#//The only thing I'm not keen on is how orange his hair looks in his sprites??

[kingspuppet]

He :o

[kmt123whatsthetea]

I Get a Kick Out Of You

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

A sequel to Something Stupid

Requested by @saintlike05

A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long. But I'm finally here to write and continue with the Frank Sinatra title theme.

T/W: Make up sex, Unprotected sex, Double Penetration, Anal, Spitting, Food play?, Teensy bit of hair pulling

If you told this story to others, you'd get a different response.

Mrs Weasley said it was fate that you walked into the shop and back into her son's lives. Hermione jokingly played it off as your brain needing the comforting colour of orange that you lost when you broke up with the twins. But the twins themselves, they called it a miracle.

It was even more miraculous that you agreed to give it another go.

The twins had discussed it after you left. They realised how careless they had been and that you only left because of their actions. Your leaving was their consequence.

They had agreed to be better for your sake. The only people they would prank from now on would be their customers, their family members, and you from time to time.

It was George's idea to have a make up date, only to mask Fred’s idea of make up sex. They planned it all. A candlelit dinner with flowers, your favourite food, and a muggle CD of some guy called Frank Sinatra that Hermione had recommended (they had gone to her for advice on how to make the perfect date after Ginny had turned them away, claiming that it was gross to think of her brother's having sex).

After that, it was all set. The clock was counting down until your scheduled arrival. Even Fred was nervous, more so than he had been on the first date.

Your first date with the twins was one to remember. You had gotten many weird looks from the other Hogsmead patrons when you gave both boys a rather loving peck on the lips. Sometimes the twins worried that the love triangle would be the thing to end your relationship. What if you did want both of them? What if you wanted someone else? Or even worse…

…What if you wanted just one of the twins?

The twins were alike in every way possible. They each had that very thought but didn't realise that the other shared it. Of course they knew that you loved them both equally, but it was still a fear that remained.

When you knocked on the door, it took both men a good minute before they rushed to let you in. Their dopey smiles remained throughout the time you took your coat off to the time you sat at the small table in the twins kitchen. They treated you like a princess throughout the little ‘make-up date’. They waited on you and even cooked you your favourite dinner (which you’re certain tasted like Molly’s cooking, but you appreciated the thought)

When dinner was finished and George took your plates, Fred smirked your way.

“Maybe we could make dessert a little more…enjoyable?”

At first, you thought Fred was being his regular old self. That was until George came back carrying a bowl of strawberries and a can of whipped cream.

Fred took a hold of the whipped cream and brushed your hair aside beside squirting a small blob of the canned goodness onto your neck. His tongue followed suit, licking it all up until there was more saliva than cream on your neck. Both men knew which spots would make you keen and practically melt, which is why Fred paid extra special attention to those sweet spots.

The bowl of strawberries sat forgotten while your sensitive neck became the perfect pairing for the whipped cream. George took the can from his brother and repeated similar licks on the other side. Soon, your neck was coated in a thin veil of saliva and cream.

They had always said that you were sweeter than any dessert.

George picked you up in his arms, securing his hands on your thighs while Fred moved his hands to your hips, keeping you boxed between their chests. Your skirt was riding up, making their job even easier. Fred pulled your underwear to the side before bringing his hand to his mouth and spitting on his fingertips. He used his spit as lube, rubbing it from your clit and over your folds before massaging your tight hole. Fred leaned his face close to your ear.

“Can you take us both, love? I know how much of a little nympho you can be”

You had done anal before, but never both at once. During sex, you always used your mouth or your pussy. George guided your eyes back to him by a gentle finger on your chin.

“It's okay if you can't take it, baby. We just want to make you feel good”

Without hesitation, you nodded eagerly.

“I can take it”

Fred’s horny devil took over. He positioned his tip at the tight ring of muscle and slowly started pushing. Your grip on George's shoulders tightened, and he kept his firm yet gentle hold on your chin. He made sure that you focused on him while Fred bottomed out.

George gestured down and you knew that he was asking for help removing his cock from his trousers since both of his hands were holding you up by your thighs. You unzipped his trousers and pushed his boxers down, just enough to uncover the prize inside. You guided him to your folds as best you could, before he lowered you down. The stretch of both of their cocks inside of you made your chest feel tight, like your breath was robbed. Their cocks were literally breathtaking.

The twins took turns thrusting, making sure that you were stretched around one of them at all times. A symphony of moans and obscene squelches filled the air, followed by the lingering smell of sex. That coil in your stomach slowly got tighter and tighter. George could feel your walls squeezing his cock so he shot Fred a glance over your shoulder. Fred gently pulled your hair back to get your attention.

“Does our pretty baby wanna cum? Why don't you show us just how much you missed us?”

That's all it took for you to fall apart in their arms. Your grip on George's shoulders tightened while you came down from your high. Even in your blissed out states, you liked to guess which of the twins would cum first. But they were twins through and through.

Both of your holes were filled with their warm cum almost simultaneously. Neither twin pulled out or let you down. Even when their muscles started to get tired, they kept a hold of you.

Literally or figuratively, the twins would always keep a hold of you. Because you were the only one who had been given the keys to their hearts.

And they would do anything to get you back.

[bcdaily]

An Influx of James/Lily...stuff

So, this is the first week in...lol, a year?...that I haven't had mountains of freelancing to finish or grappling with utter burnout or just...yeah lol whatever life. So I'm at Starbucks now with the freedom to ~~write whatever I want~~ which has left me dazzlingly undecided, which lead me on a little foray into my Google Docs.

And the thing is...I've started so many one-shots or stories or somethings or another that are not going to go anywhere because I don't even remember what they were. And I'm too sad to delete them, so I thought I'd just...throw them up here under a cut?

So enjoy, these random paragraphs of the graveyard of Bee's Fics That Never Were:

Something AU? About Lily house/petsitting?? There are fish??

Everything was going swimmingly well until Lily almost killed both the fish and the heir.

"Whoah—whoah!" the latter had been shouting as Lily had been shrieking, the tidy bowl of fish in her hands rattling and sloshing water over its rounded rim as bodies collided inside the posh townhouse foyer, and Lily's instinctive reaction had been a sad attempt at weaponizing paltry plastic. Blindly, mid-shriek, she'd shoved the fish bowl like a battering ram the intruder's way, endangering both innocent marine life, most eardrums within range, and Euphemia Potter's pristine hardwood floors.

Also, Lily realises approximately twenty seconds too late, Euphemia Potter's similarly pristine only child.

Not likely to be keen on the destruction of either, Euphemia.

Hands down, Fleamont would care most about the fish.

"Jesus—shit. Shit." Lily jerks the bowl back, lifting it up to inspect the damage, her frantic gaze bouncing between the man she's just attacked and the tiny sea life she may have just murdered. "I'm so—are you—are they—are they alive?"

"Is this a burglary? Are you stealing them?" asks the heir, the hefty armful of papers and books he'd been holding now mostly scattered by his feet. A few industrious, aerodynamic pages are still floating down, lapping leisurely by their legs. He'd dropped them, back during the shrieking and colliding and shame. Now, he is standing very still, but nodding very specifically at the fish. "If so, I will not stand in your way."

"What?"

"Take them. Please."

"The fish?"

"Yes."

"I'm not stealing fish," Lily responds dumbly, eyes shifting from the heir back to the precious cargo he is honestly being a bit too generous in looking to offload. Her mind has quit whirling enough to concentrate on the contents. Immediately, she begins to tally up fish. Four, five, six...fuck, were there two of the blue ones? Is the orange one moving? Is that a death float?

One fish, two fish. Red fish, slew fish.

The heir is still talking.

"More of an art thief, then?" he asks. His hand lifts, elegant-looking and long-fingered, moving to straighten the trendy specs sitting upon his patrician nose, which had gone askew in the scuffle. "There's a bloody ugly statue of some tragic Greek in the dining room. Worth loads. Grab and go. I'll assist hefting, even. No charge."

"What?" There are eleven fish. Eleven, glorious, wonderful, still somehow living fish. Relief is a drowning tidal wave nearly pulling Lily under. Her knees go fair weak with it. She attempts to shake the remnants of shock and panic off like a sodden dog, but hasn't quite managed it when she gives her attention back to the man in front of her. He's quite tall. His hair is dark and haphazard, like Fleamont's. "That's not how burglary works."

"Are you certain?"

"Not from personal experience, but a woman can take some educated stances."

"So you're not a burglar."

"No." This is a ludicrous conversation. From the smile playing at his lips, Lily reckons the heir thinks so, too. She's trying to remember his name. Fleamont had told her it at some point, maybe even multiple points. It's something traditional, one syllable. She'd had some worry about that, with parents called mouthfuls like Fleamont and Euphemia. Fleamont's favorite fish was called Jeremiah Rumplestiltskin. "I'm Lily. The housesitter."

"The housesitter." He says the word with the flourish of a brightened lightbulb, ah yes, there it is. He bends, beginning to gather his belongings from the foyer floor.

++++

Something canon?? I actually think this might have been a sequel to a one-shot? Maybe??

It's become a game now, and they are both very, very good at it.

“What are you staring at?” she baldly asks that very first Monday morning, barely twenty-four hours after what James had quickly begun to refer to in his head as The Age-Old Snogging Incident (subtitle: Wildest Dreams Defined).

They are eating breakfast in the Great Hall, and save for the seven seconds it had taken James to thrust the wrapped Brewing Cauldrons record at her yesterday with a hurried “Happy birthday, Evans,” before scurrying off in the most pathetic of manners, this is the first time he’s encountered her. She looks much the same as she always does (brilliant), and he’s doing much the same as he always does (eating lathered toast, subtly watching her, hoping no one realizes he’s subtly watching her), but this time, she calls him out on it.

She’s seated across the table and two seats over. They are surrounded by people, but they may as well be alone. Noise buzzes in James’s ears as he stares fixedly at her smugly arched eyebrows, her tellingly quirked lips (the same ones that had snogged him). He is moments away from stuttering out an embarrassed, evasive response, likely flushing and bumbling at being caught, because she's right, he is staring...

But then he realizes something.

He is not the only one.

Lily Evans, that coy conundrum, is staring fixedly at him, as well.

More specifically, she is staring fixedly at his mouth.

Fucking hell, she’s thinking about it, too.

It's sudden, stunning awareness. It's wild, uncontrollable confidence. It's unproven, untested, unmitigated victory and arrogance, a feeling James is not entirely unfamiliar with, but never--never--in regards to her.

“I’m not staring at anything,” he somehow finds himself answering, slowly biting into his toast like it's a token power move. He takes his leisurely time swallowing. “What are you staring at?”

“Me?” Her eyebrows have arched even higher. She licks her lips. “I’m not staring.”

“No?”

“No.”

“My mistake, then.”

"That's right."

"Cheers."

Neither of them breaks eye contact. Neither of them even moves. It is a battle of pointed, heady, bloody fucking hell flirtatious wills, and now that James has realized she is not the only one with power here, he is damn well not going to give it up.

"What are you two doing?" Hestia Jones eventually asks, regarding them with vague suspicion. "What's going on?"

James bites his toast.

Lily stirs her tea.

"Nothing," they both say.

But ten minutes later, as James is somewhat giddily taking his time in exiting the Hall for Charms, Lily slinks up behind him, grabs his arm, and yanks him back as their mates sail unassumingly though the Great Hall toward lessons.

"You're so obvious," she hisses. "Control yourself."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," James returns loftily. "But for shame, Evans--can't you keep your hands off me for even a moment?"

James nods down to where her fingers are still curled around his biceps. He expects her to drop it immediately like a scorching hot pan, but instead she gets a wicked sort of gleam in her green eyes, curls her fingers around even further, and squeezes.

"Mm. So tense." The quiet husk in her voice sends a string of shivers straight down James's spine. One of her fingers has begun to stroke. "I know a few helpful ways to remedy that...but I'm afraid you're just a bit too young to hear them."

"Corrupter of youth," James accuses, though it mostly comes out as a choke.

Cruel, cruel witch that she is, Lily gives a jaunty shrug, lets loose his arm, and with nothing more than a conciliatory pat, stalks off past him.

The point, admittedly, goes to her. But James is nothing if not a sportsman.

Later that same afternoon, Marc Darndis spills an entire beaker of uncooked Brinstin Brew down his front in Potions, and James takes a moment in the ensuing chaos to turn around to the workstation behind him. He watches Lily as she diligently keeps working, then leans his elbows against the table top, sighs heavily, and says, "Poor Darndis. He'll be in the shower for ages trying to scrape that off. Unfortunate, I suppose...but then again, I am personally a very firm advocate for a nice, long shower."

Lily doesn't even glance up at this comment. Maybe her eye twitches a bit, but mostly she just continues chopping up her beetle parts.

"If you don't turn around and mix in your daffodil root," she says eventually, "you're going to need a nice, long shower. When your cauldron explodes."

"Nothing beats a good shower," James continues, like she hasn't spoken. "You know, when the steam starts to billow, and you take your first step in, and the hot water hits your skin, dripping down..."

James manages to get through a good thirty-five seconds of discussing raunchy bathing habits before Lily's face has gone so completely red, it very nearly matches her hair.

(Truly, if James's bothersome cauldron hadn't chosen that exact moment to go on and explode, he reckons he may very well have cracked her.)

(Still, it's worth the detention Slughorn gives him, and the victorious look Lily shoots him. Overall: Point Potter.)

That Monday sets the tone for the following weeks, unleashing this new, maddening dynamic wherein James is now not only allowed to flirt shamelessly and ruthlessly with Lily Evans...it is quite simply expected. The pair of them are both so grossly over-the-top with it, it is very nearly laughable.

She shows up to breakfast one morning with an extra shirt button undone and glossy lips, and James has to squint at the ceiling for a good three minutes before he's in a dignified enough condition to rise from the table.

He "accidentally" leaves his Charms textbook in his dormitory, inquires if he can look on with hers, and spends the entirety of the lesson invading her personal space to her ever-obvious reluctant delight.

They cross paths in the common room, where she promptly begins to read aloud from a Witch Weekly article entitled "The Sexy Art of Snogging" (with charade accompaniment).

James arrives back from Quidditch practice one afternoon, sweaty and still in-kit, and finds her gawking at him by the portrait hole. He loudly hums the chorus to "Mrs. Robinson" as he passes her by, and hears her muffled laughter as the Fat Lady swings closed behind him.

Somehow, they're sitting together during History now, and spend nearly every lesson shooting hurried, sloppy notes between them:

It's so sad how badly you want to kiss me, Evans.

I could weep with how much of a projection that is, Potter.

Shoot those lusty looks elsewhere, I will not be seduced. (how long did he just say this essay was meant to be?)

If I wanted you seduced, you'd be seduced. (I don't know I wasn't listening, go ask Remus.)

I'm too young for these types of conversations. How dare you. (two scrolls)

I guess I'll go find someone else to have them with for the next thirty-two days, then. (thks)

Speaking of mates...the lot of them know nothing. Or at least, James hasn't told his--he can't be certain what Lily has divulged. As far as the lads are concerned, James and Lily are merely engaged in a mysterious, extended battle of wills, their hushed conversations never disclosed, the prize an unconfirmed puzzle. Peter finds the anomaly entertaining. Sirius is primarily disinterested. Remus likely figured the whole thing out on day two, but is much too polite to intrude.

So on it goes, just the two of them--tempting and toying and teasing and TK.

James loves his birthday. He has always loved his birthday. It's the one day of the year when no one's allowed to tell you off for being utterly self-involved, and James has always been keen on that type of lenience. He fancies cake and presents and embarrassing traditions. He doesn't shy from attention or parties or mugs of beverages clinked in his honour. But this birthday...

January quickly shifts to February. February fades into March. James has never been so keenly aware of the days of his youth ticking by as he is at this particular moment. Last week, Lily had cornered him in the library stacks, had used that sad, predictable old ploy of reaching for a book beyond his shoulder in order to brush her body full against his, and James had very nearly threw the whole game and timeline out the window then and there. He was losing his mind. She was keenly enjoying it. If he wasn't very nearly certain the tricks and teasing were getting to her too, he'd likely have put a stop to them ages ago.

But Lily Evans is not the sort of girl who would even vaguely entertain a bloke if she wasn't interested. James, of all people, ought to know that. Yes, their blatant harassment of each other these past eight weeks has been so wildly extraneous in every way...but that doesn't mean there isn't something lying beneath. There is for James, in any case. And really, she'd started it. He doesn't exactly know what any of it means, but he reckons he can't be be castigated for counting down the hours until 27 March with bated breath.

It's Thursday, three days until his birthday. 

+++++

Some canon smut that never was??

"This," James mutters, as her mouth peppers his chin, "is an insulting cliche."

She hums a vague acknowledgment at this comment—or is that a groan?—but continues undeterred in wrestling apart the buttons of his shirt. The sharp half-moons of her nails scrape his chest in a scrambling kitten's scratch as the paltry buttons of his cotton school shirt pop. There is a cool June wind drifting in from the mooncast evening outside the nearby doorway, leading out onto the ramparts. It hits his now exposed skin in soft, brisk billows.

Her teeth bite down on his pulse point. James teeters to the right, nearly tipping back down the steep spiral staircase.

He grabs her around the waist, swinging them around until her back is pressed against the cold stone wall.

She gives a light oomph...then continues to nibble.

"The Astronomy Tower," James snarls.

She has made work of half his shirt buttons. Sighs. "James."

"Really. 'Meet me,' she says. Then drags me to the Astronomy Tower. I feel cheap and tawdry."

[dreamsontheirway]

Bait | Ch. 4 | S.R. x OC

Summary: Willow Brooks is a kind-hearted, but spitfire red head who treats each case with the upmost compassion and care. But when an unsub is targeting women who look just like her, she’s faced with the dilemma of acting as bait for the unsub. Spencer Reid, her boyfriend, is absolutely not keen on the idea. Warnings: kissing Word Count: 0.9k

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Oh magpie, so beautiful, what a sight…

I wonder, who will take your place tonight?

With hair so vibrant orange and red,

What a shame, if you were dead.

—

Spencer kissed the top of Willow's head, his left hand gripping the hair gently. Her forehead rested against his chest, and her hands wrapped around his torso, fisting the material of his sweater. Spencer's right hand pulled her closer, his large hand rubbing in a soothing motion on the small of her back.

After their heartfelt conversation, Willow and Spencer returned to the rest of the team, who had already delivered the profile to the department. Upon returned to the roundtable room, they began to discuss the master plan, much to Spencer's dismay.

"Willow," Aaron addressed, nodding slightly at her.

"Yes, sir."

"After talking with the victim's loved ones, it seems this unsub selects his victims from nightclubs specifically. There's a local one where several of the victims were present at. We'd like you to go undercover there. We will discuss the details more upon arrival."

Willow nodded in agreement, anxiety bubbling up in her core. Am I really doing this? she thought to herself. It seemed crazy, but she would much rather put herself at risk than another innocent woman.

The team stood up, grabbing their things and preparing to get a move on. Willow had been given an outfit to wear, a classy red dress with a slit in the side. She went to the restroom to change into it and admired herself in the mirror. She looked beautiful, but she couldn't help from realizing she didn't would only ever want Spencer to see her in any sort of revealing garment.

Upon exiting the Rochester police department, she climbed into the back of one of the dark SUV's. Spencer sat beside her, and his jaw was locked in place upon seeing her in the beautiful costume.

Fuck, Spencer thought to himself. It was going to be grueling allowing the unsub anywhere near her tonight. Instead of making a scene, however, Spencer reached for Willow's hand and gave it a squeeze. She squeezed it back, but she could sense his anger and fear through the light shaking radiating through his body.

-----

Upon arriving at the local nightclub, a small earpiece was placed inside Willow's ear, deep enough that no one could see it. It contained a small microphone so that the team could hear their conversation.

Willow adjusted her dress upon standing, flattening it against her curves. Her scarlet hair was pulled into a half updo, a few strands of hair falling into her face. Spencer felt that the stragglers were just asking to be pushed behind her ears, which were flushed pink with anticipation.

The plan was, for the most part, simple. Willow was to enter the dance club alone, maybe go purchase a drink from the bar, and scope the scene. The team would be watching from inside the large white van outside. Everyone would be working together to profile who the unsub might be, and when they determined who it was, she would make her move. She would talk to him, flirt, and extract the most information that she could.

"Agent, how are you feeling?" Hotch asked her. She appreciated him checking in on her before she was catapulted straight into the field.

She sighed deeply, letting out an exhale that she didn't know she was holding.

"I'm ready."

"Wonderful. Remember, stay calm, use your training. If you notice anything, notify us. We will be watching and will come in if anything gets out of hand."

Willow nodded shakily, grabbing the small black hand purse she had been given to go along with the outfit. Spencer approached her, his hand resting on her arm.

"Be careful," he spoke gravely, "please."

"I will, Spence, don't worry."

He leaned down and kissed her then, their lips dancing in synchronization. Her face turned red, the embarrassment of kissing Spencer in front of her coworkers and boss dawning on her. Her hand, which was resting on Spencer's neck reached up to rub her thumb on his cheek. He whispered something to her then.

"If you need me, just say my name. I swear to god, I will come running."

Her heart fluttered from the tenacity and grit he showed in response to her going into the line of fire. She wished that she could kiss him again, but in private this time.

Willow walked about a block from where the van was parked before arriving at the nightclub. She let out a breath, shaking out her hands before entering the small, dingy building.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered to herself, momentarily forgetting that the entire team could probably hear her. She cursed herself, telling herself that she sounded ridiculous.

The club's size was deceiving from the outside, of which looked so small that she had assumed she'd find the unsub in no time. It was larger on the inside, and deeper; it went further back than she had expected.

She cleared her throat again, before confidently making her way over to the bar. She ordered a drink, not entirely caring what it was, and merely ordered first one that came to mind.

She waited for her drink order to be completed, but then heard a voice. She hadn't even had time to taken in her surroundings.

"Why, hello there."

-----

A/N: Thanks for making it this far! I've tweaked a couple things in the previous chapters, I hope everyone likes them. I'm really liking how this is turning out; I hope everyone reading is enjoying it as well.

[pure-garbage]

Stolen Treasure! Pursue The Demon Pirate Hunter

Chapter Warnings: Violence

The straw hats awoke the next morning with no memory of the last year. As Lana looked around at all the unfamiliar faces, she was filled with confusion and overwhelming joy. Wherever she was, whoever these people were, Corrin was nowhere in sight. The rag-tag group assembled haplessly on the ram-headed caravel were all just as clueless as she was, scratching their heads and trying to piece together what had happened.

"None of you can remember a thing?" Robin asked, puzzled. She alone retained her memories of the last year, though she couldn't provide an answer as to why. Her claim that they were all pirates sailing the grand line together in search of the one piece was met with mixed reactions, few of them positive.

Lana, meanwhile, had no complaints. It would seem freedom had somehow found her. She didn't mind sticking around until they could learn the truth of their missing year. Robin's disposition was calm, her demeanor soothing. Lana trusted her despite not knowing her.

The others didn't share Lana's easygoing faith and it wasn't long before crew members started jumping ship, despite Robin's protests.

"Well, there goes our navigator," Robin sighed in the wake of the orange-haired girl's dramatic departure.

"She sure knows how to make an exit," Lana commented, watching as the girl sped away into the distance on a strange contraption.

Nami wasn't the only one keen to set out on her own. A green-haired swordsman soon took his leave as well, much to the relief of the purported captain Usopp. Lana wasn't exactly sad to see the bounty hunter go either.

'I'm lucky he didn't take me with him... he must not know my head is worth ten million,' she sighed with silent relief.

As he swam for shore, three swords secured atop his head precariously with a bandana, a glint of gold and familiar violet drew Lana's eye. Alarm shot through her, spurring her to check her wrist, only to find it bare. She flew to the ship's rail with a startled cry. Roronoa Zoro was absconding and he was taking her greatest treasure with him!

"Hey! Thief!" Lana shouted, ripping her cloak off and wrapping it around her waist. "How- When did he have time to steal from me?!"

'How did he know it's value? Most of the time I wear it inverse to hide the gilding! Did he swipe it while I was asleep?!'

"Well, there goes another one," Robin sighed as Lana launched herself into the water. "Even with no memory of who he is, Lana's still chasing after Zoro. Some things never change."

Lana followed Zoro onto the island from a distance. She knew there was no way she could challenge him head on. She had no fighting skills, or at least, none on par with a trained warrior. Her only chance was to wait for nightfall. Then she could try to take her sash back while the swordsman slept.

'When did it become so natural for me to move so silently?' she wondered from the shadows of the woods. Lana didn't know what her lost year had put her through, but she could feel its effects in every fiber of her being. Her body remembered what her mind had forgotten, muscles carrying secrets that Lana had no way to unlock. All she could do was press forward and trust herself.

Zoro remained alert all day. The way he looked around told Lana that he was aware he was being watched, but couldn't find his stalker. Darkness crept in, falling swiftly over Zoro's little camp as Lana's impatience grew. The night wore on and on, hours slipping past as the moon travelled slowly overhead.

'I have to wait for it,' she resolved. 'I have no choice, but... what if he doesn't go to sleep at all? What then?'

If Zoro knew he was being watched, he might not let his guard down.

The reputed pirate hunter started snoring as morning approached, setting Lana's apprehensions to rest along with him.

She wasted no time, rising and creeping into the light cast by his campfire. The white sword was Lana's aim. The so-called demon had wrapped her sash around its hilt. She held her breath, one eye on Zoro as she carefully reached for it. When he didn't stir, she turned her focus to the swords.

"It's not nice to touch things that don't belong to you."

Zoro's voice startled Lana. She blinked and found herself nearly ten feet from where she'd started, sliding on the dirt as she spun to a halt, facing Zoro.

'Whoa, when did I get so fast?' she wondered.

Zoro glared at her, rising and bringing his swords with him. Lana clutched the black sword. In her haste, instinct had taken over, putting an impressive distance between her and her opponent, but blind instinct had also led her to grab the wrong sword. Zoro still had her sash.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll put the sword down," he warned her.

"Not so fast, pirate hunter!" Lana seethed. "If you want your sword back, you'll have to return what you stole from me first!"

"I don't have anything of yours, purple girl. Now give back my sword or I'll have to take it from you."

"Don't lie! You're not even hiding my sash!" Lana raged.

"Huh? Oh, you mean this."

Zoro ran his fingers over the talisman. It felt...

'What is this feeling? Like... there's something important here, but I can't remember what.'

"So, it's yours? I'll admit, I was wondering about it. What it is, why I have it... well? Do you have any answers for me?" Zoro demanded.

"I don't," Lana scowled. "I'm here to take back what's mine! I don't remember any more than anyone else on that ship! Now hand it over!"

Lana drew Yubashiri and leveled it at Zoro, eliciting a smirk from him.

"That was a mistake," he informed her. "I never back down from a challenge."

He drew both of the swords he still held. His grin was demented, the shifting firelight casting deep shadows over his sharp features. Lana trembled, acutely aware that she'd accidentally bitten off much more than she could chew with her dramatic gesture.

"Time for you to show me what you're made of, purple girl," Zoro announced.

He was on her in a heartbeat, moving almost too fast for her eyes to follow. She moved on pure muscle memory, parrying a series of lightning fast slashes as Zoro drove her back. Somehow, she was able to meet him blow for blow, her confusion mounting the longer their savage dance wore on. Her body knew all the steps, keeping her safe from his attacks but only baffling her further, adding another blank piece to the puzzle of her missing memories.

'I don't know anything about swordplay! How has he not sliced me to ribbons yet?! What the hell was I doing this past year anyway?!'

_______________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[localcryptidsteg]

Chapter 3- Unstopable force? Meet Impenetrable Object 

Mei hurried through the jungle, hopping between sparse patches of ground between the rot. She had to find a way back to Mk; Sun Wukong didn't seem volatile, but Mk didn't have any field experience with violent ghosts and she couldn't risk leaving him alone for too long. The dangerous ones knew how to hide what they were, after all, and something had felt off about the unusually chipper spirit.

Doing her best to follow the cliffside, she ran until finding the edge of what seemed to be a city. Mei looked around warily before proceeding. For an island that was meant to be so haunted, it sure was empty in the one place she'd expect spirits. 

Making her way through the ghost town, it seemed like the people here must have left in a hurry, their things abandoned and scattered. It looked like they had rummaged through everything to grab what was most important before they evacuated. 

Winding through the streets, she found she was approaching the side of the mountain again. Maybe there was another way up to the temple through the city? 

As she explored, she could hear footsteps behind her, trying to be stealthy. Whoever they belonged to didn't seem keen on bothering her though, just observing, so Mei let it be. 

As she approached a bridge leading through a massive waterfall, that changed. 

“Hold! Where do you think you're going?” A nasal voice called out from behind her, as a looming shadow stepped in front of her. 

Mei took a step back, squinting against the sun. It took a moment to make out the armored elephant demon against the harsh light. “Well? It's only polite to answer their question.” He rumbled amicably, gesturing behind Mei. 

She turned to see a bird demon dressed in armor similar to the elephant's.

“I'm trying to find a way back to my friend. He's about this tall, spiky brown hair, orange cape, shitty old staff... has he come this way?” Mei gestured while trying to describe Mk.

“He was with a monkey demon's ghost.” 

The bird looked rattled by the statement. “You're sure it was a monkey demon? Not a weird human? Or a cat with an unusually long tail?” They asked nervously. 

“Nope. Little orange monkey.” 

The bird relaxed at the amendment. “Oh thank goodness! I was worried he was out and about again! But it's just Wukong.” They sighed, then frowned. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, dragon child?? Have the decency to mention which monkey it was the first time around!”

Mei shrugged. “My bad. Didn't realize this island had monkey problems. Anyway, have you seen them?” 

The elephant stepped around her to join the bird. “I'm afraid no one living has been this way in quite some time. Rest assured, though, so long as your friend is with Wukong, he is safe. The man may be a bit... energetic... but he is a formidable foe. He won't let anything bad happen.” 

Mei groaned. “Well, that's one less thing to worry about, I guess. Monkey King said something about a mountain temple. Is there a way up through here?” 

The bird and elephant looked hesitantly at each other. “Well, there is, but-” the elephant started. 

“-But you'll have to get past the Six Eared Macaque to get to it, the menace!” The bird shook his head in disgust, shrugging. The elephant shot him a disapproving look. “What?? 'His Majesty' nearly tore a hole through my beautiful wings last time he left that damned cave!” The bird protested.

“I don't care if this 'Macaque' has 16 ears and can tear through rock itself! I need to get to that temple!” Mei declared, grinning. 

“Wait. It's not just that. The pass through that cave holds the heart of the corruption on this island. You'll need to find a way to clear it out before you'll be able to get through.” The elephant sighed. “If Azure Lion were here, he could help you, but...” 

The bird looked guiltily at the ground. “He hasn't been himself in centuries. The rot got to him.” 

“This Azure Lion person... he's a spirit like you guys, right?” Mei perked up. 

The elephant nodded. 

“Then leave it to me! I'm a spirit guide! I'm supposed to be finding a way to clear out this rot anyway!” 

The elephant smiled at her, surprised, but pleased. “Would you really? Thank you very much for your offer, young one!” 

Peng stooped to the ground, picking up an object leaned against the ornate gate posts decorating the start of the bridge. It was a blue and gold mask, shaped like a lion's face. A bit on the nose, really. 

“Here. You'll be needing this. Just make sure you don't go losing it or breaking it!” The bird sneered, though they handed it over readily. 

“I'll do my best-!... uh... What are your names?” Mei looked back up at them as she tied the mask to her belt.

“The Golden-Winged Peng and Yellow Tusk, at your service! Of the king's personal guard!” The bird, Peng based on the way they gestured to themself, preened. Yellow Tusk bowed lightly. 

"...At least we were back when he was worth calling a king." Peng amended, sighing.

“Mei! Pleased to meet you!” Mei bowed back, ignoring the complaint. “I'll need at least three relics that were important to your friend, though it seems like you're already familiar with the drill. Any hints on where to start?”

Yellow Tusk thought for a moment. “The palace and the barracks are most likely to have items Azure held dear. But be careful! The palace is Macaque's domain, and His Majesty doesn't take disturbances kindly.” 

“That's putting it a bit mildly, don't you think?” Peng muttered ruefully. 

Yellow Tusk cocked an unamused brow at his companion. “Quite. When you've gathered the items, return here. We can lead you to his final resting place.” 

Mei smiled softly at the two. “I'll make sure your friend can rest. You can count on it!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Across the bridge, behind the falls, was an enormous cavern. At the heart of the cavern, and ancient palace stood, surrounded by manors and outbuildings. 

This place must have been where the nobility lived, Mei thought to herself. 

It was just as eerily empty as the town outside, and just as covered in corruption. Winding her way through the area, she decided to head straight for the palace. If it was the most dangerous, it was best to get it out of the way first. 

She had to fight her way through the doors, but luckily, it didn't take long. The entryway was a massive, dark hallway, echoing with the sounds of falling water. The place was clearly a grand, ornate thing in its heyday. Even now, enough was left to see what it once might have been, back when its halls were full of life.

Mei grimaced as something hollow crunched beneath her foot. Looking down, she saw bone, half-buried in rot, with a brand new hole in it. She hastily stepped back, then crouched to examine it closer. It was shaped like a monkey skull, though a bit larger. In fact, it looked like the whole skeleton was here, buried beneath the plant-like corruption. A little shrub with a blue flower struggled to break free of the thorns, closer to what must have been the ribcage. Near the skull, a mask peered through the thorns. 

Carefully, Mei leveraged her sword against the branches, breaking the mask free. Turning it over in her hands, a fanged monkey face peered back at her. It looked a little like Wukong's did, actually, now that she looked closer. 

“Oh, right! You must be the Other Monkey King.” she mused to herself, running her thumb over the mask's smooth wooden surface.

As she looked up from the mask, she was met by an identical one, though this new version had gold eyes behind it. “Other? I'm the only king!” The spirit's voice was soft, almost amused, but had an edge to it. The figure disappeared, bleeding into the shadows on the ground and chuckling as she nearly fell over. 

Mei recovered, shrugging and trying to play it like she didn't just get knocked on her ass by a shadow.

“I dunno man. Sun Wukong said you were the ‘other’ Monkey King.” 

“Sun Wukong is no king!” The spirit was directly in front of her again as soon as she spoke, looming above her. His eyes flashed purple, and all light was choked from the room in an instant, save for the faint glow the spirit let off. His hair writhed and curled behind him; a living, seething cape. “He gave up that title when he abandoned his people to save himself!” he hissed.

Mei recoiled and a little pang of guilt entered the eyes looking down at her.

The wraith disappeared and the light returned, only for him to pop up again a few feet away in a significantly less ruffled state. Rot spread beneath him as his feet met the floor, a picture of aloof, decayed grace. 

That was an interesting difference, Mei noted. One monkey acts like he's still alive, the other uses the fact he's dead to his advantage. More importantly though...

“You're the source of the rot. Aren't you?” It was more a statement than a question. 

“I wouldn't say I'm its source, so much as its host.” 

“Source, host, same difference!” Mei waved the statement off. “Either way, you control it! So you can stop it from spreading, right? Or maybe make it go away?”

He shook his head. “There is a difference, kid. It follows me around, but it does whatever it wants. I can nudge it in a specific direction, but it's still its own thing....” The monkey demon trailed off, looking distracted as he scanned the hallway, searching for something. He frowned behind the mask, tensing and backing up warily.

“Weren't you with someone else earlier...?”

Mei's face fell. “We got separated. I was kinda hoping you might be my ticket back to him. You're sure you can't just, like, clear up one teensy little path?” She pouted, giving the ghost her very best sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Sorry, but no. Why do you think I warned you two to leave while you could?” the monkey demon sighed, his tail flicked in agitation.

“I figured it was cuz you're no fun, honestly.” Mei tried to keep the conversation light for her own sake. 

“If you're going to stand around and insult me to my face, I'm just going to leave you to the rot.” The ghost monkey turned, then seemed to think better of something. “And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop that mask and get as far from it as you can. You might convince the others, but I'm not leaving.”

The dragon girl frowned, huffing and getting back up.

“Yeah, that's still not how this is gonna work. So what if you can't control the corruption! You're the heart, either way! And I need the corruption gone, so... you're gonna have to go, guy. I'll drag you to the afterlife kicking and screaming if I have to, but you're not staying!” Mei pulled her sword out, leveling it at him.  

He snorted, disappearing again. “Good luck with that!” his amused voice echoed through the now-empty hall. A new wall of rot grew to block the main doors leading to other areas of the palace.

“Run all you want, plants aren't going to stop me!” Mei called after him, kicking the skull on the ground again as if that would do anything. “Stupid stubborn ghost!” She grumbled.

Still, she had work to do. The king's mask might be useless for now, but she had Azure's mask, and his friends were counting on her to find his relics and send him on his way. Yellow Tusk seemed to think helping Azure might clear some of the rot, too.

So, deeper into the palace it would be. She tied the monkey mask in place next to Azure's, and forged ahead. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mk shifted a chair to the side, ducking to search under a table. “Are you sure it's in here?”

“Absolutely certain!” Wukong insisted, crossing his arms and nodding. 

“You said that about the last five rooms we checked!” 

“And I'm sure this is the right one this time!” The monkey lifted a broken-down woven basket in the corner, making a pleased noise.

 “Hey there, little guy! How'd you get all the way over here?” 

He held up a disk made of twisting vines with a blue channeling stone set in the middle. 

Mk stopped and looked up. “What’s that?” 

“A woodspider! They were made to help out in the archives! If it still works, maybe it has a record of where the staff is!” Wukong set the disc flat on the table, tapping it lightly. The little disk shuddered, and the gem on top glowed softly for a moment. The vines around the rim started to unfurl, but stopped. The disk went inert again. 

“Hm. Not enough juice.” Wukong sighed, disappointed. 

Mk looked relieved. “Welp, guess it's a sign! No spiders for us today! Come on, let's just leave it!” he rambled, clear tension in his voice. 

The monkey raised an eyebrow, but let it be. “Alright. You checked everything else in here?” 

Mk. “Yeah. Still no luck. Next room?” 

“Next room!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So if you have an extra staff laying around, it means you had at least one spirit guide here, right? How'd the rot get so out of hand if you had someone that could handle it?” Mk pulled scrolls at random from the bookcase he stood in front of, hoping for a secret compartment or something.  

“It's a long story. But, the short of it is, I left to find a way to clear the rot, but I was met with.... hostility once I made it back home. I didn't live long enough after making it ashore to actually help anything. But I know I spent my last few days here, and I remember my staff leaned up against a wall in the room. So it has to still be here!” 

Mk paused, thinking. “Maybe you were buried with it? Or it’s by your grave somewhere?” 

The monkey perked up. “Now there's a thought! Follow me!” He scurried off,  pausing every so often to let the boy catch up. 

They made their way to a massive inner courtyard that seemed to have been a garden at one point, though much like the mountain trail itself, had headstones and statues and monuments sprinkled around the edges. The back was completely open up to the edge of a cliff, showing a stunning view of the whole island and fading out to sea. 

“It should be.... there!” The Monkey King darted excitedly over to a tree at the very edge, its exposed roots holding it firmly in place. Nestled into the shade of the tree were two fairly simple stone statues, both depicting the same sleeping monkey. There were small braziers and incense holders and vases littered around the base of the statues, and little wooden tablets and wind chimes and charms littered the branches of the tree above them. The statues were overgrown now, but it was clear that, at one point, they had been cared for. 

Wukong circled the tree. “Ah-HAH! There!” He moved, brushing some moss off an object that was easily mistaken as part of the trunk, but when he pulled his hand away, it revealed bright red lacquer. “Well? All yours, kid!” The monkey demon seemed quite pleased with himself.

Mk reached out and pulled hard, causing clumps of moss and vine to fall away from the tree and the staff. It took more effort to unearth it than he had been expecting, and it definitely needed a good cleaning, but the twin channeling stones at either end of the staff glowed brighter than any Mk had ever seen before, and the staff itself felt sturdy in his hands. 

The boy gave it a few test swings, quickly acclimating to the surprising heft of the weapon. “It feels... right.” He held the staff sideways, looking over it with an expression of baffled wonder. “Like it was made for me.” 

Wukong grinned. Something in the king's spirit warmed at the sight of someone new using the staff. Like he was looking at a younger version of himself, back when he had picked it up for the first time. “It suits you, bud!” 

Mk smiled back. “Alright! Staff acquired! Now we just need to start clearing a path back to Mei! So... what first?” He turned back to the king, looking more sure of himself than ever. 

“First? There are a few spirits still stuck in the area. Helping them should purify some of the corruption on the island, at least for a while. I can show you where their masks are and guide you where you need to go safely, but it would be best to ask those close to them for any other information. The closest mask is in the temple kitchens.” 

“Alright! Sounds like a plan! Lead the way, Monkey King!” 

[maddstermind]

I'm crying at some of these titles - but also Lemon Demon is making more sense now knowing you know Homestuck (this is a compliment btw, I'm adding some of their songs to my list (Knife Fight)) ANYWAY - pls tell me more about howie dies dot jpeg and 999 999 laughing for real right now- On a more serious note - we're doing it man, we're making this happen You've been updated to Warheads cause my face currently resembles sucking on one I'm losing my fuckin mind rn

Yes, YES, I highly recommend pretty much everything Lemon Demon has every done. Listen to Bustin', it's hilarious. (As far as I know, Lemon Demon/Neil Cicierega has nothing to do with Homestuck, but they do have a similar vibe lmao. Also I'm honored to be upgraded.)

OKAY WRITING THINGS YEEHAW.

howie dies dot jpeg Snippet:

President Howard Goodman sat at his desk in the Oval Office, alone. The orange light of the setting sun filled the room, silhouetting him with his back to the window. He was alone. He kept telling himself that.  There was no one else in the room, hadn't been for hours as he demanded to be left alone for the rest of the day, but he could not convince himself that he was actually alone. He felt watched. Every shadow out of the corner of his eye looked to be a person, or a beast, or some horrific fusion of the two. It was worth mentioning that Howard hadn't been sleeping well lately.

About: The other (joke) working title for this was "Howie's Hot Girl Summer." The real title was "I'll Find You In The Next Timeline." It was meant to be for the 2023 Hatchetfield Big Bang (which I host!), but I got swamped and wasn't able to work on it for long. It's a timeloop story about the (fictional) President of the United States, Howard Goodman. And also he's in love with the mysterious military man, General John McNamara. I'll probably eventually get around to finishing and publishing it. Someday.

999 999 laughing for real right now Snippet:

"When I meet my soulmate, I'll tell you about all the colors, okay?" Light teased her about how she'd be able to describe colors without using examples, but she was stubborn. She swore she'd tell him what colors were like. "Alright," Light ruffled her hair, "you better keep your promise, then." "I will!" She grinned, though he didn't see it. He didn't have too, though. He just knew.

About: This fic is from [claps] 2017! I always meant to get around to finishing it... It's called "Prism of Light," and its a Zero Escape soulmate AU, the one where you start seeing color when you touch your soulmate for the first time. It's Light/Aoi (Snake/Santa) and I only got about two chapters in, but it is on AO3 for the curious. (It's not very good.)

we're doing it man, we're making it happen Snippet:

At age nine, Max saw a picture of Mothman and decided that was what they wanted to be when they grew up, and they've been working towards it ever since. Their desire to discover the bizarre often led to them believing too easily — luckily for them, Lizzie was always there to balance the scales. While she also had a keen interest in the weird, she was more skeptical, thinking things through more thoroughly before deciding whether or not to believe them. Together, the two had spent their years of friendship exploring the island town of Saint Hazel, following every possible lead in hopes of finding any scrap of strangeness in the sanitized town. They'd had their fair share of successes, even if it was never anything as grand-scale as Max hoped.

About: The actual title of this one is "The Conspiracy Gang," and it almost belongs in the "mix of both" category. It's an original work that is based on a roleplay of Starkid's Hatchetfield series done by me and my friends; the main characters are/were our OCs for the universe, but I love them so much I wanted to write a version of their story on my own (with my friend's permission, of course!) Max is my character, and Lizzie belongs to my good friend @cosmic--static! I haven't gotten that far into writing it, sadly, because I've been so heavily focused on Auberon. But someday!!!!!! OH ALSO ITS A COSMIC HORROR STORY FORGOT TO MENTION LMAO

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Fruitful Moon Pt. 2

Here is part two to the interesting new saga of an old west supernatural love story! Once again Darrell Todd belongs to @bluecoolr

The maids at the manor were all shocked to find the blonde carrying their lady up the steps towards the house. "Sir, may I ask what happened?" One of them asked.

Darrell snorted, "Wolf attack." Darrell half lied. " A whole bunch of 'em. Took down the carriage, the driver and the horses. Little one fell asleep in my arms just as we were crossin' into town."

The stranger handed the girl over who was quickly rushed inside by her handmaid's just as the sun began to rise. Back down the steps and back out the wrought iron gate, Darrell headed back into camp. He was sure the rest of the pack had found the wreckage and salvaged it. Now it was up to him to keep the vampire quiet.

The camp, a few miles out of town, was busy with activity. Going through trunks and suitcases of the coach's things.

One of the younger bandits approached Darrell.

"Boss, we found the coachman and the horses but, where was the passenger?"

Darrell pursed his lips. "Had to take her back to town. Had she not made it, there would have been a ruckus I'm sure. Don't worry, I'll keep her quiet."

The pair made it into the tent as some of Darrell's other men had been looking over the valuables. "This lady was loaded! Gold and-"

The bandit gestured to the pile of silver things in the corner. "We can still sell it…"

"Is it legitimate?" Darrell asked, sitting down.

The bandits grumbled, showing their hands, covered in small burns from the contact. "Yeah, it's legit, Boss."

The head Lycan sat back, a pleased smile across his face. "Good. Then get to sellin'. The quicker we make our payday, the better. Don't want anybody to know we orchestrated this. Specifically not the girl."

The others stopped. "What'cha gonna do to her boss? Kidnap her and hold her ransom? Bet she's worth a lot with all the trinkets she had.."

Darrell picked up a stray stuffed animal in the shape of a dog, the tag on it read 'if lost please return to Claudia Grey'. "Nope. I got a better idea, you just leave little miss Claudia, to me." With a wicked smile on his lips.

Days later, Claudia had been awoken by a knock at her door. "Miss Grey? Are you awake?" One of her handmaids asked.

The vampiress stirred in her bed, black hair falling over her shoulders as she slowly sat up. Groggily yawning. "I-im awake…come in…."

More yawning as Juliet, Claudia's personal handmaid walked in quickly. "We were all so worried about you, that blonde haired stranger told us you had been under attack and the only one to survive! Oh how frightful!"

Claudia heard the curtains being pulled away as it was finally dusk. She yawned, her charming fangs flickering in the candlelight. "How long have I been out…?"

"Two days, dear." Juliet helped her lady up and out of her bed. "How do you feel? Hungry, thirsty?"

"Do we have any orange juice?"

"Fresh squeezed just this evening. Would you like me to fetch you a pitcher, dear?"

"Yes please!"

"Precilla will run you a bath and help you get clean. Dinner will be ready soon."

Juliet looked at her ward. Poor young thing, only 100 years old and blind as a bat.

She and her fellow handmaids were the first to arrive as soon as the house had finished construction. They were to make sure that the Lord and Lady Grey's daughter, Claudia lived in comfort. A young lady like her wasn't ready for so much excitement.

Claudia was gently led into the bathroom and stripped of her nightgown, being helped into the warm bath which felt nice.

"The man who brought me home. Who was he?"

Precilla stirred the cauldron which held the boiling water if her ward needed it.

"Nobody knows. He was a blonde haired man, thick accent but unfortunately did not give his name."

The vampiress silently wondered if she'd ever see her assailant/savior again. She wanted to ask him why she had been spared when he was rather keen on killing her. What gave him pause?

"Dear? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Precilla. Thank you for your help, I'll ring my bell when I need you…" Claudia gave a small smile and sat back in the copper basin, going under for just a little while.

Tag: @slaasherslut @rottent33th @slasherscrybaby @kalid-raven @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @angxlslasher @soupbabe @6lostgirl6

[warsamongstthestar-keen]

Chapter Forty

Once everyone's done eating, they each begin to move around the ship, gathering up their gear, personal effects. All the leftover food, and water. They each grab an empty pack, filling it with the stuff lying around the ship. Oati and Ember make their way over to the helmets hanging from the zip cord. Without turning to look at them, Ari'abel calls back, "We're taking those plants with us, and that's an order."

Ember looks at his brother, and states quickly, "Sir, yes Sir."

They carefully take the makeshift planters down, tucking them under their arms. Eh walks over, his helmet that is still painted the orange of the 87th battalion sitting securely on his head. Once everyone is ready they venture out onto the planet's dusty surface. Jeff glances up to the precipice of the cavern wall. "How, exactly, are we getting up there? We don't have nearly enough zip cord for that."

Cody sighs, because he knows the answer, but, internally begs that Keen has another option. His worst fears are made manifest when she leaps up, landing just outside the canyon.

Hotrod and Ember are the first to be Force-lifted to liberation by their Jedi Saviour, followed by Oati and Jeff. Cody tries to prepare himself, but he still wasn't ready for the weird sensation of being lifted by an unseen entity.

Once everyone's up, the Jedi Master leads them to where her ship sits, nestled amongst a few outcroppings of rocks. The second Eh's eyes land on the Corundum he smirks. "I remember some good nights aboard this ship."

"Yeah, well. Marginally nice I guess is more accurate."

In mock pain he raises a hand to his chest, and indignantly states, "You wound me."

She rolls her eyes, as she boards her ship. "I got a few more planets to check out, whether or not you want to. You can either stay on the ship, or you can come with, I don't care."

The Troopers glance at each other as she walks onto the ship, and shrug, following her. Getting into the cockpit, the Clones relax. Hotrod leans forward, reaching out for the controls, only to have his hand slapped away by the Jedi. He pulls the hand back, turning to look at Ember with a pout on his face.

Cody rolls his eyes, reaching around the Jedi in the pilot's seat, easing open a compartment. He grabs a laser pen and immediately removes the cap, leaning back to write a quick thank you on the cockpit's ceiling. Keen can sense the confusion from the other Clones gathered around the Marshall Commander. Leaning back in her seat, she half turns her head to address the other boys.

"It was a tradition before each mission that whatever Clones, or Jedi, were on board the ship, they could leave a message. It sort of spread, so that, whether it was a mission or not, I'd always find a Trooper or two writing, or doodling, on the ceiling. Feel free to take advantage of it."

Without further prompting, Hotrod grabs the pen from Cody, shooting up to his feet. He reaches up, carefully leaning over his vode to draw a picture of a Republic Bomber. Eh steps around the others, as they wrestle for the pen, choosing instead to admire all the graffiti he didn't see during the war. Most of the messages are standard things like, 'Wrecker was here' or 'Plo's Bros', one even says '501st is the best'. He smiles, admiring everything, until his eyes land on a drawing in the corner. It's quite large, and detailed, surrounded by small messages. It's a woman with short hair, in what are basically her skivvies, posing,  "Is this a pin-up drawing of you?"

Ari'abel glances at where he stands, "Yeah. Um, CT-5555, or Fives, of the 501st division, was trying to hide from someone, I think it was Cody, or Rex, but it could've been Echo.... Anyway, I guess he thought my ship was the safest place. Must've been here for hours, given how detailed that drawing is." She gestures with her head to it. "Rex was pissed when he saw it, and I'm surprised he didn't shoot Fives. He calls me to my ship, and it's the middle of the night. And when I get to the Corundum, I just stand there as he yells at Fives. Then, dear sweet Rex, he turns to me, and he offers to have Fives scrub it off," She spins around in her chair, facing the other Clones. "But, you know me, Eh, I didn't like ever removing a note, cause, it always made the boys happy to think that someone cared, so, I made a deal with Fives. The drawing can stay, on the condition he adds the funniest mustache he can think of, which is why I have a handlebar mustache in that drawing."

Cody, who had leaned against the wall opposite the art, says, "I'm pretty sure there was more to that deal, though, General."

The Jedi Master quickly spins her chair around to face the Commander, "Look, what Fives chose to wear in the privacy of 79's is his own business. Just don't ask me why the standard punishment for misbehaviour in the 501st was to wear a frilly pink dress. I will deny any, and all involvement."

Jeff was clearly the winner in the fight for the pen, because a mere moment later, he launches to his feet in triumph. Keen watches, as, in a neat, tight scrawl, he writes, 'It was murky, dusty, and sandy, Cody was being a dandy. We crashed our ship, and I almost broke my hip. We thought we were done for, till a Jedi came to our door. She took us away, and we shouted hooray!'

Cody, who had also been watching him write, crosses his arms, grumbling "I am not a dandy!"

"Yes,you are. But it's alright, you're a sweet dandy."

He turns his glare to Keen, "I am not a dandy!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

[casspurrjoybell-32]

*Warning Adult Content*

MANY QUESTIONS - Chapter 6

Naylan

"I'm not sure what you mean?" I said in response after a while of just gawking at him in confusion.

"Did I do something wrong by offering to help?"   

Mavis seemed taken aback by my words.

His features softened but his jaw was still held tight.

"I'm not going to warm up to you just because you're doing this," he said, making me blink.     

"What?"

My face boiled as I caught on to what I'm saying.

"No, I'm not trying to get you to like me. If you need help, I'll offer it, that's all."     

Mavis didn't seem convinced.

"It's a bit weird for you to offer us food and don't tell me you're trading with us. I know you don't need out dumb vegetables. You guys have gardens yourself," he said and I shrugged my shoulders. 

"Helping people makes allies out of them, don't you think?" I asked and he smiled a little.

It made my heart leap to see his great teeth and small dimples.

He laughed. I had made him laugh. It felt great.     

"Why are you looking at me like that? Is there some erotic picture drawn on my cheek or something?" I blinked at Mavis' words, feeling my face burn up again.

I didn't mind vulgar people but the embarrassment level was kicked up a notch when it was someone you would like to kiss and do other intimate things with.   

"Sorry," I said, staring down at the floor.

"I can't help it."

He should know that. It was a mate thing.     

"I know," he sighed, as a cool wind blew over us under the canopy.

We sat in silence for a while, until it grew too uncomfortable for me, so I started rapping my fingernails on the surface of the plastic chair I was sitting on.   

Mavis looked over at me, raising one of his brows.

"You're such a kid," he laughed, making me pause before placing my hand in my lap.     

"I'm over twenty," I said, starting to get annoyed at the frequency with which he kept saying that.     

He stopped laughing, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He seemed sincere. Did I sound that upset?   

I sighed, shaking my head.

"It's alright. I was just irritated," I mumbled, fidgeting with my fingers.

"So, any plans on leaving soon?" I asked, looking up at him.

He stared at me for a while, sucking in his lower lip as he looked towards the direction that he'd come from.     

"I don't know..." he trailed, making my heart leap.

'Does he want to spend time with me? Is his wolf pacing around like mine was? '

Those were rapid-fire questions that ran through my mind but I didn't say anything, waiting for him to make the first move if there was a move to be made at all.

He had told me not to get attached indirectly and I was going to respect that.

It didn't matter if I could hear both of our hearts palpitating against our chests.   

A small frown formed on his face and his gaze shifted to the floor as he let out a sigh.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure..." I said, a bit worried about what he had on his mind.   

His look became intense as his brown eyes observed me with keen interest.

"You're not from around here, are you?"     

I laughed a little.

"Considering how we've only been here for a few months, that's a given. I thought I already told you that I lived in Nova Scotia?"     

"No," the man groaned.

"That's not what I mean. You're not from here. Like, this province," he said.

"I know that. I didn't finish my thought. I wanted to ask you something related to that."

His hair got tussled by the wind a bit and I stared at him, noticing that the orange late afternoon sun made his yellow-brown skin glow.

"How come you're not from around here but you have so many local allies?"     

My lips parted.

"Oh," I said, reaching to rub the back of my neck.

"I just do...?"

My conclusion seemed to annoy Mavis.

He rolled his eyes at me before crossing his hands over his chest.   

"Be serious," he said, making me shrug my shoulders.   

"I am serious," I insisted, cocking my head to the side.

"I see an opportunity to make a friend and so take it. I offer help and I ask for it," I said.

"There's nothing too complicated about that."     

Mavis didn't seem convinced... the way his lips drew into a thin line and his eyebrows furrowed told me just as much. 

"Maybe it's a work thing," he said in a soft voice, just high enough for me to hear.

"Pack mentality?"

"Whatever you want to think," I said, slouching on the plastic chair I was in.

My eyes looked past Mavis' shoulder to spot the teenage werewolves chasing a ball around.

I smiled a little, before looking at Mavis again.     

"One more question," he said when our eyes locked.

"Do you miss your family?"

"My brother lives here in Toronto, so no," I said, sitting up straight on the chair.

"I call my mum a lot but I've been with her for most of my life, so I can handle not seeing her all the time," I muttered.   

Mavis remained quiet, not saying anything after that.

"Why are you asking?" I questioned him, noting that he'd suddenly had a lot to say to me after pushing me away.     

Mavis shrugged.

"Just because."

He sighed, staring down at his legs.

"I was wondering if you had any pressure put on you to find a mate, that's all. Especially since you're an Alpha... a real one too." 

'So that's why. He feels guilty.'

I let out a sigh, reaching up to run my fingers through my coarse curls.   

"No, there's no pressure," I said.

"My mother never found her mate and my father turned out to not be the best person, so there's that. We had to leave Newfoundland because of that. Though, when she met my brother's father she was truly in love and that person wasn't her mate so it's not like she believes the mate bond thing too deeply," I explained.     

"Your mum never found her mate?"

I was a bit taken aback by the fact that was the only thing he'd picked out from what I had said.

Most people would ask me about my Dad and I had always been prepared to brush them off with some short sentences that didn't explain much.

He wanted me to talk about my Mum. That was new.     

"Yeah."

My eyes shifted back to the playing wolves.

"She's a Jamaican immigrant, so her mate is probably across the vast oceans," I said, making jazz hands.

Mavis seems perplexed.

"There are wolves... in Jamaica?"   

"Dire wolves," I said, smiling a bit.

"We're supposed to be extinct but you know it's kind of hard to spot us when we're hiding in plain sight in human form," I said, chuckling a bit.

Mavis nodded his head like he'd received truly interesting information.

"The non-shifter dire wolves are all gone, though." 

He hummed.

"I see."   

My eyes softened as I looked at him... at his curly hair and full lips that he'd demonstrated a habit of sucking on and nibbling.

"Anyway, I'm telling you l that so that you don't have to worry about anything. No one's pestering me to bring my mate home or whatever, don't feel bad for not wanting to have much to do with me."

My throat felt dry at those words. They were true.

Yes, no one was expecting me to bring a mate over but I personally wanted one.

I've dreamed about having one but if they didn't want anything too concrete, what was I supposed to do?

His eyes settled on me as he kicked a stone with his scruffy boot.

"I'm not rejecting you."     

"I know that. You just don't want to be my mate. I got that," I said.

My tone must have been too cold because he visibly winced as his eyes averted from mine. 

"It sounds terrible when you say it like that," he muttered. 

I shrugged.

"Well, that was the deal, wasn't it?"   

"It was."     

We both remained quiet after that, not saying anything to each other as the sound of playing wolves filled the air. I listened to Mavis's breathing pattern, allowing myself to focus on the emotions radiating off him.

Despite my efforts, he was having guilt-ridden thoughts that were mixed with a few other things that I couldn't quite put together. 

"Well," he blurted, locking eyes with me.

"I better start heading back before it gets dark," he said, hoisting himself out of the plastic chair. 

"Sure," I said, watching him linger as he waited for something. 

"Aren't you coming?" he asked after a while. 

I blinked, confused by that.

"I wasn't planning to, no."

A weird looked filled his eyes for a millisecond before it was whisked away. 

"Okay then," his voice shook a bit.

"I'll see you around."

"Sure," I said, waiting for him to leave.   

"I mean it," he muttered, turning before heading towards the territory's exit.

I watched him walk away, a bit confused by his last words.

Did he mean he was going to stop avoiding me now? 

My face warmed up at that but I shook my head, trying to get the thought of my mind.

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

He had been very clear that he didn't want to have anything to do with me.

I should stop finding silly reasons to hope for something different. 

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Rayleigh and Shanks are drinking at Shakky's bar when a Rookie pirate with a bright orange cowboy hat steps inside.

Rayleigh had gotten used to taking cues from Shanks years ago, so when his son raised his head, snapping out of his previous drunken ramblings, Rayleigh sat his glass on the counter and waited. The door to Shakky's bar opened hesitantly and a young man stepped inside, three others following behind him. A bright orange cowboy hat caught your attention first, though the rest of the youth's apparel wasn't any less interesting. Bare chest, an oversized floral print shirt that matched his black shorts and boots. A dagger at his hip and an iron pipe were strapped to his back. A bit mis-matched, but nothing too unusual for a Rookie.

"The owner's not in," Rayleigh said.

"Ah, I know!" the boy said. "Uhm, I met her on the way here. She pointed me to you, actually! I wanted to speak with Shanks."

Shanks, not Red Hair, the Rookie had to have guts.

"Mhm, I'm not in the mood for a fight, kid. Come back later."

"I don't want to fight either. This... urgh." The boy groaned and Rayleigh thought he'd heard him say something like 'would be easier', but he wasn't sure.

"I'm here to say thank you," the boy said and then actually bowed.

"Captain!" one of the companions hissed, crew mates then. "What are you doing?"

"Saying thank you properly," the boy answered and straightened up again. "Expressing my gratitude. Honestly, did nobody teach you manners?"

The circus act was comically enough that Rayleigh was tempted to offer them a drink for free, even if Shakky would be displeased with him later on. Oh well, he'd just toss her some of the coins he'd found at the shipwrecks around Fishman Island.

"That was nice, kid," Shanks said and leaned back in his chair, amused. Rayleigh had seen much more of his son since Luffy had given him back his crown (even if his crew had stolen it right back, claiming right by conquest). It felt good to see Shanks regularly again, under non-drastic circumstances. Rayleigh still remembered seeing his twenty-year-old son stumble into his home, short an arm and a hat, talking about boys and dreams in East Blue.

"But I still don't know what you're thanking me for?"

"Oh! Right! You saved my big brother from downing when he was a child," the boy said. "He told me that story like once a day growing up."

"Your big brother," Shanks repeated slowly. "Luffy?"

The Pirate King's name cut through the silence like a knife.

And Rayleigh thought back to Rusukaina, Luffy talking about his friends, his crew, his family. The half-sentences cut off because it's a secret! and how fondly he'd spoken of everyone dear to him. When the news about the RA's chief of staff had come out, Rayleigh had assumed that was the reason, but the boy in front of him was most certainly not the Firebrand.

"Yeah!" the boy said.

He wasn't lying. Rayleigh's Observation was keen enough for that and the boy's brown eyes were honest.

And painfully familiar.

"Fire Fist Ace, is it?" Rayleigh questioned. He hadn't paid much attention to the new Rookies, focused on what was going on in the New World. "I didn't know Luffy had a younger brother."

Ace grimaced. "Ah, yeah. Gramps told him not to and I suppose it kinda stuck."

He didn’t look much like his grandfather.

"You're not Dragon's son at all, are you?" Shanks asked.

"No, I'm—" Ace paused, exchanged a look with his crew mates. They patted him on the back, then left the room, only the three of them remaining. Neither of them said a word until Ace sighed. "I thought this would be easier. Luffy said it didn't matter."

"He does take things very easily," Rayleigh pointed out.

"Yeah, always did. Even as a kid. I don't really remember the day Gramps dropped him off. I was four already, but it just seemed like he'd always been there after a couple weeks, dragging me through the jungle, on an adventure, teaching me how to read even though he was shit at it as well and Magra always had to correct him and when Gramps told me the truth, he just shrugged it off and so did I. If big brother says it’s not important, it isn’t, y’know?” Ace laughed nervously. “I didn't really get it until I was much older and by then it just didn't really matter. I think Gramps was hoping for that outcome, he would have bothered us into becoming marines anyway."

Ace was obviously rambling, talking around whatever he truly wanted to get out.

"I just— I'm sorry. I didn't want to take up so much time. Just a quick in and out, maybe ask if you'd coat our ship, I'm supposed to meet Luffy at Fishman Island and—"

"Ace, kid, take a breath—"

"—he's Pirate King now anyway so who cares about Gold Roger's son, right?" Ace finished with a slight huff.

"Gol D.," Rayleigh corrected automatically before the words truly hit. "What?"

"Gol D. Roger is my father," Ace said, face suddenly clearing up. "Oh. Luffy was right. This was easy."

[yuyumnami]

The Love Struck In Yokohama Part 1 (Bsd x Kny (Mitsuri))

...

The sunset west, as the orange hue beatifically, paints the sky. A very romantic picture flashes to many eyes, yet some just ignore it as they continue their life.

"Can I have another bowl?" A certain bi-colored-haired girl smiles sheepishly as she raises her previous bowl asking for another.

The waitress can only smile and sweatdrop. Taking a glance at the tower of 43 bowls beside the girl, she went back into the kitchen. "Sure. Coming right up."

Though before she goes, she can't help but be scared and worried at the sight of the unsheathed sword that she has seen many times on the chair beside the bi-colored.

As the girl put her previous bowl atop the others, she gasped in realization. 'What are these, Mitsuri?! You promised yourself only one bowl!' The dual-haired Kanroji Mitsuri inwardly fumed to herself. 'But the food is so delicious that I can't resist it!'

'No can't do that Mitsuri! If you keep on eating too much no one will marry you!' She slapped both her cheeks hard. 'Okay, this bowl is the last one! Promise!'

"After that, Kunikida, you can-"

"Shut up Dazai. Don't you have anything else to do?"

"I do. And I'm doing it. Now back to the topic."

She looks at the table beside her. Just realized there are customers sitting there. One with dirty blonde hair only sigh, pinching his nose, so done with his work partner. A brunette won't stop grinning from ear to ear as he just got an achievement. Then an albino with ragged clothes, sweatdropped at the two and at the same time heavenly devour his bowls of chazuke.

The said 'Kunikida can only sigh for the hundredth time. "You're unbelievable. Who goes "that's a nice river" and jumps into it in the middle of the job?! We are now off the schedule all thanks to you!"

Mitsuri can't help but ponder on that. 'He jumped into the river? Why?'

"You sure like your schedules, Kunikida." The man loudly muttered.

Kunikida grunted, and slammed his notebook on the desk. He began to point at it and talk about the book as his guide or somewhat things. "And nowhere in the book is written that my work partner is a suicidal maniac!"

"Suicidal maniac?" Mitsuri muttered under her breath, curious, thinking about what it was supposed to mean. She haven't realized that her eyes were still on Kunikida. "Is it someone who likes to kill themself?"

Kunikida sat on his chair again, and that was when Mitsuri heard a very slow "yes it is." Her eyes then look at the smiling brunette who is literally beside her, only with a gap between every desk. His dark brown irises keen to her sharply. And Mitsuri's heart thumped with how handsome and seductive it looked.

"Eep!" Mitsuri face turns red and she immediately looks away. "What are you doing Mitsuri? Looking at people like that... You have to focus on the mission tonight! Now let's see..." She immediately went serious. Mitsuri recalled every piece of information she got on her stay here since the afternoon. Hours of investigation and looking for clues were really worth her time. Putting a finger on her chin, she began to think.

'They said that there's a tiger in Yokohama. But, a tiger that kills 9 people with poison and blood drained doesn't seem right. Though there is some corpse who was found with deep claws and lost limbs, that can be a demon too.' Mitsuri gets into very deep thought and then awoken when a bowl of food was presented in front of her.

"Here you go, miss. Enjoy the food. " Mitsuri, when food is in front of her, her eyes lightened up, she wastes no time and devours it in a flash! "Itadakimasu!"

Eating her dish blissfully, she was unaware that she had been marked by the brunette since the beginning.

...

(The original idea timeline is completely different from this. I actually want to use the timeline when Dazai is still in the port mafia. Though the story flow is just the same and what's different is the beginning and the characters.)

Might be an uncompleted story though.

[hhawks]

hera!!! congrats on 500 love mwah! thats amazing!!

could i request a scenario & playlist with getou from jjk??

ok vibe of the playlist is stuff you could listen to on a night drive, and could the scenario be like steamy car stuff hehe

my bubble tea order is vanilla rose milk tea with popping boba and a random thing about me is that i have 8 piercings!!

i hope i did this right congrats once again <3

vanilla rose milk tea with popping boba for aman @jeanbeaux! <3 thank u love, that's so sweet of u and i'm sorry it took longer than expected :( but i hope u like it!

getou’s parked across the street outside your house when he texts. they’re not unusual, these little late night escapades; in fact, you love them, and you love how frequent they’ve become.

your phone buzzes on your desk, getou’s name flashing across your screen with the little text, im here! under it. the sky is clear, navy and grey and chilly on your bare skin as you yank open his car door and slide into the seat you’ve made your second home. “hey, you!” getou smiles gently at you, hair tied in a bun that threatens to fall apart if you so much as touch it. he presses his lips to yours, gentle and honeyed over the centre console. he hums, “where we off to today, angel?”

“anywhere,” you huff. “just need to get away from things.”

he frowns, big hands palming the steering wheel as the car lurches into action, pulling out and away from your neighbourhood. “something the matter?”

you shake your head, kicking your feet up on the dashboard. getou hates that, always swats your feet off, saying “don’t be a barbarian in my car,” but tonight he doesn’t retaliate. “nothing,” you sigh. “just stressed out, i guess.”

getou takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it softly, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of him. “let’s get your mind off things, yeah?” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. you hum, watching him drive one handedly, other hand still on your own. you don’t get to see getou like this often, only in the moments where the two of you are alone. he’s soft, skin pretty curved along his jaw, his broad shoulders stretching under his black cotton shirt. the orange glow of the streetlamps carve his face in illuminating angles, and you watch his thumb circle mindlessly on your skin.

a small laugh bubbles in your throat, unable to hide itself. he glances at you, quizzical look in his mirthful eyes, before training back on the road. “what’s so funny?”

“nothing,” you lean forward on the console, propping your head up with your hand. “just like the way you look.”

he smiles, letting the soft melody from the radio fill the gap between the two of you. he smells so good, looks so pretty, attention divided between the road and your face illuminated by the glow of the traffic lights. “stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“can’t help it,” you murmur, pressing yourself closer to him, the subtle twitch in his pants not going unnoticed to you. “you’re so pretty. smell so nice too.” your hands trail slowly over his navel, down to his belt buckle. “pay attention to the road, baby.”

getou curses, hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles whitening with his force. “naughty little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters under his breath, letting you unbuckle his belt, undoing the button with silky fluid hands.

you reach up, press a feather light kiss to his jaw before reaching your fingers under his boxers, pulling out his half-hard cock. your mouth waters; getou’s cock is so pretty, flushed pink at the tip, the perfect size that never failed to stretch you out. it sits heavy in your hand, and you lick a gentle stripe up from its base. you feel getou stutter in your grip, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as his free hand comes down to tangle in your hair. “fuck, jesus christ,” he’s muttering, holding your head steady. “you’re gonna make me crash the car--” and his words twist into a moan as you wrap your lips around the head, licking it fervently.

he keens into your touch, car pulling into a diner carpark before he stops it, shifting it into park. he hoists you up by your waist, pressing a fiery kiss to your lips, swallowing your giggles of protest. you melt into his arms, wrapping around his neck as you climb over the centre console. “too impatient, hm?” he murmurs against your lips. “want me to make it all go away? forget about everything?”

and you nod, pressing your chest heavy against his, seeking the curve of his lips and the honey of his spit, kissing him until you’re dizzy. you can feel his cock, bare against your clothed cunt dribble silver beads of precum, begging for attention. he’s careful so your head doesn’t bump against the roof of the car, hands on your back pulling you into him and grinding himself against you. “wan’ it, wan’ it,” you’re whimpering, your skirt flitting up so he’s directly on you, the only thing separating you the thin cotton of your panties. your hands find his hair, tugging at the bun until it comes loose, oblivion curling over his shoulders. “suguru--”

“patience, baby,” his lithe fingers find home on your hips, trailing down to your thighs before brushing over the front of your panties. “you’re soaked through,” he chuckles. “you must really want this, huh?”

you roll your eyes at him, swatting away his hand and pulling your panties to the side. “shut up and fuck me,” you whine, giving his cock a couple of pumps. getou smiles, wrapping his hand around yours, pacing your strokes of his cock.

“you’re desperate,” he remarks, and you bite back a retort when you feel his thumb rub at your clit, panting against his lips. “you’re dripping, practically begging for me. why don’t you beg for me, sugar?”

“don’t be ridiculous,” you huff, trying to push through the hazy thoughts that his thumb on your clit are dipping you into. “i’m not begging for shit.”

his thumb leaves you, hand unwrapping from yours. you’re left there with a cunt that’s soaking through the thick denim of his jeans, a scarily stoic suguru looking down at you. “thought you wanted it.”

“i do,” you mutter quietly. “thought you were gonna help me.”

“was gonna,” a corner of his mouth tugs into a smile. “until you mouthed me off.”

“i-- did not, i just--”

“tell you what,” he cuts you off, sticking his thumb into your open mouth, shutting you up. you can taste yourself on him, and instinctively you wrap your lips around him. “you shut up, and i’ll fuck you. you’re so much prettier when you’re quiet, anyway.”

your whines are muffled against his finger, and he grins at your struggle, using his free hand to cup your ass and pull it further up onto his lap. “just like that. be quiet f’me, yeah?”

but you can’t help the high pitched gasp that tears through your throat as he eases into you, your head tilting back as his cock stretches you the way only he knows how. and he fucks you, hips bucking into yours with one hand on your chin, the other on the back of your hand making sure you don’t bump yourself. you’re quivering as you swallow him whole, feeling him brush against your cervix, every thrust angled deep into your sweet spot. you’re whining, drooling all over his fingers, and he’s chuckling.

“nngh, more,” you’re whimpering around his fingers, lifting your hips up at your own pace, slamming them back down against him. “more, more, need-- more!”

“beg for it, then,” his voice is silvery, sharp as his eyes glow with the sadistic thrill of you so desperate in his lap. “not giving you anything until you beg for it. can’t shut up, can’t listen to me, so be good at one thing, and beg.”

and you do. you beg for it like a bitch, babbling, “please, please want it so bad,” until he gives in, gives up the tough act and bucks his hips into you. you fall apart, crumpling into his chest as he rests both hands on the divots on your hips, pounding himself into you. you’re crying out, “o-oh god, oh fuck god please” and he’s right next to you, mumbling praises laced with mirth and adoration in your ears.

“good, good, sweet little cunt, yeah? all for me? knew all you needed was some harsh fucking- shit, fuck, knew all i needed to break you was this. not so tough girl anymore, are you?”

you’re brainless, the only thing on your mind the steady slide of his cock in and out of you, all you needed, all you lived for. you’re nodding, clutching onto his shoulders, one hand flying out to grasp the window to steady yourself. “make me cum?” you’re murmuring softly, mesmerised by the sound of his skin slapping against yours. “make me cum, please, please, wanna- wanna cum all over you…”

“mmhm? my good little girl wanna cum?” his lips find your throat, mouthing hotly against your sweaty skin. “go on. cum all over my cock, baby. want you to, untouched-- god, can feel you clenching around me. you’re close aren’t you?”

it hits you before you can warn him, your cunt fluttering and your thighs clenching at his sides. “fuck!” you cry out, hands gripping his shirt. “fuck, holy shit, fuck, keep- keep fucking me, please, wanna make you, wanna feel you cum-- inside, please!” you’re creaming all over him, yet begging still for more. his hand smoothes your hair, comforting you as he fucks you through it.

“gonna cum,” getou murmurs, head thrown back, free hand still guiding your hips along. you’re gasping for air, brain pretty pink and drooling out of your ears. “gonna fill you up, and you’ll take it for me, yeah? of course you will,” he snickers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “look at you. all fucked out for me. couldn’t fight if she tried, yeah?”

you hum into his chest, half conscious, half underwater. his hips stutter, and his thrusts a little mistimed before he buries himself in you completely. he’s whining, whispering praises in your ear as you feel him fill you, hot and wet and sticky inside you. “thank you,” you murmur against him, buried in his chest. “thank you, thank you, thank you,”

and he pulls you out of your nest, kisses you soft and sweet. “that’s what you needed, no?” he smiles, brushing your hair out of your face. “just needed me to fuck your thoughts and your attitude out, right?”

you nod, eyes glazed and tears warm on your cheek. he kisses them away, cooing, and pulls you into his chest, cock soft in you. you love these nights, the ones you spend with him. you wish they never end.

[peachbearies]

Pussy Fairy. E.Jaeger

𑁍┊synopsis: something about y/n with pink glittery eyeshadow made him go feral, now all he wants to do all day is lay in between her thighs.

𑁍┊Genre(s): Smut

𑁍┊Pairing: aged up(21)!Eren X F! Reader

𑁍┊Warning(s): Face Sitting, Overstimulation, praise kink, fingering, body worship, hair pulling, squirting, minimal spanking, dom! eren modern au eren.

𑁍┊Proofread: Yes / No. (to my best abilities)

Eren asked y/n to hang out with his friends, just an infrequent hangout he reckoned, he didn’t think something so modest would make him so fragile in his knees. Y/n was sitting at her vanity feeling empirical she grabbed her favorite eyeshadow palette along with her pressed glitter, getting an inspo from a fairy core post on her timeline she concluded to imitate this look. A delicate pink glittery eyeshadow look paired with soft peachy blush from cheek to cheek, soft orange highlight on her nose, and cheekbones. Eren was trying to contain himself when she got in his car smelling like sunflowers and clementines, so simple but effective.

Eren was at an expense for utterances. Y/n chuckles before pecking his lips “what happened love?” eren positions his hands firmly around her inner thigh “you” is his straightforward alibi “me? Did I do something wrong? Is my outfit not okay?” y/n started to become subconscious, but that's not what eren denoted, quite the contrary actually “no, you look intangible darling you eternally do, just this reliance of you trying new things has my heart scampering like when we first kissed” saying no more he puts the car in drive to meet Armin and the rest of his friends at an arcade.

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Once they made it to the arcade, Armin told them to just walk in they've paid for their cards with fully loaded chips on them, eren holding her hand tightly kissed her knuckles as they walk to find his friends. Y/n was only close to two of his friends and those are the ones he mainly hangs with. Armin and Mikasa. In the beginning, she thought Mikasa hated the idea of her hanging with eren, but come to the realization she was just overprotective of his wellbeing. Sliding in the booth eren throw his arm around her snuggling her close to him.

Whenever they would hang out with a group of his friends he knew how anxious she would get and always kept a hand on her to remind her he's there and that nothing will hurt her. “You guys came later! Was eren taking too long to get dressed?” jean poked fun at him.

Their relationship was always fun to watch. It was either they cursed and quite literally fought each other, or they were giving tough advice and playing like competitive brothers. Eren scrunched his eyebrows giving jean a cut-throat stare to which jean chuckled “quite the opposite” y/n answered “I was doing my makeup” Jean looked back at her giving off a genuine smile “it looks good, you look like a fairy” smiling y/n informs him that's the look she was going for eren removed his arm from her shoulder to go get a drink.

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The emotion in his head was making him dizzy he felt jealous, lust, love everything all at once like a booster shot. His mind was shortly interrupted by a hug around his waist, the aroma clouded his mind yet again. “Hey darling” he expressed, using his two fingers to remove the hair from her lipgloss. “Hi! Baby” she smiled eren was caressing her face so delicately as if she was a glass vase. She was perfect in his eyes compared to the shit he's done in the past, she's innocent like a bunny.

But she's changed him for the better, grabbing her hand he twirls her around seeing her skirt follow in sync with her body the combat boots she wore with the lace socks popping out the blue glitter-laced tank top she was stunning today. Eren dipped his head into her neck leaving soft wet kisses onto her now burning skin, her fingers petting through his long chocolate locks. “I love you” eren repeats on his skin “I love you too” his emerald eyes sparkling under the led lights of the arcade. Eren forgot about the beverage he ordered until it was sat right in front of him.

“What did you get?” she asked, eren sips his drink trying to remember what he ordered under impulses “I think I ordered a jolly rancher drink, with vodka” she looked up at him as he tried a few more sips to conjure his memory. “Yeah, that's what it is” she tried to grab the straw to taste but eren just kissed her lips over and over.

“That's all you get to taste I'm not letting you drink” eren smirks when he sees her pout face, with his free hand he grabs hers telling her to lead them to the game she wants to play. Seeing a ghostbusters game she drags him in the booth. He loved the excitement on her face it meant he was doing an amazing job has a boyfriend and a friend to her, and that's all he ever wanted. “Baby, this is my favorite game, I used to play this all-time mainly by myself cause my old friends didn't like this game” Eren's blood started to boil at the mention of her old friends.

They were toxic, but y/n wanted to see the good in people even though it was hurting her deep inside. Eren couldn't sit and watch them destroy the person he loved, even though they were friends at the time. “Your old friends were walking disappointments, dare to look down upon someone else when they're no better” cupping his cheeks in one hand, she kissed him softly before softly tugging his lips between her teeth. Though he knew she meant it innocently to calm him down, it made him wanna swerve on the highway to get home.

“Calm down babe, I know you hate hearing about them, but trust me I'm happy with y'all” her smile gave eren goosebumps, every time he saw that smile he thought to himself ‘is it humanly possible to fall deeper in love? Even though you're wrapped around their finger?” eren kissed her forehead in response. “Cmon get ready for us to win” his competitive voice commended.

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After winning the ghostbusters game, here they were at a claw machine where eren was determined to getting y/n a plushie. “You know you don't have to right?” she reminded him but everyone knew, with eren video games and arcades meant competition in his mind. Even when he was courting y/n it was a competition in being a better person for her, changing his old ways. To stop drinking so much, missing out on college parties even though she told him he could. He loved her and wanted to be the best boyfriend he could. Watching as the claw landed on top of the smiling corgi with a strawberry hat on she gasped when it was dropped into the box.

“I remember you wanting this from last time we came here” smiling she stands on her toes to kiss him softly. “Thank you, baby” after all the fun was done y/n was sitting on Eren's lap in the booth while they ate nachos. Jean looked over Eren's shoulder to see an old friend of theirs also known as y/n’s ex. But eren was too busy talking about his college class with Armin. But y/n had a keen eye so she followed his and landed on the source, she knew better than to let eren find out so she turned back which caused eren to caress her thigh over his large hand. “Something the matter love?” he asks her “no baby, I just saw a motorcycle game that looked cool, but I'm getting tired now” she started picking the piece of cotton from his shirt out of his hair.

“Yeah me too, let's go home y'all” jean suggests, they all begin walking out of the arcade bidding goodbyes to everyone just what she was avoiding her ex parked right next to Eren's car. She looked up at him but his eyes were burning holes in his chest and her ex wasn't backing down either. “Hello, eren and y/n, you look beautiful y/n why didn't you dress like that when we were together?” he questioned, eren gave him a sharp knife gaze to which her ex chuckled.

“Take it easy, I can't compliment her? Is that a crime?” he jokes eren smugly leaned against his car and across his chest “no, but to watch you suffer I'd gladly catch a case” his devilish smirk cascaded across his face. Her ex started to tremble at the expression on her boyfriend's face y/n grabbed his hand “can we go home?” she asked politely “yeah, let's go home dear” the aggression in his voice sent rivers in between her legs and shivers down her spine. Opening the door for y/n she got in after letting out a soft sigh, ‘how long was I holding my breath?’ she thought to herself.

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Eren cranked up the car placing his hand on her inner thigh, but close to her weak spot, she didn't say anything just thinking maybe he was doing it by accident, but she didn't mind either. She was comfortable with eren she trusted him. His fingers slowly crawled up her thigh to the waistband, of her panties snapping them across her warm skin his fingers were frigid against hers, a low gasp left her lips when his fingers slipped into her fabric as two of them disappeared into her slit. Her eyes lolling back before he's done anything. “You know how patient I've been?” eren mumbles, y/n looks at him in utter confusion, all she could see was his firm sculptured jawline, the stubbles from his beard coming back.

“Since you came out that house, wearing this beautiful outfit, and your elegant makeup, I wanted to cancel on them and drag you right back into the house” removing his hand from her needy core he spreads her legs open with his free hand, before removing her panties and throwing them in the back seat. Her wet core exposed to the cold air made her squirm to feel anything as if eren could read her mind his index finger slid up and down her core feeling her walls clench in anticipation. “Pretty girl, got all dressed up you look so lovely, dress like this more often and ill reward you hm?” eren pinched her clit between his two fingers making her body twitch the gasp in her throat quickly turned into an air pocket. “You're so beautiful my dear, you want these fingers inside of you?”

“Please?” y/n begged, without further ado, he preps his two fingers coated in her lubrication before sliding them into her needy hole. Her short gasp fueling his desire for her. “Look at you, baby, a beautiful mess for me” eren looks in her direction at the red light to further pound her with his fingers, the palm of his hand slamming against her clit “faster..” she begs her body heat getting warmer by the second “your wish is my command babygirl” eren knew what he was doing saying that word. It was her weakness, eren sped up his fingers as he curled them inside her sloppy hole. The broken syllabus of her saying Eren's name, seeing her squirm next to him fueled him, even more, to just get home fast.

“Eren—I'm coming” her legs were shaking too close but eren pulled out followed by her whine, his glossed fingers smack her inner thigh “keep them open for me pretty girl hm?” he placed his fingers on her tongue as she sucked her flavor off his finger. “Okay,” she whines “good girl” eren praises her. His fingers engulf back into her hole the tender buzzing between her legs resurfaced and she was on edge again. Eren was fingering her faster than he was a moment ago, his left hand gripping the steering wheel as he speeds home to ravish her. “Fuck—” she whispered “you're going to come for me princess?” he asked, she whimpered a small yes feeling her legs trembling to his touch.

“Come for me beautiful” eren decrees, her body shuttered under the drastic sentiment of his fingers coddled inside of her. She couldn't keep her eyes open due to the shock going through her body. His fingers swiped her clit left and right to procure another orgasm out of her, her whimpers twisted into short pants brandishing his wrist with both of her hands after riding out her second orgasm he discarded his hands from her pulsing clit and walloped her essence off his fingers, her legs fastening right after. “Taste as good as you look, princess, you did well for me” smiling at her broken form he just couldn't wait to ravish her at home.

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Getting home eren wasted no time holding her over his shoulders making her giggle at how needy he is for her. Getting a vigorous glimpse at his leather seats they were lustrous but he didnt have the time or thought to do anything, that all she had to do was wear glittery eyeshadow to get him pungent and irked. Throwing his metallic keys in the receptacle he kicked off his shoes and omitted hers simultaneously. “I love you, you know that?” Eren murmurs before positioning her on the bed “yeah, and I love you more” he cupped her face as their inflamed lips adjoined for each other her nails stroking his stern arms before coiling them in his chocolate locks, strands of his hair mashing against her forehead making her smile into their fervent session. “You’re perfect” Eren mumbles in her neck, vacating humid elegant kisses on her susceptible skin, the forlorn pants and stubble weakness for attention made him sneer against her skin.

His fingers draped around her throat holding her in place as his lips suck softly on his skin, Eren wasn’t an aficionado of hickies, but he did cherish to give soft bites and pulls from his lips on her skin, every time he did it gave her goosebumps. His free hand floundering to get her bra off he latched it off in a matter of seconds, he enables her out of her clothes the nimble air blowing on her body as he clasped his hoodie from the peripheries and over his head. Y/n was enthralled by his sculpted body, his abs defined all the way down to his v-line. “See something you relish princess?” His tongue cascade against his lower lip. “I see something I love” Eren grins “you’re cute” grabbing her by the ankles he heaved her towards the edge of the bed both of her legs upon his shoulder.

Frittering no time Eren hauled his tongue up her folds teasing her, while her head inundated in the pillow reaching out for his hands. Clutching her hand into his, while his tongue swirled around her folds already feeling unstable. Eren invariably said he could devour her for weeks and would never get depleted, now he was eating like he was famished weaving his tongue between her folds his green eyes looked Into her eyes with ardor and fascination, her legs coercing to close when he altered the pattern of his tongue to quick flicks.

She strived to say his name but was ceased by his lips engulfing her clit as he executed zigzags her mouth agape for seconds before she divulged all down his chin fidgeting for something to mellow her down. Eren wasn’t going to let her run away from her fourth orgasm so he dragged her in closer and inserted his fingers into her slowly. “Good girl princess” he gripes across her thighs, sweet kisses to her trembling thighs made him smile, hoisting his head up his fingers swirl inside of her repeatedly peaking at her g-spot. “Going to give me another one princess? Or better yet how about I make you squirt hm?” His eyes drifted darker, they were no longer a sour apple, they resemble the pine trees. “I can’t—“ she smothered grabbing his wrist with both of her hands.

She could feel the knot expanding in her stomach the pressure and feeling to squirt all over his hand along with the overstimulation made her shiver to the touch. “Yes, you can beautiful” Eren cupped her face in his free hand placing endearments on her lips and crown of her head. “Let me see that luxurious face as you soak up the sheets, let daddy discover it baby” his free hand encircled around her neck adding no pressure just to hold her in place. The tones of his palm slapping against her throbbing weak spot. Her pants were getting abrupter and tighter but her moans enhanced almost screaming out Eren's name and some mishandled cursed words. Her liquid soaking up Eren's v-line and mattress.

“Look at you, baby you’re so stunning darling” her drowsy face as her eyes started to cross, as she could see through her hooded eyelashes was Eren coming to land soft kisses on her forehead. Her body felt paralyzed she never knew she could do that. And Eren was the only one to get her to do it. She senses the weight of the bed sink next to her grinning she whirls over, solely to maintain his hand on her midriff and her thighs by his ears. Her hand striking the headboard for support, she didn’t know what he was doing candidly she thought he was complacent, not announcing she wasn't.

He pulled her waist sitting her down on his face, his tongue grazed over her folds making her twinge, “Eren..” she let out desperately “I may suffocate you” she weakly notified him, all distress left her mind once his hand clashed with her ass. Biting her lower lip she sat on his face thoroughly as he rumbled in happiness. She snickered at how much he’s enjoying this, it’s something new for the both of them. Trudging her folds on his tongue she glimpsed down at him seeing the fulfillment in his eyes she extracted the fringes of his hair from his glossy forehead. The traction drove her eccentric she needed more from him, placing his fingers on her bud he stimulated her at the pace she was moving. Which made her more frantic.

Her head lolled back desperately wanting more, she sped up for rhythm as Eren followed in pursuit, becoming greedy with his touch, she was approaching her now fifth? Sixth? Orgasm? She lost count after she left the car. Her forehead firmly pressed against the headboard has she comes undone. Eren cleaned her like a dinner plate he didn’t want any of her Essences to drop. Helping her up he lays her on her stomach, perching her ass up to him. He knew this would ultimately destroy her after they were through but he didn’t care.

She looked beautiful today. His tip taunting her entrance she moaned for him, “I hear you babygirl” his hand collided with her ass leaving a stubble print, her fingers grabbed purchase of the sheets when he rammed himself in without reluctance her toes spiraling until she fully adjusted to his expanse. Sex with Eren was either arduous or delicate, with no in-between. “Look at you taking all of me, lovely girl” fastening his hands around her waist the pitches of his low wails made her clench around him, his waistline hitting against her. She was a whimpering predicament underneath him as he demolished her for what felt like the tenth time.

Skin to skin colliding with the mixture of Eren's dirty talk, and her soft moans she tried to comprise, Eren wanted her to be loud, damn what their neighbors said he wanted to give it to her till she couldn’t fight it. “Cmon baby, utilize your words” he roared at her through his clenched cheeks, the repulse of his body denouncing against her as he continued to ravage her, “let me and the neighborhood hear those delightful little moans” he grabbed her hair placing her head on his shoulder for support as he placed delicate kisses upon her forehead. He slowly placed her back on the bed before he completely drilled her endlessly, she was now on the horizon of crying out his name out, her moans were boisterous than before, if someone didn’t know better they would’ve thought she was shouting for aid.

“Atta girl” Eren facilitated her, her body was simmering as the beads of sweat crept down her shoulder and onto the bed, he adored that face she makes when he ignites her into subspace, he hoists her fully one time holding his length inside of her, she gasped for air as her body started shuddering at the pressure. “Fuck..” was all she could let out as she came undone.“Pretty girl, you’d let me know if I’m being too harsh right?” Eren inquired out of serendipity, all y/n could do was nod. His lips kissed her temple down to her lips in a delicate manner “promise? I need words princess” he uttered in her ear. “Yes,” she let out in the form of a hum.

“Good, I don’t wanna hurt you, or get greedy just because you’re not saying anything okay? I love you” Eren soothed her, “I love you more” y/n responded. Eren slid his length out slowly as she whimpered from her high “sensitive aren't we?” He quips she turns over on her stomach to throw her arms around his neck he kissed her lips softly to savor every feeling he has right now. She wasn’t emigrating anywhere but he certainly kissed her like she was leaving tomorrow. Feeling her hand traversing to his member she brings in closer until he’s halfway inside of her. “You didn’t come” her eyes sparkled into his, the fingertips that were on her cheeks were now In her hair.

“This isn’t too much for you?, honestly just made this about you and how beautiful you looked today” Eren questions her, followed by a short ramble. “this is just perfect, this about us baby I love you” y/n giggles, Eren pressed his forehead against hers “m’kay, I love you more” Eren took the more vigorous approach, soft but drilling strokes, as much as he rushed it now he wanted to admire her. The way her eyebrows pleated when he strike the right spot, the way her lower lip fit merely prudent in between her teeth, the way she nestled his face in her hands, the strings of her hair attaching to her forehead he loved it, he’s never cherished someone as much as her. Picking up the momentum slowly his pants inaugurates to become in unison with hers the smirk on his face when his fingers flickered her bud his nose dusting against her neck.

“Come with me goddess,” he said in her neck, her nails digging into his back, she held on for dear life, her face plunged into his neck as she came, and he withdrew and did the same. Once his eyes were now on her she titters at his handsome crisp green eyes “Eren you’re so beautiful” he derides before kissing her temple. “That’s my line, I may have to litigate you” his craggy voice echoes from the bathroom, with her eyes close she shook at the touch of a calm cloth. “Shh, no ones here” he kidded, y/n smacked him with a pillow before giggling “such a fucking cocky bastard” Eren climbed on top of her “and you love it” he kissed her nose before presenting her his shirt as he put on sweatpants.

“Danger!” She screamed, Eren swiveled his eyes knowing precisely what she meant “don’t fret I’ll take you in the shower darling” y/n eyes enlarged as he pulled her back into his chest “respectfully of course” Eren gleamed in her hair before closing his eyes. “Maybe I should do red glimmer for the party on Wednesday”

“You’ll have to cancel right now if that’s your scheme, cause you’re not leaving you know how red gets me” he laughed, but his tone was far from a hoax “maybe I don’t wanna go” she chortles turning into his chest her nose prickled his collarbone, “deal” he smiled smoothing her shoulders in a circular motion.

“I love you Eren” she grumbled

“I love you more y/n”

♡ ·  ·  ·  · ────•.°本°.•──── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

[getlitaesthetic]

I'm just trying think about how would the cannon brothers react to their dark selves and how they treat mc compared to how they treat mc

Oooh this is a fascinating one. First things first, the dark!brothers would kick the canon!brother’s asses 1000x over so jot that down 😝 Anyways this turned into a whole fic...

To save you from the scrolling, the rest is under the cut!

THE BEGINNING:

“I’m so glad you could all make it. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather share this with,” Diavolo told the brothers. The Avatars looked... well, confused was a good way to put it. MC was safely at Purgatory Hall, laying on Solomon’s bed and pretending to study as the RAD student Council met for what was bound to be an entertaining meeting. In front of them was very clearly a standing mirror, large enough for one person to see their whole reflection, covered with a tarp. 

“Huh? A stupid mirror?” Mammon complained, only to be met with a sharp slap to the back of the head from Lucifer, who stood stoically, pretending this all made perfect sense. Or, it would make perfect sense. Diavolo was going to make it make sense, wasn’t he? The future Demon King was practically bouncing on his toes.

“Yes! This is a very special mirror, a gift from Father. It’s meant to show you what you’re doing in an alternate universe. I thought you’d all like a chance to see what your alternate selves are doing! Considering Barbatos is usually the only one who can see these things.” 

That was all the brothers needed to hear. Immediately fights broke out, Levi pulling Asmo’s hair as he squealed about how long it had taken him to perfect, all battling to be first in line.

“ENOUGH,” Lucifer commanded sharply, eyes bright as he shifted to his demon form, black wings spreading. The room quieted. “We’ll go in order of age.”

“Of course we will,” Mammon scoffed, “You’re always first, why don’t I try bein’ the oldest brother this time, huh?”

“MAAMMMMOONNN!” At the sound of Lucifer’s rage, the second born snapped his mouth shut, rubbing the back of his neck as he backed up. 

“Or second. Second is good too.”

Diavolo was still grinning as he pulled the tarp from the mirror, revealing what looked like, well, a mirror. Granted, a very nice mirror, with lovely gilded edges, the gold bright and shining, despite the apparent age of the piece.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride was the first to step up in front of the mirror, and his body filled the space. No matter how his brothers tried, they could not get a glimpse into the glass around him. He blinked, letting out a slow breath, as the surface of the mirror began to ripple and distort, like a drop of water hitting a pond. He reached out, fingers grazing the glass, but it remained solid under his touch. Lucifer’s expression darkened slightly, a frown playing across his lips, until the image in the mirror began to change.

Suddenly, he was looking upon... What had to be the Devildom, but unlike he had ever known it. The sky remained in endless night, but everything else was deeply unfamiliar in a way that unsettled the eldest. There were no sweetly cobbled streets lined with restaurants and shops. In this mirror world, everything burned. The ground was scorched, and everything that managed to grow was in shades of brown, black, orange, as if they were trying to hide their life in the sea of destruction.

A figure appeared. Lucifer didn’t immediately recognize it as himself, but he understood it must have been. The creature in the mirror was snarling, his eyes gleaming red, as shredded and scarred wings drug brokenly behind him. There was a leash on his wrist, with something heavy pulling it down to the-- oh. Oh. MC. They trembled so brokenly, desperately trying to climb to their feet, but unable to keep up with the demon’s long strides, falling and being pulled across the dirt once again.

“No,” Lucifer breathed, pressing his palm to the glass as his teeth grit. “No, I wouldn’t.” But there it was, in crystal clear picture. His own demonic form, massive and still glowing with leftover Heavenly light, grabbing MC by the collar as he finally lost patience. The dark form grinned wide, revealing his fangs, dripping with something that steamed when it hit the ground.

“Now, now, MC,” the mirror Lucifer crooned. “You know what happens if you can’t keep up, don’t you?” MC flinched, nodding as they straightened carefully, fixing their hair and plastering a calm smile on their lips. They couldn’t hide the terror in their eyes, though. No, that was readily apparent. “Better,” he cupped the human’s cheek, claws stabbing into their face, leaving five brilliant dots of blood where he had pierced them.

“Now say thank you for taking you out on such a lovely date.”

Lucifer held back the retch he felt in the back of his throat, and he closed his eyes, turning away from the mirror. “I’ve seen enough,” he stepped away, refusing to look back at what was once again simply a mirror.

Mammon

“Eh? What’s the big deal?” He moved up, looking towards his older brother with concern, but Lucifer didn’t seem keen to speak on his experience. With a half-hearted shrug, he turned to the mirror, which once again opened itself to reveal the universe that lay on the other side. There the other Mammon stood, dressed in expensive brand names, stacks of money on the table beside him. He tapped sharpened nails on the table.

“Hey, hey, hey! Alright!” The poor version was plenty excited to see that he wasn’t broke in every universe. Meanwhile, his rich counterpart grunted unhappily. “Bring in MC,” he nodded to a weaker demon that stood by the door, who tipped his head and bowed out. A long moment passed, as Mammon leaned forward, eager to see what his crush looked like in the alternate world.

The first thing he noticed when they entered was the massive wedding ring on their finger. He didn’t even glance at the stitches that held the finger on. The low level demon had a white-fingered grip on their arm, leading them to the chair beside the mob boss, who quickly pulled them into his lap.

The watching Avatar of Greed couldn’t help how his heart stuttered knowing that they were married in this other world. He was so distracted by the piles of money and expensive objects and lovely MC that he didn’t notice all the scars, all the bruising, the obvious tension in the room. But the dark Mammon did. He raised his hand, clocking MC across the face. 

“Wha-!” Just as Mammon’s eyes widened in shock, he was shoved out of view of the mirror, as the scuffle between Levi and Asmo returned. He whipped his head around to look again, to confirm what he had just seen, as greed and dread in equal parts pooled in his stomach, but the mirror was blank.

Leviathan

Levi stumbled as Asmo huffed, returning to his spot in line, taking out his compact to touch up his makeup. The otaku hesitated, wringing his hands before glancing at the mirror. When the surface began to shift, he gasped in excitement, his nervousness forgotten. “Woahh!” Suddenly the glass had his full attention. “It’s just like the remastered Episode 411 of ‘Help! My Cat Wandered Off And When I Went To Find Him, I Stumbled Into An Interdimensional Flower Shop And Now I’m In Charge Of Protecting the Portal Between Universes’!”

At first, nothing was strange. It was a picture of his own bedroom... albeit, different than he remembered. The fish were off. Larger, and meaner. His prized collection of anime items had been replaced with a large array of weapons, and photos of him standing by the sea in front of what looked like an army. Everyone in uniform. Strangely though, all of his games were still there. His mouth was hanging open as his alter finally walked into frame. Actually, paced may have been more fitting for what the mirror Levi was doing. Yes, pacing back and forth, holding onto a long rope, that followed above the fish tank. 

The mirror adjusted the frame, revealing the full image. MC, tied tightly, hanging above the water as the demonic fish circled below.

“So?” His alter questioned. “What do you say, MC? Will you make me the happiest demon in the Devildom?” The Levi in the mirror... he didn’t look right. His features were sharper, his tail longer, stronger, but it was more than his appearance. He was more confident in that world, no fear of being rejected. “That wasn’t a yes...” MC tried to scream through the gag as they were dropped a few inches towards the water.

Levi jumped in shock. “Not MC!” His eyes were wide, blush dark on his cheeks. “That’s-- That’s just wrong! That’s not how it’s supposed to happen!” He buried his face in his hands, unable to look any longer, and when he finally peeked again, the image was gone.

Satan

Satan didn’t have the patience for this nonsense. He had books to read, and Levi was just standing there hiding his face? The fourth born sighed, rubbing his temples as he gently guided his brother away from the mirror. “Let’s get this over with, I’m busy tonight.” He squared himself in front of the mirror, looking his reflection directly in the eyes. Satan was used to magical objects, and he didn’t flinch when the surface turned to liquid, instead steeling himself for what he was about to see. From the reactions of the others, it was not likely to be pleasant.

The dark Satan didn’t look so different, really. Honestly, he was probably better looking, although he was loathe to admit it. In the image, things seemed normal, calm even. This other Satan was in an armchair, MC settled in his lap as he read a book aloud to them. It looked comfortable, if he was being truthful. A good life.

But the longer he watched, the more a sense of discomfort set into him. Things were just slightly off. The way MC’s smile never faltered, how perfect their posture was, and how they didn’t speak unless spoken to. It was as if they were merely a doll. The alter smiled, brushing the hair from MC’s forehead, before lifting their hand and kissing the ring they had placed there.

“You know, kitten, you’re so lovely like this.” MC’s blank smile remained. Satan turned the page. “Go set the table for tea time. We can’t be late getting you your medicine.”

On the other side of the mirror, Satan’s brow furrowed deeply. Had he drugged MC? Used a spell? Something to make them so empty? He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing, not to MC. He loved them, even if he hadn’t had the courage to admit it yet. He swallowed heavily, and turned away from the sight without a word, walking away from the mirror without looking back. A pit had formed in his stomach that wasn’t there before.

Asmodeus

Asmo was excited to see his turn had come, practically flouncing forwards as he hummed. He had forgotten that this was about seeing an alternate dimension entirely, and was focused on his own reflection, cooing over the sight of himself. He gasped softly in shock as the sight of his own beautiful face began to distort itself, which was terribly rude, considering how perfect he looked! The tragic loss of his reflection became an acceptable problem, however, when the other world began to appear to him.

The alternate fifth born was already centered in the frame when the world became visible, and the original Asmo squeaked in delight. “Oh~! I knew I would be gorgeous, but wow!” In the mirror, the demon was singing softly to himself as he perfected his makeup, briefly turning into his true form, all three heads on display as he fixed the lipstick on the center face, the face of a man who could breathe fire, before turning back to his much tamer human form, and smiling.

“Okay, MC!” The alt stood, turning to the mindless creature on his bed, eyes hazed over as they drooled, skin crawling and desperate for attention. The human whined pitifully, pulling at the ties that bound their limbs to the bed, arching their chest into the air in an attempt to attract the demon. It was as if MC didn’t notice that they were bleeding heavily, coated in dried cum, every orifice grotesquely stretched. To be honest, they didn’t. They didn’t even remember their name. The only thoughts left were of Asmodeus. “I’ll be back later. If I’m not home tonight to feed you, hopefully Satan will remember. Caio!” Asmo blew a kiss and disappeared out the door, leaving the needy MC alone.

The original Avatar of Lust was both shocked and mildly turned on at the sight. So, MC was a little banged up. Wasn’t everyone after a good night? The concerning part was how dumb MC had seemed. They hadn’t said a word the entire time! Maybe that was just their kink? He had yet to sleep with MC after all, who could say? He looked down at his feet for a moment, dwelling on it, and when he looked back up, it was into the gorgeous sight of his own eyes.

It was clear Asmo wasn’t going to move on his own, so Beel chomped down on the rest of his doughnut, lifted Asmo up, and set him off to the side.

Beelzebub

“Hey!” Asmo complained as he was moved, but Beelzebub only shrugged with one shoulder, offering a half smile as he said “Sorry, Asmo, Belphie is just real excited for his turn.” Belphie did not look that excited. He looked most of the way asleep, leaned against the wall a few feet off to the side. “He’s just tired, that’s all.” Beel had to stand back further than the rest to fit his body in the frame of the mirror, and as soon as he had, he sighed sadly, placing his hands on his stomach as it growled. “I’m hungry...” he complained, as the glass began to shift.

A table appeared, stacked several feet high with food, and Beel was drawn in to the sight, drooling. Above the table, a fly that had to be the size of Lucifer was hovering, acid dripping from its mouth and dissolving the food on the table before slurping it back up. It didn’t take long for the entire array to be devoured. The fly landed, its form stretching and shifting as it transformed into a hulking beast of a creature, its stomach dipped so far in it may as well have been touching its spine.

“That’s me?” Beel questioned, confused. The monstrous creature stalked from the kitchen, just as MC appeared around the corner, carrying a tray piled with all flavors of cakes. 

“Hungry,” came the low, rumbling sound of the Founder of the Order of the Fly. His voice was graveled and rough as he gripped the plate in MC’s hands, lifting it up and swallowing it whole, while groaning. His stomach seemed only to shrink back even further. “Still hungry,” he snarled, grabbing MC by the waist as he unhinged his jaw, letting it drop open as MC screamed. He didn’t start at the head. And he didn’t rush.

Beel was horrified. For once, his appetite had disappeared. “MC?” He questioned, trembling fingers touching the mirror. He closed his eyes tight to hold back the tears that threatened to form, and when he opened them again, he was only touching flat glass.

Belphegor

Beelzebub was still distraught as he shook Belphie awake, mumbling that it was his turn with the mirror before walking away with his shoulders slumped. He didn’t know if he could ever eat again. Well, his head didn’t know. His stomach was already rumbling. Belphie rubbed his eyes as he looked into the mirror, at first mistaking the liquid glass for his sleepy gaze playing tricks on him.

But there it was. An image of himself, or at least he thought it was himself, curled on a large bed. He wasn’t yet asleep, long tail waving, his body so much larger and elongated than he would have imagined himself. His evil mirror twin looked much like a dragon. And like a dragon, he had a hoard, the walls lined in trinkets and weapons and the like. The rest of the room was filled to the brim with pillows and blankets and other soft things.

The mirror Belphegor yawned, stroking MC’s face with one finger. They looked so sad, tears running down their cheeks. Belphie rubbed them away, and licked the salt from his fingertips. “Don’t cry,” he rumbled in a low, slow voice that dripped from his mouth like molasses poured from the jar, “It’s resting time. Give me your soul, and I will let you sleep.”

MC sniffled, before nodding. They clearly didn’t know what else to do. “O-Okay,” they agreed. Belphie smiled as his tail tightened its grip around them.

“Good,” he sighed, closing his eyes and drifting off. MC struggled in his grip, but it was too late. They were trapped.

“No...” The smaller Avatar of Sloth murmured. “No, I wouldn’t kill them again.” He shook his head, but the emotional strain of the knowledge was too much, and he blinked, blinked, more and more slowly, until he was curled on the floor, content to pretend it had all been a dream. Belphegor could not handle the guilt of MC’s death a second time.

ENDING:

Diavolo grinned as the last of the brothers took their turn. “How lucky! You’re the first ones to look in this mirror in centuries, even I haven’t looked! So? What did you see?”

The brothers, the ones who were awake anyways, looked on in silence. The Demon Prince’s smile began to fade.

“Oh. How terribly disappointing. Meeting adjourned.”

[tazmuir]

Hello! I loved Gideon the Ninth so much!! and would like to draw fan art, would you mind sharing any helpful summaries of what each character looks like? or must us fans hunt through the book for every offhand line of description? (not that I'm not planning on rereading it anyway)

I have let myself drift back onto Tumblr after two weeks, am deeply affrighted and excited at the idea that anyone has drawn my kids (I had an AMA on Reddit and as said there, my editor every so often hollered into my inbox about amazing shit people were doing, but I was too busy complaining back to him that my face had gone numb and that I no longer slept, but instead the darkness of the grave claimed me for four to five hours each night). Thank you so much to anyone who has already done this. Many people on my team have yelled and yelled.

Back early on in the piece I made a document for him about what characters looked like in terms of basic ideas/outlines for copyediting, covers and sense purposes, and I’ve dug out that document and slapped it up here for general delectation. As a note: I imagine specific things when it comes to my characters (I am a Kiwi: I write Kiwis In Space as a default) but as I have nothing but joy in my heart for how anyone would want to draw these characters, feel free to glance over this, then toss it out the window. It would bring tears of beauty to my eyes if anyone was like “Yes, but when I was reading I imagined Naberius Tern as a huge monitor lizard,” because absolutely yes, Naberius Tern was just a huge monitor lizard, godspeed.

I had only described below the specific cavalier-necromancer pairs, so that’s what you’ll find below, sorry if anyone wanted Teacher.

SECOND HOUSE

The only ones who seemed even vaguely compos mentis were the Second House: as it turned out, they had been the ones to call Teacher to the access hatch, and now they sat ramrod-straight and resplendent in their Second-styled Cohort uniforms, all scarlet and white. They both affected the same tightly-braided hairstyle and the same amount of extremely gilt braid, and also the same serious-business expression, and they could be told apart by one having a rapier and one quite a lot of pips at her collar.

Captain Judith Deuteros and Lieutenant Marta Dyas are alike in posture, bearing and extremely crisp military uniform (think a cross between US Navy whites and the Regency navy). Unlike every single other necromancer on the cast, Judith never wears necromancer robes, but is dressed in the exact same way as Marta. Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is; Judith is imposing, solemn-faced and reflective, Marta is more keen-eyed and restless. I imagined both as Tongan.

THIRD HOUSE

[Coronabeth] was tall and regal, with some radiant, butterfly quality – her shirt was haphazardly tucked into her trousers, which were haphazardly tucked into her boots, but she was all topaz and shine and lustre. All necromancers affected robes in the same way cavaliers affected swords, but she hadn’t tucked her arms into hers, and it was a gauzy, gold-shot, transparent thing floating out around her like wings. There were about five rings on each hand and her earrings would’ve put chandeliers to shame, but she had an air of wild and innocent overdecoration, of having put on the prettiest things in her jewellery box and then forgetting to take them off. Her buttery hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat, and she kept tangling a curl of it in one finger and artlessly letting it go.

The second twin was like someone had taken the first to pieces and put her back again without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but wore it like a very beautiful shroud on a mummy. The cavalier had lots of hair, an aquiline face, and a self-satisfied little jacket.

Coronabeth is massive, taller even than Palamedes, larger-than-life – statuesque, very bright gold hair, golden/bright skin, violet eyes. Ianthe is the same height but gangly and washed out. Skin colour defined heavily in Corona’s case as golden/olive-hued brown/tanned; Ianthe similar, but less radiant/more pallid whatever the case. Both have long hair: Corona’s should be big and bouncy, Ianthe’s flat/sleek.Naberius is shorter than both, brown-haired (brown can be light, medium or dark, it’s not defined) and blue-brown hazel eyes. Also has lots of hair, cut short, but sense of pompadour/waves. I imagined all three as Pakeha/white.FOURTH HOUSEBoth Isaac and Jeannemary are around fourteen and have pretty much the same body shape still: Jeannemary is semi-muscular and has lots of corners, Isaac is skinnier. Both are natural brunettes, though Isaac has bleached hair (orange, fauxhawk) and Jeannemary is described as having curly hair. Both have multiple ear piercings and eyeliner and the visual is somewhat Glassons storecard punk. Both have dark brown eyes. Jeannemary has a somewhat dusty, fierce, monochromatic appearance (brown hair, brown skin), and I imagine her as Māori. Isaac I imagined as NZ Chinese.FIFTH HOUSEMagnus Quinn is a man in his middling to late thirties, with short, curly hair: he is a frank-faced, nice-looking guy of medium build with a face inclined to wholesome smiles. His outfits should be absolutely exceptionally well-tailored and not very flashy. Imagined him as Samoan. His wife Abigail is perpetually neat, wears round spectacles and has long, glossy dark brown hair – she is the least described of a cast not very specifically described. Much like Magnus, she should always be beautifully and tastefully dressed, though in her case she would affect trousers as well as a robe. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

SIXTH HOUSECrouching in front of the hatch was a rangy, underfed young man: he was wrapped in a grey cloak and the light glinted on the spectacles slipping down his nose. Standing next to him holding a big wedge of broken sculpture and the flashlight was a tall, equally grey-wrappered figure with a scabbard outlined at her hip. She had hair of an indeterminate darkness, cut blunt at her chin.Up close, he was gaunt and ordinary-looking, except for the eyes. His spectacles were set with lenses so thick they could make spaceflight grade, and through these his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey: unflecked, unmurked, even and clear. He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, and the head of someone with resting bitch face.

Palamedes is seriously underfed with a bony, thin face and glasses: medium brown hair cut short and with no particular thought for aesthetics, dresses just in greys, eyes particularly lovely clear grey. Camilla has very dark cold-brown hair – chin-length, straight and with a fringe – dark eyes. She’s compact and has lots of lean muscle, and I imagine her of being Middle Eastern extraction, though due to Sixth House parameters both will be fairly mixed. They’re actually second cousins, so there ought to be a faint resemblance.

SEVENTH HOUSE[Dulcinea] was a slender young thing whose mouth was a brilliant red with blood: her dress was a frivolous concoction of seafoam green frills, and the blood on it seemed more somber against such a backdrop. Her skin seemed transparent – horribly transparent, with the veins at her hands and the sides of her temples a visible cluster of mauve branches and stems. Her eyes fluttered open: they were huge and blue, with velvety brown lashes.

Dulcinea is a girlish woman who looks extremely fragile and sickly, like a neurasthenic Victorian maiden. Eyes should be extremely blue. Hair is light brown in long curls; skin is pale. Pretty in a frivolous, invalid way. Gives the impression of being slight. Outfits should be gauzy and nightgownish. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

The man who’d put the sword to her neck was uncomfortably buff. He had upsetting biceps. He looked like a collection of lemons in a sack. He didn’t look healthy; he was a dour, bulky young person, whose skin had something of the strange, translucent tinge that the girl’s had. He was waxen-looking in the sunlight […] He was dressed richly, but with clothes that looked as though they’d seen practical wear: a long cape of greyish-green, and a belted kilt and boots. There was a long, shining length of etched chain rolled up and over his arm, and a big one-handed sword hung at his hip.

Protesilaus is massive, buff, and also sort of sickly and indistinct-looking in his colouring – he is described as being made up mainly of muddy, ashen browns. Think Greek warrior, but with no vibrant colouring. Biggest on cast, even bigger than Colum Ash. Imagined him as mixed Pasifika.

EIGHTH HOUSEIt was a pair who were both boys – well – a boy and a man; one was a wan, knife-faced kid dressed in antiseptic whites and useless chainmail you could cut with a fork, it was so delicate. [Silas] was draped in it even down to a kilt, which was strange: necromancers didn’t normally wear that kind of armour, and he was definitely the necromancer. He had necromancer build. […] He gave the impression of being absolutely no fun at all. He was prim and ascetic-looking, and his companion – who was older, a fair bit older than Gideon herself – had the air of the perpetually disgruntled. He was rather more robust, nuggety, and dressed in chippy bleached leathers that looked as though they’d seen genuine use. One finger on his left hand was just a gross-looking stump, which she admired.

Silas is in his teens, has shoulder-length white hair in a braid and dark eyes. He has extremely pale skin, and coupled with the white robes and silver chainmail (all of which somewhat swamp him – he’s sort of slender and purse-mouthed) gives the impression of being arrestingly white all over. Pointy chin, oval face, disapproving expression, a little insubstantial. Colum, his older, larger nephew is much taller, broader and in his early thirties. He has medium brown hair in a short back’n’sides crop, dark eyes, and appears jaundiced in skin tone – he’s very weatherbeaten and tan-skinned, scarred, and though he’s dressed in the same colours he tends to contrast heavily with them and his leather armour is also beaten-up. He looks tatty and ill-used, expression is apathetic or forbidding; Silas always looks perfectly clean, crisp and white. Facially there should be a similarity. They’re both Pakeha, with Silas being significantly the palest person on-cast.

NINTH HOUSEThe light fell on [Harrow’s] painted grey face and black-daubed chin, and her short-cropped, dead-crow-coloured hair. […] She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high-browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and vicious mouth.

Harrow is a scrawny teenage girl with black hair cut short (as befits someone in a monastery) and truly black eyes: she never appears except in black and white skull facepaint. She has a pointed, rather triangular face, not very long, a triangular heart rather than a triangular diamond or oval. She wears black robes and long-sleeved, long-trousered clothes – all black – with no skin showing: the main decoration on this is bones. She wears a corset of rib bones and could have any other bone decoration, which has been written of in the book as bone bangles and multiple bone stud piercings in the ears. She’s more femme-androgynous than outright butch; in Book 1 she’s a bit birdlike and free of specific masc or femme gender markers in terms of outfit or build. I imagined her as being mixed Māori.Gideon is true butch: tall of height – at least, taller than Harrow – extremely, shreddedly fit with the muscular arms of a swordswoman or boxer. She should have a strong-jawed, boyishly pretty face with a big douchebag grin. Cropped hair same as Harrow, except that hers as an oblate is more of an in-your-face mop (could be partly-shaved except that implies more care than Gideon possesses) and is intensely, vividly red.  I envision her as mixed Māori, darker-skinned than Harrow.  She also wears skull facepaint, though hers tends to be much less careful and baroque than Harrow’s. She often affects a pair of black aviator sunglasses. She wears the same black cloak as Harrow, without any decoration, and a plain black shirt and trousers underneath. Her eyes are an extremely vivid amber with more of a yellow/golden tint than a russet one.