents, but we never really got on. Our foster parents though we did, but in actual fact, she acted like she was my friend when others were around, but if we were alone she’d insult me, much like every other back-stabbing Moonshadow elf I know.” She drew in a breath to calm her temper. “Sorry, I just don’t like talking about that part of my life. And I know that she’s probably changed—hopefully she has, but I can’t forgive her... not yet anyway.”

The caterpillar turned its head to her. “I could help you get revenge on those that have insulted you.”

Heather gave the caterpillar a worried look. “I may be angry at them, but I’d rather avoid them than take vengeance on them.”

The caterpillar looked forward. “Very well,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just mentioned murdering elves.

They were silent for a little longer. Heather rolled her shoulders, getting used to the caterpillar’s weight.

“So, is there any way for your caterpillar form to be smaller?” Heather asked.

“I suppose I could discharge some energy, since my metamorphosis was interrupted. I could also provide you with a way of seeing me, so we may start our lessons.”

“How would you do that?” Heather slowed her pace as she neared the base of the Storm Spire.

“I would weave a lens between your eyelids with the spittle of the caterpillar.”

Heather shivered. “Would the lens be removable?”

“I would have to make it differently to Viren’s,” Aaravos mused softly. “I suppose so,” he concluded, “I just need to do some research first.”

Heather hummed as her boot touched the earth at the base of the Spire, somewhat assured by his words. She walked towards the group, mainly heading towards Réalta.

“How did it go?” Rayla asked, standing as Heather passed her.

Heather gave her a sideways glance. “It went fine,” she replied as she continued moving. She knelt by Réalta and stroking his face.

“So, what’s with the earring on your horse’s ear?” Asked Soren. “Oh! Let me guess... Is it magic?”

Heather glanced at the hoop and crystal piercing Réalta’s left ear and then to Soren. “His name is Réalta. And you are correct, it is magic; well, the crystal holds an enchantment.”

“What does it do?” Callum asked, looking up from his sketchbook.

“It’s an enchantment that holds a Dragonguard uniform for Réalta. It matches mine, with a saddle and bridle as well. Most of the other Dragonguard mounts wear a collar with the enchantment, but Réalta spends most of his time in the wild with other unicorns.”

“So he isn’t completely bound to you? He can do what he wants?”

Heather nodded. Réalta closed his eyes, his horn disappeared, like fire was eating away at it. He replaced the horn with a yellow sun arcanum symbol and a blue sky arcanum symbol inside the sun symbol.

“He’s already closely bound to me, he deserves all the freedom he wants.” She touched her forehead against the arcana symbols on his head. She stroked his jaw and sat up again.

“Wait... do you have five fingers?” Callum asked, noticing her hand. “Is that because you’re part dragon? Like your fangs and wings?”

“Who said I wasn’t just a dragon-shifter?”

“Rayla said you were a dragon-elf halfling,” Ezran said.

Heather nodded quietly. “Right,” she whispered. She rose to her feet.

“What’s your dragon form like?” Callum asked.

“I... can’t shift forms. I was in an accident with magic a while ago so I can’t shift forms.”

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Rayla apologised, holding her arm.

“It’s fine, not many know.” Heather got to her feet, as did Réalta. “But for now, I’m going to go back to the barracks to train,” she lied. She was eager to get started with her magic lessons with Aaravos.

She tapped the crystal hanging from Réalta’s hoop earring. In a soft flash, Réalta’s uniform appeared on him.

“Can I join you? For the walk back?” Rayla asked, stepping closer.

Réalta dropped his ears, uncomfortable with how near Rayla was. He snorted and backed away.

“Réalta,” Heather soothed, “it’s okay. You’re safe, there’s no danger.” For once, will you not represent my emotions?

She hurt you; I don’t want it to happen again. Réalta threw his head back. The three humans got to their feet, in case he went into fight-or-flight mode.

“What’s wrong with him?” Rayla asked.

“Just step back, Rayla.”

To Heather’s surprise, Rayla listened, taking a few steps back. Réalta calmed down, shaking his head and standing close to Heather.

“He... doesn’t seem to like you,” Heather said in an almost confused tone as to not hurt Rayla.

Rayla’s ears dropped with disappointment. “Oh... do you know why?”

Heather shook her head, lying. “No... maybe it’s because you got closer to the Dark Mage than anyone, and he can smell the dark magic off you.”

“But, I was trying to save Zym,” she pleaded, coming closer again.

This time Réalta reared up and galloped off.

“He’s going to hurt someone,” Aaravos prophesied.

Heather bolted after her steed.

“Realta! Stop!” She called, as she swiftly caught up with him.

Réalta stayed close to the rock of the Storm Spire, just as an elf on a shadowpaw came out from behind the Spire.

Heather passed out Réalta and stood in front of him with her arms wide. Réalta ground to a halt, sending up a small cloud of dust by Heather’s feet, his snout inches from hers. The elf and their shadowpaw let out yelps of surprise.

Réalta breathed labouriously as Heather stood open-armed in front of him, staring blankly at him.

“Calm down, Réalta. No one is going to hurt you,” she breathed. “If you wish, go to the barracks and wait for me there.”

Réalta twitched his ears and stood up straight. He looked over Heather’s shoulder. No, I’ll stay.

Heather turned to face the victim of Réalta’s near hit-and-run. “I’m sorry about that. He got spooked,” she looked up at the elf on the shadowpaw.

“Khonsu?” Heather raised a brow; it had been a while since they’d seen each other.

“H-hey, Heather,” Khonsu stuttered.

Heather took a step back from Khonsu’s mount. At first, she felt anger rise through her blood, then sadness and finally, relief.

She smiled at him, which worsened his unease.

“Heather?”

“I’ve missed you, Khonsu,” she breathed, smiling more than she had in the past month.

Khonsu’s ears dropped in surprise. He gingerly got off his shadowpaw, brushing her lilac mane with his hand. “Heather... I am so, so sorry for what happened... and I’m sorry we haven’t talked in a while. I guess you still scare me to this day,” he quipped.

Heather snorted amusingly. “Looks like I’m keeping up my game.” She looked to Khonsu’s shadowpaw. “Hello, Elara,” she greeted, stroking her forehead. Elara purred, pressing her head against Heather’s palm.

Réalta pushed his head against Khonsu’s demanding attention from the Moonshadow elf.

With a chuckle, Khonsu obliged and ran his hand over Réalta’s face.

“You should get back to the others soon, before Rayla gets too envious of Khonsu,” Aaravos said.

Khonsu stopped petting Réalta to look at Heather. “The Rayla is here?”

“Yep, and she got a hero’s welcome too,” Heather sighed. “By the way, this is Aaravos,” she looked to the caterpillar on her shoulders, gesturing to him with her hand. “Well, Aaravos is in control of the caterpillar. Aaravos, this is Khonsu, my partner for the Year Of the Star celebration.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Archmage,” Khonsu said with a bow.

“Likewise, Battlemage.”

An awkward smile grew across Khonsu’s face. “Only Heather calls me a battlemage.”

“Your parents haven’t changed, huh?”

“No,” Khonsu sighed.

Heather smiled sympathetically. “Do you want to be my emotional support battlemage while I walk with Rayla?”

“Yeah, why not?”

#his apprentice #aaravos #the dragon prince #the dragon prince aaravos #wormavos #rayla #callum #soren #ezran #tdp aaravos #tdp rayla #tdp soren #tdp callum #tdp ezran #tdp fanfic

[chloe-clegane]

My Devotion and Mah Protection - Chapter 6

We This Night Are Bound As One

AO3

Prev Chapter

Next Chapter

Dress Illustration 

Music

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Callum could feel himself sweating as he muttered the script to himself. Any moment now, he would be walking up onto that platform and performing a sealing ritual. The anxiety had him wishing he could crawl out of his skin.

Ezran cocked his head to one side and made a face. “Callum, you look like you’re going to vomit, then pass out from not breathing, and then maybe vomit again.” His aunt backed up his brother’s statement and signed for him to take deep breaths.

He did as he was told and tried to match his inhale and exhales to the pace of her hand gliding up and down, up and down.

“Ok better, wow that helped. How much longer? I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. Ezran, look around the henge. S-she’s there right? She wouldn't change her mind right?”

The more Callum spoke the more the anxiety moved back into his voice.

“Noooooo,” his brother whined. “She hasn’t changed her mind. I think now we’re just waiting on the music and lights. So any minute?”

Amaya agreed with Ezran again signing, “ Yes , she loves you, and she’s right over there. So just take calming breaths.” She continued to coax inhale-exhale motions.

“Cool, cool, cool as a cucumber, so cool.” Callum failed to convincingly be cool. He instead went back to muttering all the steps and words of the ritual while rocking on his heels. There was no officiant for the ceremony, and he was determined not to make an ass of himself.  

The drums of the Moonshadow Druids started to beat softly and the soft glowing orbs began to float from between the towering stones. His aunt squeezed his shoulder one more time and Callum took another deep breath as he got into position, standing behind his aunt and brother. They passed through the great stone pillars and approached the circle. The drums grew louder with every step they took. Callum’s view was partially obstructed by his aunt’s height, but he could still see over his thirteen-year-old brother. He looked over and spotted Ethari stepping up into the light opposite them, Rayla was completely blocked from view behind him.

The family of three took their final steps to the edge of the platform and the deafening drumming fell silent, creating a vacuum. Ezran, in his most regal voice began speaking, his aunt signed in unison. “We are kin to Prince Callum of Katolis, we deliver him this night to be wed.”

They both stepped to either side and Callum took a step forward. As he turned back, they handed him an intricately woven silk band. He let out the breath he was holding and took the last two steps up to the outer ring. Callum went through a list in his head: smile, stand up straight, breathe, don’t lock my knees, close my mouth, breathe. Breathe.

He was fully in the light of the clearing and orbs bounced on the perimeter resembling swirling fireflies. But the main source of light was the moon itself. Somehow it seemed bigger and brighter here at the Nexus.

Ethari’s voice, much like Ezran’s, was puffed up and projected, but retained its usual gentleness. “I am kin tae Rayla of the Silvergrove, Daughter of Tiadrin and Lain, I deliver her this night tae be wed.” He stepped aside and Callum’s entire don’t look like an idiot checklist went out the window.

She was radiant.

Everything about her was otherworldly, she was the most beautiful creature that ever lived and Callum would fight anyone who tried to disagree. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also smiling at him, a perfect, pure smile. He saw her eyes and they were on him, and only him. She looked like the definition of love.

At this point, Callum knew he must look ridiculous, a wide smile spread across his face. She turned momentarily and his heart almost broke from the deprivation of her beauty. Divine countenance. Ethari handed her two rings and hugged her. She kissed his cheek. When she looked at Callum, she glided into the illuminated circle the demure sweet smile changed. Suddenly Callum had to ask himself, is that how goofy I look? But he realized that blushing wide smile, the one where she looked like she was going to squeal at any moment, was better. She wasn’t just some ethereal goddess, she was his steadfast weirdo goddess, his Rayla. And in that dress, he wanted to worship at her altar. Hard.

Her dress was fitted close to her body, the skirt flowed in pleats with slits from the hip on either side. The slits were high enough for him to be very excited but low enough to be tasteful. The collar was high with a cut out above the bust, there were band-like sleeves on her arms but her shoulders were bare .The dress was covered in beading that coruscated in the light, the whole dress was white in the human style.

Callum had expected to see intricate braids, but her hair was simple. Beautiful. Topped with a moon opal hairpiece connecting a web of crystal and silver glittering beads woven between her horns, one strand hung across her brow like a tiara. As she moved her head the beads swayed and reflected light.

She knocked him out of his reverie by shooting him her trademark ‘pay attention you big dumb human’ face. She subtly emphasized that fact her arms were up in position. Even her annoyed looks were perfect, absolutely divine. He lifted his arms and they shared a smile and a deep breath in unison. They began to dance, accompanied by the clear cascading sound of a harp. They dance around the circle and then into each other’s arms. As soon as they touched he had to resist the urge to kiss her right away and from the look on her face, Callum could only assume she was fighting a similar urge. She stroked his hand with her thumb and they shared another breath.

“I, Prince Callum of Katolis, come to pledge my abiding love to you, Rayla of the Silvergrove. I promise my devotion, my respect, and my generosity. I vow to fortify you in adversity and honor you in your triumphs. I will cherish and adore you and swear my loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Rayla, will you take me?

“I do.” Her answer was clear and confident. He took the ring meant for her and slipped it onto her middle finger. This was strictly a human tradition but she had been happy to include it and excited to wear it. She told him she liked the idea of showing him off even if it was just with one finger. Her violet eyes were glassy and he squeezed her hand before she started her speech. “I, Rayla of the Silvergrove, accept your pledge and offer mah own fierce love in return. I promise you mah protection, mah appreciation, and mah affection. I vow to give you honesty in happiness and despair, and to support you in your toils. I will treasure you and love you. I swear mah loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Callum, will you take me?

She quickly wiped away the few tears she let slip, while he, on the other hand, allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. Rayla wiped them away herself and cupped his cheek, he leaned into her touch and projected, “I do.” When she went to slide the ring on his middle finger, he wiggled his ring finger, she blushed and course-corrected.

She was his blushing bride, looking up at him with her glowing lavender eyes. He had to remind himself they weren’t done, all that was left was the ritual portion. Just one more step before he could pull Rayla close and officially be hers, for the rest of their days.

He handed her part of the silk band with the runes woven into the fabric. Together they wrapped the band, loosely attaching themselves to one another. They spoke in unison “Love is the Moon, guiding in the darkness. We this night are joined as kin, we this night are bound as one”.

Again, they danced, moving with the flowing stream of the harp . They had spent hours practicing this dance and when they finished he could hardly believe that he had done it without a single mistake. The goal of the ritual was to complete the steps without tangling the band. They had to move intuitively together, maneuvering as one.

When they struck the last pose they spoke the actual spell, “love bound” in draconic, the silk binding burst into glowing dust that swirled up and dispersed above their heads, like glitter. The sensation of the spell was like nothing he’d ever felt. For just a moment he could feel her heart. It was indescribable.

Now, finally, they threw themselves into each other’s arms. He pulled her face to his and they kissed with vigor. They broke apart and said, “I love you,” simultaneously. He spun her around while they both laughed. The elation he felt at that moment was palpable. All the guests were clapping and from somewhere in the back Soren could be heard howling, “Whoooooo! Yeah! You did it!”

------

Immediately after the ceremony, Rayla and Callum walked hand in hand out of the henge and down the long winding path to the buildings below. Part way, Rayla stopped so she could take the stupid human coin out of her shoe. Callum chuckled and did the same.

“What dae we need lucky riches for anyways? Ye’re a prince, doesn’t that mean you already have that?”

Callum laughed and raised his hands in defense “Hey I didn’t make up the shoe coin thing and anyways It’s supposed to bring prosperity, not just money. I just so happen to think prosperity would be handy for a lot of things.”

Rayla rolled her eyes and smiled at him trying to quickly replace the shoe without halting the train of people “Not convinced. But sure I’ll humor you.” She grabbed his hand as they kept walking. “I’m starvin’, dae you suppose snack prosperity is a thing?”

“Hmmmm,” he pondered, tapping his chin for comedic effect “Should we have put deviled eggs in our shoes then?”

She made a face “Honestly Callum… I think the coin’s’a better idea than that.”

“What about kissing prosperity? That sounds real,” He leaned in and stole one from her lips.

She giggled. “Maybe so, but I’m not kissin’ yer shoes tae find out”.

“Fair, shoes are kind of gross. But hey, I’ll kiss your face! All day, every day, until forever.” He leaned into her and kissed her shoulder and then her cheek.  

“Ugh, yer so cute.” She whined. “Have I said how much I love you today?”

“You know what? I think you might have, in a very formal, magically binding kind of way, if I’m remembering correctly.” he teased.

“Oh yes , that’s right. Hmmm well I’ll still, just fer good measure,” She walked backwards in front of him “I love you Callum.” and then she bit her lip, in the flirty way she knows he loves.

“That’s it. I have to ensure kiss prosperity, I love you too much to risk it.” He lunged for her and she stepped aside. He laughed.

“Oh no, not the kissin’ prosperity! The price is just too high Callum , ” she put the back of her hand to her forehead and gasped dramatically.

“Rayla, you must give me your foot. Kissing prosperity is too important, it’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’m very serious” He was not very serious.

“Yer going tae have tae catch me first, you filthy human!” She turned and bolted away with a skip in her step.

“Hey! That’s filthy ‘husband’ to you,” he pointed at her indignantly before he chased her down the path, both of them cackling like idiots.

When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, she allowed him to jokingly kiss the top of her foot. But then he took advantage of the slit in her skirt and kissed his way up to her knee. Setting it down quickly, the line of party guests started to catch up with them. She didn’t think kissing prosperity would be an issue, because she had already lost count of them.

At the reception they presented each other with the elven wedding bands. Callum slid the cuffs onto her horns and then lifted her chin to kiss her sweetly. It made her knees weak. She was a big bad warrior that could be brought down with just those green eyes and soft lips. It was a fact about herself she both loved and hated… but mostly loved.

Ethari had thought of a clever solution for Callum’s lack of horns. It had taken a bit of convincing before Callum agreed to let her pierce his ears. A little over a month ago she practically had to sit on his chest so she could get the needle through the cartilage on the stubby round top of his ear. The second ear was much easier once he realized he didn’t need to be such a whiny baby about it. Her eye rolling ran rampant. She fastened the wedding bands as gently as possible. He did much better this go’round only wincing slightly as she placed the two wide cuff earring in the still healing holes. She secured the pin closure and admired her handy work. He was adorable and she loved making their bond so clear to the world. She was so proud to love him.

They kissed again and people ooohed and ahhhhed. It was bizarre to receive so much praise for public displays of affection. Before she could make her way over to the food Callum grabbed her wrist with one hand and pointed at her with the other. And of all things yelled “THAT’S MY WIFE!”

“Woooooo!” Soren yelled in reply. When he released her to walk away, he then high fived his brother.

“What are you-?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

The feast was held in the style of her people. Low tables were surrounded with cushions and small portions of food were carried around by illusions. Some of the human guests were confused, used to large banquet tables and huge plates, not everyone grasped the concept. She saw the King of Del Bar take an entire tray of bite-sized meat skewers and then walked around with it, befuddled as if he should take an entire tray of stuffed mushrooms as well. Rayla hid her mirth until she was able to point it out to Ezran and Queen Aanya, there was giggling.

As they walked around greeting guests, people praised her looks or her dancing in the ceremony. Callum would lean into the person, point at her and then say, “that’s my wife.” It was becoming a little ridiculous.

She patted his linked arm “Callum I think they know.”

He shrugged and she rolled her eyes… again. He was a complete mystery to her sometimes. This didn’t seem like some human thing, this just seemed like a goofy Callum thing.

They lounged back on cushions at their private table and fed each other food and cake, kissing between bites. They had picked the menu, and the couple was very pleased with themselves. Rayla checked another box. Snack prosperity seemed to be working, squishy shoe or not. Callum received the deviled eggs he had been pining for all week and she got her stuffed bacon dates. They nibbled happily, enjoying every bite - until Soren used a table as a platform and started clanking a glass.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, everyone, excuse me!”

People stopped what they were doing to pay attention. “Hello everyone, thank you. I would like to make a toast.”

“Oh no,” Rayla was filled with sudden dread and pushed on Calum's arm, “go, stop him. Oooooooh no, this is bad.” She moved to get up but her husband’s chuckle stopped her. He spoke softly in her ear, “Aw, come on Rayla, Soren’s our friend! Let’s let him have his moment. I’m sure he’ll say something really sweet.” He kissed her cheek.

“I’m tellin’ you Callum this is not going tae end well,” she hissed. Soren started speaking and she forced her mouth shut, looking on with dread.

“So, I’ve known Callum basically forever. I used to be his sword fighting teacher, and oh boy was he bad at that.” She shot her husband an ‘I told you so’ look. He returned a nervous smile “It’s fine though, now he’s got the magic stuff going for him. Zap hands and all that. My buddy here is really cool.” Callum gave her an apologetic look, maybe it won’t be so bad .

“More importantly I’m glad he’s got Rayla going for him. She’s the best! She’s even cooler than Zap Hands. She’s probably the best thing in his whole life”.

Rayla smirked, he was right about that at least. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but then it took a turn for the worst. “The first time I met her, I tried to kill her... while she was sleeping…” aaaaaand the smirk was gone.

There was a very awkward silence, and the blond idiot took another big sip from his glass. It occurred to Rayla that that was not his first big sip and maybe not his first glass either. She tried not to groan out loud.

“So uh anyways, didn’t kill her, for the record. But I guess you already know that - because she’s alive and stuff. But also for the record, I still think the mud in my mouth was kind of a cheap shot,” he laughed at his own memory. “Gross. So yeah, I think we’ve all grown so much as people since then. I still remember Callum as this dweeb who used to fall in the mud all the time. I never would have thought you could get a wife this cool.”  

This time Rayla did groan aloud, and Callum, who originally smiled politely, was now glaring at their friend.

“I don’t think he’s a dork anymore, though. I still feel bad about all those times I used to make fun of him and hurt his feelings. But you know, I really only did it because my dad didn’t love me,” he paused and frowned. He looked down into his empty cup. “I think I just hurt my own feelings…”

Rayla covered her eyes. This was too hard to watch.

There wasn’t a cringe-free face in the crowd. “I feel like I lost the point here a bit. But uh, aren't they just the best though?” Some people nodded in agreement, taking slow bites as they watched the things play out. “Rayla is strong, and really funny, and cool. Callum is so nice and he’s smart and, like I said before. Zap hands. Pew-pew!” He gestured with what appeared to be magic hands. “What I'm trying to say is they’re really awesome and I’m really glad they’re married. Also Callum, you bagged a hottie. I’m proud of you, bud.” He winked.

“Hey, okay ! ” Ezran climbed onto the table beside their friend and patted his back “Soren, that was so... great! Give it up for Soren everyone.” A few people clapped awkwardly.

“Aw, thanks Ez! Oh hey Amaya,” he said as Callum’s aunt reached up to give the big dumb oaf a hand off the table. She then proceeded to guide him to a plate of bready carbohydrates. Rayla figured a few glasses of water wouldn’t hurt either.

Ezran was a natural public speaker soo when he started people listened.

“I’ll keep my speech brief.” He smiled over at Rayla and Callum. “I have the world's best brother. Growing up, he always looked out for me and loved me unconditionally. Well, now he’s given me a sister too and Soren was right, she is so amazing. The best part is, I know my brother has someone who looks out for him, who loves him, and makes him feel special and happy. A partner.” At this point, Callum reached over and took her hand. They shared a smile before turning back. “Rayla, I’m so happy you're my sister and I want you to know I think our parents would have been happy to have you as a daughter. I think they would be as proud as I am to have you in our family. So, everyone, please raise your glasses to Rayla and Callum!”

The whole party raised their glasses and toasted them. Rayla was grateful for Ezran’s smooth recovery from Soren’s debacle.    

The soft music sped up into a lively tune and it was time to dance. Callum laughed as she pulled him onto the dancefloor. When they began to spin and jump, she loved the way it felt, the silk skirt swirling around her and the beads decorating her hair and horns swung and jingled. It was strange to her, feeling beautiful. Rayla had been skeptical of the white dress, she thought having only one color would be boring, but when the dressmaker described the idea for the swirling patterns of beads, it intrigued her. But she wasn’t prepared for the final result, it was stunning. One color became a glistening rainbow in the right light. It was the most elegant thing she’d ever seen. The first time she tried it on she felt like a fish out of water, an ugly duck, she had been terrified she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But hours before the wedding, when Ethari placed her mother's hair piece on her head, she shed tears. Tears for her mother, tears for

the heirloom, tears of excitement, and tears of overwhelming joy.

She felt like she was floating. Callum watched her dance with a certain look in his eye. It wasn't the licentious prince grin. It was a different look of desire, and it stole her breath away. He wanted her, and she wanted him in return. It wasn’t just the dress that made her feel beautiful, but rather the way he looked at her. He saw her in a way no one ever had, and because of that she was able to see herself in a new way. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like, what she as a person would be like, without the way he looked at her. He’d told her countless times that she made his life better by just being in it. It was mutual.

Rayla spun again and again, and she met his eyes every time her head came around and the entire world melted away. His hand guided her waist, grazing it and, like the turning of a grindstone, sent sparks across her skin.

When the song finally came to a close, they clung to each other. She held his face in her hands and kissed him and then tucked his hair back “I love you, mah sweet darlin’ Callum. Dae you want tae, uhh,” she gestured off the dancefloor with a jerk of her head. He agreed smiling but when she snuck them past the dancing and all the way out of the bustling party, he seemed confused.

She pulled him just out of sight behind a tree. “I love you so fuckin’ much Callum.” She pressed him against the tree and their tongues spoke passion instead of words. She sighed as he ran his hands up her exposed legs. His hands were warm and wanting. The kissing prosperity was seemingly endless.

When they snuck back a few minutes later, his loving torture knew no bounds. While she danced in a group without him, she completed an acrobatic jump with ease and some of the humans looked very impressed. She was bashful, and she didn’t think much of it, but then Callum from the side of the dance floor got on a table. Why do all the humans keep jumping on tables? she asked herself, frustrated. Then he pointed at her and she muttered, “ Oh no, not again .”

“THAT’S MY WIFE!” he yelled it proudly and laughed. She hid her face in her hands, her cheeks were pink, but she smiled. When she looked up, she narrowed her eyes and shot her uncle a glare. Ethari high-foured Callum as he jumped down. Despite her frequent admonishments over the years that he shouldn’t humor Callum’s human follies, he always did it anyways.

He was too adorable for her to be annoyed with him, not for long anyways. She was too in love with him to feel anything negative about him for long. She pulled him back on the dancefloor after that. The music of the fiddles and drums set a joyful mood. She and Callum took turns dancing with everyone. Rayla even agreed to dance with Soren, who had sobered up a bit. She punched him in the arm when the song ended in revenge. She and Ezran laughed their entire dance - he was terrible at it, but they had a great time. But Rayla did notice Ezran dance with Ellis multiple times, she and bait were his only other partners. Amaya and Janai participated in just one circle dance. It was cute seeing them blush through the steps trying to loosen up. Aanya attempted some of the lifts and jumps and did well, the young queen was always impressing her. Ethari and she danced expertly together. This is what the rest of her life was going to feel like and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

For a couple more hours, she and Callum ate, danced, toasted, and laughed with their family and friends. The kissing prosperity was prosperous.

Callum held her face and kissed her, “You are my wife,” he whispered. She laughed, giving him a playful shove. It was time to take her sweet revenge. She walked away from him, climbed on top of a table, and yelled into the crowd, pointing for everyone to see and hear, “THAT’S MAH HUSBAND!”  

It was the happiest night of Rayla’s life.

#My Devotion and Mah Protection Our Love #my fics #rayllum fic #older rayllum #rayllum #Rayla #Callum #Wedding #tipsy speeches #Soren hurt his own feelings #kissing prosperity #cool as a cucumber #deviled eggs #THAT'S MY WIFE #the dragon prince #My Devotion and Mah Protection

[1heartsickfics]

Pt. 2 of Tayden/Julius Struggle

Read the preface of this fic here

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“Hey,” Nathan appeared next to the pull out couch he’d made up for Tayden and Julius the night before. Julius had been completely trashed and Tayden was pretty drunk himself. Honestly they’d been a mess. So Nathan had insisted they stay at Hazel’s apartment with them. 

“Hey,” Tayden answered. He was sitting up, leaning against the back of the couch, Julius curled up in his lap.

“Anything eventful happen last night?” Nathan asked, referring to the trashcan he’d placed near the bed. He didn’t want to actual say the words for fear of freaking Tayden out again.

“No,” Tayden shook his head, “he slept all night until about 20 minutes ago.”

“Good. That’s good. What about you? Did you sleep?” he asked.

“Yeah. Juli woke me up cause he felt like he was getting run over so I gave him the ibuprofen you left us and some water,” Tayden nodded.

“That’s good,” Nathan said again, sitting at the edge of the bed. He sighed, glancing down at Julius, who still looked pretty worse for wear, they both did.

“How’s Hazel?” Tayden asked, remembering that she’d been pretty drunk as well. 

“She’ll be alright. Just needs a few cups of coffee and some eggs,” he shrugged, worrying his lip between his teeth. 

“What?” Tayden asked, sensing that something was wrong.

Nathan sighed, turning to face Tayden. He’d wanted to confront him last night but knew that nobody was in the right state of mind, so he’d waited. But he didn’t really want to do it now. He needed to though, he had to be there for his friends. 

“Are you guys okay?” Nathan asked after a long awkward pause.

“Yeah, I mean once the medicine kicks in we’ll call an uber and be out of your hair,” Tayden said, smoothing his hand down Julius’ arm as he stirred.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,”

Tayden looked back up at Nathan, his eyes going wide. He looked like a scared little kid for just a moment, then the look was gone and he composed himself, forcing his face into a confused frown. 

“I’m fine,” Tayden said, a little too forcefully.

“No you’re not. Neither one of you is,” Nathan sighed. “Look I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that you’re not okay. And you don’t have to tell me, it’s not my business, I get it, but you should tell someone. Just know that Haz and I are here for you if you need us,” he continued. 

Nathan’s hands were shaking as Tayden gaped at him. This was unfamiliar territory for him. Hazel was usually the one taking care of people and doing stuff like this. 

“Alright,” Tayden sighed after a moment, nodding. He looked down at Julius, running a hand through his hair, then back up at Nathan. “You’re right. We’ve uh... we’re going through some shit,” Tayden said, his voice suddenly shaking.

“Hey, it’s alright. Take your time,” Nathan said, reaching out to give Tayden a gentle pat on the shoulder. Please don’t cry, he willed Tayden with his mind. He wouldn’t know what to do if he started crying. 

“Um, well, you know I was in this car accident when I was little right? Got this scar,” he said, pulling at the collar of his shirt to show the jagged white line running below his left collarbone. 

“Yeah,” Nathan nodded, he’d heard the story before. 

“So, uh, a couple weeks ago I was going to get food with Alex and Ollie and... we got in a wreck. N-nobody got hurt really, just some scrapes and bruises, little bit of whiplash. But um, it just, uh, it really freaked me the hell out,” Tayden explained. 

“Oh jeez, dude, why didn’t you tell anyone?” Nathan asked. How had he not heard about this?

“I told Alex and Ollie not to talk about it. I’m just embarrassed I guess. Which is stupid but...” he trailed off, staring down at his hands. 

“Embarrassed of what?” Nathan asked. 

“PTSD, I think,” Tayden gulped, “I’ve been having flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks. From the littlest things, like the sound of Julius shutting a cabinet in the kitchen a little too hard or a train horn or anything.”

“Hey, that’s uh, that’s okay. Lots of people have PTSD. You can get help for that I’m pretty sure. I bet Hazel knows what you should do, she can help you,” Nathan said. God he was so out of his league here.

“I just feel so stupid for it. I mean, that accident was like 16 years ago, I mean I barely remember it. So why is it freaking me out now? Just from a dumb fender bender,” Tayden swiped angrily at his eyes, where tears had started to escape.

“It’s not stupid man, it happens to lots of people,” Nathan said, giving Tayden’s shoulder another squeeze.

Tayden let out a sarcastic laugh, surprising Nathan. “That’s not even the worst of it.” 

“What?” Nathan asked, feeling his face drain of color. He was not equipped to handle this. 

“Juli...” Tayden trailed off, glancing down at his boyfriend before continuing, “he’s been having some health issues recently. Like... I don’t know, just weird stuff,” he said.

“Weird stuff?”

“Yeah like sometimes he can’t breathe right and he passes out randomly and he can’t hardly eat most of the time, I’m sure you can tell he looks like a fucking stick. He doesn’t actually get sick usually but he feels sick which is enough to freak me out so he has to deal with it all by himself. Which would be bad enough, if he wasn’t also having to help me deal with my stupid PTSD when he’s the one who actually needs help,” Tayden rushed out, barely stopping to breathe. By the end of it he was crying. 

“Hey, woah, what’s going on?” Hazel came around the corner, immediately going into mom mode as she climbed onto the bed. 

“I’m so scared Nathan, I don’t know what to do!” Tayden sobbed, lurching forwards. 

“Oh kiddo come here,” Hazel gasped, crawling over to him. Tayden leaned against her, head falling against her chest. Hazel wrapped an arm around him an placed her other hand on Julius, who was crying softly as well. “What the hell happened?” she mouthed at Nathan. He quietly gave her the abridged version while she held the other two boys. 

“Have you gone to see a doctor?” Hazel asked softly, once they’d both calmed down a little.

Julius nodded, but said nothing. Tayden sniffled, wiping his eyes and sitting up to lean against the back of the couch again, his fingers carding through Julius’s hair again. 

“They can’t ever find anything wrong. It’s like they think he’s making it up or something,” he shook his head.

Hazel sighed, “Alright, well try a different doctor then. Someone will figure it out, it might just take a little time Jules, but you’ll be alright. And you can go see a doctor too Tayden, they can help you.”

“But how is it fair that I can get help when he can’t? He’s the one who really needs it,” Tayden protested.

“Oh Tayden, it won’t make you any less of a boyfriend for getting the help you need. You have to take care of yourself, and I’m sure Julius wants you to be okay too. Plus, you might be able to help him more once you help yourself. It’s okay to get help for mental health just as it is for physical health,” Hazel explained. 

“I want you to get better,” Julius said quietly, rolling over to look up at Tayden.

“Okay baby,” Tayden said, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he smiled sadly down at him. 

“We’ll help you figure this out in any way we can. I’m so sorry that you’re dealing with this,” Hazel told her friends, Nathan nodding vigorously in agreement. They would see them through this. 

#feelings #emotions #story development #sick tayden #ptsd #sick julius #tayden and julius #nathan and hazel #caretaker nathan #caretaker hazel #heart to heart

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 7/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774  

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

It was the tempting smell of coffee that roused Rey from her slumber.

It took her a second to realize where she was and why there was a dog curled up against her sleeping bag. Stretching her neck and shoulders, she unraveled her hair and looked up at Leia. She had placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the tiny kitchen table.

“Mind if I take a quick shower before I leave?I don’t know when I’ll get another chance on the road...”

With Leia’s approval she found herself in the minuscule bathroom, where she washed her hair as economically as possible. Not a drop of water wasted—after all, she wouldn’t want to freeload off of a kind woman evidently already on a budget.

Afterwards, she checked to make sure that she left nothing behind (oil? Check. Water? Check. Music? Check. Phone? Charged up and ready to go. BB8? BB8...? Rey looked over to see her taking care of business in a nearby alley. She ran back  soon enough with her tail wagging happily. Leia paused to hug the dog one last time and Rey could have sworn her eyes were glistening. Rey waited for them a few meters away, standing by the doorway as she gave them time to say goodbye. After plenty of hugs and scratches, Leia put a slim red leather collar around the dog’s neck. Attached to it with tiny hooks, a small metal plaque engraved with the words “Please Call Luke Skywalker 909-667-5721”.

She then handed Rey a piece of paper with Luke’s address in San Francisco. She had also written his phone number, even though the collar ostensibly took care of that. Rey entered the number into her contacts anyway and put the paper away in the glove box.

Rey opened the car door and gently ushered the dog into the back seat.

“BB8, in the car! Come on, in! Inside, let’s go! That’s right, good dog!”

BB8 had jumped into the car with puppy-like enthusiasm, rediscovering her blanket and her basket of toys. Rey gave her a pat to assure her that everything was fine before closing the door. It was time to leave.

Rey approached Leia, who was wiping away a tear with the back of her hand.

“You sure you’ll be okay without BB8?”

“I’ll still have Artoo, even if he doesn’t do much besides eat and nap. We’ll be fine,”

Rey realized she was taking about the cat. She conceded, smiling.

“Look, thanks for everything Leia...the road is a lot less frightening with BB8 by my side. I promise to take care of her,”

“Be careful out there. Send me an update now and then.”

“I will, promise.”

Leia opened her arms and Rey hugged her tightly—it was a little awkward at first but it transformed into a warm embrace. Rey felt a particular tenderness in this gesture, it was the hug of someone who hadn’t hugged anyone in a very long time.

Rey looked up suddenly, breaking the hug.

“I’m an idiot, I forgot to buy a GPS!” She exclaimed, realizing she didn’t know which direction she would be driving in.

She put her hands on her face in exasperation, chastising herself for being so distracted and trying not to let the panic take over.

“Right, no use in beating myself up, I didn’t have enough money left to buy a new one anyway. I’ll have to find a state map. It’ll be all vintage, like the car.”

Luckily, she didn’t have an exact itinerary. She knew that she wanted to get to Yellowstone, which would take a while. The park wasn’t merely a stop, it was as large as Yorkshire and equally difficult to miss.

She looked up a petrol station on Google maps, ironically so that she could buy a physical map for her journey. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to a start.

Rey waved one last time to Leia through the open car window, who looked lonelier than ever standing alone out on the porch of her little cottage.

The car emitted a cloud of dust as it left the trailer park and started a long journey. BB8 scratched at the back seat nervously, worried that Leia had disappeared from view. Rey extended a hand to pet her reassuringly.

“Everything will be fine good girl, we’re going home now,” she said gently.

The weather was gorgeous that third-of-July morning, as Rey took I-25 toward Cheyenne, Wyoming. With the breeze in her hair and a smile on her lips, her whole being felt lighter. It seemed like she was looking at the world through new eyes, reveling in an optimism that she hadn’t felt in weeks.

She basked in the beauty of the land, the winding plains dotted with crimson outcroppings, the glistening skyscrapers which formed the city’s spine and slowly gave way to the mountains in the west, whose snowy peaks overlooked a red and white prairie speckled with farms.

As she bypassed the city, she spotted the a few buffalo roaming peacefully on a nature reserve. She also saw camels, two deer on a ridge, and what appeared to be antelopes (or whatever those pale deer like creatures with tiny horns were called).  

A biker on a Harley Davidson sped past her, hair flying and engine roaring in equal measure. In the distance, a freight train of unimaginable length whistled by. Everything was new to her, every sound, every color. She was glad to leave Denver behind. She was tired of the crowd, and the fumes, the noise and the pollution.

BB8 was still lamenting her fate in the back seat, whining now and then. Rey felt her heart constrict. How could she get across that they were going home to see Luke? Preoccupied with these thoughts, she completely missed the exit to Wyoming, which was supposed to be the second leg of their road trip.

In hindsight she would look back on this moment and regret not registering the symbolism of it all.

Around 9 AM she skirted Cheyenne and began the 400 kilometer trek, due west, to the park. It slowly dawned on Rey that she was finally alone with her thoughts—something which hadn’t happened since she left London, since the breakup.

Before, she had purposefully kept busy in order to stop thinking. All action, all the time, running full speed ahead. First she had cursed Finn to hell and back, then she had cried a river on Jessica’s shoulder, taken that flight, wallowed in that hotel room, confronted Ben Solo, met Rose, attended that concert, wandered those museums...it was time to slow down.

Facing eight hours of transit, alone amidst the steel and asphalt with no one but a dog (who was finally calm) for company, Rey let her thoughts run free.

She did not try to repress them, she did not try to smother them.  She was no longer afraid of her unconscious, no longer afraid of regrets, remorse and tears. She would have to bring Finn's stuff back: his clothes, his records, his films and his books.

She did not seen Poe coming, waltzing into her life narrative. Or did she? Had she always seen this coming? Finn and Poe met in high school. They had been on the same football team. They had essentially been friends for forever. When Rey entered Finn’s life, it had been through a hypocritical turn to dating apps. They had bonded over a mutual love for Terry Pratchett novels and Poe had even become her older brother of sorts. Poe had no bitterness, no animosity toward her, there was just a unique brotherhood between the two men that seemed to make Finn happy. Should she have seen it coming, then? In his eyes? In his nonsensical rambles whenever he got drunk? And how could she have ignored the signs all these years, of the feelings Poe had harbored for the man who had been part of his life for so long?

She had finished her degree in graphic design, and right after getting her diploma, she had moved out of Jessica’s to start living with her brand new boyfriend. He was an engineer who was three years older than her and already making a living.

Rey considered that she had never been alone. Before moving in with her ex-future-husband she had lived with Jessica  for most of her adult life. What was she afraid of? Being abandoned again? Getting bored? Wasting away? Was she always going to live in the shadow of others? Didn’t she have any ambitions or goals for herself?

This trip was a first, after all. The first time she did anything alone, the first time no one took her hand, the first time she was ever truly free. Still on the highway, her eyes widened at a passing sign: “Smallest town in America, Bufford, WY. Population : 1". Behind it, a little shack, boarded up with wooden planks and metal sheets.

Beyond, rolling plains, dry and arid masses tinted with yellow and ochre, and not a single tree. On the highway drove an endless parade of monstrous chrome-plated trucks, cars hauling camping trailers, and bikers wearing bandannas instead of helmets. And all the fauna of this strange landscape seemed to ignore the ever-present six-by-four posters lining the highway. Not the one touting MacRoy and associates Laramie attorneys, nor the other claiming “God exists, call 1-800-FOR-TRUTH”.

BB8’s groaning derailed Rey’s bitter train of thought, and she glanced at the back seat. The dog was rolling around restlessly and yes, Rey thought now was a good time to take a break. It would be too early for lunch but at least BB could stretch her legs. Rey kept an eye out for the next exit, or the next petrol station. She used her turn signal to get off the highway at Elk Mountain, a rural outpost sleeping under the desert dust like a cat lounging in the sun.

It was almost a ghost town. A few rusted pickups, a red-brick general store that could have come straight out of the Buffalo Bill era, and half a dozen wooden shacks, in true American spirit. They looked like they couldn’t even stand the first winds of a storm. There must be storms here at some point, she thought, in the winter at least.

How did these people live? Effectively two hours away from the nearest civilization, at that? Rey shrugged. She wouldn’t want to question anyone, if there existed anyone here, that is. Rey parked her car (yes, it was hers now, for the time being) on the side of the road. She opened the door for BB8, who was clamoring to escape. But Rey had predicted this, and she blocked the door with her body as she leashed the dog before letting her out.

She would have preferred to let BB8 roam, but she couldn’t risk it. What if BB ran away across the desert to join Leia Skywalker in Denver?  What if she chased after grasshoppers onto the highway, and subsequently fell prey to one of those gleaming trucks on the highway? She would flattened like a pancake.  Both of them had to tame each other in a way, and that would take time.  Meanwhile, Rey filled the dog's bowl with water and let her drink up. She covered up all the supplies in the car to avoid theft and locked the door.

They took a short walk. BB8 began sniffing at everything on the ground, tail bouncing and ears perking, until she paused to relive herself against the tire of an old truck.  Rey looked around, expecting the owner to come up, a rifle in one hand and a cowboy hat in the other, threatening to shoot both of them.

But no, everything was silent, or as silent as it could be amidst the ceaseless chirping of the cicadas.

Eventually, the heat was overwhelming and the arid wind left Rey parched. Time to go back.

Gingerly walking back to the car, Rey hesitated. It had to be fifty degrees Celsius inside, the car was a suffocating metal monstrosity whose only upside was relative speed. She could feel the sweat drops running down her body.

Yet another hour's drive took her to Sainclair, a city huddled around a monstrous refinery, whose black, smoking towers rose to the sky like Isengard in Lord of the Rings.

"The whole bloody city must live in this factory," Rey thought, as she made herself comfortable inside Penny's Diner, a chrome-clad  hole-in-the-wall with a decidedly vintage feel to it.

#reylo #fanfiction #modern AU #scenic route

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 6

Chapter title: Hideouts and Hangups Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3  | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Smut A/N: You’ve been asking for it, and I have delivered, but don’t be fooled. This series promised you drama, and there’s so much more to give. I hope you soak up every sweet moment of this chapter! Enjoy! X

Two weeks flew by without me having much chance to do anything about the boy situation. Between my roster of classes, Rocketman rehearsals, and screen tests, with actual filming coming up far too soon, I couldn’t find enough time in my schedule to sit down with Markus and tell him how I was feeling. I refused to let him down in an off-hand manner at the end of rehearsal - he at least deserved more than that from me. I also felt suspended in a weird sort of juxtaposition, considering I was talking to Taron on the phone every night before bed but still had this weird emotional hangup because Markus was still attached to my life. I couldn’t fully move forward if I was still holding back. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became how I was feeling about the two men.

“Alright, hold still, honey,” a costume assistant said through a mouthful of pins clenched between her lips. I was used to costume fittings at this point in my life, having gone through many of them for the stage too, but I wasn’t used to Taron just walking in the dressing room in nothing but a robe and his skivvies, cup of coffee in his hand. I jerked in surprise, got stabbed by a pin, yelped “ouch!” and nearly toppled off the dais I was standing on. Taron, for his part, only pulled the edges of his robe around himself and grinned at me, but it was far too late; I’d already seen the hair lightly splayed across his chest, the taut muscles of his stomach, and those thighs that could make anyone melt.

“Good afternoon, Juliette,” he said as I tried not to blush but I could feel the redness creeping up from my neck.

“Taron, h-hi,” I stumbled slightly.

“T, your costume is set up in the other room. If you need any help Brigette will be back shortly,” my assistant said, still dutifully pinning away as I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Ahh yeah, thanks, I think I’ve got it,” he said, giving me a small wave and disappearing into the other room. Did he really just walk around set like that? I wondered. Not that he had anything remotely to be ashamed of. I knew Taron was obviously busy with scenes us dancers weren’t a part of, and nothing was ever shot in order. But his apparent lack of self-consciousness had also taken me by surprise.

“You’re all done, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this and on your way,” the assistant said to me. I quickly shimmied out of the pink outfit and handed it off so it could be finished and then slipped back into my regular clothes, which really just included a leotard and sweatpants. I never claimed to be fashionable. The assistant hurried off to go do something and so, having a moment of courage, I knocked on the door of Taron’s dressing room and then slipped inside.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Taron said as soon as I had the door closed behind me. I turned around and spied him sitting on the couch, sipping his coffee still but dressed in a pair of red pants and a white button-down shirt.

“I… I missed you,” I said quietly, a bit unsure of myself.

“Come here, love,” he smiled, opening his arms for me and I gladly walked into his embrace, hugging him tightly for a long moment before laying my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not used to seeing you with long hair,” I smirked, teasing my fingers through the ends of the wig lightly.

“It takes some getting used to,” he grinned. “But I can handle the wigs much better than what they’re going to have to do to my hair later. Unspeakable things,” he said with a shudder.

“It’s fine, Taron, I’ll still find you cute,” I joked lightly, making him grin and pull me in for a kiss. These were the kind of moments we had lately, stolen bits of time between rehearsals and call times. I spied a blue plaid jacket hanging on the edge of a chair. “So what scene is it today?” I asked curiously.

“Me and Kiki Dee, or the ever lovely Rachel Muldoon,” he grinned. “It’s the ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ scene,” Taron replied. “Which Richard Madden interrupts whole-heartedly,” he said with a cute grin; I loved how much he adored his friend and co-worker.

“So, you should show me more of your costumes,” I giggled, just teasing him really but he instantly hopped up off the couch and pulled me up with him.

“Why not, love!” he grinned, pulling the door to the dressing room open and then peeking out to see if anyone was nearby, but we were mostly alone in the costume department. He sweetly took my hand and led me to where the rows upon rows of costumes were hung. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sparkle.

“It’s a bit full on, innit?” he grinned, as I carefully ran my hand over the fabrics.

“Yeah, just a bit. I know you haven’t had a chance to wear all these yet, but do you have a favorite?” I asked.

“Oh, I do. And it’s the craziest one of them all!” He chuckled, showing off a bright orange neoprene number with rhinestones (I’d later be corrected that they were real Swarovski crystals) and devil horns and massive feathered wings.

“You’re going to be wearing that,” I said, staring agape at Taron slightly.

“Didn’t you say you’d find me cute anyhow?” He teased lightly, ruffling my hair until I slapped his hand away playfully.

“It’s just a bit intense is all. And really orange,” I smirked, pulling a feather boa off a rack and wrapping it around myself playfully. “I couldn’t imagine dressing like this every day,” I giggled, picking a pair of sunglasses and carefully placing them on my face as well.

“Well look at you,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as his green eyes met my own blue ones in the mirror’s reflection.

“Have you managed to talk to Markus yet?” he asked gently, knowing it was a bit of a touchy subject with me.

“Haven’t had a single chance, Taron. I’ve barely seen you, you know,” I sighed, turning to him. “I’ll do it, I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he said, sweeping my hair back off my shoulders. “I’ve just found I don’t like sharing all that much after all,” he said, his voice reaching a deeper timbre as he leaned in and kissed me, taking my breath away as he always did. His hands drifted down to my waist as I kissed him back, getting lost in the feel of those soft, needy lips against mine. He walked me back until my butt hit the edge of a table, then hoisted me up on it so I was sitting and melting a bit into the racks of costumes behind me.

As our kisses heated up, Taron knocked the glasses I was still wearing askew on my face but I could care less as he slowly slipped the shoulder straps of my leotard down my arms, leaving his trail of kisses along my jaw, down my neck and scattering them across my collar bones. I couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped, Taron pressed against me between my legs. I felt his lips working their way across the skin of my chest, drawing lines of fire across my skin as I let my head drop back, and when he groaned slightly himself I instantly felt the throbbing response in my groin.

But then he pulled back, panting and looking slightly unnerved and quite obviously turned on, as my eyes drifted below the belt. “Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to sound anything but the desperation I felt in the moment.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a costume closet,” he said, running his fingers through his wig with frustration. “You mean more to me than that. I shouldn’t have gotten carried away,” he tried to apologize as I awkwardly hiked my leotard straps back into place.

“It’s...um… fine, T,” I said, clearing my throat and hopping off the table.

“I want to, believe me,” he said, turning his intense gaze on me, his eyes full of lust still. “But this is not how I carry myself. And not what you should accept either,” he added, though he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from me before we finally had company.

“Oh, Taron dear, there you are. They’re asking for you,” a brisk woman said as we nearly jumped away from each other and Taron tried to hide his obvious bulge.

“I’ll be right there, Brigette,” he replied in an oddly strangled voice, and whether Brigette thought anything about what we were up to or not she didn’t let on. I quickly returned the glasses and boa to where they had been and brushed a feather or two off my leotard, still feeling turned on and awkward.

“I’ll see you later then?” I asked, and Taron sighed and nodded.

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure out dinner soon, promise,” he said, giving me one of his signature adorable grins. I was often the subject of such sweet smiles that always made me melt a little inside. We parted ways and I swung into the bathroom first before returning to rehearsals, trying to calm my body down but that was difficult with thoughts of Taron still racing through my mind. While I was washing my hands, another girl bounced in and seemed thankful to see me there. “Oh please tell me you have a tampon on you,” she pleaded. “Having a bit of an emergency.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I think so,” I said, digging one out of my purse and handing it to her.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” she said, disappearing into one of the stalls as I stood frozen to the spot with the sudden realization that I was overdue for my own. By a week. Oh fuck, I breathed out slightly, my stomach clenching uncomfortably as I tried to think back. But I couldn’t think my way around it; I was regular without exception and I was a week late. Maybe, I thought, reaching for any straw, maybe because I’d been dancing so much more now my body was thrown off and having to adjust. That could totally be it, I thought, desperate for a way to not freak out about this possible scenario. I had to force myself to go back to rehearsals and try to focus on the routine.

I fairly fled the studios when we were done, running to the nearest convenience store and trying to not hate myself as I pulled a couple of different tests from the shelf. I stared at the floor as I was rung up, the girl behind the register exceptionally chatty. I bounced impatiently, nearly leaving my change at the counter just so I could get out of there faster, shoving the bag deep in my purse before taking the tube across town to pick up my daughter from my mum’s. After homework, dinner, cartoons and lights out, I finally had a moment to shut myself away in the bathroom, my bladder screaming at me as I’d been holding it the past hour.

I stared at the tests in my hand for a long moment before chickening out, not sure I was ready to know that answer yet. I peed and shoved the unopened boxes in the bathroom cabinet, sighing to myself and feeling things I couldn’t identify; fear, probably, anxiety, sadness, but also a little bit of hope and maybe even joy. But how this could potentially affect my life, if it were real, I wasn’t ready to face just yet, and so I tucked myself into bed and tried not to think, ignoring both Markus’ and Taron’s texts.

It took me a week before I could face that reality, another week where my period had yet to make its arrival, another week of anxiety and worry. I’d finally managed to nail down another dinner date with Markus for the following evening, and I needed to know this answer before I faced him again. But almost as if my prayers had been answered, when I went to use the bathroom at the studio knowing full well what awaited me at home, I wiped and there was blood and I screeched “yesssss!” out loud and heard an answering giggle in the next stall over. “Sorry, don’t mind me,” I said, crying slightly out of relief. Thank god, I thought, not even caring that I’d slightly bled through onto my underwear and leotard. I wasn’t pregnant, and that’s all that mattered.

I practically floated through rehearsal and the rest of my day, texting rather steamy things with Taron long into the night and then slightly regretting that when I woke up exhausted the next morning. I slogged through work at my studio and got ready for my date with Markus, repeating in my head what I had decided to say to try and let him down gently but firmly. I needed to make it clear my heart was very much elsewhere.

But damn if he didn’t look fantastic that evening, in a blue-checked button-down and grey jeans and his signature beanie. We ended up actually having a fantastic dinner together, laughing so much my sides hurt and I somehow forgot I was supposed to be breaking up with him. We went back to his place to watch a movie and cuddle a bit, and my moment not only came but passed me by as well. Because instead of breaking up with him, I ended up making out with him instead. Which led to us sleeping together (and yes, he wore protection this time, no question) and me waking up in the morning naked next to his sleeping form, and feeling a mix of things but not one of them regret.

What the hell has happened to me? I wondered, watching Markus sleeping. He was more my type, and we understood each other. He didn’t light the fire in my chest, certainly, but I liked him and I belonged with him, more than I would ever belong to Taron. I knew that intrinsically as I reached over and gently ran my fingers through Markus’ curls. He woke up and captured my hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing my fingers sweetly.

“Morning,” he smiled at me beatifically, tugging at my heart a bit. This is the person I should be with, I thought, but somehow there was a sadness that crushed me. I still did my best to muster up the good feelings I had with Markus and had an enjoyable breakfast with him before heading home, my tail figuratively tucked between my legs. I had failed my mission miserably, and I’d have to find a way to admit that to Taron too.

Once I was home I called Madison and begged her to come over and help me sort the mess of my life, and she was all too happy to oblige, bringing over tacos and chips and salsa which we gorged on as we talked, our legs tucked up under us on the couch.

“So let me get this straight. You went on this date to break up with Markus, and you slept with him instead?” she said, shaking her head and trying to hide her smile behind her fake sternness.

“For lack of a better explanation, yeah,” I said weakly. “He’s not a bad guy, Mads, and I can’t make him into one. He was so sweet and fucking handsome too and we just clicked really. One thing led to another and, well, you know.”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t really but… Why be with a guy you don’t have feelings for?” she asked.

“But I do like him, and he gets me,” I said. “And he’s more on my level,” I added, and Madison rolled her eyes at me.

“But he doesn’t make your little heart pitter-patter like Taron does. You’ve told me that yourself,” she smirked around a bite of taco, half of the filling dropping back into the wrapper when she took a bite but she seemed none too bothered. Troy, however, lifted his head up from where he’d been laying on the floor and licked his chops, eyeing her food carefully.

“Yeah but maybe that’s just lust, I don’t know. Just because I want to jump his adorable little Welsh bones at every second doesn’t mean we’re in love,” I sighed. “I’ve made wrong decisions in the past, you know.”

“Oh, I know, Juliette. I’ve scraped you out of a few of those. But the thing is, you just really need to sleep with the guy and get that out of the way and then make your decision from there,” she said, making my jaw drop as I stared at her.

“Did you, innocent little Madison, just advocate for me to sleep with Taron?” I asked as she giggled.

“Well, you’re on unequal footing here. You’ve already done the deed with Markus. How can you compare the two when you haven’t had sexy times with your actor boyfriend?” she giggled. “Give him a little something,” she smirked, shimmying at me slightly until I threw a balled-up napkin at her.

“You’re the actual worst,” I laughed, and she just grinned.

“I’m invested in this now! I need to know what he’s packing!” she teased, making me blush hard.

“Shit, Mads, I’m not going to survive this,” I laughed, almost nervously.

“I have a feeling it will make your decision incredibly easy, that’s all,” she said, scooping up her taco fillings with a chip and shoving it all in her mouth.

“Let’s hope so, Mads,” I sighed. “I need a sign from the Gods.”

*********

The next week flew by in a bit of a blur, as we got ready for actual filming of the Honky Cat scenes. We did a few screen tests with our costumes and the lighting and sets, and I unfortunately managed to see myself on that screen test. When they say the camera adds at least 15 pounds they aren’t lying; I couldn’t stop staring at how chunky I looked in that bubblegum pink outfit. I needed to lay off the takeout and start eating more restrictively, that was for sure.

Even if Taron had whispered in my ear the sorts of things he wanted to do to me in that costume, and even if the other snotty girls still called me twiggy bitch when they knew I could hear them, I couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. I’d be immortalized on film now, and the last thing I wanted was to forever hate how I looked.

Letting myself go had never been intentional, and I stood in front of the mirror in my unders and bra, scrutinizing myself extra hard that night, poking at my stomach and my thighs and my hip bones. Places I wished Taron would touch me, of course. Almost as if I had summoned him with that thought, my phone rang and I nearly tripped over my discarded jeans to get to my phone. “Heeey!” I answered, flopping on my bed unceremoniously.

“Tomorrow. You and me. It’s happening,” he said, and I gasped slightly before my brain caught up and I realized he just meant dinner. “I’ve weaseled my way out of night shoots because I can’t stand not having time with you for weeks on end. I was thinking we could have a nice dinner at Circolo Popolare if that suited you. I mean, if you had someone to watch Clara, of course,” he added in haste.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said a bit faintly, still reeling from the thoughts I’d just been having. “I miss you too, Taron, but you shouldn’t take time off on my behalf.”

“Nonsense, you’re my girl,” he replied, making me squeal internally to hear those words. “I’m also bloody exhausted. Dex could tell, so this was an easy decision. So after we finish Honky Cat tomorrow I’m free.”

“It’s the big tap sequence tomorrow. You sure you’re ready?” I teased lightly.

“I’ll smash it. After all I had the best mentor ever,” he said with a grin. I could just imagine the way his eyes crinkled up when he did that.

“Not going to lie, it will be nice to move on to something else. I randomly hum the lyrics all the time now, in the grocery, on the tube. It’s driving me and everyone else around me mad!” I laughed.

“Well then you’ll just get the next thing stuck in your head, but is it really a bad thing when it’s Elton?” he chuckled.

We chatted a bit longer but soon I was tucked away in bed, trying to fall asleep but too excited over my impending dinner with Taron - and what might happen after. The inevitability of it felt both intimidating and exhilarating at the same time. My period had been shorter than normal, only a few days and not so awful, but I figured that had to do with my sudden increase in physical activity, which made sense. Some elite dancers circumvented their cycles entirely for years until they finally slowed down, so it wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon. Either way, I was just happy to have that out of the way now and be able to fully enjoy my evening with Taron, whatever that entailed.

The next day of filming went as smoothly as possible but also felt excruciatingly slow. How Taron managed to keep up his energy through take after take after take was beyond me. But seeing him play off Richard and seemingly having the time of his life felt like a special thing to witness. Even when he tripped up their stairs he laughed at himself good-naturedly. I could see why all of his co-workers always spoke so highly of him. He kept everyone at ease and laughing between takes and was just truly a professional about the whole thing.

When Dexter called the final cut, all of us, actors and dancers, were none too happy to hang up our platform shoes. “See you in a bit, pick you up at 7?” Taron smiled at me, but I could see the exhaustion in the tight lines of his face. He trusted me enough to let me see him that way, beyond the performer he was to everyone else.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I grinned back, our fingers linking briefly when no one was looking before he wandered off to go talk to Dexter about something.

I hurried home and showered quickly, needing to rid myself of as much dancer sweat as possible and shaving every inch it was possible to shave, half-wondering if Taron even cared about that. I had a quick phone call with my daughter, who was safely stowed away for the night with my mum after Zayn had picked her up at school. I was seriously shocked at my ex’s newfound level of responsibility, even asking me for more time with Clara after having missed out on so many years of her life.

Once my hair was somewhat dry, I quickly tousled in some product to make my waves stand out and not look like such a frizzy mess, quickly did my makeup and changed my outfit about 13 times, figuring I was being completely silly because Taron had already seen me slouching around in leos and sweatpants. If he could think I was cute then, did it really matter what I wore to dinner? The place he’d chosen was mostly casual, so I finally decided on a pretty flowered blouse I loved and a cardigan and skinny jeans, and pulled those on over my lacy underthings just in time for the doorbell to ring and Troy to sound the alarm.

I grabbed my purse and managed to hold Troy back from attacking Taron when I opened the door. He looked simply beautiful in a fitted burgundy blazer, white tee and the tightest jeans known to man. They were probably skinnier than my own pair, and the thought made me giggle. “Hello beautiful,” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek before patting Troy quickly. He offered his arm for the simple walk to his car, and I couldn’t help enjoying every little thing he did to make me feel special.

We made our way across town, arriving at the packed restaurant but Taron had wisely called ahead and made a reservation. The vibrant place was a sensory overload - There was a bank of windows that let plenty of the fading evening light in, but other walls were covered floor to ceiling in bottles of wine in every shape, size and color, while greenery, flowers and lights hung down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and overwhelming all at once. The food was much the same, the Sicilian fare both mouth-wateringly good and incredibly indulgent. I’d have to start my diet tomorrow, I thought, as Taron and I both tucked into carbonara pasta, burrata pizza and tiramisu. And oh the wines, though I was careful this time; no too-drunk rejections for me this time.

The company wasn’t half-bad either; I could stare at Taron all damn day if I was given license. We laughed and he was affectionate, touching my knee or my arm, leaning in to steal a kiss every so often, and generally being attentive and sweet. I was having a hard time understanding why I had ever given Markus a chance when I was with Taron. But there was still always a part of me that felt like I was an interloper in his world; like I was the lucky fan who had won a date on some reality show. I was borrowing my time with him and some day I’d wake up and find this was all too good to be true.

“Something troubles you?” Taron asked, breaking into my thoughts; I must have been frowning or something.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking,” I shrugged. “Not sure about what,” I said, as he gave me a measured stare.

“I have a feeling you know exactly and don’t want to divulge,” he said quietly, so I could barely hear him over the din of the restaurant. “I don’t want secrets between us, Juliette. You can tell me literally anything.”

“I know, Taron, and I’m grateful for that,” I smiled over at him. “We could take this somewhere else though,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with sudden nerves.

“Sure, we could go back to my place for a small nightcap if you wish,” he offered, but I shook my head.

“I can’t forget about Troy, he’ll be needing let out,” I replied, and Taron playfully smacked his forehead as if to say “I forgot.”

“Of course, we’ll swing back around to your place then,” he said, and with that decided, he paid the tab and we headed out. We made small talk on the way back to my place, and I was relieved once we were distracted momentarily with my dog, tossing a ball and letting him eagerly fetch it in the back garden. The porch light deepened the shadows on Taron’s face and I couldn’t read his expression. Once Troy was done with his doggy business, we retired inside, as it was still cold in the late evenings. I found us some wine, which neither of us drank much of, and we settled in on the couch to talk.

“You didn’t end things with Markus,” Taron asked, interpreting my silence as such, and I cringed slightly.

“I was going to, but I chickened out of it, and I don’t know why, and I’m sorry. Because I thought you’d be mad at me. I know how you feel about him,” I started to explain.

“I’m not mad. If anything, he got to you before I did, really, but I am jealous. I don’t understand why someone else gets your heart,” he admitted.

“But that’s the thing, Taron, he doesn’t, not really. When I’m with you it feels so easy and so simple. But there’s a part of me that still doesn’t believe I belong with you. Like somehow the world will figure out I’m just an imposter by your side,” I said, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“No one else gets to decide that for me. I rather like to think I decide who belongs in my life. I don’t understand why you think you’re not good enough. You could be a janitor or burger flipper for all I cared about what you do. It’s your soul that I admire, your spirit that you keep hidden from the world but that you let me see. It’s the way I feel safe with you to just let down the defenses, to stop being the performer. You bring peace to my soul in a way no one else has.” I gazed at him, my heart tripping through every possible emotion at lightspeed. How did he manage to make me feel more in a single sentence than I’d spent a lifetime trying to feel?

“Taron, I…” I tried to say, but my brain utterly failed me in that moment.

“You let me see into you, but all I see are walls. I want to be let past them, and I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I get glimpses through the cracks and I only want more. Open up to me, trust me, and I’ll give you everything I am, Juliette. You can have it, it’s all for your taking. I don’t ask for much but please just let me in.” He leaned in, cupping my face with his hands, brushing the fingertips over my cheeks, gazing so deeply into my soul I felt undone. “Please,” he pleaded with me again. 

All the past pain and mistrust, the hurt and mistakes, the being left behind and completely invalidated, the fear of trying again, rushed to the surface, but Taron was none of those things. He’d only ever sought to support me, and be kind to me, never asked for more than I could truly give, and put my needs before his own. The way he felt about me was purer than anything I had ever experienced; I knew without a doubt that he was sincere in every word he said to me. He wore his heart on his sleeve and now he was extending it to me. Take it, Juliette, I thought. What was there left to fear but the fear itself?

“Okay.” It was one simple word that would change the course of my life forever. Because it was then that I finally discovered what it was to truly find someone who couldn’t get enough of you, who complemented your soul in every way, who filled in the cracks and made you shine again.

When he brought our lips together, it was simple and sweet. He was still cupping my face as our breaths mingled, our eyes gazing into each other’s for that one moment that felt frozen in time. I could kiss Taron forever, and get lost in the feel of his lips against mine, and the way he looked at me like I was truly the only person in the world he saw.

I nudged his nose playfully with mine before kissing him back, a little more purposefully, my hands finding their way to the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he gasped slightly at that. We both wanted more from each other and it certainly hung in the tension between us as we deepened the kisses once again, his hands finding their way under the hem of my blouse and gently whispering over my skin. We weren’t going to stop this time, and there was no reason to now.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the hem, and I nodded as he pulled the blouse up and over my head and set it aside gently. His gaze lingered for a long moment on my breasts in their lacy bra, and he had to take a steadying breath before going back to kissing me, nipping at my lower lip slightly before traveling his kisses along my neck again, right in the spots he had discovered I liked best, his fingers never leaving my skin either as he slowly leaned me back on the couch. He rid himself of his own shirt and though I’d seen his bare chest before, it wasn’t in this capacity, and I couldn’t resist reaching out and splaying my hands over his skin, a slight sheen of sweat already present and it only made him sexier to me.

He dropped his kisses lower, over the lace of the cups, making me gasp slightly before he reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding it down off my arms and tossing it unceremoniously somewhere. He heard it land and then Troy’s nails skittering across the floor and both of us had to laugh at that. “I think you startled my dog,” I giggled lightly before Taron shut me up completely by taking one of my nipples in his mouth, rolling it about with his tongue. I’d never felt that sensation before, and I moaned loudly despite myself. Holy shit, I was well and truly losing myself to him.

“Bedroom, now,” he said, pulling me up and holding my hand as we fairly raced to my room, half-naked and desperate for each other, knocking into the walls a few times as we tried to steal kisses from each other. He pulled me into more heated kisses as we both clumsily rid ourselves of our pants before falling into the bed together, his weight settling over me, pressing me into the mattress as he buried his face against my neck for a long moment.

“No turning back now, love,” he said softly, his teeth grazing along the shell of my ear and sending shivers along my spine.

“I want you, I’ve been wanting you. I have no doubts about this now,” I whispered. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a second but found no trace of doubt there.

His hand slid down my body, over the curves of my hips, before dipping below the waistband of my lacy panties and between my legs. I gasped at the same time he groaned, feeling how wet and ready I was for him. He captured my lips in another kiss before pulling those panties off me entirely, and then his boxers followed quickly after. I couldn’t help but stare, his erection springing up against his stomach, already glistening. “Bedside drawer,” I managed to choke out, as he reached over and fished out a condom and wasted no time in rolling it on.

He nudged my legs apart and settled himself between them, his thick cock nestled against my thigh. I keened softly in anticipation; he was so careful with me, so caring, as he lined his hips up with mine, slowly pressing his way inside me, letting me adjust, but oh the sensation was delicious. I wanted nothing more than to feel him filling me up completely, and I moaned out my pleasure as he joined out bodies together, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down adoringly at me.

“Fuck, love,” he said roughly, holding himself up over me and looking about as undone as I felt before he started to move those glorious hips of his. There was no pain with him, only pleasure, and more than I’d ever really felt before. But there was something else happening, something in my heart unlocking, as we brought ourselves higher and higher. There was having sex, and there was making love, and now I finally understood the difference. Because Taron didn’t just want the physical act, he wanted to connect in a more meaningful way. 

Even as his hips snapped powerfully against mine, as he hit every delicious spot inside me and drove me wild, he also touched something deep inside my soul. Our climaxes built and we lost control with each other, our moans and grunts and groans ricocheting through the empty halls of my house as my orgasm rocketed into and through me first, and Taron not far behind. He collapsed on top of me, and I could feel his heart hammering away in his chest as we laid there, trying to come down from our highs. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, tears in my eyes, having experienced something I didn’t even have words to describe.

“You amaze me,” he finally whispered after long moments of us trying to catch our breaths.

“Not so bad yourself,” I teased him softly, as we shifted slightly on the bed so we were laying face-to-face, pulling the covers around us thanks to the chill in the air despite my heater being on.

“Juliette, I… I love you,” he said softly, caressing my cheek and looking like he was about to cry, which got to me slightly. “I knew it before but you’re the most incredible woman I have ever met in my life. I love everything you are,” he said, nuzzling his nose against mine sweetly, such a deep look of vulnerability in his expression tearing at my soul.

“I love you too, Taron,” I said, knowing it was 100 percent true. I didn’t have to worry over that feeling for days; it was bursting open in my heart right there. I wanted to spend every last minute I had with him, and give him everything; maybe even marry him someday. He loved me, he loved Clara, he loved my life and wanted to be a part of it; I could see it all spelled out so clearly in front of me. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a sleepy smile. He kissed me a few times, soft and slow and sweet. I felt loved and adored by him in everything I was.

We laid like that for a while before he slipped into sleep; he was so exhausted, I hoped he was resting well. I managed to not wake him as I got out of bed to take care of the house quickly, picking up our discarded clothes, putting the wine away, making sure Troy was settled and the house locked up tight, before slipping back under the covers with him. Even in his sleep he turned to me and wrapped an arm around my body, making me feel secure in that embrace. I loved him, the words and thoughts and feelings rolling through me in waves of light and color. I hadn’t believed it could be this way, but now I had experienced it. How had I ever thought settling for just okay was good enough?

I watched Taron’s sleeping face for as long as I could keep my eyes open, wanting to take it all in, the vulnerability and sweetness of his sleeping expression. I never thought I’d be one of those lucky women who had the privilege of seeing this but here I was now, skin to skin with him, his body heat keeping me warm, his tiny little snore endearing to me too. As I drifted off to sleep, I could only think how truly, madly, deeply I had fallen for Taron Egerton.

Will Juliette truly be able to move forward with Taron? Or will her secrets tear them apart? Keep reading to find out in Chapter 7 HERE!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron smut #rocketman fanfiction #taron x reader

[keelime-xiv]

LFRP: Keelah Se’lai  - Balmung ♥

♥ The Basics ––– –

Nickname(s): Kee, Mistress Kee Age: Thirty-two Birthday: 5th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon (5th of August) Race: Keeper of the Moon, Miqo’te Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Marital Status: Adamantly Single Alignment: Chaotic Evil

♥ What I’m looking For ––– –

Adventure Friends Potential Victims Murder Happy Partners in Crime Sworn Enemies

♥ What I’m NOT looking For ––– –

Possessive/rude/pushy/impatient partners

♥ Additional information (OOC) ––– –

Keelah may seem intimidating, but I assure you she is an awkward fucker. She’s easy to get along with and I would love to do more with her. Please don’t hesitate to message me if you’d like to try her out, I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised how well she can fit into any scenario ♥

I’m Australian so my time online will be different, but I can be rather flexible. I can become distracted easily, but please don’t assume that I’ve become bored with you. I have simply forgotten and need a little poke~!

[IC Tag] [Answered Asks Tag] [Aesthetic Tag] [Reference Sheet Page]

♥ Contact Information  ––– –

You can message me here for my contact information or catch me in game! I only RP through XIV as I found it to be a far less stressful medium for me. However, I would be delighted to discuss any potential RP plots through Discord.

(Continued under the cut ♥)

♥ Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Keelah’s hair is a dark purple, almost black, colour that hangs down past her shoulders in wild and sometimes unmanageable curls. She will usually wear it loose or coil it up into a tight bun for when she needs to work. [Visual Reference]

Eyes: Keelah’s left eye is a soft pastel pink and her right eye is a pale, sickly blue.

Height: 148 cm / 4′8

Build: Keelah is all hips and chest with an hourglass frame and lovely long legs. She works hard every day to keep herself toned.

Eyebrows: After first noticing her wild and curly hair, attention will often switch down to Keelah’s thick trademark eyebrows. The bushy brows are usually plucked and tapered back into a presentable style. [Visual Reference]

Scars: Keelah has a vertical scar through her right eye which caused its discolouration. There are two scars running across her right cheek on an angle through the first scar, they stop close to the ridge of her nose. On her left cheek there is a single scar, once again on an angle, that spans towards her nose. She has a vertical cut through her dark lips on her right side and a small horizontal cut across her brow that hides behind her fringe. [Visual Reference] Her facial scars she wears with pride, on her back however, there are scars she’s not so pleased to talk about. Such as the brand imprinted on the back of her neck that she keeps hidden at all times.

Tattoos: Keelah has a small collection of tattoos. She has Azeyma’s ward on her right hip, a pair of lace garter tattoos around her lower thighs, a pair of horns above her pelvic region, and a crescent moon surrounded by pink blossoms on her back.

Piercings: Tongue, nipples and down south are all pierced with a silver barbell, but her ears remain unpierced and she refuses to disclose as to why.

Common Accessories: Keelah often wears a collar around her neck to hide her brand mark, but the style of the collar will change on a regular basis to match her outfit. Keelah occasionally sports a pair of dark shades, sometimes for fashion, but mostly to hide her hangover. Beware of pointy things, Keelah also carries an array of knives on her person at all times. Where does she keep them all? It’s best not to think about it.

Usual Attire: Keelah can often be found wearing tight, black leather or latex, regardless of the weather conditions. Her favoured attire is comprised of a pastel pink latex corset with black trim, a fur trimmed, black latex, quarter cut coat, a pair of black latex booty shorts, thigh high black latex stockings held up by garters and a pair of black stiletto heels. [Visual Reference]

♥ Professional ––– -

Languages: Common tongue and some basic sign language.

Profession: - Informant/Saboteur: Keelah is a skilled freelance informant/saboteur. If you have the money (and care not for what methods she uses) then she’ll have the information you need. - Dominatrix: Keelah’s front for her informant/saboteur work is her high-end Dominatrix business, which she took up as a simple hobby only to have it explode into a full time career. Her skills are incredibly popular among the wealthy, and so her calendar is constantly booked solid. 

Business Cards: If you meet up with Keelah ICly she is most likely to hand you a sleek black business card with the details for her Dominatrix business printed upon it in pale, metallic pink cursive. Upon the front it reads: ‘Keelah Se’lai - Dominatrix Extraordinaire’ Upon the back it reads: ‘Office 25 - Sapphire Avenue -Steps of Thal, Ul’dah - Consultation hours: 10 am - 5 pm, Monday - Friday’ (FC Room)

Skills: - Archery: Keelah is an adept marksman with a bow. It is her weapon of choice as she prefers to take down her targets from long range. 

- Hand to Hand Combat: Though Keelah prefers to use her bow, when called upon she can put up a fierce fight. She’s quick, she’s feisty and despite her short stature she packs one hell of a punch, but watch out! She also bites!

- Alchemy: Keelah has a knack for alchemy. At first she dabbled in alchemy just to understand her brother’s ramblings. However, after a little idle study she fell in love with the science. Keelah now uses alchemy in every aspect of her work and day to day life. From creating various toxins to help her infiltrate a facility to mixing up some rather potent aphrodisiacs or lubricants to help spice up the lives of her clientele. She has plans to release her own line of sensual lifestyle products.

- Gardening: Keelah loves tending to the flowerbeds of her cottage and the small green house she has set up on the balcony of her apartment. She loves each sprout much like a mother loves her own child. Keelah simply adores the greenery and loves watching it flourish. Her pride and joy is her vast herb garden which helps with her alchemy work.

- Musical: Keelah has a beautiful singing voice, but not only that, she can also play the piano and has been teaching herself to play a wooden flute she found while on her travels to the East. While she has overcome her stage fright and now plays intermission piano for the Kiss Cabaret, she still refuses to sing for anyone save for belting out a few drunken pirate shanties when she’s completely wasted.

�� Personal ––– –

Birthplace: Though Keelah’s origins have been rumored to lie somewhere within the Black Shroud, she was raised from an infant by her adoptive Mother in Eastern Thanalan. 

Religion: Keelah is open to the idea of Religion and often prays to Azeyma for guidance.

Patron Deity: Azeyma.

Residence:  - Public Residence: Keelah’s public address is that of a ritzy penthouse apartment located atop one of Ul’dah’s dazzling skyrise towers. Comprised of four bedrooms, five bathrooms, an enormous living room, a fully loaded kitchen, stunning dining room, a huge library/study, a balcony with a pool and a small greenhouse, it is outrageously decedent.   It is here she takes most of her clientele and potential business partners.  (FC Room)

- Private/Secret Residence: Keelah secretly lives in an old, stone cottage surrounded by a lush and overgrown garden of wildflowers. The location of this fairy tale esque home is unknown to the general public, but there have been a few who have stumbled upon her home by mistake. This home is far more humble than her apartment and Keelah finds herself running off to stay there as often as she can. (Lavender Beds, Private House)

Personality: Keelah’s personality can be best described as impulsive. She tends to jump into things head first without considering the consequences. Keelah is loud, obnoxious, a little bit crazy, incredibly flirty and a romantic.

Likes: Keelah loves alcohol, smoking, sex, burning things, cutting things, fighting things, gardening, reading, and down time with Martin.

Dislikes: Keelah loathes prudes, stuffed shirts, unbearably obnoxious people, boredom, paperwork, and heights.

Favourite Food: Starlight cake, seafood stew, finger sandwiches, sushi and pussy.

Least Favourite Food: Jerky or salted/dried meats.

Virtues: Protective, calm, loyal, optimistic, brave, empathetic, loving, compassionate and will do anything for the ones she has come to love.  

Sins: Murderer, pyromaniac, lustful, over indulgent, greedy, obnoxious, jealous, vindictive, reckless, impatient, and has an odd fetish for blood. 

Excitements: Keelah becomes excited from the smell of blood, Martin, the colour pink, acts of defiance, well oiled muscles and cute people.

Fears: Keelah fears heights, being left alone/abandoned, and Mandragoras.

Short Biography: Left abandoned after an Amalj'aa raid struck her family’s caravan, Keelah was found and raised by an orphan Seeker girl (her mother Shelley) and an orphan Xaela boy (her brother Jack). Together the three survived the harsh Thanalan desert by pickpocketing traveling merchants outside Camp Drybone. It was a meager existence and they often found themselves in trouble with the local authorities, but they were happy. However, shortly after Keelah turned six her brother disappeared without a trace. Distraught, Shelley and Keelah traveled across Thanalan in search of him, but their search was soon interrupted by the approaching Calamity. Caught amidst the destruction, Shelley sacrificed herself to protect Keelah from an oncoming blast, leaving Keelah to wander through the wastes alone. Frightened and very weak, Keelah fell into the hands of a traveling slaver and was then sold to a brothel in Ul’dah. There she remained in servitude for several long and painful years until her Master suddenly (and suspiciously) died. Keelah vanished that night.

♥ Relationships ––– -

Partner: None

Children: None

Parents: One adoptive mother, Shelley La’tra

Siblings: One adoptive brother, Ramza Wyvernjack

Best friend and confidant: Martin Freepaw

Current Employer: Vachir Qerel and the company of The Keeper’s Kiss

Drinking Companion: Captain Rezaria

Pets: A small collection of personal AI Drones who follow her around and assist with her lab work. They also perform minor security protocols to keep anyone from discovering the hidden laboratory. 

NPC Relations: Nanako Nanko. A stern and elderly Lalafell, she is Keelah’s loyal secretary who keeps the wild dominatrix in check.

♥ RP Hooks ––– –

Keelah’s Client: You find Keelah’s business details on the back of a black business card. You’re not sure what you need from this illusive woman, but you feel as though you’ll know for certain once you meet and talk with her. At first she’s scary and intimidating, your inner voice screams to run from her presence and never look back, but after a long discussion you begin to see Keelah for who she really is. A woman with flaws and needs just like any other. This started out as a strictly professional acquaintance, but perhaps it might bloom into something more? A friendship? A murder mystery? Let’s play it by ear~!

Keelah’s Mark: You’ve fallen into trouble with the wrong people and unfortunately for you they’ve sent in the best to make sure you disappear. She has been a mere shadow tracking you for days, you’ve been able to keep her at arms length so far, but even you grow tired of holding back. At last you give in and face her head on, but what happens next might not be as you planned. Will they fight? Will you win or will you lose? Will Keelah concede and help you take down the bastards that sent her after you? Or will she simply kill you for the money?

Keelah’s Cottage: You’ve heard rumors about it, ghost stories, nothing consistent. A strange cottage hidden deep within the black shroud and surrounded by the most enchanting garden that is unlike any other. However, anyone who had been brave enough to try and find this fabled cottage never returned, their lost screams haunting the night to ward off any would be heroes who would try to save them. Bah! It’s an old wives tale to stop children from wandering out into the forest unsupervised! Or so you tell yourself as you seek out this mysterious cottage. What will you find out there in the wilds? Will Kee be receptive of your visit or will she silence you like she has all the others who wandered into her little garden?

Let’s make our own - These are simply suggestions, I would love to brainstorm with you and come up with something unique~!

Thank you for taking the time to read all this! ♥

#lfrp #LFRP contacts #role play #character profile #Keelah Se'lai IC #Come rp with me #♥