#i am going to— [INCOHERENT SCREECHING SOUNDS]

[ladybaratheon]

i finished rereading catching fire. my life will never be the same (i say this every single time).

[solxamber]

Hey, saw the holiday event and wanted to request something <3

Diasomnia, 9, comedy:

'this isn't what it looks like'

Thank you so much!! Love your writing and hope you have a good holiday 🤍

thank you <3 hope you have a good holiday too <3

Knightmare Scenario || Sebek Zigvolt ft. Malleus

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "This isn't what it looks like" ; Genre: Comedy

Sebek had been glaring at you for a solid ten minutes.

You could feel it—burning, unrelenting, like the sun itself had decided to manifest as an overly passionate half-fae with a volume problem.

“Sebek,” you finally said, sighing. “Is there a reason you look like you’re trying to drill a hole into my skull with your eyes?”

He jabbed an accusatory finger at you. “YOU! You have overstepped your bounds!”

“…What?”

“I knew it!” Sebek declared dramatically, puffing out his chest. “You’re trying to take MY place as Master Malleus’s loyal knight!”

“Excuse me?!” you squawked.

“You’re always by his side,” Sebek continued, his voice growing louder with each syllable. “Walking with him, talking with him—plotting, no doubt, to overthrow my rightful position!”

You blinked. “Sebek, that is absolutely not—”

“Do not LIE to me!” Sebek shouted, stomping a foot like an indignant toddler. “I see the way you smile at him!”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh? And what does it look like, then?” Sebek demanded.

“It looks like we’re friends!” you snapped.

Sebek reeled back as if you’d just slapped him with a fish.

“You—you dare to call Master Malleus your friend?!”

Malleus, who had been quietly processing the conversation, suddenly perked up. “Friendship? Did you say friendship? Are we friends?”

“Yes, we’re friends!” you cried in exasperation.

Malleus’s eyes widened, and a smile so radiant it could rival the moon broke across his face. “What a joyous declaration! I have achieved friendship!”

“Malleus, please stop basking in the moment and help me explain this to Sebek!” you begged.

Sebek’s jaw was basically on the floor. “M-Master Malleus, you can’t possibly—!”

“Oh, but I do,” Malleus said, his grin widening. “Friendship is a rare and precious thing, Sebek.”

Sebek turned back to you, his face a mix of betrayal and fury. “You’ve bewitched him!”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “I didn’t bewitch anyone, Sebek!”

Sebek’s expression shifted, his usual righteous indignation giving way to something far more volatile. It almost looked like… jealousy?

“Wait a second,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re not jealous of me being friends with Malleus, are you?”

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Sebek roared, his face turning beet red.

“Ha! Nailed it!” you said, pointing at him triumphantly.

Sebek sputtered incoherently, looking like he was about to spontaneously combust.

Malleus, meanwhile, was watching the scene unfold with great amusement. “Sebek, it seems your emotions are running high,” he said, sounding far too entertained. “Perhaps you should take a moment to reflect.”

“I NEED NO MOMENTS!” Sebek barked, his voice echoing across the courtyard. “I am perfectly composed, unlike this scheming human!”

“Scheming? I’m not the one throwing a tantrum because Malleus likes me better,” you said, grinning.

Sebek looked like he was about to lunge at you when Malleus placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Peace, Sebek,” he said, his tone soothing. “There’s no need for such hostility among friends.”

“Friends?!” Sebek screeched.

“Yes,” Malleus said, nodding sagely. “You and the prefect could also become friends.”

Sebek’s face twisted into an expression of pure horror. “NEVER!”

You smirked. “Aw, don’t be like that, Sebek. We’d make great friends.”

“I WOULD RATHER SWALLOW A BAG OF NAILS!” Sebek roared before storming off, his cape billowing dramatically behind him.

Malleus chuckled as he watched him go. “Ah, Sebek. So passionate, as always.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “That guy’s gonna give himself a stroke one day.”

“Perhaps,” Malleus said, smiling. “But I must admit, his devotion is admirable.”

“Sure,” you said. “If by admirable, you mean exhausting.”

Malleus chuckled again, his eyes twinkling. “Indeed.”

Masterlist

[cinderedrose]

Okay here's day 7 for @kotor-week week. I have no idea what freeform means so I did whatever I want. Here's the first chapter/scene to my novelization and its under a cut because its uh.. intense and the ✨️Mind Wipe✨️:

“mommy! Mom! Come back mom!” Cried a strained voice. It rasped with utmost desperation, of life and death, of fear and cold absent comfort. Despite the mask over their mouth and nose, they still screeched for mom and dad through the silicone. Even with the sterile, bitter gas clogging their senses and seeping the force away from them…

Buir— mom— the languages blurred and mixed. The hyperglot voice cycled again and again, each language crying for the same person.

*Mom! Come back mom I'm scared!*

The owner of the voice thrashed and pulled against their restraints, fabric and cords dug into their wrists. However their efforts and strength rose to no avail. Their energy and strength seeped from them. 

The grey and white of their sterile, fluorescent prison walls warped and bled into each other. The victim was powerless, and the sickening sourness of their estranged heart rotted inside their chest. The victim already felt the diseased flies swarming it. Their scorched skull strangled their thoughts, their trepidation and terror played puppeteer for the rasped, sore, enslaved vocal cords. 

“Mom help me!” that voice shrieked. Shadows enclosed around them. Their blood crackled and raged with a static-electric hum. The victim clung to that feeling within their veins— their nerves— their very cerebellum. Yet another cog in their living machine. Something they've always lived with, something they should know better than their own name—

But their name was gone, and this feeling--- the force--- was slowly pushed away with it.

The victim looked over the mask over their lower face, the failing sedatives dried out their mouth, working just enough to blur their vision. The man before them was a purple smudge, he pulled against that feeling. The victim drew upon it before the man stripped it, before he carved their heart out of their chest, as they thrashed once again and screamed. Their wrists now bloody and sore. Their lungs spasmed in a coughing fit.

“Brace yourself, Eevie, there’s one more round to go,” the man said in a faux soothing tone. Their breathing only quickened, that name wasn’t theirs anymore, was it? 

*Why am I blank!?*

*I'M MORE!! WHERE—*

*WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME—*

The steady beat of their heart monitor quickened as two devices clamped the sides of their head. Their chest heaved, Eevie gasped for what little air they got through their efforts. The sedatives failed, their blood erupted into an electrifying storm as their skull was locked in place. 

“Three, two, one, clear!” 

White. Their vision went white. Electric, searing, excruciating pain scraping the insides of their skull. Their broken thoughts scattered, as memories played, then evanced within their consciousness. Forgotten. Just like that previously clashing, incorrect, painful name. Just like that feeling. Just like… everything… forgotten glory. *What glory?* 

*Mandalore! Slain—*

*Victory—*

*Prodigal—*

*St— for—*

“Mom! Mom help me!” The victim shrieked before any coherent noise drowned in an incoherent and disjointed howling as their mind rose and fell and exploded yet imploded. Thought bled down to the faint, dying, electrical zaps between neurons before extinguishing altogether like an overloaded light. That feeling, that sixth sense, that single grounding thing? Shattered with that broken light bulb. That slaughtered electrocuted brilliance.

“I’m so sorry it came to this, Eevie,” the soft-sounding man from earlier croaked out. They calmed, shifting slightly, adjusting their swollen tongue in their mouth. But who am I who am… tired… The victim's limbs were stuck to the bed, too heavy to move now. “I’m sorry we failed you…” 

“Don’t call them that anymore,” someone else barks, their voice mixing with the cacophony of dying electricity and medical equipment, “that name no longer exists.” 

The IV in their arm pinched, the nameless victim shivered from the chilled room of erasure. A twi’lek stood over them, with pity and sorrow in his eyes. Then, another man, dressed in pale blue, hovered on their other side, taking their vitals. Yet another prison, but there was no hope to escape.

“mom…” Their mother never comes, but the tool doesn’t care. That fear faded with their very being, as the tool became nothing more than a shell. They couldn’t recall knowing their parents anymore. Not that it mattered. Their mind fades to an expanse of white. Blank, as they forget who they are… what they are… The victim goes quiet, closing their eyes, mourning something they never recalled knowing.

“Rest well, Renier,” the soothing man said, his voice crumbling to pieces.

~

[mrhyde-mrseek]

SCIENCE MOST SINISTER: VOLUME II - PART SEVEN

(God, I am so sorry for the hiatus, life happens and people get busy, y’know? But WE’RE BACK BABY WOOHOO!)

(CW: Some body horror.)

The train whistle screeched, making Griffin jump a mile into the air.

Charing Cross Station was overly crowded with travelers and commuters, all shouting at once and bumping off each other like the world’s most chaotic game of marbles. Griffin was already tense at the thought of returning to Port Burdock, and the added worry of being slammed into and discovered did nothing to relieve his stress.

Fortunately, they all made it to their two train compartments—his consisted of Gwen, Victor, Utterson, Watson, and Edmund—safely. Griffin only released his breath when the whistle blew again, and the wheels began turning.

Next to him, Victor had crossed one leg over the other and was shaking it so hard he could feel it through the seat. “Stop that,” he snapped, “or I will hit you.”

Victor planted both feet on the floor. “I can’t help it!” he protested. “Hardly any of us have left the house in a year. Am I to be blamed for being at least a little anxious?”

Utterson glanced in their direction. Griffin shrank back and fell silent. He’d hardly known the man for a full twenty-four hours, yet his stoic manner and lack of emotion in his voice or expressions made Griffin uneasy. It was obvious why Jekyll had praised his skill as a lawyer so highly; Griffin almost suspected he was gifted with some sort of mystical, truth-seeking ability.

He turned to lean against the window. The morning was a blur rushing past, city scenery slowly melting into countryside as the train chugged along, the wheels clanking rhythmically on the iron rails. The steady motion was calming. He yawned—none of them had slept much that night—and soon felt himself drifting off.

•••

Griffin threw his head back as a deranged laugh tore itself from his throat. He loomed over Kemp, practically towered over the skittish scientist. Ignoring his bullet wounds, still fresh from the day before, he leapt across the room, throwing dining chairs aside as though they weighed nothing.

The pounding on the door grew louder. Those damn officers would punch a hole through it at this rate. He ignored it. Let them knock. Someone would find Kemp’s body at some point, anyway. It would save the staff the trouble of running to fetch the authorities. Shoving Kemp against the wall, he wrapped his hands around his throat and began to squeeze. Fire blazed through his veins, white-hot and angry. He grinned, baring his teeth.

He was so consumed by his own vengeful glee that he didn’t notice that Kemp had grabbed him by the wrists until, in a feat of strength that caught him completely off guard, the scientist had slammed his foot into his stomach and shoved him backwards.

The floor slipped out from Griffin. Instead of landing on hard wood, he kept falling, down and down and down into a pitch black pit. Kemp’s dining room faded to a pinprick of light, and soon even that was swallowed up by the blackness.

A hissing started. At first he thought it was the wind, but listening closer he realized it sounded suspiciously like incoherent whispers. Fighting against gravity, he struggled to peer around through the shadows. “Show yourself!” he demanded.

“As you wish.” Griffin’s heart stopped when he heard the answering voice. No. No, no, no, no. Not that thing. Anything else but it.

With a crack, his head snapped back, bent far enough so his hair practically brushed his spine. Something was crawling around in his brain—spiders, rats, a colony of rats, scratching at his conscience with their little claws, hollowing out a hole for a nest. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even panic properly, because that goddamn demon was back and it was in his head again and this time it was going to kill him and he couldn’t fucking do anything to stop it—

Then he jolted straight upright with a cry, the side of his head smacking the train window hard enough for his eyes to open.

He muttered curses under his breath, rubbing his forehead, and glanced around the compartment. Victor, Gwen, Watson, Edmund, and Utterson were all staring at him with a mixture of shock and concern. “What?” he snapped.

“Were you having a nightmare?” Gwen asked. “You were mumbling to yourself.”

“And twitching in your sleep,” Victor added.

He scowled. “It hardly matters.” Changing the subject, he asked, “How close are we to Port Burdock?”

Edmund pointed out the window. “See for yourself.”

A line of rickety docks bordered the muddy blue sea. Clouds were gathering overhead, dark enough to warn against oncoming snow but pale enough to not be much of a concern. If he squinted, Griffin could see the town a few miles off in the distance, small and insignificant compared to the ice-covered fields that stretched beyond.

Watson reached over Victor and tapped his shoulder. “We should be reaching the station shortly,” he said. “I know that Sherlock will want to begin the investigation practically the moment the train comes to a stop.”

Griffin nodded, and turned back to gaze out the window at the swiftly encroaching town he thought he would never step foot in again.

[ariadosanon]

🎙️: an audio recording

[Ro-to-to-to]

“Day… Fuck it was… Who cares anymore.”

The rustling of papers can be heard.

“Dear DIARY.”

The sound of a hand hitting a table.

“It’s hard to do this shit. It’s hard not to storm off into the nearest Pokefan club and start stealing Pokémon. It’s part of who I am— part of my fucking purpose. You know this.”

A pause.

“I know once Ibrahim and I get some cash from Juliette it’ll all be so much easier. I’ll have a place to go, be surrounded by Shadow Energy, hidden from motherfuckers who want to judge me for indulging in blessed agony— somewhere to hide myself. But why’s it gotta be in Sinnoh?”

A moment of incoherent of grumbling.

“Pastoria is on hard times. They can’t exactly say no. But I don’t know if being that close to Marcy will do my mental shit any favors.”

Pause.

“The only thing I even care about is my job. Helping the kids. And I know I’m gonna get fired soon. I shouldn’t have pissed off Miley’s mom so much— but what the Cel am I supposed to do when she’s fuckin ruining her kids entire battle career before it even starts!?”

The sound of a fist hitting the table.

“I miss my old life. You’re probably sick of hearing me say that, diary. But I miss just killing shit. I miss the screams. I miss the feeling of prying a life from a still living body. I want to fucking drink in the agony of all the Pokémon around me. I’m like a Lycanroc left to tend the fucking Mareep.”

“Except instead of eating the fuckers I want to tear their spine out through their tails and hang them on it. Listen to their stupid little bleating get softer and softer until it finally screeches to a blood gargling stop.”

Heavy breathing. Wet with drool.

“I’m going to get lunch.”

[The recording ends here.]

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

hi!!! omg i just wanted to let you know that i thought of you when i saw moulin rouge last week and jojo held and looked at hamish when she sang, “i can see every part, nothing hides in their heart” [to hurt me] 🥺🥺🥺

HELLO!! sorry it took me several days to answer this ask i was SO EXCITED to have gotten it that every time i opened it i just devolved into incoherent screaming hahaha but aaahh!!!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!!!! (positive)!!!!! i am screaming because jojo!satine and hamish this is GREAT information this is THE BEST THING thank you sooooooo much for telling me this!!!!!!!

but also you went to see moulin rouge and you thought of me?!!??!? of ME?!?!?!???! i am never going to recover from this information oh my god (extremely positive)!!!!!!! i am gonna be happy screeching about this for weeks to come..... THANK YOUUUUU!!!!!!

also!!!!!! congrats on getting to see the show i hope you had the best time!!!!! it sounds like it was very fun!!!!!!

[wanderingfaee]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

characters: Karaku (Hantengu Clone) x Fem!Reader

content warnings: MDNI +18 ONLY, pussy eating, female embodied, female antomy, dub-con, slightly rough(??), hair pulling.

You shouldn't like this.

You shouldn't like this.

You really, shouldn't like this!

The feeling of his languid, moisten slick tongue had curled ever so acutely deep within the trench of your oozing cunt. Touching even the most deepest and most sensitive spots that melded your hazy mind into a delirious state of prohibited bliss. The salacious, vile sounds that were lapping after each guided stride, rigorous thrust and powerful sucking of his rough lips and tattooed, taboo tongue resounding through the thicken, night air. Echoing ever so tauntingly and sinfully into the ringing of your burning ears.

You shouldn't be enjoying this!

Especially from a twisted, demented demon such as him!

But you couldn't help the writhing mewling and the thrashing, withering moaning, how your hands furiously scurried deep into the disheveled raven locks of his progressing head, how your toes curl ever so prominently against the flat of your feet, how your eyes rolled ever so fully to the back of your skull. The intense, involuntary feeling of erratic euphoria and jubilant exhilaration had taken over your common senses and clear thinking.

The sheer, direct motions of his long, forceful tongue lulling you into a steep trance of impure enlightenment. One you fear you may not tread from.

The graze of his prolong, misshapen nails digging ever so deeply into the plush of your hips had only added on to the unshakable sense of heightened gratification and twisted bewilderment.

Your head swiftly falls backwards with the flick of his tongue haunting over the growing bud that triggered your sensitive nerves. Looping, fondling- caressing carefully and precising his every notion around your pulsing sprout, purposely, fishing out those beautiful, coherent sounds that trembled off the tip of your tied tongue.

He listens to you babble incoherent mumbling and quivering, shorten breaths. Growls with immense satisfaction and pleasure just hearing those harmonious melodies fall from your pretty, silken wet lips.

He creeps himself closer towards your drooling, weeping cunt, inching his inquisitive and prying muscle deeper into your delicious, velvety heat. Curling and thrusting his pivoting tongue with such explicit and blunt force, his chapped, dry lips mounting ever so greedily and hungrily amongst your outter, soften walls with such depravity and animosity. As though he hasn't tasted something so deliciously addictive in centuries.

He feels you bucking your hips up against his guiding face, your hands in his messy, tangled dark mane pushing and pulling ever so needily to his ravenous gesture. Your body exceedingly becoming hot and needy, aching for his lingering touches.

Laughs wickedly in between each consecutive lick and hollowed sucks, as he wallows in to your new profound need for his deploring tongue. Pulls away just slightly, as he kisses the inner right plain of your shuddering thigh "Well well- look at you, sweet thing" his sleek, coy voice crooned, his hands gently rubbing up and down the midst of your sputtering waist with such sudden caress "Seems like you're enjoying this just as much as I am!" he retorts with demented amusement staining his tone, feels your nails scrape forcefully, piercingly into his scalp.

Watches how your lidded, clouded eyes peer sharply down at the taunting, sly demon. Wearing nothing but that shit eating grin and pure deplorable pride along his wretched smug.

"G-go to h-hell" you barely manage to accumulate, your breathing still hitched and stammered from the amount of moaning, yelping and screeching you were doing moments ago.

He cackles once more, almost manically, lifts and hovers his unusually bulked figure over your own. Firmly clasping onto your hollowed cheeks, as he engages a strong, direct eye contact with you, pressing his harden crotch against your wet, messy bare center. Forcing a muffled, strained moan to choke at the back of your stammered throat.

"Only if you keep me company on the way down, sweetheart" he winks flirtatiously, deliriously as he forces his lips brashfully, promptly onto your own with such force. Twisting and twirling his foul tongue with yours, making you taste in your flavor and scent.

[thatoneluckybee]

cause me for a second about to screech incoherently to the void

OKAY so going back over I found the guides I like for Old English pronunciations because I'm not good at it and can never remember how to pronounce things. So on the poll I was gushing in tags about where the word orange came from. In Old English we just used yellow-red or red-yellow, or technically the word was "geoluread." In today's English there's a few ways it could be read. "Geo" would likely use a "j" soundish like "geology." "Lu" and "luh" are fairly similar in modern and old English so just "uh" like "put." "Read" could be "red" or "reed."

SO I'm probably butchering how I say things (like I said still practicing) and explaining but this ramble is for fun so 'tis fine. I think the "eo" would be considered a front vowel so the "g" is said similarly to our "y" sound is "yes." "Eo" is better explained by this specific area of the website I'm on right now (lots I'll just between but this one has examples) as "like the 'e' in bed gliding to the 'o' in 'cough'" so "eh-aw" almost? Or the "aw" and "ough" in "awesome" and "cough" are identical in my accent (Texan accents do that fairly often.) Then of course the "luh" sound, and then "ea" is described as "ai" in fail. I saw fail differently from the speaker but from other descriptions and guides it seems similar to "ey-ah." Not exactly but I suck st describing things.

Y'all. "Geoluread" put together ("g" "eo" "lu" "read"). The best I can visualize it is "yeh-oh" "luh" "rey-ahd"

When we say yellow or at least the way I've grown up talking there's the slightest hint of an "o" between "eh" and "l." Just from how your move your mouth (same reason what did you becomes didja and what you becomes whatcha." Voicing the "o" in "eol" snf NOT voicing it has your mouth move almost the exact same way.

Geoluread is spelled so strangely to me but it's LITERALLY JUST YELLOW RED. IT'S THE SAME THING AS IT WAS IN THE 11TH CENTURY LMAO

And this also is cool to me (I am bored in class with nothing to do have been typing for well over ten minutes about a fruit word) is English has evolved a LOT but spelling and lexicon seem to have changed a lot more than pronunciation from Old English. This word is hard for me to pronounce because (and true for a lot of Old English words) the vowels have you holding your tongue a lot further back than speaking Modern English. That's a fun quirk I like about today's English—compared to a lot of similar languages (I.e. Spanish and French I believe? Been a bit since I've looked into this) we have a tongues naturally resting a lot higher (on roof of mouth vs bottom). And Modern English seems to pronounce sounds with the tongue closer to or touching the teeth than Old English does. I know of the Great Vowel Shift so I'm wondering if that whole 15-16th century language drama was the cause? I have done research on it but I don't have IPA Symbols memorized yet so it's hard to tell what the shift was responsible for and what is just the passage of time changing things.

So this is what I do if I get bored enough at school apparently. Lose my mind over pronunciations of words centuries ago because I saw one (1) poll about whether orange the color or orange the fruit came first (it was the fruit. Wasn't until Margaret Tudor around a century later I think that it was recorded to describe a color.)

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Let's see. Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks, for.. ✨, 💫,🎀,🎀,🎀,💌

*screeches*

Someday I am making a prompt list and there'll be no numbers or letters or symbols, just the questions so folks who aren't menaces have to put the full text in the Ask.

Anyroad. Scheduling maintenance on our local bot later. For now:

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Fics like "When Everything Changes" and "Where the Skies Are Safe" are works I'm quite fond of, but are hard to sell to fandom readers either here or on Ao3; they're from the perspective of my OCs as small children, and very few people want to read kid fic.

But a chunk of my literature studies were in YA and Kid Lit, as I originally was dual-majoring an Education degree, and I've always found getting into a child's (or pet's) mindsets and perspectives to be an interesting exercise as a writer, and finding what new info it can reveal that an adult POV won't notice or would see differently.

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

Any and all of them, but incoherent screeching is always fun, as are rambles about what someone liked, maybe even the why if they can articulate it (if not, that's cool, just copy-pastes of favorite lines with keysmash responses are great too).

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

x3?!

FINE.

-I am a decent mimic; I can copy a style and voice patterns pretty well, enough to make what I'm writing read or "sound" like the style I'm playing in. The attempt in many of my works to feel like quest text or the official stories on the Lodestone is intentional, and I feel good when I get comments on it cuz that's the goal.

-I can drop some evocative, pithy lines to make one giggle and/or break one's heart.

-My constant replaying and revisiting the text, and talking to/reading about others' canon-centric takes on characters and situations, means my NPC characterizations tend to be good. Which is good practice for making my own OCs distinct people that fit into the world well.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

(Again, with the caveat I've been in a bit of a slump break since BSotP, here's a bit of more the Thancred in the First fic I don't...think? I've shared? If I have, what of it! Below the cut cuz someone asked multiple questions so this got long.)

“So can you build it?” Thancred asked.

The blacksmith looked over his crude drawings and the schematics pulled from the Tower’s archives, as well as the detailed descriptions Thancred had painstakingly written with Gridick’s aid. “I think so; enough to get a prototype working, and then we can go from there.”

Thancred nodded. “Do let me know,” he said, offering his coins for the initial deposit.

It had been several months since that first disastrous patrol. Thancred had been on a few other patrols since, as well as forays into the forest on his own. The more common wildlife wasn’t much of a problem, but the sin eaters, when stumbled across, left him feeling as if his simple blades were no longer adequate.

So he had delved into the Tower’s archives, seeking out weapon schematics. The Exarch couldn’t say which time period the Tower had come from when summoned to the First, but Thancred figured it had to be later than his own, since the Tower was still in Mor Dhona from his perspective.

Days of searching had found not only equivalent Allagan plans, but also a few Garlean and even proper Bozjan examples for the sort of gunblade he wanted. The weapon would still allow him his speed and dexterity, but also was far more defensive, for himself and others.

The only trouble was going to be the cartridges, as Thancred could not imbue them himself. That was a bridge to cross later; for now, he would see if the Mean’s artisans could even create a workable gunblade.

He made his way across the Crystarium toward the markets before returning to his apartment. He wanted to stop by the city’s single barber.

Thancred still wasn’t the best at shaving daily; his schedule was still too easily thrown off, he was often in the field, and frankly it wasn’t much of a concern. His hair was getting far too long and ragged, though, enough that something had to be done.

In another moon, he would count a year on the First, though the mirror still showed only a day had passed on the Source, which was the smallest of comforts. He helped the Exarch search the Tower’s archives as the man tried various spells and counter-effects to send Thancred’s soul back to his body, but to no avail.

[acourtofchaos]

I HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR MY SILLY LITTLE THOUGHTS ON ANOTHER AMAZING CHAPTER. THIS IS GOING TO BE CRAZY LONG AGAIN I'M SORRY BUT I THINK THIS CHAPTER IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE OF THE SERIES AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT.

OKAY, HERE WE GO

Dumbledore sighed, his disappointment evident as he shifted in his chair, his gaze fixed on both of you. "I must express my profound disappointment," he began, his words measured but stern. "Your actions were deeply troubling. Resorting to extreme violence, regardless of the provocation, is not the way we resolve conflicts here at Hogwarts."

FIRST OF ALL, LISTEN HERE DUMBLEDORE YOU OLD FART, OUR BOY HASNT DONE ANYTHING WRONG EVER AND THAT INCLUDES KNOCKING THAT PIECE OF SHIT HALFWAY TO THE GRAVE.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped, his words laced with a potent mix of frustration and hostility, the raw energy practically crackling in the air around him.

"Excuse me?" Your response was tinged with incredulity, your irritation palpable. "Would you like to start over?"

I LOVE HER. I LOVE THAT SHE DOESN’T JUST WILT IN THE FACE OF HIS ANGER AND ACTUALLY MAKES HIM CHECK HIMSELF. THE FACT SHE STILL HAS HER BACKBONE AND HER FIRE AFTER BECOMING EMOTIONALLY ENTANGLED WITH HIM IS SO REFRESHING AND SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN ENOUGH IN BOOKS. SO THANK YOU!!

"I don't care if we fight, I don't care if you literally yell and swear at me...we always fight, Mattheo, that's what we fucking do." You stepped closer, dropping your voice lower. "We are talking about this. Wether you like it or not."

YES BABE YOU TELL HIM!!! (NGL I'M STARTING TO BE A LITTLE BIT IN LOVE WITH HER)

"I fucking said stop," he spat, his teeth clenched, his eyes burning with intensity. "Stop looking at me like that, Raven..."

Your heart stumbled in your chest. "What-"

"All I am to you is a fucking tragedy, right?" he snarled, his anger radiating off him in waves. "Just some loser you want to fix, yeah? Take me in as your new little project to impress your future boss...follow me around all day like a fucking dog..."

MY FUCKING HEART. THE FACT THAT MATTHEO THINKS THAT'S HOW SHE SEES HIM? THAT IT COULD POSSIBLY BE HOW HE SEES HIMSELF... I'M SOBBING.

"Bullshit, Raven...I won't be your charity case," he spat, his tone laced with defiance. "I won't fucking do it."

SERIOUSLY JUST PUNCH ME IN THE CHEST I THINK IT MIGHT HURT LESS.

"Romanticize me all you wish, Raven, but the devil wrapped in silk is still the fucking devil."

INJECT THIS LINE IN MY VEINS... IT HIT SO FUCKING GOOD.

Your heart plummeted to the floor at his words, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight it felt like it might suffocate you. A choked sound escaped your lips, barely audible as you croaked out, "Oh, gods..." there was a brief pause before you managed to find your voice again. "It was all an act? Is that what it was, Mattheo?"

AND WE'RE BACK TO RIPPING OUT MY HEART. GOD THE FACT YOU CAN FEEL HER FEAR HERE. I JUST WANT TO GATHER HER UP IN A HUG AND PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS.

--his tousled brown hair, those mesmerizing brown eyes, the sharp contour of his jawline, and those strong, powerful hands that made you weak in an instant. He was complex, complicated; Gods, so fucking complicated, but he was yours.

BRAND THIS ON MY SOUL. ABSOLUTE POETRY 🤌

"Oh, you hate me, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with provocation. He leaned back, lounging in his chair, his legs spreading wider as he patted his lap. "Why don't you come sit on my lap and tell me all about it, baby? I'll drill that hatred out of you real fucking good..."

*INCOHERENT SCREECHING* I MAY HAVE ACCIDENTALLY SAID 'OH FUCK' OUT LOUD WHILST READING THIS.

You let out an exasperated huff, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. "That sounds a lot like a challenge, Mattheo."

"Can't be a challenge without any competition, baby," his voice was low and husky, his confidence sending shivers down your spine. "Consider it a fucking promise."

HE'S SO COCKY AND ARROGANT I HATE HIM. (I'M ABSOLUTELY LYING I LOVE HIM, GOD HELP ME)

His tailored uniform strained against his strong shoulders, accentuating the raw power beneath, his legs spread confidently, and his arm casually draped around the back of the chair as that devilish smirk of his played on his mouth.

NOW I JUST THINK YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ME. CAN YOU HAVE A HEART ATTACK FROM HOW HOT SOMEONE IS?? HOLY SHIT.

"There are secrets in here," you purred, your touch sending shivers down his spine, "and I want them out."

THE POWER THIS SCREAMED. I'M OBSESSED WITH HER.

Mattheo's breath hitched, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he fought to restrain himself. His eyes, dark and stormy, were fixated on you with a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, his voice laced with desire and frustration, "I'll tell you anything you want to fucking know, Raven, as long as you let me bend you over this desk right quick..."

THIS 👆 AND THIS 👇

Mattheo growled, his hips instinctively surging against your core as he struggled to contain his desire. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he whispered, his voice husky with need, "I want you everywhere, Raven...against the wall, over the desk, on a fucking table in the Great Hall..."

I'M SPEECHLESS. AND ALSO NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT I WOULD FOLD IN O.OOOOO1 SECOND. LORD HAVE MERCY.

OKAY, I'M GONNA HAVE TO STOP QUOTING THINGS NOW BECAUSE THIS IS GETTING SO LONG BUT I'M JUST SO OBSSESSED WITH THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND THE WAY THEY ARE WITH EACH OTHER.

THE PASSION BETWEEN THEM IS SERIOUSLY THE MOST ADDICTING I'VE EVER READ AND I LOVE THE INSIGHT INTO THE WAR IN MATTHEO'S HEAD OF WANTING AROUND ALL THE TIME AND WANTING TO KEEP HER AT ARMS LENGTH IN CASE SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS. HIM ADMITTING SHE'S HIS ONLY WEAKNESS MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT, I'M ABSOLUTELY BEYOND FERAL FOR CONFESSIONS LIKE THAT.

I LOVE THAT SHES DROVE HIM CRAZY IN THIS CHAPTER AND TEASED HIM WITHOUT MERCY AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HOW HE TAKES HIS REVENGE FOR IT!

I'M ALSO EXTREMELY EXCITED TO SEE IF HE ACCEPTS THE MENTORSHIP AND HOW IT ENDS UP EFFECTING THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THEM.

YOU AND YOUR WRITING ARE AMAZING AND YOUR MATTHEO IS MY FAVOURITE. ILY.

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eighteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Angst, Fighting/Bickering, Sexual Tension, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Kissing, Teasing, Anger Issues, Slight Degradation.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the hushed atmosphere of Dumbledore's office, the venerable headmaster sat regally behind his desk, his piercing eyes gazing over the rim of half-moon spectacles. Mattheo Riddle, an embodiment of stoic strength, stood tall beside you. His usual cool demeanor was marred by a simmering rage, evident in the tight clench of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. You, on the other hand, stood meekly, your nerves palpable, a stark departure from your typically composed self.

"Thank you both for joining me at this early hour," Dumbledore's voice cut through the silence, stern and unyielding. There was no warmth in his tone despite his polite words. "I understand there was an altercation involving Mr. Berkshire and the both of you, Mr. Riddle. Is my understanding correct?"

Mattheo stood like a monolith, his façade unyielding, revealing nothing but a subtle inclination of his head in response. You stole a quick glance at him, a surge of frustration bubbling within you, wishing you could shake him out of his cold indifference, aching to see any sign of remorse or regret just for the sake of Dumbledores scrutiny. The room was saturated with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the distant murmur of students in the corridors, amplifying the tension in the air.

Dumbledore sighed, his disappointment evident as he shifted in his chair, his gaze fixed on both of you. "I must express my profound disappointment," he began, his words measured but stern. "Your actions were deeply troubling. Resorting to extreme violence, regardless of the provocation, is not the way we resolve conflicts here at Hogwarts."

Mattheo's eyes sparked with a hint of irritation, his silence resonating with unspoken defiance, his fists clenched in his pockets. The weight of his anger hung in the air, intensifying your own nervousness. Your palms grew damp, your fingers twitching with unease as they hung anxiously at your sides.

"As for you," Dumbledore's gaze shifted toward you, his expression softening slightly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I am beyond relieved to know that you were not hurt, and I must say, you displayed commendable courage in the face of danger," he said, his words carrying the weight of acknowledgment. "You have once again proven yourself as a remarkable and strong young witch. I have no doubt that you will continue to exhibit such qualities for as long as you remain here. There are no reprimands to be given to you, and please, if you need any support at all, my door is always open."

A rush of heat surged through your veins, his words igniting a spark of excitement in your chest that you couldn't suppress even if you tried. With a soft, appreciative smile, you nodded, swallowing hard, acutely aware of the gravity of the situation.

"However," Dumbledore continued, his gaze shifting back and forth between you and the still tense Mattheo. "In light of this incident, Mr. Riddle, consequences must be faced. There is no way around it."

Mattheo's facade remained as unyielding as ever, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of dread and frustration at the injustice of the situation. The fact that Mattheo had to face punishment for defending you didn't sit right with you, stirring a storm of emotions within.

"Given the unique circumstances of this situation," Dumbledore continued, his gleaming eyes locked on Mattheo, "I'm willing to offer you a choice." His voice held a sense of gravity, emphasizing the importance of the decision. "You can either serve detention a few times a week for a month, during which you will also participate in counseling sessions to address your anger management issues...or, I can arrange a Mentorship for you."

This grabbed Mattheo's attention, and admittedly, yours too--your voice penetrating the air before anyone had a chance to even blink. "A Mentorship?"

"Indeed," he affirmed, his gaze shifting between you and Mattheo. "Tom has provided commendable feedback about your capabilities within the guild. I believe this presents a perfect opportunity for you, provided Mr. Riddle is willing to embark on this path. Your role would involve guiding and supporting him as he confronts his challenges. Instead of formal counseling, you will be his coach, helping him navigate his problems and providing the necessary guidance."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before elaborating further. "You'll be required to maintain a detailed log, documenting the situations that provoke his anger and the strategies you employ to help him cope. This log will serve as a valuable resource, aiding us in evaluating his progress and providing targeted support where needed...in order to do so, you would be required to shadow him for a few weeks, outside of class time of course."

His tone softened, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I have faith in your ability to make a difference, young witch. This mentorship holds the potential to not only help Mr. Riddle manage his anger but also foster a sense of understanding and empathy between both of you...you have been the only one thus far who has truly been able to make a difference in helping him achieve success...I'd have never suggested this if I didn't think it would work."

The weight of Dumbledore's words hung in the air, a heavy silence stretching between the three of you. Your gaze shifted to Mattheo, his features etched with a mix of unreadable emotions. Time seemed to slow, the tension in the room palpable. After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo swallowed hard, his throat working visibly as he prepared to speak. His voice, when he finally spoke, was firm, each word carrying the weight of his resolve.

"No," he said, his eyes locking onto yours, a storm raging within them. "I won't do the mentorship."

Your heart plummeted to your feet, a sinking feeling spreading through you like icy tendrils. You were certain you were going to be sick.

"What? Why not?" you blurted out, the words escaping your lips before you could fully comprehend the weight of the situation.

Before Mattheo could respond, Dumbledore's voice cut through the building tension in the room.

"I understand this is a significant decision, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, his tone measured. "I will give you until Wednesday, two days from now, to give your answer. Take this time to think about it wisely. My advice for you to take with you as you leave, is that if someone makes you feel, let them. It's a rare gift to be truly understood."

Mattheo's response to Dumbledore's words was an infuriating silence, his lack of acknowledgment felt like a slap in the face. He spun around abruptly, his demeanor so icily distant that it sent a wave of frustration surging through you. Embarrassment clung to you like a second skin, the prickling annoyance intensifying as he navigated the situation with all the subtlety of a raging bull. Despite the tumult of questions and emotions swirling inside you, you stifled them, opting for professionalism in the face of his blatant disregard.

Desperate to maintain your composure, you managed a tight-lipped expression of thanks to Dumbledore, somehow managing to suppress just how fucking furious you were. And as you briskly exited the office, you huffed in frustration, hastening to catch up with Mattheo's brisk strides who had already made it half way down the hallway at this point.

Gasping for breath, you pushed through the bustling crowd of students, your determination fueling your pursuit of Mattheo, his long strides effortlessly outpacing your hurried steps. You called out his name, your voice almost drowned out by the chatter of the passing students. Despite your efforts, he continued to distance himself, his figure becoming a mere blur in the sea of moving bodies.

Driven by sheer persistence, you pushed harder, your determination propelling you forward. It took several minutes of relentless chasing, your voice echoing down the corridor, before he finally came to a halt. His broad frame towered over you, his chest heaving with pent-up anger as he turned to face you, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped, his words laced with a potent mix of frustration and hostility, the raw energy practically crackling in the air around him.

"Excuse me?" Your response was tinged with incredulity, your irritation palpable. "Would you like to start over?"

Mattheo ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in visible annoyance. He scanned the corridor, his eyes darting around as students hurried past, completely oblivious to the tension brewing between the two of you in their midst.

"If you think you're going to change my fucking mind, you're not," he hissed, his gaze locking onto yours with unwavering determination. "Don't waste your breath."

Your frustration flared, your brows furrowing as you glared back at him. "Can't we at least talk about it?"

"No," he retorted sharply, adjusting his tie with a swift motion. "We're just going to fucking fight."

Nervously, you glanced around, ensuring no prying eyes were lingering on the intense exchange between you and Mattheo. The corridor buzzed with the hushed conversations of passing students, each one oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing between you.

"I don't care if we fight, I don't care if you literally yell and swear at me...we always fight, Mattheo, that's what we fucking do." You stepped closer, dropping your voice lower. "We are talking about this. Wether you like it or not."

After a moment of intense silence, the challenge in your eyes seemed to finally register with Mattheo--annoyance flicking across his features before he gave an exasperated nod. He motioned for you to follow him, his tall frame moving purposefully toward an empty classroom nearby. With a swift motion, he popped open the door, gesturing for you to step inside. His eyes scanned the hallway, ensuring no prying eyes were watching the two of you.

As you entered the empty classroom, your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The sweet, vulnerable boy you had encountered in his dorm room on Saturday night was nowhere to be found. Instead, you faced the hardened, brooding Mattheo, a stark contrast to the person you had glimpsed during your intimate encounter. The disparity left you unsettled, a feeling of confusion mingling with your frustration.

Inside the classroom, the door clicked shut, drowning out the clamor of the bustling corridor outside. With a quick turn, you dropped your bag and confronted Mattheo, your eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and pity, unable to fathom the complexities of the man standing before you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you exclaimed, your words slicing through the tense silence. There was no holding back now that you were alone. You searched his dark eyes, desperately trying to decipher the turmoil within him. "I mean, what are you thinking-"

"Stop," Mattheo interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a dagger as he took a step forward.

"No," you retorted, refusing to back down. "Don't you see-"

In an instant, Mattheo closed the distance between you, his presence engulfing you as he pressed you back against the desk. Your bodies were inches apart, the proximity sending shockwaves through your senses.

"I fucking said stop," he spat, his teeth clenched, his eyes burning with intensity. "Stop looking at me like that, Raven..."

Your heart stumbled in your chest. "What-"

"All I am to you is a fucking tragedy, right?" he snarled, his anger radiating off him in waves. "Just some loser you want to fix, yeah? Take me in as your new little project to impress your future boss...follow me around all day like a fucking dog..."

"N-no-" you stuttered, your pulse thundering in your ears. "That's not what this is about, Mattheo..."

Helping him was a genuine desire, not some shallow attempt to gain favour, but you knew that it'd be hard to convince him of that, considering that he knows just how much you have been dreaming for an opportunity like this. The words caught in your throat, but he didn't relent.

"Bullshit, Raven...I won't be your charity case," he spat, his tone laced with defiance. "I won't fucking do it."

The air swirled with tension as he stood, a formidable figure, glaring down at you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. His words hung between you, heavy with accusation and resentment. He shook his head, a frustrated growl escaping his lips, and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. With a defeated sigh, he moved to a nearby chair, slumping down into it, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Caught off guard by the sudden intensity of his anger, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The silence stretched, pregnant with unspoken emotions. Slowly, you found your voice, laced with a mixture of frustration and genuine concern.

"Who did that to you?" You said, fingers trembling at your sides. "Who fucked you up so bad, emotionally and mentally, that you've completely shut down anyone who tries to fucking help you?"

"Give me a bloody break," he hissed, bitterness dripping from his words as he rolled his eyes dismissively. "Romanticize me all you wish, Raven, but the devil wrapped in silk is still the fucking devil."

Your chest tightened at his cutting words, a potent blend of hurt and frustration surging within you. Desperate to maintain your composure, you ran a trembling hand through your own hair, now, attempting to quell the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"Why are you being like this?" you shot back, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Is it because you got what you wanted from me, and now you're reverting to being a complete asshole?"

"Don't even fucking go there," Mattheo's anger surged, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity, his tone dripping with venom. "I never forced you to fuck me...that was completely your choice..."

Your heart plummeted to the floor at his words, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight it felt like it might suffocate you. A choked sound escaped your lips, barely audible as you croaked out, "Oh, gods..." there was a brief pause before you managed to find your voice again. "It was all an act? Is that what it was, Mattheo?"

Mattheo grumbled, once again rolling his eyes in exasperation as his head fell back, his gaze fixated on the ceiling.

"Not an act, Raven," he replied, his voice weary. "I meant everything I said, but this is who I am, don't you fucking dare act like you didn't know that already."

At his words, you were fucking stunned. A tempest of emotions raged within, a maelstrom of desire and frustration, adoration and resentment, crashing against the walls of your heart. Adoration burned hot, entwined with bitter resentment, all while desire surged like a wildfire, intertwined with seething fury.

The tumultuous whirlwind of feelings left you teetering on the edge of reason, torn between the impulse to hurl something at him and the overwhelming urge to throw yourself into his arms.

With a long, trembling sigh, you expelled some of the tension from your lungs, your eyes fixated on him--his tousled brown hair, those mesmerizing brown eyes, the sharp contour of his jawline, and those strong, powerful hands that made you weak in an instant. He was complex, complicated; Gods, so fucking complicated, but he was yours.

"I should get my damn head examined for being associated with you," after a moment, you shook your head, a bitter grumble escaping your lips. "Gods, I hate you sometimes."

Mattheo's eyes sparked with a devilish amusement at your words, his demeanor oozing arrogance that set your body ablaze with a single glance.

"Oh, you hate me, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with provocation. He leaned back, lounging in his chair, his legs spreading wider as he patted his lap. "Why don't you come sit on my lap and tell me all about it, baby? I'll drill that hatred out of you real fucking good..."

"Grow up, Mattheo," you said, trying to suppress the wildfire of lust that he awakened in your lungs. Playfully rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the desk. "Don't try to seduce me out of discussing your insanity issues."

"Yeah, that's what I thought Raven," Mattheo huffed, his amusement evident. "You don't hate anything...isn't that why my name never seems to leave your filthy little mouth, hm?"

"Oh, I'd say your name leaves my mouth quite often, actually..." you shot back, smirking. "Mostly when I'm cursing you for being the insufferable asshole that you are, just like right now."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, the tension in the room escalating by the second. "Hate me all you want, princess, but you're always gonna' love how I fuck you."

You let out an exasperated huff, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. "That sounds a lot like a challenge, Mattheo."

"Can't be a challenge without any competition, baby," his voice was low and husky, his confidence sending shivers down your spine. "Consider it a fucking promise."

Releasing a breath of amusement, you stood up straight, and with a deliberate, almost hypnotic sway of your hips, you began to close the distance between you and Mattheo. His eyes, dark and alluring, drank in every curve of your body as you approached, watching as you delicately pulled your lip between your teeth, a gesture that spoke volumes. Your eyes trailed down his form and then back up, locking onto his with unwavering intensity. His tailored uniform strained against his strong shoulders, accentuating the raw power beneath, his legs spread confidently, and his arm casually draped around the back of the chair as that devilish smirk of his played on his mouth.

Pausing right in front of him, you leaned in, the soft scent of his cologne filling your senses. Your fingers, like a whisper, brushed against his lips, tracing the contours as if seeking entrance to the mysteries he held within. Your voice, barely more than a sultry murmur, hung in the charged air between you.

"There are secrets in here," you purred, your touch sending shivers down his spine, "and I want them out."

Mattheo's breath hitched, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he fought to restrain himself. His eyes, dark and stormy, were fixated on you with a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, his voice laced with desire and frustration, "I'll tell you anything you want to fucking know, Raven, as long as you let me bend you over this desk right quick..."

Your entire body swarmed with lust, an insatiable need that coursed through your veins. Without a second thought, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. A sigh escaped your lips, head falling back in surrender as his lips trailed along your jawline. However, determination flickered in your eyes, a fierce intensity that matched his own desire.

"I want answers first, Mattheo," you breathed, your voice a sultry whisper, "then you can have me. Gods, you can have me anywhere you fucking want."

Mattheo growled, his hips instinctively surging against your core as he struggled to contain his desire. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he whispered, his voice husky with need, "I want you everywhere, Raven...against the wall, over the desk, on a fucking table in the Great Hall..."

"Shit..." you breathed, your words a desperate plea, quickly losing yourself in his fervor. "Then you better get talking, Matty...don't you want this? Don't you want me to be able to follow you around all day without drawing suspicion? We'd be able to hide in plain fucking sight..."

"No," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hip bones, his touch a blend of desire and restraint. "I mean, yes, but fuck, no...you'll be too close, it'll be too much..."

"Too close?" Your brows furrowed, your frustration giving way to determination as you buried your hands in his hair. "What does that even mean?"

"A man I called my best fucking friend put his goddamn hands on you...he tried to fucking force himself on you...if you hadn't come around, if you'd never known me, that never would have happened...I will only bring bad things into your fucking life...I can't risk it..." his voice was low now, resonating deep within you like a thunderous echo. "You're my only fucking weakness...they'll start to notice it...someone will try to hurt you to get to me...and I can't--"

Cutting him off, your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, passionate kiss that silenced his words, your body molding against his, fingers gripping him with a fierce intensity. In that moment, words ceased to matter, and all that remained was the raw, unspoken connection between you, a bond forged in defiance of the world around you. You understood his concern, you understood his fears, but everything else be damned, you knew you'd go through fucking hell and back if it meant you could hold his stupid hand.

"I'm your weakness, huh?" you murmured, pulling back, your fingers delicately tangled in his curls, your hips moving provocatively against his, noting the subtle clenching of his jaw. "Guess it's time to prove how strong you really are, big boy..."

"Raven," Mattheo groaned, his dark, smoldering eyes fixated on your lips, his breath hitching with desire. "Keep grinding that tight little cunt on me like this and I promise I'll show you just how fucking strong I can be..."

"It's tempting, I'll admit..." you whispered, your voice a sultry murmur, slowing the movement of your hips as you took a sharp, shuddering breath to compose yourself. "Look, I understand your concerns, and I won't tell you what choice to make, but it'd mean the fucking world to me if you reconsidered...I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely satisfied with only seeing each other twice a week during tutoring..."

"Mm." Mattheo's low hum resonated against your skin, his lips trailing a path of warmth over the sensitive flesh of your neck. "Addicted to me already, aren't you?"

"Shamelessly," you confessed, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. "Mostly to that talented tongue of yours, though. The rest of you, well, I suppose I could manage without..."

"You wound me," he chided, his voice laced with mock hurt, his teeth lightly nipping your earlobe in a teasing manner. "Can't tell if you fucking love or hate me, Raven...don't think I've ever met someone like that..."

Your muscles tightened in response, his strained tone drawing a low sigh from your throat. "Does that bother your precious ego, Riddle?"

"It bothers something, Raven, but definitely not my ego," he growled, his grip on you tightening possessively. "You drive me fucking crazy, did you know you got that effect?"

"Hm, let me check," you pondered, a playful smirk gracing your lips as you smoothly slipped out of his lap. His fingers reluctantly released their hold on your hips, his groan of reluctance filling the room. "Yeah, I did."

"Where the hell are you going?" he grumbled, his hand adjusting his straining arousal in a futile attempt to ease the tension. "You said if I told you-"

"I know what I said, but I lied." you retorted, a nonchalant shrug emphasizing your indifference as you moved toward your bag, slouched on the floor. Your hidden smirk played on your lips. "Apologies, Riddle, but I'm already late to meeting Emily."

"You're unbelievable," Mattheo stood, his eyebrows raised in disbelief at your audacity. "Just wait until I get you alone later, princess," he huffed, his voice saturated with a promise that sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to regret this."

A rush of excitement coursed through you, the sincerity in his tone electrifying. "Is that a threat?"

"Consider it yet another promise," he replied, stepping closer, his hand gently tilting your head back to meet his intense gaze. "You know what they say, Raven...little girls that tease, end up on their fucking knees."

He leaned down, his presence enveloping you as he brushed his lips over yours in a feather-light kiss, sending a tingling sensation through your body. The delicate touch lingered for a heartbeat, a fleeting moment of intimacy, before he released you, stepping aside with a subtle gesture, allowing you to head toward the door.

"I look forward to it, then," you grinned, your heart thundering in your chest as you made your way past him. "And I must say, I genuinely do hope you change your mind, Riddle...it would be such a shame if you were occupied with constant detentions and therapy sessions, wouldn't it? I might get terribly bored…most likely would have to find someone else to entertain myself with…”

Almost immediately after the words left your lips, Mattheo's fury exploded in his eyes, a storm of anger and frustration. He lunged for your arm, but you slipped past him with agility, your adrenaline-fueled speed giving you the advantage. With a swift movement, you whipped open the door, leaving him seething in your wake, his voice echoing with pent-up rage as he called after you, his words lost in the distance as you made your escape.

————-

Chapter nineteen->

[looseratinthegarage]

Hi ^^ I’m sorry to bother if I am, but I’m going through a really rough time… I was wondering if you can do maybe Slashers helping a reader through a panic attack? I really need comfort and your writing has become something that does comfort me.

Thank you for your time <3

Slashers helping y/n through a panic attack

I’m going off my personal experience of panic attacks. I hope this helps :3 sry it took so long!! (also let me know if you want other slashers to be included!)

Michael

~He has seen his fair share of panic attacks. Living at Smiths Grove, he became accustomed to it. The nurses only made things worse by treating the patients poorly. But he has a foggy memory of his mother comforting him when he was little, and he will try his best to mimic her actions for you~

You slam the front door shut and rest the back of your head against it. The house was cold, it’s always cold, but it felt hot to you, unbearably so. You cover your face as you try to lower your heart rate.

“You're fine, it’s fine,” You repeat to yourself as a poor attempt to calm your spiking adrenaline.

Your head felt loud, so very loud. It started to hurt. Distant voices just out of reach boom like a loud restaurant. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a quiet sob. Just then the sound of boots on hardwood caught your attention. Your panic rises, swiftly standing up ignoring your flowing tears, your body in fight or flight. There stood Michael, just watching. You put a hand over your heart and breathe heavily.

“Sorry I-” You stutter and try to walk past him, but he grabs your upper arm.

“Michael, let me go.” You say sternly with tears staining your already wet cheeks.

But he didn’t release his grasp, he instead started pulling you towards him. You struggle to get your arm free, his overpowering strength letting him do whatever he wants. You hit him and thrash like an alligator in a death roll.

“Michael stop!” You scream, then are pulled into his broad chest.

His coveralls muffle your surprised gasp. He lets go of your arm and wraps his large arms around you, his warmth soothing your stressed state. Your tensed body was unusually rigid in his arms. He took a deep breath and leant down.

“I’m here,” he cooed.

You look at him with wide eyes, then the tears begin to flow like a raging river. You grab onto him with loving force and bury your face in his chest. You sob out, letting your emotions free, lifting the heavy burden. You mumble incoherently in between wails about what triggered the attack.

He picks you up and walks over to the couch. He sits down, the old sofa creaking from your combined weight. He sets you on his lap and plays with your hair soothingly. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck, trying to get impossibly closer.

He slightly pushes you off of him to your dismay. Thinking you did something wrong you went to apologize. But before you had the chance to speak, his lips were on yours. It was a sweet kiss, not lustful or hungry, but an innocent loving kiss. Once you break away you lay your head on his chest. Your eyes begin to close as your adrenaline comes down from its high. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Thomas

~has dealt with them himself but never got much help or comfort. He won’t know what to do but will try to make you feel better~

Everything was just too much. You couldn’t take it. You push the screen door open and run out on the porch. You collapse onto your knees with a hard thud. You cry out in pain and curl up into a tight ball. You hear the screen door swing open.

“Fuck off Hoyt! I don’t need your shit right now!” You scream and blindly flip off his direction.

You hear footsteps approaching and you clench your jaw.

“Go away!!” You screeched.

Then a large hand was placed on your back. A pit grew in your stomach. You sniffled and looked in his direction. Thomas was kneeled down, his eyes filled with worry.

“I’m so sorry,” You hiccup. “I thought you were-” but before you could say anymore you were pulled into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he signed.

He pets your hair, making sure to sign praises. He rocked you in his big arms.

[luminous-letters]

Leona comforts the reader after a nightmare

Requested by: @lunalunamoonsblog

The thuds against the wooden floors rang like gunshots. The scent of something beyond your understanding invaded your nostrils, something foreign yet familiar. But one thing is sure, your blood was running cold. Your trembling figure paced the winding halls. The walls seemed to melt and twist, you felt nauseous.

The image of a middle-aged lady filled your vision. A ragged white cloth covered the deformed stout body, the dripping ooze from the folds of skin made you hurl. Her thin and unkempt hair was unmoving, messily mopped.

The figure stepped closer, mumbling incoherent words. Her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, mumbles turned to screams to a banshee screech.

You rushed, but your legs felt cemented to the floors, it wouldn't budge. You screamed, but it was drowned out in the sickly bellows and white noise.

"No..." You begged. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, the bone-chilling figure crept closer, the indescribable scent grew stronger. "No, please...!" You went on, your mind driven up to a corner by fear.

As it closed in, its jaws opened, unhinging like a snake. Within it revealed a black pool, a void. The sound of crackling bones filled the nightmarish air as it continued to distend.

"Don't!" You cried, disturbing the quiet of the night.

The dim image of the bedroom flooded your vision. Your eyes veered over to the gentle glow of the lamp, the polished acacia nightstand shone under its artificial light.

It was just a nightmare.

"What's wrong?" Leona's worried voice passed your ears, his burly figure was beside you in a heartbeat. Concern showed over his face, his emerald eyes adopted a sharp gaze as his tail worriedly swished back and forth.

"It was just another dream, nothing too much." You reassured. You put a warm hand over his, it was shaking. He pulled away, sighing. "I'll get you some water."

You sat in silence, feeling warm underneath the expensive sheets. It was something that screamed royal while also being incredibly comfortable. You inhaled, calming yourself.

"Deep breaths, love. Your heart's beating like crazy." Leona spoke, his deep voice provided solace. "I am doing deep breaths." You huffed. Your face betrayed your annoyed remark, you looked gentle and calm. It was silent save for your breathing.

"Your water." He spoke up, handing you a glass. It wasn't too cold, it was just right. You didn't hesitate; soon the cool liquid sated your thirst.

Gentle strokes on your back helped even more to relax you. Leona was humming a lullaby, his eyes were closed and a small smile made its way to his usually grumpy face. You wondered if he ever did this to Cheka.

"You good now?" The question was brief. Were you? You've been getting the same nightmares for the past few nights, a lady at the end of a hallway. Your breath hitched.

"Guess the answer's no." Leona was quick to comfort you again. Gentle strokes on your back, a lullaby. You felt drowsier by the second.

"You're safe here." Leona whispered. He held you in his arms; you felt protected and sound. You felt his heartbeat on your forehead— it was quick and uneven. He's worried. "I know, I know."

He landed a light kiss on your forehead. He continued to lull you to sleep, he didn't let you go. "Goodnight, love." His heartbeat steadied and so did yours. Call it being presumptuous, but you felt it in sync with yours.

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Can you do diego hargeeves x male reader fluff??? Idk its really all up to you how u want to write it

The Morning Shift

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves X Male reader Tags: Fluff , Established relationship Wordcount: 718

Y/N fumbled for his phone with his eyes still heavy with sleep, the early morning light seeping through the curtains. After a couple of disoriented moments, his fingers finally grazed the cool surface of his phone. With a sleepy squint, he reluctantly peered at the bright screen, desperately sliding his finger across to silence the screeching 6 AM alarm. A frustrated huff escaped his lips, scattering the remnants of dreams. He really hated morning shifts.

The soft weight of his blanket enveloped him as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling that was all too familiar. Thoughts of work drifted in and out of his mind with the same irritating persistence as the morning sun. He felt the comforting warmth of the body beside him and turned his head slightly to see Diego, his boyfriend, nestled contently against him.

“Five more minutes,” Diego mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he instinctively shifted closer, wrapping his arm around Y/N's waist.

A quiet chuckle slipped past Y/N's lips; the warmth of Diego's embrace was oddly endearing, especially in the early hours. Clearly, Diego had come over late last night after Y/N had already fallen into a deep sleep.

“Babe, I have to get up,” Y/N said, gently attempting to extricate himself from Diego's tight grasp.

Diego merely tightened his hold, his face buried against Y/N’s side, mumbling incoherently.

“No,” he groaned, sounding more like a sleepy child than a crime-fighting vigilante.

“Diego, seriously,” Y/N tried again, wiggling free but finding it a Herculean task against Diego’s stubbornness. “I have to go to work.”

With a dramatic roll, Diego flopped onto his back, flinging one arm over his eyes. “No, you don’t. You need to stay here and cuddle me.”

Y/N couldn't help but laugh softly; Diego was undeniably adorable when he was tired. “As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle you, I can’t,” he said, smiling down at his boyfriend.

“Just five more minutes?” Diego mumbled, sounding almost pitiful, but the glimmer of mischief in his eyes betrayed his tone.

“Babe, I would love a good cuddle fest, but I have to get going.” Y/N leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Diego’s forehead, effectively breaking the sleepy tension.

With an exaggerated sigh, Diego finally released his hold, rolling onto his side. “Fine,” he grumbled, pulling the blanket closer around him as if to ward off the responsibilities of the day.

“I’m gonna get in the shower,” Y/N said, already moving toward the bathroom, snagging a clean set of clothes on his way.

**

After a quick shower, Y/N emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed, steam still clinging to his skin. He glanced over to see Diego still sprawled in bed, but now with one eye barely open as he looked back.

“What time does your shift end today?” Diego asked, squinting at the bright overhead lights with a yawn.

“I should be home by six,” Y/N replied, clipping his ID badge to the top pocket of his coat as he shuffled over to his desk.

“I don’t get why you have to go to work today,” Diego pouted, propping his head on one hand.

“Not everybody can be a crime-fighting vigilante like you, babe,” Y/N teased, arching an eyebrow as he crossed the room.

“I think you could,” Diego countered, mirroring Y/N’s playful tone. “You’d look great in leather.”

With a smile, Y/N leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Diego’s lips, the taste of mint toothpaste lingering from their earlier morning routine.

Pulling away, Y/N grinned mischievously. “I think I’ll leave the leather and crime-fighting to you.”

“That's probably smart,” Diego replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

As Y/N began to gather his things, the playful atmosphere shifted slightly. “I have to go, but I love you, you big idiot,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I love you too,” Diego called out, his voice still thick with sleep.

Y/N waved as he stepped toward the door, leaving behind the warm cocoon of blankets and the soft, sleepy presence of Diego. The sound of the front door clicking shut lingered in the air, and only then did Diego sigh contentedly, snuggling deeper into the sheets in a vain attempt to reclaim the warmth of their morning briefly lived together.

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

(me, absolutely incoherent, with heart-eyes, because of you-know-what)

I had so many comments. So many! All about how I had a feeling Dream wasn't going to be successful in keeping the reader at home, and how I'm thrilled The Corinthian was taken care of, etc. But...that's all kind of been replaced in my mind by THAT KISS, and how perfect it was! (That sound you're hearing? That's me, screeching like a maniac. I do hope you're pleased. 😅)

If I thought that was enough to break me, though, you went ahead and proved me wrong, because this?

"You kissed me." "I did..." "Do it again."

I'm a puddle on the floor. Things are moving forward in a big way with their bond, and I don't think I'm going to survive the wait for the sequel! (But I will of course wait patiently anyway, because this is amazing, and I am hooked!)

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Thirteen - Make it count

☆☆☆

When you next awoke, you felt well rested. Without Dream, you were certain you would have seen the Corianthian again. You were worried about what he wanted, and what he was capable of doing.

You rose from your bed and got changed into some comfortable clothes. As you opened your door to leave, Dream was standing there with his hand raised to knock. You both looked as startled as the other.

"How did you sleep?" He asked instantly, lowering his hand.

"Good. Thank you."

His lips break out into a small smile. "You're welcome. Always."

"I, uh, I was coming to see you."

"As was I coming to see you," he chuckles softly. The sound sends a tingle down your spine. He has a very pleasant chuckle.

"Well, I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

You sigh and try to find the words you want to use. Would he be upset with you? "Well, I was thinking, maybe, I could be used as bait for the Corianthian. See, it's this power he's after, and even though it's not your full power, he clearly thinks it's enough to use against you, and, well, if I go and pretend I'm on his side or whatever, we can lure him out and capture him."

Dream was taken back by your idea.

"No."

"What?"

"No. I cannot risk anything happening to you." He is absolute with his words. He won't risk losing you.

"You have to let me help."

"No. I was coming here and to tell you I'm going after him alone. You will be safe here. Should anything happen to me, I've taken precautions to keep you safe."

"I didn't ask you to do that." You frown at him.

"No. You didn't. I did it anyway."

You want to tell at him for being foolish, but you can't bring yourself to do it. He's trying to keep you safe.

"You need me," you say softly.

"I'll manage."

You hate that. You hate that he's going to out there without you. If you're there, he isn't at full strength. He can't possibly expect to do anything.

"Please," you beg.

"I can't let you."

There was something about the tone of his voice that hit you. He wasn't doing this to displease you. He was asking in his own way for you to stay safe.

"Okay..."

You back down. For now.

Dream hesitates to reach out and touch you. You can see his fingers twitch at his side. You do the only thing you can think to do and reach out, taking his hand. You bring it to your face and let him touch you softly.

Dream looks at you in awe. His thumb brushes along your cheek in a light touch. You feel warm.

"If I return, may we discuss our future?" He asks hopefully.

"When you return. Yes."

He smiles softly. Perhaps he can win you over after all. He caresses your cheek for a little while before dropping his hand. He looks at you, committing you to memory. He wants your face to be the only thing he thinks about.

He then leaves.

You watch him disappear down the hall and round the corner. You sigh softly. You then wait several minutes. Then you go. Down the hall, round the corner, and into the library.

Lucienne looks up when you enter and seems surprised to see you. She stands up and bows her head slightly. You feel strange being bowed to. You're not Dream. You're not a ruler.

"My lady."

You feel strange hearing that, too.

"Tell me how to get to where Dream has gone."

Lucienne hesitates. She swore to watch over you while he was gone. "I don't think that a good idea."

"Please."

The librarian can see the desperation in your eyes and hear the plead in your tone. You're worried about him. She's worried about him. If dealing with the Corianthian wasn't so dangerous, she would possibly find this endeavor almost romantic.

"There's a gateway you could use..."

"Show me."

Lucienne adjusts her glasses and then looks up at the bookshelf where Matthew is perched. He understands immediately and flies down to the table in front of you.

"Follow me." He caws.

You look at Lucienne. "Thank you."

"Stay safe," she replies.

You follow Matthew out the library and down a couple of halls. He brings you to a lone door in the middle of one hall, and you go inside. There's a tall mirror standing on its own in this room. Matthew lands on top of it.

"You can pass through here, but it's kind of a one-way thing. You'll need Dream in order to come back here," Matthew explains.

"Thank you, Matthew. I intend to return with him. He needs me."

Matthew caws. "Yeah, we know."

You chuckle softly and look at the mirror. It looks unsuspecting. Just a mirror. Your reflection looks quite ordinary, but when you reach out and touch the glass, your hand passes through. Your reflection begins to ripple. You walk slowly through the mirror.

☆☆☆

Dream walks with his hands in his coat pockets. His eyes are focused straight ahead. His mind is full of thoughts of you.

The Corianthian will not get away a third time. Dream will end this today, even if it destroys him.

He knew he needed to catch the Corianthian at some point, but him appearing in your dreams was the final straw. Dream can't let him roam any further.

He walks towar this destination. A hotel. Many mortals are gathering here. Dream looks around as he stands in the parking lot. Something felt very wrong about this place.

He enters the building.

In the trees opposite the hotel, Matthew lands on a branch and looks down, seeing Dream enter the building. Lucienne had asked him to come and keep an eye on things and to return to her if things turned sour. Matthew turns his head toward the entrance of the parking lot and waits for you to appear.

Dream walks through the lobby of the hotel and sees people queuing at the desk. He walks right past them. There's an outside area and then hall down to the left. It seems people need a pass to get down there.

He waits. Two people approach the table and sign in. Dream stands behind them a few steps, and as they turn to go down the hall, he simply slips past beside them. The man at the table is too occupied with other guests to notice him.

He walks down the long hall and passes several conference rooms. Each room is labelled differently. Dream comes to stand in the doorway of one. The people at the table have strange nicknames and they're saying strange things.

It clicks in his mind.

These people are some of the worst of the worst. These people kill others. The murdering. The slaughtering. The disgusting "art" they think they're providing.

The Corianthian was definitely here.

At the end of the hallway is a large assembly room. Much bigger than the others. A podium is set up at the front of the room, and many chairs have been set up to face it.

Voice and footsteps flood the hall outside the room, and Dream tucks himself up against the wall as people start to flood in. He watches as they walk past him, talking and laughing. Each of them finds a seat in this vast hall.

Dream watches from the back.

The first ten minutes of whatever this is just talking from the organisers of the event. Dream doesn't care for specifics. He knows who these people are, what they do, what they Dream about.

It's when they mention a special guest that Dream perks back up. From a side door enters the Corianthian, and Dream watches him closely. The Corianthian walks up on stage, shakes hands, and then takes the podium.

He talks about dreams. Their dreams. Their potential. It makes Morpheus sick to think about his gift being abused by one of his own creations. At least you're safe and away from here.

The Corianthian spots Dream lingering in the back and grins.

"Tell you what, all of you close your eyes. Think of what makes you happiest. Focus on that, and soon, you will find it feels so real."

Dream walks down the aisle of chairs and slowly joins the Corianthian up on the stage.

"It's not you I wanted," the Nightmare states.

"She's safe."

"Is she?" He chuckles. "You're here to stop me?"

"Yes."

There's something about the Corianthian's smile that doesn't feel right. Dream should know you're stubborn.

And just like that, Morpheus is afraid.

☆☆☆

You reach the hotel and look up at the tall building. This is where they are? It didn't matter, you supposed. You walk inside. The lobby seems really quiet apart from a few guests and the staff. You walk past the reception desk and wander further into the hotel, going down the hall at the end.

It was quiet. Well, almost. The room at the end seemed to have something going on. You could hear what sounded like a voice. Perhaps some kind of presentation.

You didn't know where else to look and decided to take a peek. You walk over to the door and push it open.

Inside is not what you were expecting, and there was no one insight. You swore you heard a voice earlier, but there was no one here.

This room appeared to be some kind of... basement, perhaps? A bare room with a table in the middle of it. The kind of table you might find in a hospital.

"Well, what do we have here?"

You turn and find yourself facing the Corianthian. Yet there was no sign of Dream. What was going on?

"I knew you would come. Especially if he came after me. You wouldn't let him come alone." He chuckles.

"You hoped this would happen..."

"That's right." He grins.

"Where are we?" You ask, looking around again. Now, there is someone else in the room. A person you don't recognise. She is standing over a body on the table. In her hand is a scalpel.

"Oh, we're in the Dreaming again. These people are dreaming. You're bringing them all here." He chuckles. "All their dreams cam come true."

"I don't understand..."

"You alone were not enough to bring them all here into one dream. I knew I'd need Dream. I knew he would protect you if I was a threat. Now, don't worry. You don't have anything to worry about. We're currently feeding from his power. Soon, you'll be the master of the dream realm."

"What...?"

"I'm using this place to feed his power into you. You can do as you please with the Dreaming once we're rid of him."

"No! Stop it!" You yell.

A couple more people have appeared in the room. They're also doing horrific things with bodies. You're afraid. He's using you to destroy Dream and make these people stronger in their dreams.

"Please stop!"

"No can do, sweetheart." He clicks his tongue casually.

You feel your heart sinking and your breathing becoming rapid. You need to stop him somehow. You need Dream.

You need him here.

"Don't listen to him."

You gasp and turn around quickly. Dream is standing in the doorway nearby, but he looks a little fuzzy. He's not here, but he's projecting an image of himself here. It's probably all he can manage right now.

"Dream?"

"Don't listen to him."

"What do I do?" You ask softly.

The Corianthian stands in front of you both. "Enough of that." Just like that, Dream fades from view. It takes everything in you not to call out for him, but it would be no use.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

☆☆☆

Dream watched the Corianthian enter the Dreaming where he knew you were. You must have followed him to the hote, and the Corianthian had known. He was using what little power you possessed to cypher his own power, weakening him.

You weren't even doing it on purpose. From the waking world, Morpheus could feel your heart breaking. He needed to get through to you. He focused and tried to project himself into the Dreaming.

"Don't listen to him."

He can almost see you. You look afraid. He wants to reach out to comfort you, but he can't. The Corianthian severs his connection to the Dreaming, and you're gone.

His scar begins to throb. Hus rubs it.

He has an idea.

☆☆☆

The Corianthian is manipulating the room around you. He's using your power. He's controlling it. No longer are you in that horrible little room with those horrible people, but now you're outside. The grass is green, and the trees are tall.

It's beautiful.

"This is Fiddler's Green. It's considered the most beautiful spot in all the Dreaming. We're going to draw all that power here." The Corianthian smiles. "Let me show you what we can do."

He takes your hand and waves it gently through the air. A woman appears in front of you. She looks around, confused, startled. She's tall, has dark hair, and is wearing comfortable clothes. She must have been at home.

"What is this? Who are you?" She asks.

"This is lady here is Lyta Hall." The Corianthian chuckles. "Her husband died some time ago. Why don't we bring him back?"

Another wave of your hand, and there's a man standing beside her. You're confused. What is this? What is this power he's using?

The man and woman look at each other.

"Hector?"

"Lyta..."

Lyta reaches out as if to check if he's real. Her palm makes contact with his cheek, and she begins to sob. They wrap their arms around each other and hold each other.

"Lyta's dream was to have a family." The Corianthian tells you. "So let's make that dream come true."

He waves your hands again, and Lyta puls away from Hector to look down. Suddenly, she has a baby bump. You yank your hand away from the Corianthian and put some distance between you both.

"Stop it! Stop all of it!"

Your scar starts to throb. You rub it gently. You're not sure if it's because of him or not that it's doing that. You take a few deep breaths.

"I've had enough. I don't want this. I don't want Dream's power. I just want him here. I want him here with me..." You speak softly. You miss him.

You close your eyes and think about him. Everything he's done for you so far. Everything he's been through. Sure, you didn't want this bond at first. Everything was too much for you to cope with, but now... now you wanted him. You wanted to see his face again. You wanted to hear his voice again.

You wanted him.

A hand reaches out and places itself on your arm. You almost scream as you scurry away. You turn to find the Corianthian hadn't moved from his previous spot. No. You find yourself looking up into familiar blue eyes.

With shake breath, you lunge at Dream and wrap your arms around him. He lets you, wrapping his arms around you. However, he trains his eyes on the Corianthian, watching him carefully.

You cling to his coat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Dream tilts his head down and brings lifts you lr face up with his hand gently. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

You look up at him. You're trying not to cry. His thumb brushes your chin gently as he looks at you. You're safe. You're here in his arms.

"This isn't over." The Corianthian says. Once again, he's holding a knife.

"It is." Dream states. He turns to Lyta and Hector, who are holding onto each other and watching everything with confusion and fear. Dream waves his hand in their direction. Hector fades into dust in Lyta's arms. "The dead belong with the dead.'

"You bastard..." Lyta glares at him, tears threatening to fall. Dream does not care. He waves his hand again and Lyta wakes up.

Now it's just the three of you.

"I need to undo him," Dream says. "But I'll need your help to do it."

You look up at him softly. There's only one thing you can think to do. You grab him by the coat and pull him down, kissing him suddenly.

Dream is startled by your actions, but does not attempt to push you away.

You pull away and look up at him.

"Make it count."

Dream realises what you've done. You've given him your portion of the power back through a kiss. He can feel it in his veins. He stares at you in awe.

He raises his gaze to the Corianthian and gestures for you to get behind him. However, you don't let go of his hand. You watch the two.

"You can't stop me this time." Dream tells him. He lifts his hand up toward the Nightmare.

The Corianthian seems emotional. "I am what you made me."

"I didn't make you for this."

"No?"

Dream doesn't respond. He focuses his power on undoing the Corianthian. He had thought the Corianthian had been made perfectly, but it seemed he was full of flaws. Dream would not make that mistake again.

You watch the Corianthian become nothing more than sand and a skull. Dream walks over to the sand pile and picks up the tiny skull, looking at it.

"Next time, I shall do better. I shall not make something so petty." He tucks the skull into his pocket and turns to you again. "Come here."

You look at him and walk over to him slowly. He does not falter his gaze from you. You come to a stop in front of him. Dream slowly reaches out and takes your hand. With a gentle tug he pulls you into his chest.

"You kissed me."

"I did..."

"Do it again."

You state at him in surprise. Was he serious? When you continue to just stare at him, he chuckles and makes the move himself. He brings his lips to yours and kisses you softly.

You feel like you're walking on air.

It's over relatively quickly, but he gently presses his forehead against yours and smiles.

"Let go home."

You smile. "Yeah."

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Bachelor Disaster

Part I/II

Pairing: dilf!Steve Rogers x tattoo artist fem!reader, almost bratty slut!Bucky Barnes x soft dom!Thor Odinson

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Bucky gets cockblocked.

Warnings: explicit language, almost explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, public sex), slutty Bucky makes dumb decisions, mentions of pregnancy and labor, 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Alright, I hadn’t originally planned on this being a two parter, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to transition between the two big scenes, so I figured I’d cut the transition out and just give you the good stuff!! Hopefully my muse wakes up a little more and I can give you guys part 2 and a wedding before Tuesday 😘

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library !

“Shut the fuck up, Wilson!” Steve smacked his friend on the shoulder when he booed at him as he dug his phone out of the bin, flipping the rest of the assholes off when they kept hooting good natured insults at him as he wandered away from the table on drunken legs. “I’m not pussy whipped, I’m considerate!”

“Whatever, think you just miss the sound of her voice, lover boy.” Sam grinned and caught the napkin Steve chucked at his head, making kissy noises at the blonde’s back while he wandered away to call you. “Hurry the fuck up, it’s your bachelor party, wanna hit that cigar lounge before it closes!”

Steve didn’t even get a chance to throw a retort back at him before his phone was ringing in his hand, a lopsided grin spreading his lips wide when your face flashed on his screen, finding a secluded and relatively quiet corner to take your call and try to not sound too drunk.

“Baby!” He failed at not sounding drunk, speaking far louder than was necessary but unable to care because he was so happy to hear from you. “I miss you!”

“Oh, Stevie! You sound like you’re having such a good time.” Something in your voice was making him confused, you sounded a little stressed. “Why haven’t any of you been answering your phones?”

“Bucky made a no phones rule for the night, I only picked up because he disappeared somewhere.” He felt himself sobering up as he listened to your voice, something was wrong. “Doll, what is it? Did something happen? Is Sarah ok?”

“Baby, no, don’t worry, everything is fine, sort of.” There was some sort of commotion in the background and your voice was muffled for a second until you came back to him. “Becca’s in labor.”

“What? Oh my god, the twins! Connor’s gonna lose his… shit!” Steve was feeling too many emotions at once, horror finally taking over when he remembered where he was. “Fuuuuuuck, we’re in Toronto.”

“What the fuck are you doing in Toronto?!” Steve could hear someone (he was pretty sure it was Winnie) screech ‘Toronto?’ in the background and he winced. “Steve, you were supposed to stay in the city.”

“Shit, someone mentioned they wanted dim sum and sake and Buck was right there with a recommendation for the best sake place he’d ever been. Yeah, it was Thor.” Steve started rushing back to the group in a frenzy. “Oh my god, they’re going to kill him.”

“There’s a line, you would not believe the looks I started getting when I mentioned Toronto.” At least you sounded amused, chuckling softly while someone with you ranted incoherently. “I think Winnie is calling her son an idiot in several different languages.”

“He is an idiot, a slutty moron.” Steve ignored his friends’ questions as he dug through the phones and chucked Connor’s phone at the man. “Baby, I’ve gotta get these assholes to move, I have to go, I love you so much. Try to talk down the Bucky kill squad, ok? Connor, your wife’s having your babies, get your ass in gear.”

“What?! Goddamn it, I knew we should’ve stayed in New York! Why do I listen to that dumbass?”

“I don’t know, where is the idiot?” Steve looked around as everyone started frantically packing up. “Shit, Thor’s gone too. Where’s the bathroom?”

It didn’t take him long to find it, slamming the door open and sighing indulgently when he walked in to find Bucky on his knees at Thor’s feet with an enraptured look on his face. A look that fell to an annoyed snarl when he spotted Steve out of the corner of his eye while he reached to start undoing Thor’s belt.

“Get the fuck out of here, Rogers, we’re celebrating.” He rubbed his face into Thor’s bulge and groaned at the scent of him, feeling like he was about to melt into the floor when the blonde ran his fingers through his hair and cooed at him.

“Hello Steven.” Thor gave Steve a very pleased grin as Bucky kept mouthing at the outline of his cock through his pants, shushing the brunette when he tried to get Thor to pay attention to him again. “James here was a little insistent, just loves love.”

“Yeah, I’m happy for you, but we have to go.” Steve chuckled when Bucky growled at him and shot him a venomous glare, striding forward to start the task of pulling the two of them apart. “Buck, your sisters having the babies, we have to leave now.”

“What?!” Bucky froze and gazed at Steve with wide eyes, spluttering uselessly while Thor did up his pants in a rush and the two of them dragged the stunned man to his feet. “But she’s not due for another two weeks!”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate you explaining that to her once we get there.” Steve and Thor dragged the poor man out of the bathroom while he still kept spluttering hopelessly. “Please let me me there when you try to justify this to her and your mother.”

“Oh my god, my mother!” Bucky sucked in a harsh breath and dug in his heels once they got him outside, shaking his head with a horrified look on his face as Steve frowned at him and Thor held open the back door to the car. “Steve, they’re going to kill me! Maybe I should just stay here.”

“No, you’re not going to miss the birth of your nephews just because every woman in your life wants to hurt you a little bit right now.” Steve finally shoved him into the car and they took off, Bucky pouting to himself as the two blondes just grinned at each other. “Your jet gonna be able to meet us at the airport, Odinson?”

“Yes, and I believe Samuel is arranging for a police escort from La Guardia, so with any luck we should be at the hospital within three hours.” Thor grinned when Bucky let out a sullen huff as he leaned on him, winking at Steve when he rolled his eyes before turning to nuzzle into Bucky’s hair. “That’s enough pouting, James, you know I don’t appreciate brats. You’re going to meet your nephews soon, cheer up.”

“No, I’m so happy I’m gonna meet those little dudes and Becca’s gonna be such a good mom.” Bucky relaxed a little when Thor pressed his lips to his temple, giving Steve a small, slightly goofy smile when the giant bit at his ear before it fell into another whine. “I was just so fucking close!”

“Oh my god, do not complain about getting cockblocked by your sister going into labor, they already want your head on a pike.” Steve shook his head and dragged Bucky off Thor once they arrived at the airport.

“We’ll get another chance, love, don’t worry.” Thor cooed at Bucky when he started pouting again as they boarded the plane, grinning at the rest of their friends before pulling the stairs back up and letting the pilot know they were ready to go. “Just worry about apologizing to your mother and sister so they don’t actually kill you.”

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)