#either one of them could have probably changed forms and been a man long enough to father a child

[stateofdreaming14]

Me explaining why the winking lady at the end of The Church On Ruby Road is Susan, Susan Twist is the one who waited, and Ruby is their love child

[osalotte]

Biological Sleep Aide! (Laios x reader)

aka the sub virgin laios blowjob fic that i have spent an atrocious amount of time on...

MINORS DNI

WC: 5.9k

CONTENTS: NSFW, laios being a d1 yapper, blowjobs, sub laios, inexperienced + virgin laios, a few moments of insecure laios, CANON COMPLIANT SOFT TUMMY LAIOS!!!, party member readr with an unspecified class, gn reader with experience, reader's genitalia not described, soft dom reader, sex with so so many feelings, soft intimacy, pining, lots of setup/plot, gratuitous foreplay, nipple play, visceral imagery of giving head, explicit consent, laios is so down bad it’s embarrassing, semi-ambiguous ending

if this gets enough attention i'll publish a sequel <3

You weren’t quite sure what woke you up; perhaps a sound from down the hall, or a change in the temperature of the air, or Senshi’s foghorn snoring. Either way, you fluttered your eyes awake, blinking at the crumbling gray stone of the dungeon’s ceiling.

You pulled yourself up from your bedroll, sighing but being careful to not make any noise. You let your eyes adjust to the low light and the faint glow of the magic fire Marcille had set up before you went to bed. Internally, you did a head count, and it seemed that everyone was deep in slumber. Senshi, Marcille, Chilchuck….

Your breath caught, eyes stopping at the sight of Laois’ empty bedroll. It was mussed, so he had definitely settled in earlier, but the man himself was nowhere in sight.

You cocked your head, leaning against your hand in thought. Should you be worried? No, he was probably just gone to use the bathroom. It’d be kind of weird if you walked in on him mid-piss. And if that did happen, you couldn’t decide whether Laios would be mortified beyond comprehension or concerningly underwhelmed.

The corners of your mouth quirked up as you thought about the group’s sweet—if not a bit odd—leader.

Okay. I’ll wait a few more minutes, and if he isn’t back, I’ll take a walk around, you decided. The last thing you’d want is to have Laios in some sort of trouble with no one to help out.

So, you sat there and waited, growing more awake by the minute. Still no Laios. 

After what seemed like a reasonable amount of time, you pulled yourself up from your bedroll and crept past your sleeping party members, careful to not disturb them. You peeked into a few of the empty rooms near where you’d set up camp—nothing. It wasn’t until you got to the cavern with the underground pond that you found him.

Laios’ back was to you, his form barely illuminated by the blue glow of the water. He was bereft of his heavy plated armor, clothed only in his threadbear linen sleepwear. You couldn’t see his face, but he was eerily still as he sat cross-legged on the edge of the pool, and you just knew he was staring into it with his mind a million miles away. For such a large man, when he was all curled up like that, he looked remarkably small.

“Couldn’t sleep, eh?”

He startled and whipped around at your words, but immediately relaxed upon seeing it was you. His eyes wandered back to the water, but he didn’t turn away from you. 

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” he murmured.

You took a step forward. “Mind if I join you?”

“...Please.”

You eased yourself down to sit down right next to him as you now both faced the pond. Your eyes were on him, and his eyes were still on the water and far, far away. His irises were usually a pretty, soft honey yellow (which you definitely didn’t think about every time you made eye contact), but his pupils were blown wide with the low light, and the only color you could see was tinted turquoise by the underground pond’s light. 

You gently nudged his shoulder with your own, which seemed to pull him back to reality for a second. 

“How long have you been up?” You asked.

He tilted his head in thought. “Probably like… an hour? By now, at least.”

“An hour?” Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “Jeez, if Senshi finds out our fearless leader isn’t getting his proper rest, you’ll be the next meal.”

Laios snorted and cracked a smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

You leaned in even further to him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

You sat there like that for a moment, in comfortable silence before you spoke up again: “What’s on your mind?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. A lot of stuff, I guess. Falin, mostly. But then there’s, y’know, everything else, what we’re gonna do moving forward….” He shook his head and curled in on himself. “I want to lead us to success, but sometimes it’s just…”

“A lot?” You finished his sentence where he trailed off, and he nodded. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“Well,” you leaned back, “I, for one, think you’re doing a wonderful job. We didn’t exactly get dealt a winning hand. You’re doing great with what you have.”

He seemed to genuinely smile at your words, and his eyes went soft. “Thanks. That…. Really does mean a lot. Coming from you, especially.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Any fool could cast a few spells and throw a few knives. I’m nothing special.”

“That’s not true!” He blurted out. He seemed surprised by his own outburst, and reeled himself back in. “I mean, you’re, like, super cool. And powerful! You have all of these different skills combined into one, like… Like a basilisk! But, like, a nice one that doesn’t try to kill us.”

You snorted. “Wow, and here I thought I was at least manticore level.”

“That too! Really, any chimera-type monster could apply…,” he began rambling on about the different types of chimeras and how they mix their various abilities together, and you just sat and listened, smiling softly. After he had winded himself from his monster-talk, the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence.

“Feeling sleepy yet?” You asked.

Laios shrugged, laying his chin on his hands. “No more than I was an hour ago.”

You chewed your bottom lip, furrowing your brows in thought. Should you say this? “Well…,” you started. “Y’know what always helps me get to sleep after a stressful day?”

He perked up, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “What?”

“An orgasm.”

Laios blinked at you. Once. Twice. Then his face went beet red and he whipped his head around to avoid eye contact with you, choking on air. You barked out a laugh.

“What? I’m being serious,” you continued between giggles. “Orgasms are clinically proven to help you sleep better.”

You couldn’t see his face from him being turned away, but the tips of his ears were bright red. “Well, yeah, I guess that makes sense, but…”

“C’mon,” you crooned. “We’re both adults here, Laios. There’s no shame. Be honest, when was the last time you masturbated?”

He thought for a moment, scratching his head. He still wouldn’t look at you. “Um… Probably back I was on the surface…?”

“A whole week ago?” 

“No, before that,” he corrected. “The trip from three- no, four weeks ago. Or was it before that….”

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. “Over a month?”

He shrugged sheepishly. At this point, he had at least turned back around to face you, but he still had trouble meeting your gaze. “Well, with everything going on I’ve been pretty busy. Any time I get a break, I’m just so tired or hungry it doesn’t even cross my mind. And it’s not like I can sneak away or anything.”

“You haven’t even tried?” You pressed. He shook his head. “Wow. You must be pretty pent up, then.”

He simply shrugged again, fidgeting with a pebble he’d picked up somewhere and looking anywhere but you. “I-I mean, it’s not really a big deal…”

“Y’know, masturbation is a form of self care,” you said. “It’s healthy. Helps maintain your hormones, bodily functions, and releases stress. For someone so big on keeping your body healthy, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. He risked a glance at you before quickly dropping his eyes to his hands once more. “It’s…. actually pretty cool how knowledgeable you are about all of this.”

“Oh, trust me, I know my stuff.” You shot him a wink, and you could’ve sworn you heard him gulp. Before you could stop yourself, the words came out; “I could help you if you’d like.”

He froze, looking at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “...Huh?”

Welp, in for a penny, in for a pound. “You know, like, give you a hand,” you explained. “Or mouth. Whichever you’d prefer, really.”

He took a moment to process your words, but when he did, he went back to blushing cherry red. “Y-you mean, like….”

“Give you an orgasm,” you said. “I mean, only if you’d want to. If you don’t, just say the word, and we can forget I even asked.” 

You paused, waiting for him to follow up with a “no,” but he just sat in silence, eyes trained on the pond and ears practically steaming.

“Or,” you continued carefully, “you could say yes, in which case I’d be happy to help. More than, even.”

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded. 

“Once again, it’s all up to you,” you reassured. “Just thought I’d offer.”

Finally, he looked you in the eye, almost like he was searching for something. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to answer, then closed it again. Why were you offering?

“It’s like a favor from a friend,” you decided. “You need to get to sleep, I want to take your pants off�� A win-win, really.”

He buried his face in his hands, shrinking in on himself like a hermit crab into its shell. He mumbled something, but you couldn’t understand it, so you asked him to repeat himself.

“....Y-yeah. I, um, want to,” he squeaked. “I-I mean, if you want to-”

“I literally just offered.”

He swallowed. “Right. Um. Yes.” He looked around the room, still determined to not make eye contact with you. It was silent for a moment. “Uh...How should we…?”

“Go into a different room, probably,” you said, standing up. “This one’s pretty echoey. A little too conspicuous.”

He stood up as well, and you could’ve sworn you saw a tremor in his legs. “Oh. Yeah. Probably.”

You tilted your head towards the door. “Here, come with me.”

You took him to one of the side rooms you’d poked in earlier. No windows, one door that locks…. Perfect. You took his hand, gently tugging him into the room and closing the door behind you. You muttered a quick incantation under your breath, and a few dimly glowing orbs of light appeared above you. Not enough to light up the room, but enough so that you could at least see your hand in front of your face.

Laios fidgeted where he stood. “Where should I….?”

“You could sit on that chest over there. Wait, actually I’d prefer you on the ground,”  you said. “Better for my knees. Too bad we don’t have pillows… But, you could probably lean against those burlap sacks in that corner there. ”

He nodded excitedly, but didn’t move. You tilted your head at him. He seemed to realize himself, and hurriedly trotted over to sit in the corner with the burlap sacks. You followed eagerly on his trail, chuckling under your breath.

“Sorry,” he fumbled, clearly trembling as he sat himself down. “I’ve, uh, never done this before.”

You snorted, sitting down in front of him. “What, never gotten a blowjob in a dungeon? I hear it’s all the rage these days.”

He offered a wobbly smile and a chuckle. “No, like, um… I haven’t done…” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, trailing off.

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Like, anything like this.”

You blinked at him, confused by his words, but then froze as it clicked in your head.

“You’re a virgin?” You blurted out, much louder than you intended to and you smacked your hands over your mouth. Laios looked like a deer in headlights, unsure if he should be mortified or not. You quickly recovered. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. Um, how old are you, again?”

“26,” he said. He tilted his head at you like a puppy, eyes big and innocent. “Why? Is that weird?”

“No, no, of course not,” you reassured. “Just, um… Do you still want to do this? You can back out. I won’t be offended.”

“I-I want to.” He sat up straight and responded so quickly he almost tripped on his words. “I do. If you’re still okay with it.”

You took a deep breath before giving him a soft smile. “Yes. I definitely am.”

“Oh, that’s good… I didn’t want it to be weird if- oomf!” You pushed him against the burlap sacks, caging him in with your body as you moved to straddle his lap. Your face got very close to his face very fast and Laios was not expecting it. Then again, he certainly wasn’t complaining. He looked up at you, eyes wide and cheeks red. 

“You ever kissed anyone before?” You asked, sultry voice just above a murmur, searching in his eyes. 

“Uh… Y-yeah,” he said. He kept making eye contact, then looking away. “Only, like, twice, though.”

Oh, so we were really starting from scratch, you thought to yourself, saying nothing. You saw him grow a little anxious at your lack of immediate response and quickly followed up, “That’s alright. I was just curious.”

“Y-yeah, it was like-” your hands slithered up his neck to tenderly cup his jaw, “-two years ago, or something-” you leaned in, lips just inches away from his, “-and, um….”

He trailed off with a shaky exhale of air that you felt against your lips, and you took that as your cue to go in.

You kissed him, and he immediately froze up, not knowing what to do. When your lips started moving, he was clumsy, painfully out of sync. He really hadn’t done this before. After a few seconds of testing the waters, you pulled away, but not too far. He leaned his head in a bit, as if trying to follow you.

He blinked slowly, eyes so blown out that his iris was little more than a thin ring around black pupils. “What are you doing…?”

“Kissing you,” you stated. “Y’know, like, foreplay.” He tilted his head and gave you a quizzical look, so you elaborated, “It’s kind of like a sex warm-up….? Y’know, to get you going so you don’t have to jump right in.”

“Oh. Yeah. I-I guess that makes sense….”

You grinned at him before diving in to steal another kiss. You made this one sensual, gratuitous, trying to guide his lips into a comfortable rhythm with yours. You felt his large body go slack against yours, melting into the kiss. You had one hand on the back of his head and the other on his big, warm chest, and it was painfully obvious he had no clue what to do with his arms.

“Here,” you giggled against his lips, and guided his hands to a comfortable spot. One on your side, just below your chest, and the other on your ass. “You can touch me.”

“O-okay,” he squeaked. 

You kissed him for a third time, this time with a little more fervor. You slipped your tongue in here and there, experimenting and seeing what he’d do with it. He gave your butt a tentative squeeze, and you grinned against his lips. With every movement, Laios seemed to loosen up; becoming more comfortable, even eager.

He pressed his mouth hard into you—a bit too hard, teeth clanking together—and you had to tug him back with your hands gripping tight at the hair on the back of his neck and he gasped. You didn’t let up, giving a few more soft kisses as an apology before pulling away once more.

“Wow,” he whispered, eyes half open and lips still parted, grinning in a stunned sort of bliss. “You’re really good at this.”

You shrugged. “Call it experience, I guess.”

“Mm….,” he hummed, only half-hearing your words. Laios’ eyes trailed down to your lips, beginning to lean in once more. You obliged and gave him a small peck on the lips before pulling away. He made a sound of confusion before you moved to the corner of his lips, then his cheek, then his jaw, then finally began kissing his neck.

“Oh. Oh wow,” he breathed shakily, big hands floating up to grip into your sides and hips as if to keep himself grounded. You couldn’t see him, but you could imagine his expression to be one of shocked, open-mouthed delight. 

You mouthed your way up to the spot below his ear, sucking what you hoped would end up to be dark purple hickeys the next morning. He tasted like sweat and skin and you relished in every bite.

“Hah….,” he moaned, more breath than actual voice, holding onto you for dear life. You nibbled at his earlobe and he tensed before a full-on shudder wracked his body. He instinctively pulled you in tight against him with his strong arms, like he wanted to be as close to you as physically possible. He was exceptionally sensitive—not necessarily surprising, given his inexperience, but either way it sent a little thrill of anticipation up your spine.

You’d been feeling his growing arousal under you, but at this point it was poking against your inner thigh from your position straddling him. You pressed into it slightly and he yelped, flinching into you.

“That’s-“ he gave a sharp inhale followed by a shaking moan as you bit down into the thick cord of muscle that leads to his shoulder, simultaneously grinding harder against the tent in his pants. He jolted in surprise, but it was followed closely by a shiver of pleasure as he squeezed his legs together. “-that feels—ngh—really good.”

You pulled away. He was panting fully now, just as hot and worked up as he got after an intense bout of combat. But unlike the heat of battle, this scene was softer, more gentle, malleable, intimate. He looked utterly blissed out, huffing and puffing with red cheeks and unfocused eyes, and you hadn’t taken off a single layer of clothing. You could see the twitching bulge in his pants, a small wet spot appearing at its peak. You fought back a grin. So excitable.

Your hands trailed along the collar of his linen shirt, fiddling with the strings. “Can we take this off?”

He blinked at you, taking a moment to process your words, but he snapped to attention once he realized what you meant.

“Oh- Oh! Um, yeah, of course. Let me just….” He reached up to untie his laces, and you scooted back on his legs to allow him room to pull his shirt up and over his head, leaving his upper half completely bare. 

You’d already had a pretty good idea of his physique given that his thin shirt did little to hide it, but he was a glorious sight to behold now. His large frame littered with scars, his huge muscles bulging out but not necessarily chiseled as they lay under a healthy layer of fat, the slight squish of his tummy that spilled a little over his waistband, and golden chest hair trailing all the way down into his pants.

You must’ve been staring a bit too long, because Laios shifted and moved to cross his arms over his chest, self-conscious.

“Uh, am I- Is this okay…?” He gulped. 

“Oh god, sorry, yes,” you rushed to get the words out. “It’s just- you’re, like, gorgeous. Got distracted.”

If he hadn’t been completely red in the face already, you were sure he would have blushed to infinity. He curled in on himself.

“I usually don’t care how I look that much, but…” he murmured. “It’s weird. I don’t know why I feel so…. shy.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” you said, reaching up to tenderly sweep his hair back before sliding down to cup his face. “You can put it back on, if you want. But I am certainly enjoying the view.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Thanks…. You’re- you also look really, um, good…”

“Here, I’ll join you,” you said. You made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head and you heard Laios gasp. 

“Wow,” he whispered as his eyes raked up and down your body in wonder.

“Could I have this?” You tugged at the shirt he still held in his hand, and he willingly gave it to you, still starstruck by your half-naked form. “Lean forward a bit here.”

Obedient as a dog, he followed your instructions and leaned into you, not thinking twice. His skin felt hot and a little damp against yours, his face pressed against your shoulder. You reached around him to fluff the shirt out flat a little bit before tucking it between his back and the burlap sacks as a makeshift blanket.

“Should be a little more comfortable,” you said, tucking in the edges so it wouldn’t slip too much. “Don’t wanna scratch up your back. Yet, at least.”

Completely oblivious to your innuendo, he was looking at you as if you’d hung all the stars in the sky. “You really know what you’re doing, huh?”

You shrugged. “Don’t think too much about it, ‘kay? I just want you to be comfortable.”

You pushed back on his shoulder slightly and, obedient as ever, he laid back down against the now-covered burlap sacks. His arms had slipped down to lay at his sides. He stared at you, eagerly awaiting your next instruction.

You ran your hands down his neck and across his chest, nails raking through the wiry hair and over his nipples, tenderly admiring his build. His muscles twitched with each brush of your fingers, hands creeping up to grip your thighs. 

You leaned forward, diving in to leave open-mouthed kisses on his neck and down his chest. He shivered and gripped your thighs tighter. You paused once you reached his sternum and looked up at him.

“Do you like having your nipples played with?” 

He froze at your question. “Um, I-I’m not really sure.”

Virgin. Right, you reminded yourself internally.

“Well,” you continued, “let me know if this feels good, okay? It’s not for everyone, but they have a lot of nerve endings, and can be big erogenous zones for some people.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of tha- eep!” He tensed up like he was struck with a live wire as you closed your mouth around his nipple. He bit back a groan as you swirled your tongue around, sucking softly. His cock jumped, and you could feel the wetness from his tip seeping through his pants as it brushed against your bare stomach.

“I—ah—didn’t even know you could do this,” he stuttered, hands having since moved their vice-grips to your upper back as you continued to lavish his chest in attention, moving to the other nipple. “I- I mean biologically it makes s—hah—sense since in mammals, the chest a-and specifically nipples are considered a secondary s—hn—sexual organ…”

“But does it feel good?” you asked, slightly muffled as you switched between speaking and sucking on his chest. 

“I- I think so—!“ His voice cut off with a sharp gasp as you suddenly sank in your teeth around his nipple before sucking hard and rolling the little bud in your mouth. “It’s- it’s kinda weird but—hah—kinda good….?”

You pulled off of his chest with a wet pop and grinned up at him devilishly. “Enjoying yourself, Laios?”

“Yeah,” he panted. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth parted as he caught his breath, flushed all the way to his ears. He somehow looked worked up to the point of combustion but soft and innocent at the same time. “This is….. Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” You were sure you couldn’t hide how pleased you were with yourself, looking like the cat who got the cream. His eyes were so full of wonder, and you couldn’t help but pull yourself back up to kiss him silly, repositioning yourself so that one of your legs was slotted in between his.

You pressed your body hard into his, and his arms snaked around your waist, a single big hand going down to shyly squeeze your butt. You giggled and brought up your finger to trace tight little circles around his nipples, still slippery with saliva, and he shuddered and gasped against you. 

You pulled your thigh forward to press hard against his cock, twitching and leaky as it begged to be released from its confines. The tortured sound Laios let out against your lips made you want to devour him whole. 

“You’re doing so well, Laios,” you whispered in between kisses. He whined and his cock jumped excitedly. Interesting. “So, so good for me.” You pressed your thigh down harder-

“Wait—ngh!—wait stop-“ he yelped. You immediately halted your actions, pulling away, but Laios pulled you right back into him, refusing to let you move away.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked, gently stroking his arms, suddenly very concerned. 

He was shivering violently, and pressed even harder into you. “Nothing,” he gasped, struggling to form words. “I just- I thought I was gonna cum….”

You grinned devilishly, a new light in your eye. You pressed your thigh into his raging hard-on once again and he keened, burying his face into your neck.

“Wait! Be careful, I-I can feel it….,” his words tapered off into a broken cry, open-mouthed against your shoulder. Mercifully, you let up, and Laios let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

“Let’s move on to the main event, shall we?” You cooed, worming your way out of his hold so you could lower yourself onto the ground.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he’d forgotten you’d planned on sucking him off in the first place, but then his eyes widened and he choked on air. “Oh- Yeah. Yes.” He gulped “Please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you purred. You kissed your way down his torso, his curly chest hair tickling your nose as you went. You reached his pants, pressing a messy kiss on his tummy just above his waistband. He shuddered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands—trembling as they were—awkwardly holding them above his lap. 

You looked up at him, his shivering form and nervous expression, droplets of sweat beading at his forehead despite the chill of the dungeon. He was so close already, and honestly, with how pent up he was, you were surprised he managed to hold back from creaming his pants. 

You unfortunately had to look away from his flushed face as you undid the laces of his trousers and pulled out his swollen cock. He was hard and hot and thick in your hands. In terms of penises you’d seen, he was uncut, untrimmed, and exceptionally average, yet you were salivating all the same. The flushed head was shiny smeared with its own precum, and it bobbed up under your gaze. 

Laios’ eyes squeezed shut and he tilted his head back with a choked groan, like just the sight of your face so close to his cock would make him cum. 

You wrapped your hand firm around the middle and gave him an experimental pump. You were mesmerized as you watched the foreskin bunch up over the head, a single bead of white pearling and dribbling out, before pulling and stretching back down to reveal his cock in all of its weeping glory.

You couldn’t help but dive right in.

You closed your warm mouth over the head of his cock, licking the creamy, salty pleasure from his tip and swallowing it hungrily. Laios yelped and his thighs squeezed around your head. You popped your mouth off of him to lick a long stripe from base to tip, flattening your tongue, before suckling on the tip once more.

“So…. warm….,” Laios mumbled. 

You let a fat glob of spit drip down from your mouth, using the tight ring of your hands to deftly spread it down his shaft. You pumped him once, twice, and Laios’ jaw dropped in a silent gasp. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” you murmured before pressing a sloppy kiss to his tip. Laios’ mouth tried to form words, but all that came out was a gasp followed by a throaty groan as he pitched forward. His hands found their way to your hair—not so much pushing you down as it was giving himself something to hold onto. 

You let go of his dick so that, with both hands, you could ease him back down, untense his muscles and loosen his hands from your hair.

“It’s alright, baby, I’ve got you,” you cooed. “It’s okay. Just relax. You’re doing so well.”

He whimpered but nodded, screwing his eyes shut. Once he’d relaxed again, your hand gently found its way back to his cock, soon followed by your mouth.

You were slow, careful not to overwhelm him, swallowing him halfway with a hand wrapped firm around his base before pulling back up, lapping at his tip. 

“Wow. Oh wow,” he whispered, letting out breathy little 'hah's. “This is…. Wow.”

Laios was whimpering, trying his best to stay still, but with every bob of your head his thighs twitched and his body tensed. 

“No wonder succubi—ngh—are so successful in—h-hah—in dungeons- ack—!” His voice broke as you swallowed around him. “This is—hn—really… r-really good. Lonely male adventurers w-would make the perfect prey—!” The last part of his sentence pitched up as you began swirling your tongue around the tip.

You took him deeper. You felt the hot, salty weight of him bump the back of your throat. He cried out, hips jumping up and hands scrambling to hold onto something. You didn’t let up, taking him deeper, swallowing around his length as you blinked and let the tears spill from your eyes. Your throat may have a bruise the next morning, but the sounds that Laios made would be well worth it. 

“Oh god. Oh—oh I’m close,” he moaned, desperate. “‘M gonna—hah—gonna cum…”

You simply sped up, sucking him with a newfound fervor, and he moaned so loud you could hear the echo bounce around the room. One of his hands kept brushing over yours, so you obliged, lacing your fingers with his own. He took it greedily, thankful to be holding your hand and squeezing tight as you swallowed him.

“Oh- oh! It’s— I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m cumming—ngh—-!” His moans tapered off into a high-pitched whine as he came in your mouth, hot saltiness flooding all of your senses as you swallowed what you could. He was cumming a lot—bursting into your mouth like a broken pipe—so much so that it quickly overflowed and came dribbling out from the corners. You pulled off of him, cum dripping down your chin and spilling onto your hand. 

Meanwhile, Laios was still in the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm, jolts of pleasure shooting through him as he gasped and moaned. You stroked him, languid and slow, through the rest of it, squeezing his hand in assurance. By the time the cum had stopped seeping out of him, he was shaking like a leaf and had a white-knuckle grip on your hand. He began to whimper in pain at the overstimulation, so you let up, watching his softening cock lay itself down, twitching, into a splatter of cum on his thigh.

Laios was breathing hard. Eyes closed, he hadn’t let go of your hand. You just rested your cheek on his clean (as in, the one with less cum on it) thigh, looking up at him as he eased his way out of orgasmic daze. 

“So,” he murmured after a moment of silence, voice trembling. “That’s what I’ve been missing out on all this time.”

“Pretty much,” you hummed, drawing mindless circles on his hips with your thumb, never taking your eyes off of him.

“Wow.” He stared off into space for a second before blinking back into focus. “No wonder lust makes people crazy. It’s almost…. Cathartic?”

“Relaxing, too,” you said, pressing a feather light kiss into the softness of his thigh. “Feel better?”

He nodded. “Very. Honestly, I could fall asleep right now. I don’t even want to get up. Is that a normal post-coital reaction?”

You bit back a giggle. “Yes. But this in particular was pretty intense.” You began the process of slowly separating yourself from Laios, peeling your body off of the ground. “You came a lot. Is it usually this much? It’s not bad or anything, there’s just… so much.”

“Not usually, no,” he shrugged sheepishly, looking down at the mess on his legs. “Probably from being ‘pent-up,’ like you said.” 

“Guess this means you should take better care of your biological urges, hm?” You tenderly cupped his face and he hummed, leaning into your hand to press a kiss to your palm. You subtly wiped your other hand on your discarded shirt so that you could bring it up to run your fingers through his close-cropped hair.

“That was… amazing,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut under your caress. “It felt so nice.” He swallowed, then hesitantly looked up to you, eyes big and round and adoring. “...Thank you.”

You couldn’t handle the way he was looking at you, so instead you kissed him. He was all but boneless against you, sweet and melting like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. 

You pulled away. It was a second before either of you spoke, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together, breathing in the other’s exhales. 

“We should probably get back,” you said after a moment, pressing one final, fleeting kiss to his lips before standing up.

“Y-yeah. Probably.” He looked down at the mess all over his thighs and stomach. “Um… what should I….?”

You muttered an incantation under your breath and with a flick of your wrist, the mess disappeared from him completely. You did the same for yourself. 

“Thank the gods for prestidigitation,” you chuckled. You began to redress yourself, Laios not far behind. 

Once you were both decent, you made your way to the door, unlocking it and expecting Laios to follow you. You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Laios was standing in the same spot, the laces of his shirt still untied. 

“So, are we lovers now?”

You froze, blood pumping as your heart leapt into your throat. Even for Laios, the question felt like it came out of left field. He had his head tilted at you like a curious dog, unashamed and eager and genuine.

“Like, in the books,” he explained. “This kind of thing is what lovers do, right?”

“Well- I….” You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of being his partner—being giggly and enamored with each other. But cold fear gripped your heart when you thought about the possibility of something going wrong, of you messing it up and losing him completely. “...I guess….? Kind of? Do you…. Want to be?”

He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, eyes never leaving yours. “I want to be lovers.”

“How about….. friends…… that are also sometimes lovers?” you suggested, trying to not let your voice shake too badly. You cringed inwardly at your words, since you wanted nothing more than to scream ‘Yes!’ 

“Does that mean we can keep doing stuff like this?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. “How about we discuss this more tomorrow, yeah? You need to get some sleep.”

This answer seemed to satisfy him, as he grinned wide at you, tugging you out the door and towards camp where, hopefully, no one realized you were missing.

Meanwhile, back at camp....

Chilchuck was covering both of his ears with his pillow, silently seething. Bile rose in his throat with every other sound he could hear ever-so-faintly echo through the dungeon corridor. He did not expect to wake up to the sounds of stupid Laios in the thralls of pleasure—with you, no less!—and he was very much not happy about it.

"Fucking kids...," he muttered, grinding his teeth together as he tried to muffle the sounds as best he can. "Fucking half-foot hearing.... I hate it here."

~~~

tags: @hohoshiumi @this-gave-pidgeon-further-shock @smokycoco @eggsnasty @justformio234 @rosesandquartzz @zeniiis @childaintit @goddessofpoledancing @dark-space-between-the-stars

please comment + reblog so i have a justification for writing more laios fics instead of actual productive tasks <3

[ahhhwomen]

Nothing really matters.

Vampire Empire

Part 3

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Well this was depressing to write... Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You feel numb, what does it matter anymore?

Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @thinking1bee

The next time either of them sees you is in one of Natasha’s business meetings a few weeks later.

Back in Carol’s possession, you kneel in the corner of the conference room while Carol raises her voice at anyone with a slight attitude toward her idiotic ideas.

After half an hour, the constant bickering between the blond woman and Natasha’s respective staff members had become background noise.

There is a crinkling of paper as Natasha scuffles her documents around for a moment while deep in thought. The paper is smooth and high quality, her golden rings glide against the white surface, and she traces black lines of information she can recite in her sleep.

To Natasha’s surprise, you had seemed indifferent to her presence, you didn’t even glance at her once during the introduction to today’s meeting.

Following the same line back and forth, the ink smudges and blurs after the seventh round of Natasha's thumb gliding gently on top of the unimportant details.

She had to give credit where credit was due. You were poised and unbothered.

She could not say the same for herself, however.

Ever since she could smell you getting in the elevator with blondie, she kept glancing toward the door, waiting for your arrival. And now, she continuously spares a glance in your direction when she thinks someone talks too loudly or expresses themselves with broad gestures.

It doesn't take long for her to understand you a little better.

Carol changes you.

Your eyes are cast downward, and you hold your head low in a display of obedience. You are sitting on your heels with your hands just out in front of your knees. Your back is strung tight to form a perfect line and the muzzle is only for show. But whereas your posture and attitude would be considered perfection, your eyes are empty.

Natasha’s chair creaks and groans as she rocks back and forth, the leather cushion softens the knockback as her leg bounces against the flooring, unfitting of her usual characteristics, she can’t seem to keep her calm and collected demeanor.

Small tears and wrinkles form, as Natasha tightens her hands against some case report she wrote half-heartedly before bed the previous night. She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring.

You are still covered in bruises.

They are healing, and so are the once red and angry lines, they are now pinker and more muted. But it’s clear some of them were fresher, it had been close to a month since she had seen you last, yet the color of some were as fresh as a daisy.

Specifically, your face seemed to have been put through the gutter.

Though it was clear that whatever transpired that day hadn’t been repeated, she could still sense in you that Carol wasn’t very light-handed.

She tells herself it is because she pities you for having to go through the blonde’s rage, but there is also something about the two small puncture wounds on your neck that aggravates her.

Her fingers drum against the table in annoyance while she thinks it over, her nails clicking against the resin top of her newly polished conference table.

Pinching the skin between her eyebrows she sighs loudly. Enough so, that the man currently presenting stutters and has to loosen his tie before continuing with a slight tremor to his hands.

She can’t figure it out.

She huffs and readjusts her posture to show she is listening.

Never mind, the little mystery you are, she has business to attend to. With one last glance, she emerges herself back in the matter at hand and makes sure to fix Carol with a hard glare whenever something becomes too heated.

You are sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden.

The flowers bloom around you and rustle in the fresh, spring, wind. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the rosebush across the tiny plot of land. The birds sing in a tune you are not familiar with, but it’s nice. Lilies hug your legs, all colorful and fresh, there are tiny little droplets atop their pedals, it must have rained before you got out here.

That would explain the chill that settles deep in your spine.

There are dogs around, you hear them bark and growl at each other on the other side of the fence, but you don’t mind.

Because you are in the garden. With a fence between you and them.

Until one of them jumps the fence.

You have been staring at the ground with a slight tremor lacing your every move for the better part of an hour. She seems like a calm dog, but she’s big, bigger than you, and there is this presence to her that you don’t know what to do with.

She smells like the flowers around you, maybe that’s why you don’t flee. No matter how much you want to, you are frozen in your seat as the big hound stares at you.

She licks her snout and blinks slowly while you sit there. It feels like she is mocking you, almost as if daring you to move.

The wind picks up every now and then, the howling of the other dogs growing louder and more concerning, but the big dog doesn’t bat an eye. She growls deeply, but you can tell it isn’t directed at you, and then the other dog’s calm.

Maybe she is a nice dog, but it doesn’t matter.

A dog is a dog.

The fence opens with a piercing screech. Even as you close your eyes in hope, the big dog does nothing. She doesn’t run away, but she doesn’t help either.

She just watches as Master drags you away. You don’t know why you thought she would do anything else.

Master is right.

Master is always right.

No one will help.

You don’t deserve it.

When the meeting commends, Carol drags you out of the room quickly, she has other matters to settle tonight, and she can’t be bothered to stay here too long.

Your knuckles rasp against the expensive flooring of Mrs. Romanoff´s office. The tasteful tree-work makes your bones ache, and your tag jingles repeatedly as bone connects with fifty thousand dollars worth of Brazilian rosewood. The blond woman tugs at your leash impatiently.

“Carol. Wait a moment.”

Please don’t.

Master halted her movements just before she passed through the elevator´s door, effectively also halting yours.

“There is some paperwork James wants you to finish up before you leave.”

Natasha waves her hand around with a roll of her eyes, showcasing false annoyance she knows the blond will eat right up, “Something about an unsettled bank record?” The redhead squints in the blonde’s direction, displeasure hidden not so greatly on the CEO’s face.

Natasha has to work extremely hard to not showcase how disgusting she finds the woman in front of her to be.

The woman beside you tenses up. She bunches her eyebrows and sighs before nodding slowly and releasing the tight clutch on your leash.

A pointed finger comes into view as Carol shifts her body towards you and tilts her head downward to face you. “Stay here.” Her voice leaves no room for arguing, it’s a clear command, you know she only does it to showcase her power over you. You couldn’t talk back even if you wanted to, the clinic made sure of that long before you even knew Masters hard angles.

Nonetheless, you bow your head and place your rump back onto the cruel flooring, somehow it feels even stiffer than the concrete inside your familiar slammer.

There is a long and rather awkward silence before Miss Romanoff clears her throat and breaks the stillness.

“Are you in pain?” Natasha gestures towards her own face as if you need a hint to understand what she means.

Just a few months ago, Romanoff acknowledging you in the slightest would send you through a rollercoaster of fear and wonder. Now you merely play dumb and tilt your head in confusion.

Of course, it hurts.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

“You smell different.” Carol scrutinizes you from afar.

If it weren’t for the years of experience you have with this sort of thing you would give yourself away immediately by tensing up and begging for her mercy, instead, you remain impassive.

The blond woman studies you carefully, waiting for any telltale that you heard her.

It’s easier than you thought.

Maybe it’s from the emotional drainage these days have been, but you barely feel anything as Carol looks you over. No matter how much she has hurt you, her eyes hold nothing compared to the power that the Maximoff clan’s leader has in hers.

You can hear the familiar crunch of rough concrete beneath a heavy army boot.

Master moves closer, but still, you feel nothing.

It’s been three days since that day. The first night you sobbed your sorrows, your pain, your fear, everything that has been building up and suppressed throughout the years all expressed in a puddle of tears and blood.

You don’t know what the women wanted, but something about them had made ancient wounds reopen, and the floodgates that followed were inevitable.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, you find it more likely that you passed out from dehydration or exhaustion.

The other days had passed in a blur.

It’s like you have been stuck in a trance where nothing really matters anymore.

Then the smashing of keys came back, and still, you were inconsolable. You didn’t even acknowledge her when she ran her hands over your bare body. Didn’t blink as her hands took a threatening hold of your collar.

She was testing this new side of yours; you could tell it angered her that she didn’t affect you.

You ruined her little power trip of the day.

She grips the back of your neck and forces you to face her. “Look at me when I am talking to you!” Spit sprays on your face as she talks through gritted teeth.

You don’t care, you just stare at her through hooded eyes, looking but not seeing.

Her hand connected hard with your face; you could feel the vibration inside your skull. And yet, all you could think about were them.

The feeling of concrete pouring through your veins wasn’t so scary anymore.

*slap*

You wonder what would happen if she went all the way…

*slap*

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they killed you.

*slap*

“LOOK AT ME!” Carol screams into your ear, but it is fuzzy and unintelligible to you.

*slap*

“CAN’T YOU TELL I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH!?”

*slap*

“Look at me?” Her hand strokes your chin lightly, but you know her…

*slap*

*slap*

Your head bounces against the pavement.

*slap*

Your vision becomes blurry and unfocused.

She hit you a total of twenty-four more times, before finally relenting and stomping away.

From that day forward you decided to play into it, pretend like what took place with the powerful women never happened to begin with. You were sure it would anger them.

If this is what Carol does when you ruin her little high.

Maybe, they will return and finish what they started if you ruin theirs.

Natasha scratches the nape of her neck as you sit there staring into nothingness. Your brows are slightly raised, and your eyes are wide, to Natasha, it seems like you are in a completely different world.

She leans against the wall, her shoulder squishing against the glass panel, and she crosses one leg over the other. Relying solely on her right leg to hold her up, she looks down at her dress shoes.

Her question was stupid, she knew as much, but what else was she supposed to say?

She wanted to talk to you.

Nat knows she should just leave you be and return back to her office, but when you were being led out of the room earlier your eyes had connected with her, it was a mere millisecond. But in that moment Natasha had felt a chill run down her spine.

Something was definitely wrong.

However, she didn’t expect you to completely shut down after just one simple question.

You are unresponsive to any stimuli while you sit in the hallway with Natasha’s presence close by. The older redhead tries to tap her foot or grunt obnoxiously, just to get a response, but nothing.

It’s not until you can hear Carol’s heavy footsteps that you quicken up and bow your head down.

Carol nods in Natasha’s direction before she passes her and collects you. Her gruff hands slide up and down the expanses of your leash until she finds the position that will yield her the most amount of control over your movements.

If the circumstances were different, Natasha would kill Carol on the spot.

Yet, as Carol takes ahold of your leash and steers you both into the elevator, Natasha lets you go.

Convincing herself it’s for the better. Again.

[sp0-t]

Preview of some upcoming stories?!! (sort of rambles)

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

You and Simon used to date, it was a while ago, 5 years, 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days ago to be exact. You never kept count, you wanted to forget everything. It was Simon that kept count, every second, every minute, every hour. He was there keeping track. You moved on, you had a whole new life at this point, new job, new house, new car, even a new partner. You wanted nothing to do with that old life that old place, that old job still haunting you some nights. But that was all behind you, long ago, no reason to dwell on it, you have a new life a new start that not many got. Your old life was behind you forgotten, like a bad dream.

Except this dream came back to haunt you, physically, in the present. In the physical form of Simon “Ghost” Riley. He was the reason you couldn’t sleep at night, the reason you needed a new life in the first place, needed to run away from the past.

Him

HIM

The last person that deserved to come back into your life was here. And he is persistent per usual, no matter what you do, or what you say to him, he was not going to budge he’d stay stolid and still and he’d be that way for the rest of time if he had to.

He’d wait…

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

Gaz and you are two of the biggest names in the modeling world. You can’t talk about it without either name popping up. What makes it even more of popular topic, is the rumor of a certain type of relationship between you two. However these aren’t true they can’t be, at least not yet…

You are in a contract with one of if not the biggest modeling agency in the world, you being their top model, however, you have a very close runner up. They’ve been gaining more and more attraction every year, placing them higher and higher in the rankings. Social media isn’t helping in this case, it’s the very thing that gained them their popularity in the first place. One post about their new male model and the internet goes fucking batshit.

“Who is he?”

“I need him!”

“He’s so fine, omg!”

“The things I would do…”

Well, who is this mystery man, no other than Kyle Garrick. He normally goes by his stage nickname “Gaz”. No one knows where it comes from, but then again no one really cares enough.

However this year both your agency’s are competing for first, both agencies have to put out their best models in a runway show, a panel will then decide who the best is. But then why do people suspect a relationship between the two. A simple cigarette, that was it, a cigarette. Paparazzi can be some nosey individuals, it was after a clothes fitting, both agencies were required to have it done by the same tailor company to remove any bias, and no changes could be made to outfits by this point. It was late out probably 11pm, about to be 12. I guess paparazzi doesn’t sleep, you went out for a cigarette or two. About to light your second you hear the door open behind you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Of course it was him, why wouldn’t it be Gaz

“Do as you please.”

Your voice comes out a bit muffled from the cigarette between your lips. You try and light your cigarette again, you spark the lighter multiple times no flames ever coming to light. You get more and more frustrated the longer it takes to see flames. You bring the thing up to your ear and shake to hear if there’s any liquid, it’s empty. In frustration you throw the lighter against a nearby wall.

“Fucking piece of shit.”

Still muffled from the unlit cigarette you sigh out in frustration and defeat, leaning against the wall behind you. You run your hand through your hair as your about to push off the wall to walk back inside the building, when a flame is placed in front of you.

“Need a light?”

You look up at him a bit confused

“Yeah. Thanks.”

SNAP* SNAP* SNAP* The image of Gaz leaning over slightly cupping the flame to prevent the wind from blowing it out, while you tilt your head a bit up to get your cigarette to reach the flame while Gaz looks down at you. That’s what was going viral, the image, the circulating stories and rumors going around. Both of your names were everywhere, one couldn’t be without the other in the media.

All over a damn cig

💿: I only have two for you today, these are just quick summaries. I’m sorry these are on like “cliff hangers”, I really wanted you guys to make your own assumptions and theories. I do want to start writing an actual full on story for one of the quick ideas I’ve wrote(author!price, PoliceForce!141, and these new ones). I’ll most likely put up a poll for people to vote on which one I’ll write first, so definitely stay around for that if you’re interested!!

(sorry the Simon one is so short but if I added more it would be like double this whole page)

written by: @sp0-t ©️

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Luka analysis/ramble below

Contains Round 7/Final spoilers

Ya know, Luka must be such an incredibly hollowed out man with enough trauma to incapacitate a different human. Like seriously, he's the perfect representation for anyone stuck under the obsessive spiral of perfectionism and repression.

He's in his early thirties, and his only attainable achievements are being covetable human flesh and doing so well at music that any potential friends or colleagues he could have will die in front of him if he takes the time to do the only thing he's allowed to focus on—sing. The girl he loves and could never talk with like a "normal kid" (but it didn't matter then because she accepted him as he was) has traumatic flashbacks just seeing him. The knowledge that her existence is so highly illegal that any achievements he has made will mean nothing if he is seen loving her... That's heavy. And that's partially on the assumption he's seen the news as it's hard to miss. (It's hard to tell with his expressions.) The moment he sees Hyuna in Round 7, the facade and mimicry is gone. All that's left is the hollow and lonely man.

How many times has he seen people he may have liked, disliked, been curious about, hated, shared memories with- how many have died or been beaten before his eyes? How many times has he supressed the screams inside of him because he's not allowed to. He's a puppet off of the stage, strictly controlled and having his fate already decided for him as long as he can probably remember.

"His eyes are lifeless." "He's so cruel." "He's just manipulative." Tell me you can't get a clue without telling me you can't get a clue. There are so many things wrong with this man, and you're going to obsess over the fact that a victim still stuck in abuse has done "inhumane" things on a planet and in a universe surrounded by creatures that teach that inhumanity is the most normal response to have to human emotions. Do you even know how the brain works when stuck in a situation where you're constantly just surviving? I'll tell you because I have firsthand knowledge. You do anything to stay alive. Anything. If brainwashed, you will hurt people you love if you think it will save them/keep them safe. And when it's all said and done, you then further crawl into the shell of yourself with hope that the emotional/mental bombs don't put enough shrapnel into your fragile, hiding self to ensure you really don't wake up this time. Because then hurting the other person would have been for nothing. Because then you'll have failed the one goal you have—survival. Trauma changes how a human brain is shaped and formed. (It's a scientific fact; go look it up if you think I'm pulling your leg.) I wonder if that, on top of the insinuated neurodivergence, is enough to make the already born outcast and alien-proclaimed prince (meaning: he's above the other humans AND nobody can touch him on his throne that only get higher each new death near him) be considered "surviving" instead of the "thriving" people seem to think of him as doing. I wonder how much he'll have to go through before he's "traumatized enough" or "injured enough" for the fandom to have a crumb of empathy (or even sympathy) for him.

Even if you have dulled feelings or no specific attachments to others—being the indirect cause of so many deaths, watching blood splatter the stage in a competition so fierce that the surviving participant(s?) develop medical problems overtime, knowing this is your very bread and water and shelter but the ones watching and clicking buttons to ensure your survival see this as an event for pure entertainment and no true depth, having to live with no attachments because either you'll never see the person again or you'll never see the person again—this fucks up a person. Isolation is the reason people take the fast way out of this world. Isolation is the reason why people go mad. Isolation makes you beg the very air surrounding your existence to end you. Yet simultaneously, you want to live so bad, and you just can't understand why humans are like this because all of you should want to be dead by now, even if the voices around you speak of how you're the greatest and most privileged.

The first time around must have been terrifying. How did Luka feel winning something like that, achieving all the praise and great treatment as his body and mouth metaphorically dripped with still-warm blood? Did he feel like he fought and died a million times over? Was he cursing or tiredly resigned because winning means he has to do it all over again if your master wishes and his master is greedy? Was he thinking of Hyuna-A? Was the win so hollow and full of traumatic moments that he tucked it down once more because even for someone detached and bullied by his peers the entire ordeal had been too much? Was he rationalizing it? Did he feel like a sick bastard for his hunger for control on stage? I wonder how much he disassociates off-screen. I wonder if he ever stopped his habit of putting his mouth on things for sensory stimulation or if he just hides it behind closed doors to be publically presentable. I wonder if he's ever acted out, gotten punished severely, and never acted out again. When did Hyun-A escape? How much did he know about it? The only love he's been taught is the faux love between owner and owned. He's obsessed with control because he has no control over his life and the stage is the only place he gets it. Is it really so shocking that he declared Hyun-A as "his" in the past and wishes she'd let herself be owned by him? This entire thing is so fucked up, and I still don't know enough about this man to be satisfied.

Luka has been stuck in this loop of being a product that exists for public consumption for at least ten years, so please excuse him if he's tired and working on instincts to live and desire for control turned to lifeless (yet pretending to be full of it) and brokenly presenting art of which he knows/thinks the muse of will never see.

[teecupangel]

Hello, me again! (I feel as if I'm bothering you..)

Now, this has been in my head for a bit;

But what if Ziio married Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton was raised as a Templar? (Feel free to give him another sibling or two, as well. ^^)

Sibling!Desmond as well, cause not. XD

Also, let's throw Mrs Davenport and Conner Davenport into this as well, say they survived typhoid fever. Would Conner Davenport be trained as an Assassin?

(I'm totally not asking because I lowkey wanna make Laura a Templar now XD)

(It’s no bother. I actually feel a bit bad since I’m like… 10ish days late on asks and 2ish months late on reblogs/replies XD)

Let’s go for the funny things first.

Charles Lee will become Ratonhnhaké:ton and his siblings’ reluctant emergency babysitter. There is no escape. This is his fate. Charles Lee is that annoying ‘uncle’ that sucks up to their father too much so they don’t like him.

Shay could be everyone’s favorite uncle but I doubt it since we’re keeping Abigail and Connor alive. One of the hints that Achilles wasn’t fit to be the mentor was the conversation Shay and Liam had about how the death of his family changed him. Also, I stand by my headcanon that Abigail acted like everyone’s mother and she helped kept Achilles grounded and reminded him to not be brash. So there’s a high possibility that Shay wouldn’t defect in this one but would probably become distant with the Brotherhood due to Lisbon, acting more like a Rogue Assassin that focuses on making sure any Isu-related devices wouldn’t be used by either faction. So Shay could be an uncle of sort but more like ‘that annoying man who keeps getting in everyone’s way’.

Connor Davenport would definitely be an Assassin and might even be trained by Shay himself (although it’s more possible that he’d be trained by his father, Hope and Liam). He would also inherit the Aquila and, if Shay doesn’t become a Templar, he’d see Adéwalé as his sailing instructor as well.

Now, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Laura would have no problem becoming Templars. Hell, they could have looked up to their father and wanted to follow his footsteps. Even if Kaniehtí:io had reservations about it, she wouldn’t stop them from following their desires, only stopping them long enough to remind them to always think about their actions and taking responsibility of the consequences of their actions. The Templars in this one would definitely side with the tribes because Haytham is not impartial anymore and none of the Templars would disagree with him.

And that’s where we will hammer in the angst. Because the youngest of the Kenway children is Desmond Kenway and he remembers his life as Desmond Miles. Becoming a Templar would feel like a betrayal not only to the memories of Altaïr and Ezio but of the Assassin Ratonhnhaké:ton. He loves his family, he truly does, but there are many times when he wondered if this life of theirs was better than the life Ratonhnhaké:ton had back in the original timeline. Sure, he had lost his mother and he was forced to kill his father but… would the world truly be better if he lets the Templar take over America?

Can he truly kill the Assassins trying to stop them? (Even if some of them were dealing with the morally dubious part of the cities?)

Honestly, this can go either way with Desmond. Either he followed the path of the Templar to change it form the inside, becoming a beacon to the moderate Templars like Monsieur de la Serre and his cohorts in Paris and pushing for peace with the Assassin (which will lead him to be in conflict with Haytham who doesn’t believe that the two faction would ever be at peace) or he leaves the family he loves and becomes an Assassin to stand against them (and maybe having some kind of “are we allies? Are we enemies? What are we???” relationship with Connor Davenport).

Either way, there’s gonna be Kenway drama and it’s definitely going to be because of Desmond Kenway.

(sidebar: even if Desmond becomes a Templar, he would definitely have a “are you my enemy or are you trying to help me???” relationship with Connor Davenport, mainly because he still remembers the sadness Ratonhnhaké:ton felt when he heard of how Achilles lost everything and because Connor Davenport is pretty much the most acceptable Assassin in America at the moment. Laura and Ratonhnhaké:ton would definitely mistake this to some kind of forbidden love, no matter what Desmond says. Haytham would stress that he isn’t mad that Desmond likes men, just disappointed that Desmond likes an Assassin. Kaniehtí:io believes Desmond doesn’t have any romantic feelings for Connor Davenport but also she enjoys seeing her family get overworked by something like this.)

[bansheeoftheforest]

I see you are asking for oneshot requests! Might I offer; truth serum but Jekyll isn't drunk this time, and the Lodgers have to deal with the guilt of their founder actively panicking as he spills his secrets. (Bonus: Jekyll trans reveal + Ito loudly stating her support of him/him reconciling with the Lodgers)

!!!!! I am DEFINTIELY Rusty and realized now that I am finished that I could have probably moved this in a different direction, but I hope the wait was worth it and that you'll enjoy this oneshot!! :D

also pls tell me if there are any mistakes because I've been trying to read through this a million times and I've forgotten how to post fics- help-

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Title name: Secrets To Be Found

Wordcount: 4989

Summary: As Virginia Ito tries to keep her mentor calm during a day of anxiety, Dr. Ranjit Helsby and Mr. Seward Griffin decide that it is time to get some truths out of their founder.

Relationships: Robert x Jekyll (mentioned), Morcant x Jekyll (mentioned)

CW: Unconsenting drug use, internalized transphobia, transphobia

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Helsby was up to something. 

  The man was a gossip, and by extension, he was always in someone else’s business, trying to find out more and more in an almost deliberate attempt to get his curiosity killed. Dr. Jekyll had never liked it, never liked it when the older man would smirk and grin, like he knew something you didn’t, which he often did. It was uncanny already, but this time... He did not like what his gut feeling was telling him. 

  He had tried to wave it all off, when it first started happening earlier this week. When Helsby would throw smug glances towards Griffin, as if silently communicating. He did not have any capacity to care much about either of them, he would not have cared if Griffin was the target of Helsby’s plot, yet he knew that that wasn’t the case. Griffin was a recluse even among the Lodgers, his temper and chronic migraines often kept him from forming any sort of positive connection with any of them, and so his sudden friendship with Helsby was... Concerning. His own suspicion was not quelled when a handful of days passed and their dubious behaviour only seemed to get worse.

  Safe to say, Dr. Henry Jekyll was nervous. 

  He forced himself to ignore this -probably imaginary- plot, and yet he had woken up with a horrible feeling within his very bones. He wasn’t really sure what it was, something within him was just... Jittery. Something was crawling inside of him but it was nothing he could put a finger on. He was almost certain that it wasn’t Hyde, as he had, in his own way, been quite calm and genuine the last few days, at least not seeming like he knew what was up with Jekyll or their body. He was not a stranger to anxiety, of course; but his anxiety normally came from something, it hadn’t come up without a reason in years, and that thought alone almost made him more nervous. Perhaps there was a reason, but really, why would he be nervous if Helsby and Griffin simply had a little prank planned? He could almost be certain he would not be at the receiving end, and yet...

  The anxiety had only worsened during the day, perhaps solidified by a familiar, nauseating feeling within his body; a dysphoria in which everything within and regarding his body felt wrong, no matter what he changed or how much he had convinced those around him that he was a perfectly normal man. Deep down, he felt- or perhaps knew- that he wasn’t. His jaw was not angled enough, his waist was too thin, his hips were too wide and his hair was too long- otherwise obscure details to his appearance which now felt like tell-tale signs of his biological sex. Perhaps that was what had caused the anxiety; the very fear that someone, at some point, would find out, and especially so when he knew- or assumed- that Helsby and Griffin were sniffing for vulnerable secrets. It wasn’t like he only had one skeleton in his closet, either. There were a myriad of things which someone could find out about him, which would inevitably ruin his life, and his imperfect body was merely one of those. 

  Regardless, the physical signs of his illness had manifested quite early and throughout the entire day. By breakfast, his hands had been shaking, and his cup of tea had slipped right out of his grasp and shattered onto the floor, making him jump as his heart practically galloped out of his chest. Before noon, another one of Luckett’s fires had gotten a bit too close to the chemistry lab, and while it had been nothing but a minor explosion, with minimal harm to equipment and no harm done to any of the Lodgers, it had still been enough to scare the doctor out of his boots and leave the anxiety in a thick lump in his throat. After noon, yet another bill came, another one that would be put in the “overdue” pile before the end of the week. Safe to say, Jekyll couldn’t wait for this day to be over. 

  It was evening now. The Lodgers had clearly noticed their founder’s jumpiness. They had asked, of course, but Jekyll didn’t have answers. He didn’t know why he was like this today, all he knew was that he had slept and he had not consumed anything out of the ordinary, he did not drink anything remotely caffeinated and so he could not have made himself into a pile shaking bones through overconsumption. Whether or not the Lodgers believed that was an entirely different question. He was just happy that Robert was not here to see him like this. He was not necessarily ashamed of his irrational nervosity, but he knew that Robert would worry and, quite frankly, not leave his side until he had gotten him to calm down. 

  ... 

  Perhaps that would have been a good thing, actually. 

  But it was too late now. Ito seemed to have sensed his nervosity, regardless. She was often a quite strict and stoic lady, but she could never help but to worry for her mentor, she seemed to sense his distrust and paranoia and had stayed close for most of the day, after the little explosion in the chemistry lab. Jekyll could get no work done today, and Virginia could not focus on her own work when her worry clouded her brain, and so they had spent the majority of the afternoon in Jekyll’s office. He laid down on his couch, one arm covering his eyes to block out the light in an attempt to rest, while Virginia stayed by his desk and looked through some of his old notes. Notes which he knew were safe, notes that she would be studying, as his junior. But it was getting late now, and Ito knew that Jekyll’s anxiety would not be made any better on an empty stomach. He had been reluctant, of course; he felt safer in his office, but Virginia did not want him to eat alone and there wasn’t enough space for the two of them to dine in here, so Virginia helped him up and linked their arms together as they left the office in search of the dining hall, where Rachel would have prepared today’s dinner. Jekyll could not help but look around in every corridor, as if afraid that someone was watching, or that something more would go wrong when he least expected it. He, of course, told Ito that it was just his nerves, and it was. It was not a lie, she knew it wasn’t a lie, but it sure as hell did not make her any less nervous. 

  They came right by rush hour. The dining hall was filled with chattering Lodgers, all behaving perfectly normal and no one seeming out of the ordinary. Mrs. Cantilupe and Miss Lavender met them with sympathetic ‘how are you feeling’s, and Luckett once more apologised for the day's mishap. The alchemists sat down by their own table, a bit further away from the rest. 

  Jekyll didn’t have an appetite. How could he, when his stomach was riddled with knots? The mere sight and smell of the food got him to feel full, but Ito had none of it, and left the table to get them both something to eat. She knew what her mentor liked and what would be good for him, after all, and she would make sure that he ate what he could.

  But then again, this also meant that she left Jekyll alone. 

  His hands rested on the table. One grabbed the wrist of the other, thumb against his veins where he managed to feel his own rapid heartbeat, and he continued to look around. As he was turned away, he soon felt the chair next to him move, and as he looked back, he was met with the grinning face of none other than Dr. Ranjit Helsby- possibly the last person Jekyll wanted to see today.

  “My good fellow!” he greeted, “how’s it going?” 

  Jekyll blinked, confusion already evident.

  “I... I’m sorry, did you need something?” 

  Helsby waved him off. He grabbed the teacup that was neatly placed by Jekyll, pulled a teapot into view from vaguely under the table and poured tea for the other doctor, before giving him back the cup.

  “Nothing at all! I just wanted to see how you were feeling, good sir.” 

  Jekyll squinted. Helsby -sarcastic, dramatic or not- never called Jekyll “Good” or “Sir”, and certainly not both in succession. Helsby was not quiet about his general dislike for Jekyll, or perhaps dislike was a strong word. He often thought that he was a toff, and he very clearly did not like the direction to which Jekyll was moving the Society, but that didn’t have to mean that he actively disliked him. Still, Henry did not trust his newfound politeness, and yet he also knew that it would only be terribly rude of him to dismiss the diplomacy which was now offered. He noticed that Helsby already had a cup of tea for himself, and as the other doctor raised his in a silent ‘cheers’, Jekyll had no choice but to smile politely and do the same, before taking a sip. As the liquid went over his tongue, he winced, doing his best to not cough up the metallic fluid right afterwards- what on earth was this abomination of a tea? He tried not to gag, really- it was absolutely foul-... He recognised it, he recognised the metallic taste and the sour smell- but from where? 

  He felt someone moving towards his right, soon Griffin slammed the palms of his hands against the table quite aggressively, making Jekyll jump and successfully gaining the attention of the Lodgers by the nearby tables.

  “Well well, Jekyll,” He said, smugness evident, “You would not mind telling us a few things, right?” 

  His grin left little to the imagination, less like a human smile and more like baring teeth, more like a threat. Jekyll almost sank back into his chair, his heart beating and beating like it was about to crack through his ribs. Still, he tried to act calm, and pressed out a forced smile. 

  “Whatever do you mean?” 

  By this rate, or perhaps by Griffin’s loud movements, the rest of the hall had fallen silent and the Lodgers’ attention was now on the three men. Virginia, who was just on her way back, quickly placed the plates with food down at the nearest table and rushed towards her mentor. It was in this moment that Jekyll recognised the liquid which had practically been forced upon him, and he felt the panic take hold of his body.

  Truth serum.

  But it was too late.

  “Jekyll, what are your biggest secrets?” 

  Something within Jekyll stirred, an involuntary feeling which was not unlike the one which rose when Hyde took over control- his tongue began to move, and the words began to spill from his lips faster than he could process what he was doing. 

  “I was born a woman.” 

  The men’s expressions were unreadable, yet Jekyll continued, spellbound.

  “I’m bisexual and I’ve been in love with Robert Lanyon for over 15 years.” the words practically tumbled out of his mouth, he barely processed what he had said as the next confession slipped out, “I was in an unhealthy relationship with an ancient werewolf named Morcant.” His heart continued to thrum, he could feel how his breathing quickened, “I don’t think I’m good enough for anything and I fantasise about throwing myself off of the cliffs of Dover but I’m way too busy to even entertain such a thought” He attempted to struggle, to shut up, but he was as paralyzed in his chair, until his last confession finally came out, “I’ve been hallucinating my minds most horrifying creatures for weeks and I am Edward Hyde.” 

  …

  Silence. 

  He was hyperventilating, now. Jekyll’s mind was an absolute mess, trying to process what had just happened- and yet the Lodgers around him just stared, mouths agape. He tried desperately to speak once more- any explanation, hell- any anger which he could throw towards the perpetrators- and yet he couldn’t. His vision- he hoped it was just panic- started to blur, and before he knew it, he had already pushed the chair away from the table, as he quickly got up and just ran, out of the room, into the corridors. 

  He heard yelling behind him. He heard rapid footsteps of Lodgers who tried to follow him. He was not sure where he was going, but he would rather be anywhere but near the Lodgers- his dear Lodgers to which he had split all his secrets, and Griffin and Helsby, who had drugged him and forced him into this. He had been drugged- just like that- His heart pounded within his chest, like a hare with a heart attack. Before he knew it, he was back in his office, slamming the door closed behind him and locking it from the inside, before the exhaustion took hold. His legs gave in, and he sank back against the door. He could barely process the footsteps that ran after him now stopping in front of the very office he hid in.

  “Jekyll? Henry! Henry- Please, open the door!”

  It was Virginia, banging on the door in hopes that he would, in fact, open up for her. He heard more footsteps as more Lodgers arrived, he could hear their various voices through the door. He pulled his knees up to his chest, attempting to hide his face despite there being no one to see him.

  “You BASTARDS!” 

  Virginia seemed to turn her attention away from the door. He could hear shuffling and high-pitched yelps.

  “How DARE you do this to him?! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELLS WERE YOU THINKING?!”

  “We didn’t think he- or she- or- whatever- was going to have THAT many secrets!” 

  “HE. Don’t you DARE call him by any different-” 

  “Hello? Did NO ONE hear that he confessed to BEING Hyde!?”

  As the third voice spoke, the commotion stopped, briefly, like they all started to properly think about the things he had said. Soon more Lodgers began to speak. 

  “...Well- he also said that he is a bisexual!” 

  “Yeah, but is anyone even surprised by that?” 

  “Should we not focus on the fact that he said he wanted himself DEAD?-”

  “Fantasising about jumping off cliffs is not the same!”

“Then what the HELL is it?” 

  Oh, God...

  He could try to escape. He could take the HJ7 and jump out of the window like he usually did, escape into the night and not come back- well... Not come back until he thought the Lodgers had calmed down, that is. At the same time, he felt paralyzed. To think that he had freely and openly admitted his deepest regrets to the Lodgers- Lodgers, who were now arguing about the severity of what he had said. At the same time, his mind was only filled with the shame of his very first and last confessions; he had not been a woman in multiple decades- if he ever was- but his body was itching by a need to practically pull off his own skin in an attempt to rid himself of what made him unmanly and a monster, of what made him the abomination he is, the horrid thing which the Lodgers now knew about. That was to not even mention that he had just told them everything- from his shameful love for Robert and his horrid affair with Morcant- he had told them that he created Edward Hyde. Why could he not have simply been allowed to forget it all? Why did they have to dredge up the past- could they not have let him keep his secrets? They had no right, yet they had taken that liberty, unaware or uncaring about the damage they had done. 

  His mind was a mess, still trying to grasp what had happened. He couldn’t help it when a sob broke free. He could barely hear the Lodgers outside quieting down, destroying any hope that they weren’t hearing his anguish.

  “Henry... Please, open the door. Griffin and Helsby are gone, we just want to help you.” 

  He didn’t believe it. He knew Virginia just wanted to help, but he did not believe for a second that the rest of the Lodgers wanted to. The others... He could barely imagine what they thought. Were they going to mock him? Or were they upset over the lies he had led them to believe? Would they blame this on him? Or perhaps some were already on their way to tell Frankenstein about what they had heard?

  He felt something push against the door, and then the sound of something sliding down. On the other side, Virginia mirrored his position.

  “Henry, I’m not leaving until you open the door. I can stay here all night if I need to.” 

  Through his tears, he couldn’t help but snort. As a Lodger, he only believed that she was staying to force more truth out of him, to shake out every last secret until he was nothing more than a sack of skin, but as his junior… Deep down, he could perhaps believe that she did care. It was confusing, yet a pleasant thought. He had no doubt that she would stay, she had always been stubborn, he couldn’t deny that. Whatever her true intentions were would, seemingly, not be revealed until he opened the door, but he was sure she wouldn’t stay that long...

...

He wasn’t sure how long they had stayed like this, now.

  It was darker outside. He was certain it had been at least a few hours since the mishap in the dining hall, the serum should have worn off by now. He had not dared to show himself since, he had not moved from his paralyzed place against the door, but he was quite sure Virginia hadn’t either.

  It was stupid, all of this. 

  He began to wonder if he had overreacted. Or perhaps underreacted. Griffin and Helsby had violated him in a way few could have managed… But he had no real choice, now. It was getting late, he had to open the door eventually and until then, he would be barricaded in his office, alone with nothing but his thoughts. He just wanted all of this to be over, even if it hurt. 

  He took a deep breath, and with shaky legs, he stood up and unlocked the door. 

  The sound of the lock and the push against the mahogany seemed to be enough to get Virginia to jump up and get away from the door, making Jekyll able to actually open it. She was ruffled, but she had indeed not left. He barely managed to fully open the door before she threw her arms around him.

  “Oh, Henry.” She murmured, her arms going tightly around his neck. She was not much shorter than him, but she still had to stand on her toes to be fully able to reach him. He could not help but melt against her, his own arms going around her waist as he buried his face in her shoulder. They did not often hug- he was her mentor, after all, and she did not like people touching her, but this felt... Nice. 

  After what felt simultaneously like too little and too much time, they parted, and Virginia placed her hands on Henry’s cheeks. Behind her, he could see the faces of various other Lodgers, who also had stayed, although he wasn’t necessarily sure why.

  “You don’t have to talk about anything, if you do not want to, but please, do not run away from us again.” 

  She didn’t necessarily sound heartbroken, but he knew her well enough to know that she most likely was. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

  “I’m... I’m sorry. Please, forgive me- for everything.” 

  She scoffed, shaking her own head in a gesture that seemed to only be aimed at herself. “I don’t think you have anything to apologise for”, she said. Her hands moved to straighten Jekyll’s cravat and waistcoat, equally ruffled from his stay on the floor. “What is important is that you are fine. Yes, there might be things that need some explaining, but that can wait. I have no doubt that you have good explanations for everything. ” 

  Jekyll took a deep breath, and looked around at the group of Lodgers- his Lodgers, who had waited for him. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about it, truly. He was not sure of their intentions, but today’s constant panic had left him... Indifferent, stoic. Like every emotion had been squeezed out of him. Yet, as he looked over the gentle faces of his Lodgers, he couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows.

  “...What happened to Griffin and Helsby?” 

  He glanced back at his apprentice, and watched as her expression hardened. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she forced herself to not get aggravated once more. 

  “I made sure they are now at the mercy of Rachel, after what they did to you.”

  Jekyll winced.

  “Good god.” 

  “Mmhm. Serves them right.” 

  The other Lodgers seemed to nod in agreement. They seemed unanimous that what the two men had done in the dining hall was violating and horrid, no matter if it just so happened to be Jekyll and not one of them. It was… Surprising, and yet comforting, almost. But he sighed, moved forward a little, before closing the door to his office behind him. Mirroring his previous actions, he sank back down to the floor, expecting this conversation to take a while. 

  “I... Guess you’d like some explanations.” He said, exhaustion and hesitance clear.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I do. You all already know and I... I want to be able to explain.” 

  Virginia didn’t seem convinced, but accepted his stance. She sat down next to him, and the other Lodgers resumed their positions on the floor. 

  He began to explain Hyde; presumably his darkest secret. He did not want to dwell on it, he did not want to confess to the deprecation he had found himself in which had led him to Hyde’s creation, but he had to. And so, he explained, to the best of his ability; He is Hyde, but they are not the same. Hyde was everything that Jekyll thought wrong or imperfect with himself personified, yet he was his own person, with his own desires. He reiterated that they were separate multiple times, so none of them would think that they had been secretly talking with Jekyll, when they thought they were talking with Hyde. He stuttered and paused and had to regain himself multiple times, and through it all, the Lodgers just... Listened. Patiently. They simply let him finish his explanation on his own terms, without being forced. 

  Finally, as he quieted down, the silence remained for a few seconds. They understood, of course; what Jekyll had been feeling back then couldn’t have been easy, and while they were not entirely convinced of his reasonings for not telling them, they accepted it, and told him as such. They could especially comprehend his hesitance now, as they had not been particularly understanding of him and his situation lately, having been too busy admiring Frankenstein’s every word... At least Jekyll could feel happy that he did not have to dwell more on the fact that he didn’t feel like he was good enough, or the fact that he wanted to throw himself off of cliffs, as they seemed to have grasped that from his monologue about Hyde. 

  After a few seconds, Miss Lavender spoke.

  “Wait- did you not also say that you have been hallucinating? Was that also Hyde?” she asked, confusion evident. Jekyll grimaced. 

  “Ah- well... Yes and no.” he started, scratching his neck a bit awkwardly, “after Moreau, Hyde and I fought, and, well... I wouldn’t necessarily say that he created the hallucinations, but he certainly kicked them out the door. It was mainly because I hadn’t slept in almost a week, though. They disappeared soon after I actually did so.”

  “Was that why you looked constantly terrified a little while ago?” 

  “... Was it that obvious?”

  “Well, yes, we thought you were suddenly terrified of everything and everyone- even Ito and Lanyon!” 

  Jekyll winced, although he tried to get out an apologetic smile. He desperately hoped that this was all of it, that he was done with explanations and could be satisfied with a neutral reaction from the Lodgers. He took yet another deep breath.

  “Any-” he coughed, “any other questions?” 

  The Lodgers looked between themselves, then shook their heads.

  “Nah, we already know that you like men, and we don’t mind if you happened to have been born a woman” one of them said, making Jekyll’s cheeks burn red as he realised what he had missed. “Although, like- are you and Lanyon dating or..?” 

  Jekyll attempted to cough out the ball in his throat, to no avail. He felt himself sinking down further against the door as he attempted to hide his face, clearly wishing to escape the conversation.

  “I... We never... Dated, so to speak. We had a... A fling when we went to university, but he broke it off. And... I guess I haven’t moved on as well as I thought.” 

  He removed his hand and watched as the Lodger grimaced, Jekyll wasn’t sure if it was out of sympathy or because they thought he was pathetic, at this point it very well could be both. 

  “And the werewolf?” Sinnett spoke up, and promptly got nudged by Luckett.

  “... Once, back in university still, I went on a vacation with Lanyon, to his family’s cottage. We came upon an injured werewolf and I insisted on nursing her back to health... I- I was young, and easily manipulated. I don’t... Like to talk about it.” 

  Sinnett looked apologetic, and Ito began to rub her hand against Jekyll’s arm in an attempt to comfort him. God, he was exhausted. Considering it must be past midnight by now, it certainly wasn’t hard to understand why.

  “Well...” Ito began, “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we are... Sorry. We did not know about Griffin’s and Helsby’s plan, we were definitely not in on it- and at the very least I am sorry for what you have been through, then and now.” 

  Jekyll closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the door. Still, he smiled gently.

  “I know. I’m sorry you all had to bear witness to this.” 

  “I... I’m also sorry for... The Frankenstein situation,” Miss Lavender continued, “I didn’t know you were hurting so much.”

  Jekyll opened his eyes, and watched as the group of Lodgers nodded in agreement. He normally would have simply snorted, it was awfully convenient that they were so sorry after he had a break about it, it really was. Water under the bridge, sweep it under the rug, whatever they wished to call it- but he was too tired to think about how genuine they were, or how convenient it was for them now. He just wanted all of this to be over.

  “I accept your apologies.” he said simply. God, he just wanted to go to bed...

  He wondered, for a moment, if the perpetrators would apologise, later. Or if they would double down and state that they didn’t see what was so wrong with what they did. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong and violating, they had to know that, too. But whatever would become of them would be the topic of another day, for now, Dr. Henry Jekyll was absolutely drained. If he was lucky, he could end the day and tomorrow would be perfectly normal, no one would mention or talk about the fact that he had spilt the contents of his heart and soul for them, unwillingly at that. He doubted that that would be the case, but he could always hope. 

  A soft sigh escaped his lips. He was just about to stand up and state that he would be turning in for whatever remained of the night, when he heard his own stomach grumble. He felt how his cheeks once more flared up in embarrassment.

  “How about we see if Rachel has any food left in the kitchen, eh, Henry?” Ito suggested, “then you can sleep- and I will make sure you get no disturbances tomorrow.”

  He thought about it for a second, but was interrupted by yet another grumble. He couldn’t help but crack a sheepish smile at his dear apprentice. “You’ve convinced me.” 

And so Ito grinned, as she helped Henry stand up. The various Lodgers parted, some deciding to tuck in and others deciding to come with them for a late-night snack. It felt oddly anti-climatic for all of them, Henry especially, yet he was almost relieved. At least he could only be happy that his secrets had been... Accepted. Perhaps it all had just been his paranoia. Or perhaps it was fate, divine intervention- no, of course not. But his truths were told and his soul was bared, perhaps this was the beginning of a stronger foundation within his relationships with his Lodgers. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be curious. Of course he knew that he had been the target of Helsby’s and Griffin’s little plan, in some way he was glad that he was, so no other Lodger would have been at the receiving end of this treatment... 

  And yet.. he couldn’t help but wonder; if it had been someone else, what would they have said?

  After all, who knew what secrets you might find, if you only knew where to look?

[terrence-silver]

terry and john with a beloved they've known since they were fresh out the war. the 80s roll along and beloved is met with two people they can hardly recognise and they hate what they've become. how would terry and john react? what would they do if beloved tried to leave?

---

John Kreese?

John would understand and fully predict this, because I think he's a man with the type of mindset where he believes that serving in a war sets him apart from other people by default. He feels he's meant to be a lone wolf due to it. That there will be people who hate him for being a veteran and that they're idiots and sniveling weaklings for doing so. Flat out. That's the price you pay for defending your country; you can't ever go back to what you used to be and you shouldn't be able to go back. That fighting in Vietnam is an unique sort of lifelong brotherhood --- the type of thing you had to be there for in order to comprehend it and that he'll never exactly be one with the civilians ever again because of it; maybe for the better. That it was inevitable he'd change the minute he hopped unto that army bus. He knew what he signed up for. He doesn't shrink that responsibility.

He feels superior, in a sense, yet he's a cynical realist in other ways.

If he had an old beloved friend or sweetheart that doesn't recognize him or even like him years after he's returned home, the surprise isn't that big for him and chances are, if he avoided them, he avoided them, partially, on purpose, believing there isn't that much point maintaining contact in spite of his feelings precisely because he's so changed and the disconnect, in his opinion, would be far too great and beloved should go and form circles and make a life with those more similar to themselves. To each their own. This doll ain't a Cobra. Shouldn't be hanging around Cobras. He might even bluntly tell them this if they press him on reasons why he's been so callous and if they prove to be relentless, he'll intentionally gaslight them to make them seem like the irrational one. He ain't above tactically insulting them to hurt their feelings enough to get them to leave. Anything to get them away from himself. They hate what he's become? For their own sake, they should distance themselves.

But, it's not himself John worries about. It's probably Terry.

Terry who wouldn't understand that beloved might not like what he's become.

Why?

Because Terry feels and knows he's much improved.

He's stronger, faster, better, smarter and richer than ever before!

And because, oh --- Terry's changed after the war. Like, genuinely changed. You could fairly easily recognize a post-war John and a pre-war John if you put them side by side, but Terry after Vietnam and before it are literally two different people and John Kreese might just warn beloved off precisely for this reason too, among a line up of many others, because he understands why Terry's the way Terry is, but beloved wouldn't. John knows why Terry's mannerisms are so changed. Why he adopted new speech patterns. What's the story behind that ponytail. He knows it all. Having been Terry's Captain in Vietnam, he might feel, in a weird way, responsible for him. To beloved, it all might seem scary, baffling, confusing, bizarre and something out of a horror story. Furthermore, John also knows that Terry isn't likely to let beloved go if their paths ever cross again, and chances are, he's never forgotten them either and has actively looked for them --- a search that doesn't last long at all, with his tenacity, connections and wealth at play. Once he finds them though, of course he's baffled beloved doesn't like what he's become. Unlike John, of course it takes him by surprise they want to run. Of course he's almost offended that they don't want to immediately move in with him, go for drinks, a vacation, and a dip in the jacuzzi to reminisce about the good, old days. But, no matter. Somehow, even beloved's distaste gets Terry going. In an odd way, it rouses him. He likes it. They've always belonged to him and John. Everything about them did. Their virtues. Their flaws. Every their hatred.

Now that the war is long since over?

Terry figures it's time to collect what was always theirs.

And by god, does John ever get dragged into it by a very vehement and stubborn Terry and starts, at first, begrudgingly participating in the hunt, initially, to make sure Terry doesn't go too far with you and that you don't get hurt, but eventually, him playing the sidelined referee and spectator Terry is 'putting up a show for' is a short lived thrill and he more than willingly begins relishing in hunting you down just as much as Terry does.

Turns out, there's no escaping these two.

Whoops.

[pretzelcoatll]

Day 2 of @torque-witch #Witchtober2024:

Something in the Air

I need to get out of this town. 

The world ended so suddenly. Or, at least what we used to call the world. None of us could have expected it to happen. I remember, the day before I was at my nephew's fifth birthday. It was themed after some children's cartoons with color coded zebras. My parents had shown up late and I had work early the next morning, so I barely got to see them. I didn’t even get to hug my dad goodbye. They’re all gone now. 

Some extra dimensional creatures slipped into ours through a hole just outside of our atmosphere that night. At least that's what the scientists on the TVs said. They’re probably not alive anymore either. News and propaganda spread fast. Creatures that consume humans. Only moving in darkness. The religious dubbed them demons. Some streamer apparently tried to exercise one. Mods had probably been taken by that point because what immediately followed was 5 minutes of the poor guy getting ripped to shreds through an infrared lens, and then 40 minutes of the sounds of flesh tearing and bones crunching as the creature slowly ate him.

I don’t know how I survived this long. One incidental happenstance after another that kept me in places with enough light to last until sunrise. And that continued for what I'm pretty sure was about 2 weeks, though it felt like months until I came across this town. 

Situated across a small stone bridge from the main road was this 12 block by 7 block town. Only one way in, only one way out, with a large blood stained barely legible welcome sign that read “Welc- -shine”. The perimeter of this small island seemed to have been recently boarded up with large flood lights to shine light around. With the bridge boasting various forms of string light, solar charged path lights, and every few feet a large flood light on either side, all dark in the sunlight as I approached. The towns folk were nice and welcoming enough, they’d all lost loved ones and understood the value of “community”. 

Apparently the old residents of this town, who now only 6 of still remained, tried valiantly to fend off the shadows, and for the most part did well for themselves. The small man made island was well equipped with both diesel and solar powered generators, as well as their own gray water and reverse osmosis systems, all incase of natural disaster causing their inability to leave. So they have been able to support themselves as well as keep the majority of the town, and especially the perimeter well light in the darkness. 

My time here has actually been pretty easy going. If you don’t think about it all too hard it's almost like nothing has changed. We take shifts during the light hours to scavenge the neighboring cities of food and supplies, batteries being our biggest necessity. We’ve got a large hefty community garden that was started when we found one of the old ladies who used to live here was an heirloom seed collector. We threw a party that day. Some of the more mechanically inclined took it upon themselves to learn how to make a simple desalination plant to supplement the RO water. They also do repairs on the generators as needed. We fish, we play cards, we sing and dance and some of us even tried to find love again. We get new occupants every now and then. We also lose some of them during scouting parties. All in all it could have been worse. 

It’s been about 2 years since then. Food is more scarce and a bad storm took out a large portion of our crops, but we are rebuilding.  Although the scouting parties are always able to find good portions of meat lately. They say animals have been breeding a lot more abundantly. I know they are lying. 

I need to get out of this town. Because there is a scent in the air. And it smells delicious.

[maniacalmole]

               “Wouldst thou like the taste of butter? A pretty dress? Wouldst thou like to live—deliciously?”

               The girl’s breath shook. Her wide eyes stared into darkness. Her mouth formed the word, drawing it up from the depths of her, “Y—”

               And she was interrupted, by a new voice, a drawn out, “Hmmm.”

               Her eyes darted to the corner of the room.

               “Butter?” the voice said. It sounded, not sensuous, but dubious. What made it more shocking, it spoke at full volume, not loudly or harshly, but enough to break the dimness of the night. “Butter’s the best you can do?”

               The new figure—it appeared to be a man—was dressed in all black, not unlike the being she’d been speaking to moments before, who was now gaping at the newcomer in a way that somewhat ruined its air of confidence. The new figure was in shadow, but even the darkness of the room could not obscure his shock of flame-red hair, brighter than any she’d ever seen.

               “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he said, unfolding, striding forward. “I like butter. Big butter fan, here. But it’s, well, it’s not exactly unique, is it? We’ve all had butter, right? Here.” He stopped before her, blocking her view of the other figure. The red-haired man held out something in front of her. It was round, shining in the firelight. It was almost as bright as his hair. “When’s the last time you had one o’ these? Or did they even have them in England, yet, before you came over here? Right, you probably wouldn’t have been allowed them anyway, well, miss—Try this.”

               “What,” the girl said, her voice cracking. “What is it?”

               “This,” said the new speaker, “is an orange.”

               The girl took the orange, hesitantly, spun it around in her hands. Behind the new figure, the old one hissed, but the red-haired man snapped his finger and pointed it back at him, cutting him off.

               “Nope, that’s my thing. Goats don’t hiss, mate.”

               “This one is mine,” said the horrible whisper, sending chills down the girl’s spine once again.

               But the red-haired man paid him no mind. He just gestured to the orange, raised his eyebrows. She pressed her fingers into it—dug her thumb into the thick peel—pierced it, then started to rip it off. The smell hit her like a breath of fresh air. She peeled faster.

               “Don’t listen to him,” whispered the shadows. “I can give you—”

               “Oh, dresses, eh?” scoffed red. “Is that what you specialize in? Tell me, what is it they’re wearing right now, your gaggle of women out hiding in the woods, eh, Philly? Pretty dresses, is it?”

               The other man retreated even farther into the shadow, scowling at the newcomer. The girl hardly glanced at either of them. She’d peeled the fruit and reached the first slice, felt the cool juice on her fingers, and brought it to her mouth. It tasted like sunshine. She devoured the rest of it frantically.

               “Kid, if you want to be a real witch, talk to the most sensibly dressed woman in the village. Or the one wearing lots of patterns. Some of them do like maximalism.”

               “I don’t want to be a witch,” said the girl, looking up from the fruit, startled. Remembering. Coming back to herself.

               The red-haired man shrugged. “Suit yourself. S’pose I can’t blame you, with the examples you’ve been set.” He bent down and handed the girl another orange, which she started peeling immediately. “Go down south,” he told her, in a voice more gentle than any she’d heard in a while. “Some nice family’ll take you in. People are a lot nicer than you’ve been raised to believe, when they can eat an orange a day, trust me.”

               The girl looked up from the orange just long enough to glance into his eyes—they were different eyes, strange, for sure, but not quite like a goat’s—in fact they were a little aslant of a goat’s eyes, and any change was enough for her—so she nodded, then turned and went, shedding bright orange peel as she went.

               “You just had to come and mess it up,” whined the voice from behind the red-haired man. It sounded quite different when it spoke above a whisper. “And now she’s getting away, and—oh—oh, yep, look, she’s gone. Thanks a lot.”

               “Really, ‘Black Philip’?" The red-haired man smiled out the doorway, into the dark night. Nothing was left to show the girl had been there at all, except for the bits of peel on the ground. "One poor family out in the middle of nowhere? That’s the best you could do?”

               “I hate you.”

               “Fuck off, Phil.”

[melandrops]

Hi Melan!! :D I wanted to know if you could make a little goldenpunk drabble about Hobie and Pav about to go on a date and that hobie instead of showing up with his usual clothes shows up with a dress or skirt, it can be styled however you see fit. It's okay if you don't have time to do it, but thanks if you get to read the idea <3

Geat!! Of course :) This one kinda strayed from the prompt but it still features Hobie in a dress so I hope that is enough for you.

“Do you think we’re boring?”

The question comes out of nowhere. Hobie lounges on the bed while Pavitr sits at his desk, reviewing some paperwork he’d had to take home with him. Hobie plucks idly at his guitar, and Pavitr has long since grown used to the sound of it as background noise.

“Probably,” Pavitr replies absentmindedly, shifting his attention to a different set of forms.

Hobie grunts, and it doesn’t sound happy. Pavitr turns his attention to his boyfriend, who scowls into the bedsheets. The sight is enough to make him smile. “Why? Are you missing the glory days? When we would swing nonstop through the city and get in constant near death scrapes?”

Hobie makes a face that doesn’t entirely refute Pavitr’s assumptions. “I guess? Just seems a bit weird that I’m officially boring, now.”

“Well, we aren’t seventeen anymore. No need to be rushing off after the slightest taste of danger.”

30 hadn’t been a year either of them had really seen coming. But the new year had prompted conversations in the half dark, confessing to the desire for a future. The ensuing plans for what they wanted their lives to look like, keeping in mind that actually growing old together was a possibility that stopped seeming like a pipe dream.

“Yeah, but I mean, we could have fun without being idiots.”

Pavitr shrugs. “Did you have something in mind?”

At this, Hobie’s eyes light up. “I bet I could work something out. We could go on a date. A proper date.”

“A proper date, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll get it all arranged. Don’t worry about it.”

Anticipation starts to make its way into Pavitr’s pulse, something he hasn’t felt in a good while. He grins and returns to his paperwork.

***

Where Hobie’s plans are concerned, Gwen and Miles often end up being dragged into it. Such is the way of life. Some things never change. So Gwen is the one to blindfold him and lead him through the city, insisting that he’s going to like the surprise. Miles is apparently helping Hobie set it up, which could be either incredibly romantic or the most disastrous thing Pavitr has seen since the Noodle Incident of five years ago. Who’s to say?

“You ready?” Gwen asks, her hand clasped in his. Pavitr nods, trepidation and eagerness alike sparking through his veins.

She whisks the blindfold off and the sight is enough to have Pavitr floored.

A picnic laid out on the rooftop. Gingham blankets and nice cheeses and a single red rose in a vase. It’s picturesque.

The view pales in comparison to the sight of Hobie. He wears a beautiful green dress, offsetting his skin tone in a way that feels nothing short of remarkable. The dress hugs his hips and waist but flares out at the base. All of a sudden Pavitr is 27 again, watching Hobie come out of the changing rooms in that dress shop a few weeks before Miles and Gwen’s wedding.

“Like it?” Hobie asks with a grin as he saunters over. The way the dress flutters around his thighs is enough to make any man weak in the knees.

“God,” Pavitr sighs, leaning in to kiss Hobie. He lets the kiss deepen, flicking his tongue out against his boyfriend’s. “You’re perfect.”

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Hobie replies with a raised eyebrow, and that teasing confidence has never changed in all their years. Pavitr kisses Hobie again.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Hobie chuckles. “Love you too, flower.”

[rebelspektrum]

A story of two Titans - Destiny 2 OC story

When Maja was first risen, there was fear. Incomprehension. Her first reflex when she heard a voice was to try and protect herself.

A hand had grabbed her swinging fist, forbidding her from possibly harming her Ghost, Little Sunshine. When she calmed down just a little, she took them in. The floating shell and the towering man before her. So many question swirled in her mind. Who were they? Where were they? ... who was she? Maja had no recollection of anything. Not even her name.

The second thing she took in was their location. It seemed like it was a rundown hospital, the emergencies to be exact. Looking down, her clothes were torn in places, like slices done with a sharp object. Oh. A plastic bracelet. It seemed like a bit of it had resisted the passage of time, but all she could make out was "Maja L.... 16/12/2..." She frowned, mouthing her name. That was a start.

The man and her ghost observed her, until the ghost had lost its patience. "Listen, we can't stay here for long. Fallens are nearby and I'd rather be in a safe place for the night." Fallen? Maja tilted her head. So they in danger it seemed, at least judging from the urgency of that little floating thing.

The man extended a hand out to her, she was still laying on that hospital bed after all. That's when she started to really observe him. He seemed to be wearing a heavy armor, aside from a helmet at the moment. Said helmet was being held by his other arm. He had a dark complexion, tired eyes and messy hair. But he had a nice aura, Maja couldn't place it but she felt like she could trust him. Not that she had a choice either. When he spoke, his deep rumbling voice matched his soothing attitude to her. "It will make a bit more sense when I explain things to you. But for now, we need to move."

Nodding without thinking, Maja put her hand in his and helped herself up. Weirdly enough, she didn't feel lightheaded or tired. She felt full of energy but she couldn't place it. Once he was sure she could stand on her own, he put his helmet back on without as much as another word.

The little shell next to her spun before disappearing in a small cloud of light, speaking to her in her mind. "Don't worry, I'm still with you. I'll be able to tell you a bit more while you and big guy make it to his safe place."

And so, while they hurriedly navigated mazes of broken buildings and avoided all contacts with the Fallen, Little Sunshine explained to Maja that she was resurrected, that Sunshine was her Ghost and connection to the Light, that the world had changed and the times were dark now and that the man that was helping her was like her, a Titan and he choose to protect Little Sunshine in her quest to find her guardian. All the while, Maja was frowning deeply. So she died... she didn't know who she was either and had no way of knowing about her past either. Sunshine kept talking in her mind, rambling about what Hunters and Warlocks were, how as a Titan herself she was a force of nature. It made her stop in her tracks.

"This all feels surreal... and you're probably mistaken. You're saying I have... powers from the light?" Grumbled the small woman. Excitedly, her Ghost urged her to channel that energy she felt within her. Maja scoffed but humoured her, extending her palm and tried to gather said energy. What was shocking to her is that it worked. In her hand, a warm and radiant hammer formed. It seemed to weight a lot and it shimmered like a small sun.

The man that was ahead of her observed in silence, smiling under his helm.

___

Atawhai had found Little Sunshine for the first time when she had been cornered near a Fallen camp. He could hear loud shouting at the little Ghost tried to hide.

It took him no time to clear the zone out of the few dregs, his void energy consuming all it touched. The Ghost soon emerged, scared it could be one of the warlords or rogue guardians that used their power wrong. But none of it. The man swore to protect Little Sunshine and to help her risen guardian for as long as they would need it.

A noble cause, it gave him a goal in life. He himself had been risen for a couple of years already, narrowly escaping a final death one too many times from the hands of other guardians and fallens. But he came out stronger, wiser, still vowing to find a path.

Shaking his head slightly, he let his hand out, signaling to the Ghost to move out of her hiding spot. And slowly she floated into his open palm, his own Ghost greeting the new addition to his team. "My name's Dewdrop. And my Titan's one is-" "Kerehoma." His Ghost turned to him, before turning back to the other Ghost. The other little Light's shell spun. "I... I'm looking for my guardian. I can feel that I'm so close."

"Then we will help." Spoke Dewdrop with a very happy tone. The tall Titan remained with his palm open, nodding. He had seen so many atrocities, had almost lost Dew a few times which now prompted him to never let the little Ghost out anymore.

---

That might be my first time ever publishing a story online. If anyone reads it, thank you. English is not my first language and I didn't proofread this hhh I'm publishing it on impulse lmfao

[salternateunreality2]

Imagine Lucrecia had 2 sons. First with Vincent that she later gave away for adoption and second with Hojo.

She knew she f up with the second one, but maybe the first one can live a calm and uneventful life in Banora?

The Jones family adopted Baby Lucent. He was a smart, pale little kid that constantly stuck his nose into things he had no business snooping on. He found out about how the Rhapsodoses let their nanny hit their son, and how Genesis and Angeal were science experiments gone wrong. He saw the boys form a bond, playing together and sneaking over to see each other in the dead of night.

Lucent always wanted to join them, but was rarely able to see them during the day, when it would have been acceptable to talk to them. He was too quiet when he watched at night, and it would have been creepy to introduce himself then.

Lucent was his parents' only child, and grew up knowing he was adopted. They loved him and did their best, even when he'd materialize out of nowhere around the house like a ninja, starting from before he could crawl. Or when he'd just happen to know things that no one told him. He knew the mayor was sleeping with the butcher. He knew who his bio mom was and that she was a Shinra scientist. He knew the people who spied on him every few months were Turks. He guessed that either he was a Turk child or a lab experiment or both.

His mom and dad had longed for him so much, and they really did their homework in raising him. They paid careful attention to his emotional well-being, and encouraged and disciplined him to the very best of their ability. He loved them immensely, and they him.

So when he kept getting top marks at school, they didn't hesitate to put him in online and university classes, or to scrape together funds to support him when he went to Midgar to study. He was advanced enough that he got admitted early and went around the same time as Genesis and Angeal enlisted.

He worked hard, and by the time the Crisis Core era rolled around, he had a medical degree and employment with Shinra. More importantly, he had access to records now, was fast friends with Kunsel, and was constantly being courted by the Turks, who he turned down every time.

It did take up until this point to confirm his suspicions about the slope of Sephiroth's nose and the funny way his bangs grew, but now he knew, and now, at 11:30 am on a Tuesday, it was time to meet his half brother.

Lucent coughed once, then finally knocked on Sephiroth's office door.

"Come in," said Sephiroth. "Oh. What does the old man want now? Blood?"

Lucent blinked in confusion.

"I'm not sure who you mean; I'm here to deliver the report for the 3rd class health statistics," Lucent said.

"Very well, you may leave it on my desk," said Sephiroth, returning to his computer.

"I also wished to discuss something else with you."

Sephiroth sighed and fished around for a pen.

"Did you want an autograph?"

"No, I want to know if you remember our mother."

Time seemed to freeze, and the temperature of the room dropped.

"Excuse me?" Sephiroth asked, cold as ice.

"Lucrecia Crescent, listed as a primary scientist in the Jenova project. Long brown hair, same face as you, probably died when you were a baby...? I just want to know more about her, if you have more information."

"Get out."

Lucent felt animal fear jolt through his veins, but he powered through. He wasn't known for letting curiosity go easily.

"I understand this is a shock. I will leave, but please contact me if you change your mind," Lucent said, placing his card and the forgotten report on Sephiroth's desk. He kept his composure as he exited, closing the door firmly behind him, walking calmly down to his office, and shutting his own door.

Then he slumped against it, shaking and breathing hard. He'd be a stupid man not to be absolutely terrified from the energy in Sephiroth's office. He didn't know how long he sat there on the corporate carpet, trying to calm his nerves and telling himself he did the right thing, but he was interrupted by his PHS ringing.

"Dr. Lucent Jones," he answered automatically.

"Commander Rhapsodos. Look, Jones, I don't know who you are or where you've come from, but on behalf of Sephiroth, I will give you exactly one opportunity to speak with me. If I don't like what I hear, I will kill you. Meet me at the coffee shop on Loveless and 6th in one hour." Genesis paused. "Just to make it perfectly clear, I will kill you. This is a company line and I know Reno or someone is listening in. I will kill any Turks if they follow you, and if you're working with them or any other group to take advantage, I will kill everyone involved. If you don't show up, I will blackball you from practicing medicine in Midgar, but it will be better than death."

*click*

Lucent let out a strained laugh. Genesis Rhapsodos might be dramatic in everyday life, but that was not an idle threat.

---------

Lazard watched as a man in a lab coat left Sephiroth's office. That couldn't be good. As soon as the man left, Lazard tapped on Sephiroth's door, knowing he would have heard him coming. After a few seconds with no response, he swiftly entered, shutting the door behind him.

Sephiroth was sitting at his desk, completely motionless, pupils blown wide, gaze fixed on a stack of papers topped by a business card.

This wasn't going to be a good day.

---------

Eventually, Lucent is vetted by at least 3 layers of Sephiroth Protection Squad members, supported by Kunsel, and breaks into the inner circle. With him on their side, he's able to help with Genesis and Angeal's degradation using his Turk inclinations and medical knowledge.

He brings Sephiroth to meet his parents, and they love him and adopt him immediately, laughing over his ability to appear out of nowhere and cooing over his handsome funky bangs. They cherish his awkwardness covered by learned manners, fondly remembering Lucent's teenage years.

Lucent keeps digging, becoming more and more horrified between what he uncovers and what he hears from Sephiroth. He is right that this can't continue, and he is right that something must be done about Jenova.

He, Sephiroth, and Genesis go to Nibelheim with a spunky little trooper and Angeal's puppy. Shit goes down, but they ultimately find themselves with an emo vampire.

Sephiroth smirks weakly from where Genesis is practically holding him up.

"Guess it's my turn to spring some shocking parentage news on you, big brother," he says, nodding his head at Lucent and Vincent's matching red eyes and pale skin. Everyone laughs, relieved that Sephiroth is going to be ok, Jenova is dead, and the little trooper pulled through after being yeeted into a wall.

When they return to Midgar, Vincent kills Hojo and the president, and after the dust settles, Sephiroth retires to Banora. He has dinner with the Jones family most nights, and when Genesis or Angeal is in town, they eat apples together.

Lucent keeps his job at Shinra, helping the trooper through his mako sensitivity and his transition to SOLDIER. He's always wanted to help people, and Midgar is rife with interesting and difficult cases.

Of course, he visits home regularly to see his family, often tagging along when Lazard visits Sephiroth.

[latenightsleeper]

On the other side

Summary/idea: Tank in a relationship, more specifically MY Tank in a relationship..with you??? A bit of a character study on them ig

Warning(s): references to childhood trauma, past abuse, self-harm, depression, death, unhealthy behaviors and coping mechanisms—this is Tank guys it’s sadly a warning in itself

Characters: Tank/Darlin

-Let’s get something straight(the only thing straight about this tbh) you knew Tank before y’all dated, just how it goes

-another thing, Christian will be apart of your life too, no matter how you feel about the guy. He’s tanks rock and their his, can’t have one without the other

-Tank would always take a relationship slow, baby steps and very small moments of vulnerability in a way they’d find comfortable

-considering that you’re seeing Tank means that you have some measure of patience, or a masochist, either works fine. You’ll need either for Tank

-getting to know Tank is like pulling teeth, actually more like trying to get your patient down to get at their teeth but you have to fight them to do that. It is a long, drawn out, painful process full of fuck ups and wrong turns.

- if you manage to chip away at Tanks walls? Pass their internal tests on you and well..it’s something, there’s no overnight change, no sudden clarity of why Tank acts the way he does

-Tank is a extremely reserved person, very secretive and holds back from engaging in conversations for multiple reasons and purposes

-most of it stemming from not being talked to enough as a child and then young teen when they moved, not a lot of people cared to talk to them and bc of that, they don’t share anything about themselves

-Still, hang around Tank and you’ll learn lots about them from simply existing near them, watching him

-Tank speaks with actions better than words, the words get all jumbled and wrong when they wanna talk so he just shows you with their actions

-Tank doesn’t actually hold things in his hands if they can help it, makes him nervous especially if what their holding is delicate in nature

-when they do however, it’s always obvious to whoever looks close enough that Tank is holding whatever he’s holding with great care. Always soft hands with this one

-speaking of hands, when you hold hands with Tank for the first time it’s very..gentle, very soft and careful. Tanks hands aren’t the smallest but their very fine ig, surprisingly slender and elegant fingers.

-depending on if their wearing gloves you can feel the calluses and scars, maybe feel how one finger still stutters due to a bad healing job from a while ago

-Warm, soft hands Tank has, very gentle when holding someone else’s since they don’t engage in physical contact like this normally.

-rubs your knuckles with their thumb or soft squeezes

-this probably goes without saying but Tank struggles with their mental health, this of course affects their relationships both romantic and platonic

-Tank will ghost you, on purpose and on accident. No if or buts, he WILL do it, sorry man :/

-Tank also has anger issues but not in the stereotypical breaking glass and yelling—no no no

-They hold their anger inside of them, a tight and careful grip on that ball of rage in them. Tank very rarely would lash out and very rarely would that be physical, he may not talk much but when they do and when Tank is angry? Makes you wish he’d just punch you honestly

-Tank normally leaves when they feel like they could hurt someone or they feel that careful control they have on themselves slip a little.

-hence the ghosting

-he will leave for hours, never saying anything about what they did during those hours (sometimes even days) but they do return

-they normally apologize

-if you ask about their childhood they won’t say much, very clinical about it, no feelings attached to it

-Tank would say “ it was a life I lived..it could have been a lot worse so I’m…grateful..for what I got.. “

-they also have RSD or Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria, any form of rejection—made up in their head or not is damaging

-one of the reasons he’s so distant honesty, their life has been one rejection after another

-he has many many scars, tank doesn’t care about them but knows they can make others..dicey

-many of them were infected on them but some were..done by their own hands

-anyway, have I ever mentioned how Tank loves to cook? Bc they do, greatly but they don’t get to cook a lot

-so if you get close enough, expect lots of homemade food containers for you

-is actually a good grill master, they learned a lot from their father and uncles when they had em

-is actually very proud to be apart of the Shaw pack

-despite receiving very little physical affection, when you get close enough Tank is very touchy

-pinky linked, a hand on your back or shoulder or even waist if you’re comfortable with that. It’s not the most showy but they find it comfortable

-also expect Tank to try and hide behind you at least twice

-they will and could do your hair if you ask nicely, would honestly spend hours just brushing your hair or styling

-Tank is quiet quick witted and snarky, they just so happen to mumble and talk quietly where no one hears anything

-speaking of voice; it’s a low and raspy voice, not unpleasantly so, monotone normally unless you really get Tank going then there’s a lot of character

-Tank wouldn’t actually introduce themselves by their name, using their nickname ‘ Tank ‘ normally

-they’d let you borrow clothes-just not the leather jacket

-they live in oversized clothes, the only thing that fits them well would be their boots and gloves so there’s something for you even if you’re taller than them

-if you managed to crash at their place and you can’t sleep, if you ask really nicely and say you’ll buy them a chocolate muffin, they will play the violin for you

-sadly they don’t like playing as much as they used to due to the injuries on their hands making them shake sometimes and messing up their playing

-for some reason, most animals love Tank. Call em a Disney princess or something

[keithisbae1]

Modern Sasuke X Shippuden Sakura - Part 5

She didn’t know how long she had been running other than needing to get far away from them as she possibly could. She was out of breath, her legs ached and her heart tore in two. 

The pain was all too much. How could she think falling in love with the same man would be any different from being with her own Sasuke? Sure, maybe he did like her but not in the way she wanted. He loved her because she looked like his Sakura and that was all there was to it. 

‘You… remind me of her sometimes.’

Even he admitted that but that was a given. I mean they were them… kind of.

Sakura shook her head before confusing herself even more.

At first, with them spending all these years together Sakura thought there might have been the slightest hope he would fall for her. For who she was. He was the only person she could be herself with having to pretend to be the other Sakura among all their friends.

Sometimes it got so tiring and she would do something out of character, to which he would cover and say she was ‘cranky’ or ‘didn’t get enough sleep the previous night.’ With the look on their faces, questioning they all wondered if the two were together.

This wasn’t high school anymore where his covering up for her made more sense, they were grown adults so how would he know what she got up to at night? And the answer was simple really, they spend all their time together. Still searching and hoping that something would come up but after so long and failed attempts Sakura gave up and decided to stay and live this life. I mean what could she do now for her other friends after spending all these years here?

‘Unless you want to keep looking, for your Sakura that is. I don’t mind-’

‘Don’t bother.’ He told her. ‘Chances are she might have given up as well…’ He didn’t seem happy at the thought but if they couldn’t find anything then what hope did the other Sasuke and Sakura have?

Considering his other self wasn’t even in the picture, to begin with.

‘If we do find something… we’ll take it. And then we can go back to our own lives.’ There was a smile on her face hoping to cheer him up. 

To be more positive.

She was just glad she had one person she could talk to in this world.

That was what she said back then and now this.

Did she even want to go back? What was the point? But if Sasuke had his Sakura back here, then she couldn’t stay here either? 

‘Why do I get myself into these situations?’

Sakura was so caught up in her head that she hadn’t realised where her feet were taking her. To the cherry blossom tree where the other Sasuke had taken her and since had been their hang-out place. 

When in reality it was a place special to both him and the other Sakura.

Life really hated her.

Still, this was the only place to bring comfort and a bit of peace to mind so, she knelt down trying to pretend and imagine that everything was normal.

As normal as they could be.

Then why wouldn’t the tears stop forming? 

It had been more than a few hours and the kunoichi felt someone sit beside her, there was only one possible guess as this was ‘their’ place and indeed as she glanced at him it was the other Sasuke sitting there.

Of course, it wouldn’t be hers. Then again, he probably wouldn’t know how to approach her. It’s been how many years now?

Sakura quickly wiped her eyes and looked away.

“I thought I told you I wanted to space.”

“I know, and I did give you space but I’m not leaving you out here by yourself.” He replied coolly looking straight ahead. There was a silence that followed after, neither one daring or knowing what else to say.

“They’re at my place right now, it’s not like we can have two of us wandering about.”

“Mhmm,” she responded not really wanting to talk about them. So, this was it right? Tomorrow she would be back in her own world, with her own friends and family.

To some degree Sakura was happy, she had missed them so much but wondered how much had changed. It seemed they all knew about the predicament which led her to believe going back home would mean she would have to adjust again.

Knowing everyone would be older and had changed.

At least this time she would be prepared mentally.

“I…” Sakura shifted and Sasuke turned to look at her.

“I just wanted to say, thank you. For everything really.” Now, why did this feel like Deja Vu? 

“I mean you helped me throughout all this,” Sakura felt herself fidgeting feeling nervous with his gaze.

“And I don’t think there’s anything I can do to show you how grateful I am. So uh thanks.” Why did she have to ramble? Now it felt even more awkward and embarrassing. 

She hadn’t noticed the tears falling until his hand gently cradled her head and brush them away.

She felt herself leaning into him and couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

Was he as upset as she was about leaving but that wouldn’t make any sense right? He loved someone else. 

“Sakura,” she hummed in response and that was when she noticed how close their faces were. Until he closed the gap and pressed his lips onto hers.

Wait, what?

They were kissing?

Even his eyes were closed, Sakura pulled back and quickly stood up separating them. Her heart was pounding so fast.

“Are you insane? You can’t kiss me!” No. No, no, no, no. He couldn’t do this to her. Not now and what would happen if the other Sakura and Sasuke found out?

“Why not?” Why? WHY?! Because they were from two separate universes. He had his Sakura and she had her Sasuke. That’s why! What more reason was there.

Instead of waiting for her to respond, he stood up and carefully approached her. She felt so small and vulnerable standing in front of him.

That she’ll give in and allow herself to be selfish.

“Are you staying?”

“What?” 

“Are you staying?” Staying?

“I… you know I can’t…” Even if she wanted to, this wasn’t her home. She had no right to be here.

“Then this is enough,” he laced their hands together. “Be selfish and I’ll be selfish with you.”

“But you don’t-” Don’t love me was what she wanted to say but he hushed her with his finger.

“If I say it, it’ll only make things complicated.”

Complicated? So did that mean he did?

Then what about her?

“We can have tonight, just two of us and tomorrow… you can go back to your world and everything will be normal again.” 

Normal? Just like that?

What about their Sasuke and Sakura?

Would they be happy with this, is this really fair?

No, maybe her Sasuke wouldn’t care. They’ll still have so much to deal with when they get back, assuming that is if anything can be prepared? 

Does he even care for her?

‘You idiot, would he be here if he didn’t?’

She couldn’t do this to her other self though or to him. Before all this, their life seemed simple so how could she take it away? 

“I don’t want you two to be like us… it’s not fair on her, me, the other me. We can’t do this.”

She wanted to, had to pull away before it was too late yet he persisted. 

“Don’t overthink it, you said so yourself how unfair your life was. So let me make it up to you, for his mistakes.” And just like that he sealed their lips again and Sakura couldn’t stop herself from melting into the kiss this time. 

[ghoulangerlee]

Swiss/Aeon ; The Tickling Fic ; M

last Friday there was a video of Swiss getting tickled by the new bug and I sent that to Kel who responded with: "how long do you think it'll take someone to write that fic?"

Hi, I'm here to write the tickling fic I guess.

I use the name Aeon for the new bug haha. Also I don't normally write ghoul/ghoul so I had to resist the urge to add in the old man (my beloved).

rated: M-ish

contains: tickling (is it Aeon's kink? who knows), masturbation, rutting, spit (very briefly, but it's Swiss???)

-

He doesn't quite know why he did it in the first place, crowding up against Swiss as everyone gathered on stage for their final bows, his hands immediately reaching out and grabbing for Swiss' waist, digging his fingers into the muscle.

He feels Swiss jolt against him, hands going down to grab at his wrists, can hear him laugh and squirm—its all silly, a joke, nothing too serious.

That's what he tells himself when Swiss squeezes his wrists just a little too tight before letting go, batting his hands away as they fall into line to bow, and when they bow as one, he can smell the change in Swiss' scent. Full of post show endorphins, full of something, maybe arousal, wafting off of him.

He opens his mouth to inhale deeply and taste and forgets, at the last second that he keeps his mouth covered, because out of all of them, he's the worst at keeping his glamour up when he's not focusing on it intensely.

And then, they're filing off stage as the noise of the crowd reaches a crescendo, and Aeon's eyes are trained on Swiss' back, and the way the sweat makes his shirt stick between his shoulder blades, revealing the definition and shape so beautifully.

He's still new to the band, and will be new for a while now, but he's figured things out recently, with these ghouls, with Papa, how things work after shows, how it's not strange at all for two or three or more of them to break off and find a secluded corner to release some stress.

Which is why he's pretty sure no one really bats an eyelash when he quickens his pace and crowds against Swiss' back again, hands going to rest on his hips as he nudges him forward and away from the others, eyes glowing bright behind the lenses of his helmet as he seeks out one of the unused rooms.

Swiss is laughing, though not loud, but Aeon can feel the way Swiss seems to vibrate against him, his hands dropping down briefly to pet at where Aeon's hands are visible, dragging his fingertips along the backs of his hands before pulling away.

They'd been dancing around each other recently, the tension building up so much even Papa could sense it, a mildly embarrassing moment, to have his boss just give him a look while waving his hand between the two of them as if saying well? are you going to go for it?

And well, Aeon didn't explicitly need permission, but having it made him feel at least a little bit better about not messing up the natural chemistry or whatever.

There's an unused dressing room, the door cracked open just enough that Aeon can see that it's filled with stuff, probably being used as a storage room now, and the heat and want under his skin reaches its climax—he's shorter than Swiss, no doubt not as strong as Swiss either, but Swiss goes easily as he pushes him into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

And Swiss stands there, relaxed, his head tilted to the side, still facing away from Aeon, as if he's waiting for Aeon to make the first move, waiting to see where this is going.

It drives Aeon a little mad, and he pulls his helmet off and shoves the balaclava down around his neck; his glamour is gone now, keeping his form hidden the last thing on his mind as he crowds against Swiss's back, immediately digging his fingers into Swiss's sides almost a little too harshly. A mimic of what he'd done on stage.

Swiss stumbles a bit, catching himself against a stack of cardboard boxes, his head tilting downwards as he laughs, arching his back against Aeon as the shorter ghoul continues to drag his fingertips along his sides, finding all the sensitive spots.

All the while, Swiss' scent spikes, heavy with arousal as his laughter trails off into a wheezing gasp, a plea of some kind.

Aeon exhales, mouth open as he breathes heavily into the center of Swiss' back, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal until he's light headed with it, scrabbling to tug Swiss's shirt out of his pants so he can touch his skin properly.

Swiss's skin is sticky with sweat against his palms, but he shivers and lets out something close to a whimper when Aeon's nails, sharp and long, drag lightly against his sides.

"You are going to kill me," Swiss wheezes out, finally saying something, his voice loud among the silence, among their heavy breathing.

Aeon doesn't respond to him, just presses his nails a bit harder against Swiss' sides for a moment, before he digs the pads of his fingers into the muscle there, pulling more confused laughter out of Swiss' mouth.

Swiss swears softly, hunching over a bit as Aeon tries to press closer, sinking his teeth into Swiss's shoulder, through his shirt, the only place he can really reach like this.

And Swiss has to grab Aeon's wrist again, squeeze it tightly even as Aeon sort of growls around the mouthful of shirt and muscle he has in his mouth, as if Swiss is trying to pull him away from touching him.

(He's not.)

It continues like this for a bit, Aeon mostly focused on trying to make Swiss laugh, following lines of goosebumps as they pop up all across Swiss's sides and chest, his fingers insistent, digging in when Swiss gasps out as Swiss holds on tight to his wrist, keeping at least one hand resting on his belly, right at the waistband of his pants.

(Swiss doesn't quite understand where Aeon is going with this, but he's always up for trying something new, and with the way Aeon's pressing into him, hard against the swell of his ass, mouthing at his shoulder through his shirt, Swiss is all on board for whatever this ends up being.)

He hopes, somewhat, that Aeon's intending to get him off and not just tickle him, however arousing this is without any other stimuli. But Swiss is impatient on the worst days and slightly less impatient on the best, so with his free hand he does his best to tear open the lacings on his pants and get them open just enough to relieve some of the pressure there.

It's as if the promise of skin is enough for Aeon to be bolder in his touch, wiggling free of Swiss' grip on his wrist, his fingers inch below the waistband, into the open vee of his pants and Aeon exhales as his fingertips make contact with the wiry hair at the base of Swiss' dick.

"You're going to have to touch yourself," he manages to get out after a few moments, words heavy in his mouth as his tongue clumsily works through them, his fangs feel too big for his mouth like this, "Can't." He presses the tips of his claws into the hair, hearing Swiss exhale sharply, his scent growing heavier with arousal and Aeon growls a little, "Not now," he mumbles, a whine catching at the end.

Swiss laughs a little, files away Aeon's not quite denial for later when he has more time to think about Aeon's claws near his dick and the implications of that.

Instead, be pushes Aeon's hand away and mumbles under his breath as he shimmies his pants down just enough to free himself.

Aeon's hands are back on his sides, his fingers poking and prodding at muscle and fat alike, dragging his nails along the skin in a way that has Swiss shivering, leaning his weight back into Aeon's solid body.

The first few strokes of his own hand are dry and a bit unpleasant, so he pulls away, lifting his arm and reaching back behind him to nudge his knuckles against Aeon's horns.

He makes a confused sort of sound, drunk on the scent of Swiss' arousal, lifts his head and looks at Swiss' hand, "Hm?"

Swiss rolls his eyes, feels a bit fond for the guy, "Spit," he says, wiggling his fingers a bit, "Since you won't get me off because you can't keep your shit under control," he teases, "I'm not jerkin' myself dry."

Aeon huffs, leaning up to nip at Swiss' fingers momentarily before he spits into his palm, a little off center and wet.

"Satanas," Swiss mumbles, and then he's wrapping his hand around himself again, swearing under his breath as Aeon drags his claws down his sides, ruts against him from behind. "Oh, you wanna get off too, now?" He asks, just to be difficult, "Can't even touch me but you want something from me anyway, huh?"

Aeon growls lowly at that, sinks his teeth into Swiss' shoulder again as if he's trying to get the other ghoul to behave, his fingertips press almost cruelly into muscle and fat, drawing a choked sounding laugh from the taller ghoul as he jolts backwards into Aeon.

In his hazy mind, Swiss also files this away for later as well, wonders if he could push Aeon's buttons even more to get him to really put Swiss in his place.

(He's thinking, somewhat distantly, about Aeon's teeth in the back of his neck while he fucks him, claws digging into his sides as he holds him in place.)

Aeon tries to formulate words, a response, something, but all that's going through his mind is rutrutrut and the scent and taste of Swiss' arousal as it grows with each pass of his fingers on his most sensitive spots, tickling his ribs and making Swiss bend over, holding himself up against the boxes he'd stumbled into while he furiously jerks himself off with the hand not keeping him steady.

Aeon growls low in his throat when he feels about to burst, too far gone to worry about the consequences of coming in his pants, just sinks his teeth into Swiss again, digs his fingers in hard and faster, making Swiss breathless and gasp for air, lightheaded with the pleasure-pain.

And then, Swiss yells, no doubt alerting someone, anyone of where they are and what they're doing, shaking as he comes with Aeon's name on the tip of his tongue.

A low whine catches in Aeon's throat as Swiss suddenly grabs his hands and jerks them away from his sides, breaking the skin contact—his grip on his wrists is tight, almost too tight, but Aeon buries his face into Swiss' shirt and ruts against him until he's stifling his own noises as he comes, gasping wetly against Swiss' shoulder.

Aeon is almost distantly aware of Swiss pulling away, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he'd somehow forced this on Swiss, but those fears are soon squashed as Swiss gathers him into his arms, muttering something under his breath about overeager ghouls wearing themselves out.

In the time it'd taken for him to turn around, Swiss had pulled his helmet off and placed it down on the stack of boxes, and Aeon makes a pleased little noise when he's able to easily bury his face in Swiss' throat, breathing him in.

Sated. Warm. Pleased.

"You're a little demon," Swiss says softly, combing his fingers through Aeon's unruly hair, but he sounds fond, "I bet my shoulder looks like it's been mauled by a monster." He murmurs with a laugh. "You're a feisty little fella, aren't you?" He asks, though it's rhetorical, the little fella really makes something in Aeon's gut burn.

He whines, pawing at Swiss' sides now that the other ghoul had righted his shirt, "Shh," he mumbles, trying to get his tongue to cooperate properly.

Swiss laughs and shakes his head, lets Aeon rest against him for another minute longer before he pulls away, "Alright, well, as much as I'd love to stay here with you, we really need to find the others. The bus will probably leave soon. Don't want to be stranded."

Aeon does not whine at that even though he wants to, he steps back and pulls himself together as much as he can, pulls his balaclava back up over half of his face and finds his helmet, upside down, on the floor.

There is however, a stain on the front of his pants, and though he knows it's not really proper, he doesn't feel shame for it. Thinks about how this is really his first time making a move with anyone in the band, and how long he'd manage to keep himself under control, he's not going to feel bad about it. Not this.

"Hey, Bug," Swiss says, drawing him from his thoughts, his own helmet on now, coming to stand by Aeon, "My bunk tonight?" He asks, somewhat casual as he rests his hand on Aeon's side, his palm wide and warm through both of his shirts.

Aeon shivers, feels the way Swiss' grip tightens a bit, can see the sharpness of his teeth when he grins, "Yeah, yeah," he says, a little bit too eager.