#i just didn’t want to drag it on for too long heh

[screampied]

can you please please write manhandling & squirting w gojo :(

❤︎ ໋𓈒 telling your best friend satoru that you can’t make yourself squirt

warnings. fem! reader, manhandling, praise, fingering, talking you through it, rev cowgirl, dirty talk, squírting, mdni.

legs sprawled, toes all curled up, you were desperately trying to make yourself squirt. it’s never happened to you and you wanted to experience what it was like—you read through various erotic stories of how it feels way different than just your everyday ordinary orgasm. with your teeth softly digging against your bottom lip, your fingers gently rummage throughout and against your clit. after a while though, you end up sighing—on the verge of giving up before as if on literal cue, your best friend gojo opens the door.

“hey, is it any more . . oh! uh,” he’d murmur, walking in on you with your legs sprawled all open. gojo suppresses a giggle that was about to escape from his lips before he utters. “. . . should i come back another time? you seem busy.”

there was smugness dripping underneath his tone and you were far too aroused to feel embarrassed. “no,” you puff. “i need help, satoru.”

“yeahh you seem like it,” he snickers. running a hand through his hair, he hums to himself before his eyes avert towards your lazily slid to the side panties. “is that what you call fingering yourself?”

“. . . shut up,” you chastise, and his sly smirk only widens. gojo stares at you for a long while before inching closer towards you—plopping down beside you. the mattress jolts a bit from his weight and he cocks his head to the left in pure amusement. “i need help. i can’t … i can’t squirt.”

gojo sneers. “oh, you sure can. you just don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, angel, heh.”

he had such a smart mouth, the dramatically frustrated sigh that deserts past your lips was too adorable—in his eyes at least.

the way you were so dedicated to making yourself have a proper finish was so cute . . but you couldn’t, you needed his help—you wanted his help.

“hm but okay,” he shrugs with a cheeky grin, getting right beside you. gojo lightly grabs your wrist, peering at how you’d already soak two of your digits with sloppy amounts of slick before he titters. “aw, poor thing. these useless fingers just can’t do shit, huh?”

“just fucking help me.” you grouse at him, a pouty scowl ceasing against your lips firmly.

“fine, girl fine,” he rolls his eyes. “i’ll take it from here.”

and he does because once he starts to ‘help’ you, it’s in a way that has you merely speechless.

with your neck slightly whirling towards the left, you’re mindlessly bouncing up at down on his thick cock. you’re faced the opposite way, your back leans up against his chest. gojo holds you up with no problem, a brief squeeze on your thighs and you start to whimper at how close his fat tip thwacks against a particularly sensitive spot.

“f— fuckk, ‘toru,” you’d whimper out, feeling him reach the deep components inside of you.

so deliciously good, you felt a few droplets of your own saliva trickle past your lips as you slump back against him. “so deep, stuffin’ me f— full, ‘toru.”

“. . . hah,” he pants heavily, tensed abs flexing each time he drags you up and down. he’s treating you like a rag doll. you didn’t expect him to do all this, having you all up and down. although, who were you to complain—he was reaching every spot without an ounce of trouble. “guess i can reach better than those fingers ever could, hm angel?”

“y—yes, yesss,” you stammer, your voice all shaky, trembling on each syllable that you spat out. “satoru, harder. fuck me, f—fuckkk me.”

you repeat the same words out your spit-glossed lips. with such a firm grip, he’s making your hips slam up and down—such a rigorous rhythm…

you try to grind a bit against him but you only end up slouching against his bare chest. it was simply no secret, gojo was known to be lengthy, longer than thick when it came to his cock. every orifice, he makes sure to locate every spot inside of your gummy walls with the crown of his shaft.

gush after gush, you’re spasming on him and you make a cute attempt at grabbing his wrist, clammy hands piercing into his skin. “s-so good, more ‘toru. right there, pleaseee . . !”

“i got ya.” he huffs, warm breaths waft right up against your earlobe. he’s holding you in place, each time he bounces you up again and again.

your eyes do that cute thing where it rolls all the way back into your cranium. it’s cute, lewd . . but cute.

with your pretty pupils dilated, all you see is nothing but pure splotches of white. his cock’s buried so deep that you’re stuck in a trance, a trance you never wanted to escape from.

“. . . awww,” he purrs against your ear, a big hand softly cupping your chin. he feels some of your translucent spit pour down the sides of your lips before smearing it over your mouth with his thumb. “such a messy baby. you feel it comin’ don’t you?” he teases, nipping a kiss near your neck once you squeeze his wrist a tad bit tighter. “oh. you want me to hold your hand, is that it?”

“sato—ru,” you whine, a cute trembly voice making a special appearance.

but oh, the stretch…

it was so good simply divine.

each second is spent with gojo’s dick delving into your clenched walls. a syrupy ear ringing whimper snatches right out of your throat before you speak once more, “satoru, ‘toru, s—satoru.”

“hey, that’s me,” he grunts with a coy grin, feeling how well you clamp down on him—of course, he’d make a joke out of nearly anything. you’re like a bobbling doll, feeling your cunt squeeze him tight before within seconds, your thighs began to quaver.

with your legs quavering, it was as if a volcano was preparing to erupt. violently, your legs start to tense and you’re steadily pulsing and pulsing. something’s coming and it’s coming fast…

it had to be exactly what you were thinking. it felt a bit different though. pressure presses down against you and you feel gojo’s fingers intertwine with yours. “heh, you’re kinda dramatic, huh?” he teases—and right before he can give you another snarky reply, he brings your hips to an abrupt halt. teeth chomping down together, your jaw insignificantly tightens and you feel a certain sharp twinge for at least three and a half seconds.

“i- i’m about to s-squirt, ‘toru,” you warn him, and he nips another chaste kiss near the crook of your neck.

“nuh uh. you’re going to squirt, trust me. give it to me, yeah. grind against me ‘n just listen to my voice, mhm.”

his voice.. just the way he spoke to you in such a playfully deep tone was enough to make you finish on the spot.

gojo holds you still. he’s still buried deep inside. stuffing you fill of hefty inches before he brings a hand towards your swollen puffy entrance. “damn, she really is so fuckin’ sloppy,” he grunts, starting to maneuver slow circles against your pussy. he makes haste with it though, and your lips part before moaning once you even hear the evidence yourself.

squelch, squelch, squelch..

it’s loud, it rings throughout your ears—each time, it’s louder than the next. he’s so sloppy with it too, no shame whatsoever. gojo then drags a soft thumb down your slit that was just sopping. everything felt so fervent - the way he’d strum his fingers against your cunt, only to then give it a concise spank.

“s-satoru, fuckkk.” you’d gasp, leaning way back with your legs still sprawled, “i—”

“now—don’t be rude, angel. she’s tryna speak to me, let her do her thing, baby,” and he clearly referring to your dripping wet pussy. he continues, rubbing against your clit at a much more rapid speed now. your legs could barely hold themselves open. mouth twitching, you feel a rupture on the very brink of rippling out of you before his spanks against your pussy come again, and again, and again…

“sloppy girl with a sloppy … fuckin’ … cunt.”

his words get more raspy and degrading and he’s way too into it to pause. with a thumb slowly tickling against your spasming nub, he watches at you moan a shrieking whine before not even seconds later, it happens. you gush out, and it’s a lot to where you even dampen gojo’s lap. thankfully he was prepared, keeping a towel underneath you just in case you were a bit too much of a soaked.

and soaked you were, it felt so good that you didn’t even know what to say… more like, you didn’t know what to think.

your mind was blank, equivalent to an empty canvas. he’s so mean, whispering such filthy murmurs into your ear before he lets you ride out your orgasm.

wet, you felt that entire word right between your legs. gojo’s still playing with you, cock stuffing your pussy full to the very brim before he feels you bare around him.

“. . seeeee,” he pants, humming in a soft tune.

he squeezes your folds tighter just to hear that honeyed mewl rip from your sweet lips. he gradually pulls out and now you’re just laying back against his chest with the dumbest expression. “told ya you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing,” he chaffs before making you turn your neck, dragging you into a deep kiss.

it catches you by surprise, you connect your lips against his and that’s when he makes you fall back. you watch with glossy eyes before he then grabs ahold of chin with one hand, brushing it tenderly against your skin. “say ah, open that pretty mouth for me ‘n taste what a messy girl you are.”

you felt your heartbeat go straight between your legs. once you loll out your tongue for him, staring right into his bright cerulean irises, he stuffs your mouth with two fingers. the same fingers that were covered in nothing but your sweet wet arousal. “yeah, run that tongue around my fingers ‘n taste it all, baby.”

you moan, swirling your tongue alongside his digits before you briefly end up gagging at the tips of his fingers massaging against the very back part of your throat.

“good girl,” he whispers—pulling his fingers out real slowly, he does this purposeful. a sheeny trail of your glistening saliva follows out from your lips before he gives you another long kiss before departing. “now, let’s do it again. but this time,” he utters, making you lie back against your back. “i’ll make you squirt just from my tongue, angel. let’s make that cute squirt velocity a little stronger, hm?”

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Playing with naruto boys hair ──☆*:・ﾟ

Slightly suggestive (kankuro ofc)

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

He loves attention so honesty he is down for anything. Weither your petting his head or braiding it he will always rub into your hand like a little puppy😭 he doesn’t beg for you to play with his hair but he never refuses the offer~

You were braiding his hair while he slowly fell asleep, thinking he was already asleep you started to talk to yourself “ ugh your so cute with your fluffy hair” you whisper “tsk, and you think it makes you look like a hedgehog, a cute hedgehog if anything~” then you can hear him giggle and turn a soft pink “oh my god your awake?!” “Hehehehe…yeahhh” “thanks y/n~”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He thinks he’s so tough and mostly it is but when he gets all soft with you late at night all he wants is to cuddle and for you to play with his hair. He just lays on your chest and when you don’t start playing with his hair he will clear his throat in a very dramatic way!

“AEhemHHHH” “…yes?” “Well? Arent you going to…?” “Huh?” “Play with my hair y/n!!!” “Ohhhhh! I knew that I just wanted to hear you say it~” “Y/N!” You giggle at his neediness 

Itachi🥀-*

Straight forward, to the point, just “play with my hair.” And that’s it. He can be very timid but most of the time he’s not ashamed to ask for things!

“Y/n? My darling?” “Yes?” He sits down infront of you “can you play with my hair?” You reach down and kiss his hair softly “of course!” And you drag your fingers through his soft hair you ask “anything else baby?” He whimpers softly at the head massage “I love you y/n…” you giggle “I love you too!”

Kakashi🍃-*

Every time you see his hair down it’s just an urge to go up to him a play with it, it looks so soft honestly! You never have before but one day after he takes a nice shower and walk out with his hair down and freshly dried you just had to ask!

“Why are You staring at me y/n? You think I’m that handsome?~” he teases “well you are handsome but I’m just looking at your hair” “ah why?” “It looks so soft!” “Oh!…want to touch it?” He walks over to you bowing his head in front of you while giving you cute puppy eyes. You reach for a strand of his hair and just as you thought it was soft as silk! “Oh my god what conditioner do you use babe?” He giggles while sitting down next to you, not moving his head away from your loving hand. You sat there playing with his hair for hours!

Kiba🐺-*

He always sees how excited akamaru gets when you pet him so he kinda wondered what if felt like, but he didn’t want to be weird so he didn’t know how to ask. So he didn’t ask!

“What’s up kibaa?” “Hey y/n!!” He lays down on your lap which he does often but this time he did something different “can I have your hand y/n?” “Of course puppy!” He grabs your hand and immediately places it on his head waiting for you to get the hint. “Uh? Heh what are you doing…OHHHHH you want me to play with your hairrr how cutee!!” “Shut up y/n!!! Gosh cant a guy get some pets without being teased.” You laugh at his response. But you gladly gave him all the pets he wanted! (Akamaru was jealous)

Shikamaru🀄️-*

Similar to kakashi, you rarely see his hair down so once you saw him relaxing in bed with his hair down you couldn’t resist

You crawl in bed with him which Suprisingly he didn’t realize, but once you started playing with the ends of his hair he opened his eyes to look at you “uh, what are you doing dear?” “Playing with your hair” “w-why?” “Because I Love You?” “Hm, Ok……can you brush it out while your at it? It’ll get frizzy and I’m to lazy to deal with it” “of course! But only if you don’t whine about it” “be gentle and I won’t whine!” He closes his eyes waiting to feel the brush softly dragging through his hair (for now on he always asks you to brush his hair)

Shino🪲-*

He doesn’t mind what you do to him as long as your happy! I feel like his hair gets frizzy in humidity and your happy to take care of it, kind of like shika. Except he asks you to help not because of the frizz he just secretly likes your hands on his hair

He walks up to you after a fresh shower and hands you a comb, detangle stray and a normal brush. You look up at him a little lost just to see his hair poofy and slightly curled “…do you want me to do your hair?” “Yes I don’t know how” (he does he just wants you to do it) “hm Finee, cmon sit in front of me” you took very nice care of his hair which he appreciated so much. Now most of the time when you play with his hair it just turns into you playing salon with him (LOL)

Neji🎋-*

I’ve said it before he loves it when you play with his hair but he will never ask. Normally he just sits next to you and play with his own hair until you do it for him. He thinks he’s so sneaky when he does it but in reality it’s so obvious he wants your attention

He’s currently braiding the ends of his hair which he never does so you knew what he wanted already “neji what are you doing sweetheart?” “Just braiding my hair” He looks up at you with a small smirk hoping you caught on “oh ok!…may I help?” “YES” “…” “uhm I mean…sure!” He’s not smooth at all but let’s just pretend he is- he just lays on his stomach and let’s you do whatever you want to his long hair. You can put it up in a bun or maybe a ponytail, whatever you pick he just likes the attention!

Lee🥋-*

He also LOVESSSS attention, love and care no matter what! He would just jump onto you and beg for you to pet him! Which you always do, especially after a long day he lovesss ittt

“Y/n-Chan! Please! I would do anything just for you to play with my hair!” You look at him for a while just to soak in his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes, but you took to long to respond so he took it as a no apparently. “PLEASE,PLEASE,PLEASE,PLEASE,PLE-” “YES LEE OK!!” “YAY!” He tucks his head into your hand so you could hold onto his face while playing with his hair, also so he can stare at your beautiful face with love in his eyes

Choji🍥-*

Now this boy has a lot of hair, it’s a like a blanket! So sometimes you just cling to his back and bury your head into his fluffy hair. Other than cuddling into his hair you also love playing with it. One time you put them into two pig tails and he looks ADORABLE! He didn’t take them out the whole day

“Your sooooo CUTEEE AHHH” He is currently twirling his hair which you put into a cute ponytail “ya think so y/n?” “Mhm!! But let’s try something elsee” you take the band holding his hair up out gently as to not put any hair out, then you dragged both hands from his scalp all the way down his hair which made him shiver. You grabbed two pieces of his hair from the front of his head to put them into two buns. After that you took a look at his cute face. “Oh my gosh you look like a cute little bear!” “Ha little?” “Yeah your just a silly little guy!” Which made him blush. He loves moments like this

Gaara⏳-*

He is very timid with any new form of physical affection so when you suggested playing with his hair he was a little shy but also confused, why does she want to touch my hair? Is it because it’s red? He didn’t understand but was willing

“I’m ok with you touching my hair I’m just wondering why?” You smile at his curiosity “it’ll feel good sweetheart, I’ll give you a nice head massage~” he likes massages so that comforted him a little. Once you made contact with his hair he felt a little less anxious. “Feel good?” His eyes softened while he turned drowsy “yes…thank you” he fell asleep not to far into the massage, but now you know any time he has trouble sleeping you could put him to sleep by playing with his hair

Kankuro🪆-*

I’ve said before he LOVES his hair, you rarely get to touch is. But he will let you touch it if you pull it play with it which he does like but never admits it

“Why would I let your touch my glorious hair!” “You let me pull it last night?” “SHUP UP?!” Teasing him is always fun so you get a laugh out of it, but you do really want to play with his hair “no serious let me play with it! I promise you’ll love ittt~” “Ughhhh fineeeee” he mumbled while he sits on his knees infront of you. Once you actually started playing with it He visibly relaxed “told you you’d love ittt” “I don’t love it! I just…yeah fine you win I love it”

[xxsabitoxx]

My Personal Hashira 🍆 Size Ranking

Warning: if it ain’t obvious, this contains smut lmao — therefore Muichiro is 100% not included in this. We’re talking about 🍆, length, girth, all the fun stuff. So if PPs make you uncomfortable keep on scrolling babes </3

A/N: these low key stress me out cause I feel like people can get pretty defensive over these types of Headcanons. Especially if my own thought differs from yours. Regardless, these are just my personal takes/HCs. My word is not law so do not be upset if my HC does not match yours / don’t feel the need to change how you HC these things to fit my POV. This is why I refrain from describing size in my fics, I want y’all to imagine it in a way that you like lololol

Lastly, idgaf if you see some of this as unrealistic, these are fake, fictional drawings of men, if I wanna give Gyomei a 44ft long 🍆, I can and will (I didn’t but you get the point.) Anyways enjoy my personal thoughts on this matter

1. Himejima Gyomei

Is anyone fucking shocked that this 7’2 (220cm) man is packing the biggest schlong among the male Hashira?

I mean let’s be logical real quick, his dick is as big as the rest of him. This man’s dick is dragging on the floor.

Soft: 11.2

Hard: 12.3

Call it unrealistic idgaf this man is LONG

Girthy too, he’s fucking beefy all over

This man’s dick will feel like he’s shoving his wrist up in there ong bro

It curves downward slightly when hard, I mean shit that thing is heavy, it stands no chance against gravity

2. Uzui Tengen

Again, the man is 6’6 (198cm).

Height comes into play when it comes to our two tank Hashira

Therefore none of you should be surprised that they are the top two

Soft: 9

Hard: 10.3

Your guts are getting rearranged, he knows the length he has but often underestimates how far he can go…

He’s long but doesn’t have a crazy girth to him, which thank fuck it doesn’t take as much prep to take him

He’s pretty straight when hard and manages to flex it and keep it up (he totally does dick tricks & you can’t convince me otherwise)

3. Tomioka Giyu

I’m standing by my “big dick Giyu” head canon. I just know this man is packing a weapon down there

What’s crazy is he wasn’t even aware of how good he had it until he overheard other corps members chatting

Soft: 6.3

Hard: 7.4

He’s got a decent girth and as weird as it may sound, it’s pretty, like really pretty to look at

When hard, it curves upwards and stands at attention which makes him a bit embarrassed

He knows how to use it, because of that he’s pretty confident in that aspect which is wild for him

He will also rearrange your guts unintentionally (or intentionally hehe)

4. Shinazugawa Sanemi

I don’t wanna hear one PEEP from any of you that Sanemi should be above Giyu.

My man is forth on the list but that ain’t mean shit, he’s still got a lot going on down there

Soft: 6

Hard: 7

He’s girthy, will tear you up girth, needs thirty minutes of prep minimum because of how wildly he fucks girth

He sticks straight out, no curve in sight and honestly looks like he defies gravity.

He’s like Tengen, can do dick tricks. But unlike Tengen he doesn’t make that known / show you lmao.

He’ll break your back, he may even hurt you (fully unintentional) if he gets too into it. That thing is fr a weapon

5. Rengoku Kyojuro

He’s fifth on the list but trust me he’s not lacking

He’s second smallest, but he’s not small, if you get what I mean. It’s kinda like how we rank the Hashira weakest to strongest but regardless they are still the strongest in the corps… that make sense?

Soft: 5.8

Hard: 6.8

He curves upwards, very prominent veins running along his shaft (heh, shaft)

Girth wise, he’s about normal. Not too intimidating but def offers you a good stretch, forgoing prep is real bold tbh

He’s a quick learner so he quickly masters how to fuck you

He will strive to go as far as your body will let him, so expect to be bruised / sore

6. Iguro Obanai

My king. He may be “smallest” among the Hashira men, but that doesn’t mean shit.

He’s not self conscious of his dick, he knows how to use it. He’s also pretty content with it’s size

Soft: 5.6

Hard: 6.5

See? You can’t come for me cause he ain’t even SMALL

Obanai’s dick is pretty, too. It curves upwards slightly, since he’s pretty pale, his veins are prominent

He’s got an average girth, he doesn’t need to prep you forever to get you ready. Which works in his favor cause he likes to “punish” you with no prep & going in raw

He can and will abuse your cunt, he’s not satisfied until you genuinely can’t walk without limping for a few days

[charliedawn]

What if the nurse was bad ?

I thought…What if Nurse Y/N turned out to be a VILLAIN. 😀

Synopsis: There was the rumour of Nurse Y/N going insane and it influenced the slashers to act…differently.

Jason Voorhees

The first one to lose his mind was Jason. He felt it from the start as you became distant and your thoughts darkened. He tried to help you. You were their hope and their light in darkness. He thought he could help, that you would get better. But nothing he did seem to work, and it only made him feel worse and worse as you started growing distant and more insane as time passed. Soon enough, he became more violent himself and some of the nurses noticed his slow return to his old self. And then, he became YOUR monster. He started protecting you and return to his complete muteness and murderous self…He would attack nurses and no word or anything could stop him…And you would simply watch with a smile on your face. The medical board tried to stop you, but it was no use. You were too far gone. At the end, the slashers were back to their old selves and there was nothing to bring you back from the madness that was slowly taking over you.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was the second to notice your sudden change. You were being more commanding and your eyes no longer held that same kindness he had grown to love. You seemed so cold. But, he still wanted to believe…Brahms still remained your friend until the very end—even when he saw that there was no turning back for you. At the end, he started returning in the walls and make more victims within the hospital. He would drag nurses or random people in his walls and they would never come back. Your own instability echoed within him and the rage and the loss and the suffering returned.

At the end, he dropped to his knees in front of you—his hands covered in blood after you had told him to kill for you. He looked up at you and his eyes held only one question within their depth.

Why ?

Brahms was scared.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo started spacing out at random times. He would get angry for no reason and destroy furniture. At night, he would hold his head and scream as he felt his thoughts turning dark and murderous. He didn’t know why. He had been happy for a few years in St Louis—free from pain. He had just started accepting that things were going to change and he could be happy…but then, he had sensed this sudden unease and unexpected shift. He looked up at you and his eyes widened as he saw you standing there.

"Darlin’. Please…I…" He wanted to ask for your help and held out his hand…but then you smiled. And it wasn’t your usual cheerful or friendly smile. It was a mocking one. A cruel one.

And that’s when he understood and Bo who had never felt anything but pain and suffering and who thought he couldn’t get any worse…was proven wrong. Because nothing hurt more than being offered hope and being deprived of it. In the end, Bo became more dangerous than ever. His rage had no outlet except through violence, and he took it out on anyone who dared cross you. He would protect you, but deep down, he hated what you had become—and what you were turning him back into.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy had always suspected there was a darker side to you. Sure, you acted like the saint of St. Louis, helping out the slashers, showing compassion, and trying to reform them. But Freddy had been around long enough to know that no one was as pure as they seemed. When your shift started, it didn’t take him by surprise—it just confirmed what he’d been thinking all along.

"Heh, I knew it," he cackled, crossing his arms as he watched you lose that last bit of sanity. His grin widened, eyes gleaming with amusement as you stood over the bloodied remains of yet another victim. "You never really believed in all that goody-two-shoes crap, did ya ?"

You turned to him, a slow smile spreading across your face. "I did…for a while. But now I see…why change you for the better, Freddy, when I can turn you into something so far worse ?"

For once, Freddy didn’t have a snappy comeback. The realization hit him hard, the smirk faltering for a brief moment as he looked into your eyes and saw nothing but malice. You weren’t just playing the game—you had flipped the board, and now you were controlling the pieces.

"You twisted bitch," Freddy finally hissed, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice. He didn’t want to admit it, but seeing you this way made him feel…uneasy. Sure, he liked chaos, liked causing pain, but this was different. You weren’t just embracing the madness—you were becoming it.

You laughed harder and Freddy could see your true colours now. He could see…

And yet, even as the realization set in, Freddy found himself drawn to your darkness. After all, who better to lead him back into his worst impulses than you ? You were the monster now, and Freddy ? Well, he was more than happy to follow your lead, no matter where it took him.

Michael Myers

Michael felt it long before anyone else did. The subtle shift in your demeanor, the distant look in your eyes—it wasn’t something he could easily put into words, not that he ever would. He watched you from the shadows, his protective nature shifting into something more possessive, much darker. As you slipped further into madness, he stopped trying to pull you back. He just…followed.

When the first body showed up, Michael stood silently beside you, his knife gleaming in the dim light. You didn’t flinch or recoil at the sight of the blood, instead offering him a wicked smile that sent a chill down his spine. He understood then—you were no longer the guiding force, the light in his darkness. You had become the very thing that pulled him deeper into it.

From that moment on, anyone who tried to "help" you faced Michael’s blade. He would watch you from across the room, eyes cold and distant, but never leaving your side. You were his now, and nothing—not even your madness—would change that.

Pennywise

Pennywise had always seen the potential for chaos in you, even when you were at your most compassionate. So when you started to change, it didn’t come as a shock to him—it was thrilling. "Oh, my little nurse, finally embracing the madness, are we ?" he’d chuckle, floating around you with a twisted grin. He didn’t resist your transformation; instead, he fed off of it.

"Why stop at a few lives ? You and I, we could rule this world, turn everyone’s worst nightmares into reality," Pennywise teased, his voice dripping with excitement. You laughed along, your eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger for destruction.

Together, you unleashed horrors in the hospital and the world would learn to utter your name in fear. And Pennywise ? He reveled in it, proud to have been right about you all along. He became your partner in terror, following your lead as he fed on souls. All mercy and redemption gone…

But, sometimes he would look at you—really look at you—and his eyes would lose their light for just a second…For just a fleeting second, he would look at you and remember who you used to be: the innocent and loved little nurse who made slashers believe in change. And he would feel a tug in his chest.

…He would even come to regret the old you.

Penny

Penny, unlike his brother, was more confused than delighted by your change. He’d always been the more playful one, the lighthearted monster who didn’t take things too seriously. But as you grew colder, more distant, something inside him shifted too. He followed you around like a lost puppy at first, hoping you’d come back to your old self.

When it became clear that wasn’t happening, Penny grew more frantic, trying to win your approval by any means necessary. "See ? I can be bad too !" he’d shout, laughing maniacally as he tore into the nurses that tried to intervene. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t bring back the warmth in your eyes. And that scared him more than anything.

In the end, Penny followed you out of fear and desperation. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also didn’t understand this new version of you. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up. He looked at his brother one night as they were keeping your door and asked:

"Pennywise…Tell me. Are they really…Are they really gone ?"

Pennywise didn’t answer. He knew that his brother wouldn’t like his answer. So, he remained silent and Penny became sad…

He had really hoped to see you again.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent never said a word, but the change in you spoke volumes to him. He had always admired your gentleness, the way you handled things with care and grace. But now, as he watched you descend into madness, something inside him broke. His art became darker, more grotesque, reflecting the growing corruption in your soul.

Vincent would silently stand in your presence, waiting for your orders. He didn’t resist the shift; instead, he internalized it, letting it fuel his own creative darkness. The sculptures he made of the staff you ordered killed were more terrifying than anything he had ever crafted before. But still, there was a sadness in his eyes as he looked at you. He missed the old you, but he could never bring himself to fight against you.

Esther

Esther’s sharp mind was one of the first to notice your change. She watched you closely, her eyes narrowing as she began to see through the cracks in your facade. At first, she tried to manipulate you back to your old self, using her charm and wit. But as time passed, she realized it was no use.

"You think you’re smarter than me, Y/N ?" she sneered one day, her usual mask of sweetness slipping away. "You think you can out-crazy me ? I’ve been playing this game far longer than you."

In the end, Esther didn’t fight you—she adapted. She started playing her own games, twisting the narrative so that your descent into madness worked in her favor. She would help you orchestrate the chaos, but only because she had plans of her own. Esther always had plans.

Father Paul

Father Paul was devastated. As a man of faith, he had always believed in redemption, in the possibility of salvation for anyone, even the most broken souls. But as he watched you fall deeper into madness, he realized that maybe some people were beyond saving.

He would try to reach you, try to remind you of the good you had once done, but it was no use. "This isn’t you, Y/N," he’d say, his voice trembling with emotion. "You can still come back from this."

But you would just laugh, brushing him off as if his words meant nothing. Father Paul, broken by your transformation, withdrew into himself. He began to question his faith, his purpose. And in the end, he too was consumed by the darkness you had unleashed, unable to reconcile the person you had become with the one he had once believed in.

"…I truly believed you were going to save us."

He whispered—his mouth tainted with fresh blood.

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman thrived on control. His routines, his polished appearance, his hollow social niceties—all carefully orchestrated to maintain his perfect image. But as he watched you, Nurse Y/N, descend into madness, he felt something shift, a crack forming in the foundation of his meticulously built world.

"You’ve changed," Patrick remarked, his voice cold and detached, as always.

You turned to him, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. "Change, Patrick ? I’d say I’m finally seeing things clearly."

Patrick tilted his head, his expression unreadable. He stared at you with a calculating gaze, as if you were just another piece of his carefully constructed reality that didn’t fit anymore. "Clarity doesn’t look like insanity," he said, though his tone betrayed no emotion.

You laughed softly, your eyes glinting with something dark. "That’s where you’re wrong. You’re always pretending, Patrick. Pretending to feel something. Pretending to fit in. But deep down, you know you’re like me."

Patrick’s gaze never wavered. He took a step closer, his face a mask of indifference, though your words hit closer to the truth than he would admit. "I’m nothing like you," he said flatly, yet there was a hint of intrigue in his voice.

"Oh, but you are," you whispered, stepping toward him. "You’ve been hiding behind that empty suit for so long, playing the role of the perfect man. But inside, you’re empty. Just like me. We’re both killers, Patrick. The only difference is, I’ve stopped pretending."

He blinked, his face as stoic as ever, but inside, something stirred. There was no rage, no fear, only a cold calculation. He didn’t care about your madness or what you had become. But there was a faint pull, the idea of relinquishing the last shred of his humanity that kept him tethered to this charade of normalcy. He was intrigued by your boldness, by how freely you had let go.

But he remained still, expressionless. "I don’t pretend," he said quietly. "I just don’t care."

You laughed again, this time louder, more manic. "And that’s what makes you dangerous, Patrick. You don’t care. You’ve never cared. But soon enough, you’ll realize how liberating that can be."

Patrick stared at you for a moment longer, no emotion flickering behind his eyes. "Liberating ?" he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him.

"Yes," you said with a smirk, turning away. "Because when you stop pretending, when you embrace what you really are, there’s nothing left to hold you back."

He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. He’d long since stopped feeling the need to explain himself. Whatever you were becoming, whatever madness had claimed you, it didn’t concern him. You were spiraling out of control, and he would remain steady, detached. Yet, as he watched you walk away, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Because, in the end, chaos or control—it made no difference to him.

Norman Bates

Norman was never the same after witnessing the shift in you. At first, he felt a glimmer of hope in your kindness, a belief that maybe you could help him escape the shadows of his past. But that hope quickly faded as you transformed into something darker. The gentle demeanor he had grown to trust turned icy, and the warmth of your presence became a cold specter haunting him.

"Y/N ?" he ventured one night, his voice trembling. You stood amidst a room filled with remnants of your darker whims, the glint of madness shining in your eyes.

"What happened to you ?" he asked, genuinely confused and hurt. The memory of the compassion you once offered felt like a distant dream.

You tilted your head, a smile playing on your lips, but it lacked warmth. "Oh, Norman, don’t you see ? I’ve always been this way. You just never noticed until now."

Norman's heart sank as he realized that the person he trusted most had turned into a reflection of the very darkness he fought against. "But I thought we could—"

You interrupted, your voice sharp. "Could what ? Change ? Adapt ? Look at what you’ve become, Norman. You’re still clinging to that fragile sense of normalcy. But we both know it’s a façade. You are a monster. You will always be a monster."

In that moment, the realization hit him hard. He had thought you were a beacon, a chance for redemption, but instead, you were leading him down a path of destruction. And as he watched you revel in the chaos you created, he felt his own sanity begin to slip. In the end, he would become your puppet, lost to the madness you had decided to embrace.

BONUS

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, heart pounding as the vivid nightmare clung to your mind. It felt so real—the madness, the blood, the slashers losing control, becoming monsters all over again. You clutched the blanket, eyes darting around the darkened room, disoriented and shaking.

The scream you had let out echoed in the silence of the night, and before you could fully gather your bearings, the door burst open. Jason was the first to appear, his imposing figure standing in the doorway—his machete raised and at the ready. He looked around frantically for any sign of danger—but found none. He moved quickly to your side, his large hand resting awkwardly on your shoulder, trying to offer comfort in the only way he knew how.

Brahms was next, peeking from behind Jason, his eyes wide with worry. He didn't say anything—just stared, his usual playful demeanor replaced with deep concern. He slowly made his way to your side, almost afraid to get too close but desperate to offer comfort. He knelt beside you, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to touch your arm, his eyes searching yours, as if pleading for reassurance that you were okay.

Michael entered quietly, his presence felt more than seen in the dim light. He didn't rush to you immediately, his pace slow and deliberate. He observed you carefully, and then pulled out his notebook from his pocket, writing something down before showing you: What happened ?

He sat at the edge of the bed, his silent and comforting company grounding you in the moment.

Bo Sinclair appeared not long after, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern, as if he'd been dragged out of a deep sleep but couldn’t help but care. "Darlin', you alright ?" His Southern accent soft, the usual sharpness in his tone dulled by the worry in his eyes. He stood there for a moment, arms crossed, before moving to your side, brushing his hand over your hair. "Was it a nightmare ?"

Vincent slipped in quietly behind his brother, standing in the shadows. He didn’t make a sound, but his presence alone was soothing, as if he was there simply to watch over you in case you needed anything. He gave a small nod, acknowledging that he was there for you.

Freddy was last, strutting in with his usual cocky grin, but even he paused when he saw your trembling form. "Nightmares, huh ? Not my work this time, I swear," he quipped, though his voice lacked its usual venom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the others crowd around you, before adding, "What kinda monster dreams are getting to you now ?"

But there was a strange softness in his voice, an unspoken understanding. He might have been a nightmare in the past, but seeing you like this—it wasn’t his domain. He wasn't your tormentor. Not anymore.

Jason stayed close, holding your hand gently, as if afraid to hurt you but wanting to let you know he was there. Brahms crawled up on the bed beside you, still staring at you with wide eyes, his head tilting as he kept trying to make sense of your distress. Michael’s calm, steady presence, coupled with the note in his notebook, reminded you that they were all here to protect you. Bo's hand never left your hair, his brother Vincent still watching from the corner, always there but never imposing.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, the warmth of their concern slowly easing the tension in your chest. You could see the lingering fear in their eyes—the slashers who had been transformed from nightmares themselves into...your friends.

"I’m okay," you whispered, though your voice still trembled slightly.

But Freddy, of course, wasn’t one to let it go so easily. "You sure about that, sweetheart ? Looked like hell got a hold of you."

You offered a weak smile, shaking your head. "It was just a bad dream."

Jason squeezed your hand a little tighter, as if to remind you that whatever had happened in your nightmare, this was reality now. And in this reality, they were here for you.

Michael scribbled on his notebook again, holding it up: You’re safe.

And, for the first time since waking up, you believed it. Surrounded by the once fearsome killers, you felt safe. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath…Yes. You were safe. Everything was alright. You would make sure of it…

[thehypnone]

Hellooo I have cometh out of hibernation and I am in need of some spicy Raintom or Raindrop or fuck it all 3 of the bugs. I pay in: Rain Cake🎂

ehehe ass

1k words, transmasc dew, vag and anal sex, at once because i love me some classical dp between bros, yk how it goes heh, objectification if you squint, bit of hair and tail pulling

Dewdrop wasn’t as big of a brat as he usually seemed. He wasn’t as aggressive either, it was mostly a facade. He was actually quite sweet and level headed, something he owed to his past as a water ghoul.

That doesn’t mean he can’t be a brat. Far from it.

He is going to be one when he’s too pent up to ignore, but too annoyed by the fact alone, to ask for help. Bratting his way into getting what he wants is his way of asking.

Rain knows that perfectly well, but it doesn’t mean he’s not happy to indulge.

This time it took the water ghoul three days to snap, grab Dewdrop by the tail and drag him away snarling. He was getting exactly what he wanted, yes, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t act highly offended by Rain’s display. 

“Asshole,” the fire ghoul snapped his teeth but didn’t put up much of an actual physical protest.

“As you wish,” Rain told him calmly, leaving Dewdrop confused. Just outside Rain’s bedroom’s door they came across Phantom, staring at them like a deer caught in the headlights. Suddenly Rain got an idea. “Come. You’ll get a brat taming lesson.”

He threw Dewdrop inside the room and waited for Phantom to walk in, too, before slipping in himself. He looked over at the fire ghoul standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised.

Rain snarled and everything happened so fast then, that Phantom and Dewdrop himself had barely even registered it. One moment he was standing in the middle of the room and the other he was bent over the bed with his ass bare and tail yanked upwards.

“Phantom,” Rain called out sternly. “Strip and get on the bed, on your back.”

The quintessence ghoul scrambled to obey, scared of getting the same treatment as Dewdrop for misbehaving. Soon enough he was in position with his cock standing straight up, hard since the moment he saw Rain drag Dewdrop through the corridor.

“Good,” Rain praised, and let go of the fire ghoul. “Sit on his cock, Droplet.”

Both Dewdrop’s and Phantom’s stomachs flipped at Rain’s tone, as if both of them were nothing more than toys. 

“Boring,” the fire ghoul scoffed despite it, but crawled over to hover his dripping cunt over Phantom’s dick as he stared up at him frozen with his mouth agape. Dewdrop slipped a hand down to run through his wet folds—toying with his clit just to piss Rain off even more on the way—and parted them before sinking down onto the quintessence ghoul’s cock all the way down.

Dewdrop groaned through clenched teeth while Phantom moaned like a whore, still laying limply. The fire ghoul immediately started rolling his hips through the initial sting of spearing himself on the other’s cock but was quickly stopped by a harsh tug on his hair.

“No, you don't,” Rain snarled right into his ear, making a shiver go down Dewdrop’s spine. “Phantom, color?”

“Uh…” Where Dewdrop was already losing his fight, Phantom was already stupid. “G– green.”

Rain didn’t respond, just pushed the fire ghoul down so he’d lay chest to chest on Phantom. “Don’t you dare move, Dewdrop.”

“Uhuh,” he grunted, entirely focused on the quintessence dick filling him so nicely. He could never brat much more with a cock snug inside him. He floated away slightly, his chin on Phantom’s sternum as his eyes fluttered close. Dewdrop loved getting fucked into oblivion but he was a true whore for cockwarming.

He wasn’t at peace for long, though, startling when his tail was yanked up again and a cold, wet finger circled his asshole, “Oh, uh, Rain– what are you–”

“Your idea, don’t you remember?” The fire ghoul didn’t need to see Rain's face to see his smirk. He was still confused, totally out of it, really, but it’s not like he was going to complain. Still, Rain wanted to make sure, “Color?”

���Greeeeen,” Dewdrop whined and pushed his ass back, earning himself a growl from the water ghoul and a moan from Phantom.

“Do. Not. Move,” Rain spat once more and shoved two slick fingers into Dewdrop’s ass with no more preamble. The fire ghoul moaned, all fucked out, and went completely limp.

“R– Rainy, I– I can–” it was Phantom’s turn to whine. Rain knew exactly what he was trying to say and helped him get there by curling his fingers downwards and pressing them into the quintessence ghoul’s cock through Dewdrop’s inner walls. They both moaned in unison, completely out of their minds.

“That’s what I thought,” Rain chuckled and started to really finger Dewdrop, moving his digits in and out with a filthy squelch and occasionally crooking them to remind Phantom he was right there. Of course, he took way too much than actually needed, reveling in being able to reduce both Dewdrop and Phantom to nothing more but babbling, drooling messes with just his words and fingers.

“Rainyyy,” the fire ghoul cried out again. “Fuck me, come on… please, put it in, fuck my ass.”

“Stop whining,” Rain growled, but pulled his fingers out. As much as he enjoyed torturing his ghouls he was starting to get needy himself, cock rock hard and leaking for what felt like hours now.

The water ghoul finally ripped his pants off and moaned when his dick sprung out of its confinement, cold air hitting the sensitive flesh. He grabbed Dewdrop’s limp legs and hooked them over Phantom’s, pushing them together. The tightness made the two ghouls whimper as Rain straddled them and guided the red tip of his cock to the fire ghoul’s slippery hole.

“You can brat all you want, Droplet, but I know you like it best to be just my obedient little fuck doll,” Rain whispered and with one thrust buried himself to the hilt in Dewdrop’s hot, tight ass. High moans rang out in the room, the tightness nearly unbearable for all three of them. The water ghoul had to take a moment for a few deep breaths, lest he blow his load too fast.

When he managed to compose himself as best as possible, Rain leaned to whisper into Dewdrop’s ear again, “Me and our dear Phantom here are going to use your sweet holes. We’ll stretch you out and fill you up, ruin for everyone else. And you are not going to move an inch, do you understand?”

Dewdrop let out a pained little noise, “Y– yes… please.”

“Careful what you ask for, baby.”

[loveanddeepdick]

matchup #11

matchups are closed!

the sound of laughter fills the air, your first date is with…

satoru gojo!

the sun had already hit the horizon, red, orange, and purple hues coloring the sky as you intertwined your fingers with gojo’s. you were listening to him yapping about something silly geto had said earlier when a stuffed animal caught your eye.

“toru! let’s go there!”, you gasped, pointing at the stall with a giant pink teddy bear hanging from the side

“uhh— heh, how about funnel cakes?”, gojo chuckled before you huffed and pulled him to the stall.

the game was simple, toss three balls into each hole and you get the prize. gojo knew it was 100% rigged but he’d be damned if you didn’t go home happy.

you saw the people in front of you lose twice in a row, emptying their pockets before leaving unhappily.

“maybe we shouldn’t..”, your voice trailed off before gojo stopped you, taking out his wallet to start playing.

“don’t worry, babes, i got this”, he grinned, grabbing the balls to throw.

he in fact lost ten times in a row.

you grimaced in embarrassment, tugging on his jacket slightly to signal that you wanted to leave. gojo shook his head again and while you were covering your face, turned away, he slid the worker a $50.

“look, darlin”, he gently grabbed your wrists, showing off the bear to you.

you gasped, squealing before hugging the bear and him at once, jumping up and down.

“thank you, thank you, toru!!”, you smiled, grabbing the bear and admiring its fluffy face.

you’d definitely be giving him a reward later too.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“a-ah, toru, there’s p-people!”, you gasped, shoving your face in embarrassment into the bear.

“yeah? you told me we could do it anywhere, baby”

you were in the back seat of gojo’s slick black mercedes in the middle of the fair parking lot. it’d been long closed but you didn’t wanna risk it. he had you laying on your tummy on the bear as he fucked you from the back, enjoying how your ass jiggled when it hit his pelvis

“you getting shy, baby?”

“no! it’s just—ah! there’s people outside!”

“yeah? let them hear”

his dick was pounding you so rough, you could swear you were seeing stars. the tip of his dick was dragging into your g-spot so good that you were drooling onto his prize.

“careful, baby—fuck! where do you want me?”

“inside, please, satoru!”

“dirty fucking girl, you want all those people to see me using my cute little date, huh?”

“yes, gojo just please make me cum!”

“then take it, baby, take all of me”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you leaned against your windowsill, letting out a dulcet sigh as you watched gojo’s car drive away. smiling, you got up but not before you heard a buzz from your phone.

the smell of salt air fills your nostrils, your second date is with..

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

rafayel qi!

you let out a short groan before putting your phone down. rafayel has always been a little protective over you. you two had always had some feelings for each other but never made anything official.

you went to the bathroom, cleaning up and changing into a comfortable pair of pajamas until he texted again. rolling your eyes, you picked up your phone. your eyes bulged at the message, nearly dropping your phone as your hands shook in nervousness as you texted back.

rafayel? your rafayel asking you out on a date? he was so indecisive he’d rather die than pick out what to eat for breakfast. you could barely sleep that night or function the next day, jittery from nervousness.

when you arrived at the fair, there he was in all his tall glory, the sunset making his purple hair glow. his eyes locked onto yours before he smiled, taking your hand.

“rafayel, be for real right now, is this a date?”

“what else would it be?”

“i don’t know, okay! it’s hard to tell with you..”, you fidgeted with the sleeves of your sweater, not being able to make eye contact with him. there was a moment of silence before rafayel opened his mouth again.

“i got jealous when i saw that blue eyed freak—“

“don’t call him that!”

“okay, okay! i got jealous when i saw gojo win you that bear. it should’ve been me”

you looked up at him, his eyes already on yours, searching for any sign of reciprocated feelings. you pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek before you grabbed his hand, taking him to a stall with a giant bunny as a prize.

“win it. then i’ll be yours.”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“say it, say you’re mine”, rafayel groaned in your ear as he pushed you down onto your bed

“i’m yours, raf”, you whispered, enchanted by his face. his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his eyes trailing down your body as you undressed yourself. he fumbled with his belt before pushing off his pants and boxers, pumping his cock as he engulfed your lips with his.

“i’ve been wanting to do this for so long”, he mumbled as his hands trailed to your pussy, rubbing his fingers along your slit, “don’t ever go out with anyone else again, promise me”

you couldn’t guarantee, you knew how rafayel was, but in the heat of the moment, you nodded your head and rubbed your thumb along his cheek.

he thrusted into you slowly, enjoying your warmth as he whined into your ear, caging you in his long arms.

“mine”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cater, Ruggie: The Secret in a Smile

Caycay, bestie… I am so sorry that SSR Crowley stole your spotlight 😭 (Is that why Cater looks so Mean Girls in his groovy... He's seeking petty revenge against Crowley/j)

Some cute stuff from the vignettes that I wasn't able to include in this fic: Cater makes a reference to TsumTsums! He mentions being into this mobile game with cute round creatures. Cater also tells a story about a 5-year old girl giving him a flower after his club's performance at a cultural festival (omg, do they mean the one in book 5?!). Ruggie teases him and says Cater must have been that little girl's first crush 😂

A Tale as Old as Time.

“Ne, ne, Ruggie-kun! Check this one out~ It's all the way from the Queendom of Roses!"

Cater jabbed a thumb at a painting of a young blonde girl dressed in a modest sky blue frock and apron, a small black bow in her hair. She couldn’t have been older than 10 years of age, still petite enough to squish inside a glass bottle with a narrow neck. The bottled child was adrift in a sudsy sea, her face frozen in an expression of slight worry.

Ruggie took one look at the artwork, then wrinkled his nose. “Sure sucks to be in her shoes. What’s this even supposed to show us, anyway? Doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to me.”

"Not a lot from the Queendom does if you aren't already familiar with its topsy-turvy stories~" Cater placed a hand on his hip and leaned forward, grinning. "This one is pretty popular! It's about a girl that wants an audience with the Queen of Hearts. She gets lost on the journey there, meets strange people and experiences even stranger things on the way. This is just one leg of that trip!"

"Wouldn’t the castle be further inland? How'd she end up in the middle of the ocean?"

“It’s about the perspective of the shot.” Cater formed a frame with his hands, catching his underclassman in it. He pulled back, creating the illusion of sizing Ruggie down. “She drank this bottled liquid she found and that shrank her down—so really, the ocean isn’t that big.”

A grimace.

“Man, talk about no sense of self preservation. She just chugged an unlabeled bottle without a second thought. Must’ve been real desperate.” Ruggie paused. “Weeeell, not like I’m one to talk about being desperate. You really can’t afford to be picky sometimes. If it fills your stomach, it fills your stomach.”

“You’d drink it too, huh… I don’t think I could do that. I’d at least want to see how the menu describes it before I order—though I guess it also depends on how ‘cammable the drink is! And hey, think about all the cool pics I could grab from a worm's eye point of view!”

"Heh, you don't seem too pressed about living life as an ant."

"Cay-kun likes to look on the bright side of things!" he declared with a wink and a peace sign. "The lost girl... she worried so much about finding her destination, she forgets to stop and smell the roses. She overlooks a lot of the fun people she could have spent time with."

Hopping from place to place, missed people—familiar elements, resurfacing a childhood of being uprooted and dragged about. Never to fully settle.

A tea party here, a brief convo there. Just enough to keep him placated, but not enough to see beyond the surface of the looking glass.

His curiosity still left wanting.

She got into so much trouble, but didn't have any real friends to come and help her.

Sadness tugged at his heartstrings, but Cater's smile didn’t waver.

"... I can’t help but kinda pity the poor thing," he said quietly. Then, brightening in the next moment, "All her issues could've been avoided if she just looked before she leapt and made some connections."

“Yeah, she definitely should’ve played smarter, not harder. Maybe if she kissed up to the locals, they’d have come to her rescue." Ruggie shrugged. "It works for me and Leona-san."

“Right? A smile goes a long way to getting what you want!” Cater poked the corners of his mouth. “You totes get me.”

“Cuz it takes a trickster to know another one on sight.”

"Wow, it sounds so mean when you put it like that. We're not tricksters, we just know how to use our smiles to problem-solve~"

"Giving a word a fresh coat of paint doesn't make it any less shady. At least be honest with yourself," the hyena smirked.

“Eeeh, I’m always honest!”

They shared a laugh—Ruggie, a snicker. Cater, lighter, more bubbly, like a carbonated mystery drink. When the effervescence died down, he cast another glance at the painting.

Too big for her small world of the sea, too small for the big world that loomed beyond it. Trapped within glass walls. Curled into herself in her delicate chambers.

Her perspective and his, one and the same.

Poor thing, poor thing, poor thing.

Cater summoned his strength and bore the full brunt of his smile.

“I’m sure she’ll find what she’s looking for… one day.”

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Polyphony

Chapter Twenty-Six

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee, Kevin, Charlie, Benny, Jesse, Sam/Madison, Annie/Bobbie, Crowley, Patience, Donna, Jody, Cesar, Nancy and going forward I'm just gonna list the bands as a whole unit and then the tertiary characters there's so many people all of the sudden!

Word Count: 3443

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, Dean/Bela blow job, he's trying his best okay?, after party shenanigans, mild drug use

A/N: I am so sorry this update has taken me so long. It's been a weird couple of months. And with that I quickly duck away from all the tomatoes you will want to virtually throw at me over this chapter. xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

Dean stepped off the side of the stage into the pit like a madman. He’d just played an entire show and finished with three encores. He didn’t want to be caught, it wasn’t an attempt at crowd surfing. It was submitting to the tide, merging with his audience.

They loved it, he was immediately met with open arms and cheers and more than one pinch on the ass.

The fog of smoke from the stage mixed with the stink of alcohol, decent weed and drying sweat then hovered over the entire crowd as Dean laughed and joked and hugged his way toward the barricade. Lee was still shouting his thank yous and Kevin was continuing to jam on the keys as the lights came back up.

Charlie cut all audio and the sudden lack of background noise was deafening. Everyone’s focus zeroed in on Dean among the chaos.

“Alright, c’mon brother,” Benny’s voice wrangled Dean out of the throes of fans more than anything. “Time to go home, folks! Let the man through!”

Dean waved and threw kisses backwards to the fans. Damn, his cheeks ached with the length of his grin, but he just couldn’t stop it. And apparently it was contagious, from Benny to Jesse, and all the way back to the dressing room, everyone who met his eye beamed back at him, followed by a cacophony of praise and congratulations that came by too fast to appreciate.

“There he is!” Lee shouted over all the laughing and cheering. The band and SPS had apparently started the after party the moment the show ended. Lee grabbed Dean around the neck, kissed his temple, and bowed him over for a noogie in the blink of an eye. Dean could have punched him in the dick, but took the high road and elbowed him in the gut instead. “Sonuvabitch—- let’s get you a drink.”

Lee dragged Dean towards the wall of booze they requested by the neck.

Someone smacked Dean’s hip as he waddled past, probably Donna, but it was too rowdy to be sure.

“Uh-oh!” Lee teased and then finally let Dean go. 

He popped up just in time for Bela to swoop in and kiss his speaking mouth. “Heh!” And okay, he closed his eyes a little late, but he was not expecting that. Lee whistled in his ear, but Dean had finally caught up with her and didn’t want to be ungrateful, so he deepened the kiss, got a hold of her hips and made it dirty, for the audience.

“Okay! Okay! Christ,” you swore. “Shots? I’m ready. Who else?”

Dean pulled back from Bela’s lips, suddenly self-conscious. She smirked, but Dean couldn’t quite match her mischief.

“Trouble’s startin’!” Pam hollered and Kevin practically shrieked as he rushed over to join you.

“You want in?” Dean asked Bela out of the side of his mouth.

“Definitely,” she agreed. They shuffled over and lined up for Cesar to drop another two disposable shot glasses onto the row before overfilling them all straight down the line.

“Salud!” He bid them imbibe.

“SALUD!” They shouted back in a choppy chorus.

The tequila without lime rolled down his throat more than stung, but Dean liked the way it felt on his tongue, an entirely different mouthfeel than his usual whiskey.

“Gah!”

Cesar eyed Dean knowingly, dark eyes bright and proud. “More?”

Dean nodded and looked around, seeing Patience sitting on the minifridge. “Hey Psychic chic, lay one on me?!”

She rolled her eyes but hopped down and got Dean a beer chaser as Cesar poured another row. “You’re a goddamn saint, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice job out there,” Patience almost looked impressed.

Dean cranked the cap off his bottle and held it up. “Just gettin’ started.”

“That we are,” she agreed and then leaned over and reached behind Dean, waving and then holding out her hand. “Hey! Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Patience— I’m the bass player for the opener.”

“Bela! I’m with him,” Bela replied, diligently shaking Patience’s hand. Dean couldn’t see it, but he felt it as Bela braced against his back to reach.

“You poor thing!” Patience teased.

“I’m right here you know!” Dean griped playfully and took his and Bela’s shot in the meantime, winking at Cesar.

“Eh, it’s not all bad,” Bela heavily implied something.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Patience said in a way like she’d be following up.

Dean groaned and took a long pull off his beer before finally turning around and joining the conversation about him. Bela practically draped herself against him, her spangly bracelets rattled down her forearm as she got comfortable.

“What is that bad?” Dean stage whispered to Bela.

“I’ll tell you later, dear,” Bela said diplomatically, patting his chest.

Patience chuckled. “How long?”

Dean looked at Bela before he could fuck that one up. “Couple of months.”

“Six.”

“Six?!” Dean balked.

“Yes, six months since we met for brunch at that place with the frittatas.”

“It’s March— that was November,” Dean countered.

“It’s still new, though,” Patience suggested, clearly amused.

“Basically,” Dean agreed.

“Not too new,” Bela tacked on.

Dean sipped his beer and looked around the room as Bela asked Patience about her band, things Dean heard but already knew. Lee and Kevin were geeking about something or another as they talked to Donna whose smirk told Dean that she was baiting them for something. Sam was spread back on the couch with Madison draped against his side while Annie sat across from them sealing a joint. Bobby and Victor were talking shop with the Sera chick from the venue just outside the door, making peace or demands, Dean couldn’t be sure.

He wondered if Charlie was still making notes for the show tomorrow or if she was here somewhere he hadn’t clocked.

“Alright folks, time to go make nice with the civilians. SPS let’s get you ladies first— Sam, grab your brother.” Bobby bellowed through the dressing room before heading out to the meet and greet area. Lots of bands did this stuff before the show, but Dean always preferred it after. Plus enough booze tended to put everyone, fan or band member, at ease.

Dean gave Patience a knowing look, rolled his eyes, and then pulled his arm off of Bela’s shoulders. “Duty calls.”

Seeing fans face-to-face was a mixed bag. Dean was never immune to the ego boost, it meant a lot that someone enjoyed something he helped make and that they were able to give them a good show in return. But there were the absolute nutbags too. And then everyone else in the middle who were either way too excited and forgot he was essentially a stranger or that he was a person at all, or trying so hard to be cool and aloof that he left feeling bad for them.

Generally it was fun, if exhausting. But after he had crashed and burned, he had this nagging urge to hang back and let the rest of the band do the heavy lifting for once. The guilt of entertaining that thought weighed on him as he followed Sam, Pam and Bobby while being flanked by Kevin and Lee. Dean Winchester didn’t pass the buck, he picked up the slack and so he walked into the repurposed rehearsal room with a big grin and his arms wide above his head.

“How’s it going everybody?!”

Screams and cheers hit them in a solid wave of sound. Carefully, you escorted them to the signing tables while everyone was still corralled behind the snap-bracelet dividers while Bobby watched the exit and the crowd. The venue’s security managed the line, ensuring everyone generally kept their clothes on and hands to themselves for this part.

SPS took up the first two tables, forcing PT’s diehards to play nice and give the openers some love. Though Dean was pleasantly surprised to see some folks decked out in their gear too, especially as a transplant band it made him proud of his friends. He cracked open the water bottle that was set in front of his assigned seat and chugged half of it. Suddenly hoping he didn’t smell too rank, from breath or sweat, he hadn’t stopped long enough to remember to grab some gum or more deodorant. He did a sniff check and felt a warm palm on his shoulder.

“Sure or unsure?” You teased, leaning in to hear him over the hustle and bustle of approaching fans.

“Passable. Got any gum?”

You rolled your eyes and stood back up to spin your compact cross-body bag around to dig through for him.

“Thanks,” Dean said while popping the piece into his mouth.

“‘’Course— anybody else?” You held out your pack and it got passed down the line from Lee to Sam, Pam was already covered, but Kevin took two, unabashedly pocketing the spare for later.

Then it was go-time and autographs passed in a blur.

The venue staff broke down the tables and slowly the people who hung around were able to mingle with the bands. Dean felt the urgency of a few groups pressing in on him, but he just grabbed his nearest bandmate, Kevin, and made the circle of conversation bigger. 

“So you’re the new Cas— how’s that going?” A woman who was old enough to know better asked behind hipster glasses.

“Weren’t you out there?!” Dean pushed back. “Dude killed tonight.”

“Ah, thanks, Dean.” Kevin said like the asshole he is. “And to think the last eight months felt like a fever dream.”

“Yeah, yeah, pipsqueak, we’re keeping you around.”

The small crowd around them laughed nervously, not yet getting Kevin’s humor.

Dean posed for selfies and gave out hugs and even had a thumb war with someone’s eight-year-old (who should not have been hanging out so late, but he wasn’t their parent). By the time the rest of the band had slipped away to the official afterparty, which included more of their friends and family and the rest of VIP, Dean was beat. 

So he headed back to the dressing room for a quick pitstop, Benny at his side now that the stage was secured for tomorrow night’s show.

Waiting for him, sprawled out on the couch like the epitome of seduction, was Bela, slowly smoking a joint through an antique cigarette holder. Who the fuck even had one of those? But damn, it stopped him well and good.

“Hey.”

“Hi there, is it time for the next round?” She slowly pulled herself up and slinked into his space. Behind him, he heard the door close. Fucking Benny.

“Yeah, I was just coming in here to— uh, freshen up a bit.”

Bela took another hit. “I see. Well, I won’t keep you from all that, but I might tempt you to stick around a bit before bumping more elbows.”

Dean eyed the couch she had crawled off of and the whole expanse of their suddenly empty dressing room. “Uh, yeah, I could use something to take the edge off.”

There was an actual shower stall nestled in the back of the ensuite bathroom of the dressing room. Dean was not brave enough to tackle that series of possibilities at the moment. But he ddid a quick scrub down of his junk and pits at the sinks, because nobody deserved a whiff of stale ball sack even if they only did this half clothed and dirty. He was a gentleman, okay?

He made sure to pull a condom out of his wallet and moved it to his front pocket instead. With one final glance in the mirror, Dean stepped back out into the dressing room proper, to see Bela now sipping something clear and fizzy out of one of the small plastic cups the venue sold cocktails in, legs crossed and eyes wicked.

“Hey.”

This thing with Bela had been growing tedious the longer it went on, but with the tour and all the publicity it wasn’t like either of them could get their rocks off with randos anymore. Dean liked Bela, in a get under-your-skin way with a perpetual need to one up one another flare that felt very high school yet with more varying levels of stakes attached. 

But she was gorgeous and more than interested. So he indulged again.

Dean sank down onto the couch beside her and finished the roach she had left in the tip of her cigarette holder, propped up on an ugly brown glass ashtray that was potentially older than both of them.

Who knew where half the shit in the dressing room came from.

Once he was good and relaxed, Bela set down her drink.

“You know New Kids on the Block was my first concert. I got to meet them and pose for pictures before they took the stage at Whitley Bay. Nobody knew who I was, we had just finished filming the first season of Red Sky at Dawn, but they still made me feel like a princess.”

Dean didn’t quite know what to say. “Well I hope we rocked a little harder than a boy band.”

Bela nodded and considered. “I was wondering if you’d mind making me feel a little more grown up—- a little more wild.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You got some sort of fantasy I need to know about here?”

Bela huffed a laugh, more to herself, she wasn’t quite looking at him.

“All this, backstage at a rock concert— sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. I guess I always wanted to be the teenage bad girl. But I was never allowed, my “reputation” always came first.”

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly into PYTs anymore, so if you want to play pretend, let's keep our own ages— I’m game, just tell me what you wanna do.”

Bela kissed him in response and creeped onto his lap.

Dean’s hands found her hips and dragged her closer, while his tongue turned the kiss sloppy. She hummed into his mouth and rubbed the warmth between her legs against his hardening dick. They really didn’t have time for a whole scenario here, but he wanted to make her happy.

“You like it a little dirty? Fucking groupie just need to get a piece of me to brag about to all your friends? Huh?”

Her voice came out accentless and needy, always a performer and goddamn pro too. “Please, Dean, I just want to touch it. To feel you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can do more than that. How about you get on your knees and show me how much you want it?”

“I can do that— I love doing that,” Bela emphasized the last word, like it was too dirty to call by its name. 

“Yeah?” Dean leaned back and unbuttoned his jeans. “Show me.”

Bela eagerly dug him out of his boxers and fly, stroking him to his full glory. Her eyes sparkled conspiratorially. Dean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she took him deep inside her mouth.

Fucking hell was she warm and sucked him like she was pulling a golf ball through a garden hose.

“That’s it, take me deep. Show me how much you want me to come down that tight little throat of yours,” Dean growled, nearly spitting the words out until he closed his eyes. 

         He was transported back into his shower at home, the thoughts of you on your knees, of you teasing him, and running your bottom lip over the ridge of his tip. You lapping up the bead of precum you coaxed out of his slit. Dean wanted it to be you more than he should. But more than that, he wanted you anyway he could have you. And the thought of all the ways he would make you scream was what sent him over.

“FUCK!” Dean shouted, biting his bottom lip and holding Bela’s head in place as his dick finished twitching through his orgasm.

Bela purred and licked him clean. 

“You’re a fucking menace, I’ll have you know.” Dean said exasperated. And then pulled her face to his for a final kiss. “UGH! I have to go to at least another two parties now.”

Bela chuckled. “You can do it. You’re the lead singer of Phantom Traveler! You can’t be made useless from a single blow job.”

“Yeah, well, it was a killer bj.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “Stop bragging and help me fix my hair.”

Dean did as he was told.

Crowley was waiting at the after party. Which, fucking figured, but Dean and Bela showed up fashionably late had the snarky asshole smugger than a grandma who just gave her grandson his fifth cookie before sending him home for nap time.

Dean looked around the club, keeping quick tabs on the rest of the band and SPS. Jody and Donna were talking to Pam in the corner and he wouldn’t be surprised if somebody swapped hotel rooms that night. Those women knew how to have fun.

Patience and Kevin were talking to some more dressed up fans that might actually be family of someone or another at the label. Dean couldn’t remember what Crowley’s son looked like the last time he saw him, besides having an early Beatles ‘do.

Nancy and Sam were talking animatedly about something nerdy, Dean was certain. It even looked like Sam had found himself a triple red eye somewhere tonight, because there was no way that moose was that awake this late naturally.

Lee was sweet talking a group of ladies along the half wall near the bar, as Cesar watched from the corner amused. All of their people were there it seemed, he just hadn't spotted Charlie yet until he got a solid knuckle to the bicep.

“Took you long enough!” 

“A wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to,” Dean quoted in his best Ian McKellan voice.

“Dude! Stop, you can’t do a good Gandalf and you know it!” Charlie begged. “So? Good night so far?”

She eyed Bela knowingly. “See anybody on my team? Besides the openers? I’m not touching that kind of drama again. Though Pam looks like she may be—?”

Dean chuckled. “Pam does what Pam wants— too late to stop her now. But, uh, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Charlie held up her fist and Dean met it with a solid bump. “See you ‘round, Red.”

Bela waved at her as she left, comfortable at Dean’s side and smug as ever.

Dean made his way to the hor'dourves table and Bela went to find them fresh drinks. As far as afterparties went, it was a little more high brow than they usually were, but it wasn’t bad. 

Dean just wasn’t feeling it.

Or maybe it was the way Victor was leaning in to hear you better as you discussed something or another with him and Bobby and Annie across the bar. They ate and they drank and they got rowdier once everyone made it to the hotel. Lee had two girls heading up to his room, but he and Pam were arguing over who got to use their room for the night and who was picking up their luggage to make getting ready in the morning easier.

Sam and Madison kept stopping every five feet to kiss or grope one another. While Charlie and some curly haired girl with cat ears sticking out of her head were almost as gross.

SPS were riding into the hotel on the roadies’ backs, little Nancy on Jesse and Donna on Benny like they were jockeys or cowgirls. Kevin and Patience were carrying their bags and shoes, apparently, behind them, amused and begrudgingly helpful. Dean, Bela, you and Cesar all rode up on an elevator together, leaving behind most of the mayhem for a blissful stretch of two minutes of quiet.

You actually may have fallen asleep standing up.

Dean nudged you and you quickly snapped out of it, fumbling for your room key and dragging Bela with you.

“Uh, Y/N? I’m going to Dean’s— I’ll just get my stuff in the morning.”

“What? Oh! Yeah, of course.” You yawned so hard, Dean had to take a deep one himself. It didn’t lessen the heat that crept up his neck as you watched Bela walk the opposite way down the hall from your room. “See you guys— see you guys at breakfast.”

Dean wanted to say something, to be reassuring, you looked so sullen all of the sudden. His mouth wouldn’t work and his feet didn’t either until Bela tugged on his elbow and marched towards his penthouse suite.

He really wanted to shoot her in that moment.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

Chapter 27: Molto

[mothwingwritings]

Ma'am can we please have some general sfw/nsfw Jun Guevara hcs we're starving

On my knees begging he's such a menace to society and your writing's so good

Call me meals on wheels how I be feeding the masses. (⌐⎚u⎚)

Heh heh heh, I have been meaning to try and write more Jun goodness. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Thank you for providing the opportunity and thank you for your kind words!!!

I hope I did our beautiful boy Jun some justice with this one! NSFW at the end, so 18+ only please!

This man is one of the world’s biggest show offs, ESPECIALLY in your presence. The moment he hears your voice or spots you across the room, he starts posturing. Gloating about his various achievements, flexing and showing off his body whenever you pass by, dropping names of famous people he knows or exotic places he’s been, anything to try and get a rise out of you or to get you fawning. The man is not shy about singing his praises in a multitude of ways to paint himself as the ideal man for you.

If he has to spend any time away from you for any reason, all of his free time is going to go towards contacting you. Texts, phone calls, video chats-there is nothing that boosts his spirits like hearing your voice and seeing your face. Even just a simple text from you saying ‘good morning’ is enough to send him over the moon. Expect a rambling paragraph response back to any message you may send, littered with romantic prose while simultaneously begging you to send him pics (either lewd or just a normal selfie, doesn’t matter to him as long as he gets to see your pretty face/body).

He’s got a plethora of nicknames for you, ranging from sweet and loving to downright obscene. He loves seeing you blush and squirm, so he’s more apt to use the raunchy ones in public.

Despite his big ego and penchant for inappropriate flirting, he is a huge romantic. You are his one and only, his soul mate, and the thought of spending the rest of his life with you by his side never fails to fill him with butterflies. Nothing fills him with joy quite like waking up with you each morning and falling asleep with you each night. His most peaceful moments are when you are tucked in by his side, sleeping soundly under his protection.

He’s a rather jealous person, so he always gets grumpy when you aren’t giving him your full attention. If you so much as glance at your phone while on a date he gets moody, and isn’t above taking any electronic devices you may have away from you and stashing them out of your reach until you have to part ways with him. If it’s another physical person you are giving your attention too, he will become insufferably rude/standoffish to them until they either get the picture and leave on their own, or you are so mortified by the encounter you leave yourself, dragging Jun with you.

Family is very important to him, and he is extremely eager to bring you into his family’s fold. It didn’t take long in your relationship for you to become acquainted with both his close and extended family, and though you were nervous as hell to meet them all so soon, they accepted you with open arms and put you at ease upon your initial meeting. They were quick to usher you into their home, provide you with a warm meal, relay story after embarrassing story of Jun in his youth. If you are someone who doesn’t have a family/has a bad relationship with your family, all that changes now as you have been fully adopted into the Guevera home, his family quickly becoming your own. Otherwise he’s just as eager and adamant to meet your family, and will invite them to every Guevera family gathering in the future. Just prepare yourself for the onslaught of ‘when can we expect a grandchild?’ questions to roll in, and that all of them will be responded with ‘We’ve been hard at work, so as soon as possible’ or something similarly suggestive by Jun.

He has a tendency to be SUPER pouty. If you get into a disagreement or spat, even with how much he loves you, he wants to be the one who comes out on top. If you prove him wrong in an argument, any sense of victory you may feel is going to be overshadowed by how damn whiny he is going to be over the next several hours. It can get so annoying that sometimes you give in and apologize, even though you did nothing wrong, just to get him to shut up. Regardless of if you concede to him or not, he is super clingy during the whole ordeal, wanting you to shower him in affection and attention as a means to ‘apologize to him for being mean to him.’ (He is an incorrigible brat. ^^;)

Sometimes Jun will just stop and stare at you for elongated amounts of time. At first it unnerved you a bit, unsure of what caused him to halt what he was doing and just… Look at you. When you finally worked up the courage and asked him why he would sometimes look at you so intensely, he simply explained that he often gets so caught up in your beauty that he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from you. From that day forward you can’t help but blush bright red when you catch him doing it, which in turn always makes him produce a devilish smirk.

Though he lives to make you a blushing, stuttering mess, you also have the power to fluster him as well. Whenever you earnestly express your love for him, or go out of your way to show him you care, he turns into a flushed, mushy mess. He catches himself pretty quickly, but you always savor the moments when he slips and loses his macho façade, finding ruffled Jun quite endearing and cute.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!!

As stated before, family is a top priority for him, and he is obsessed with the idea of making a huge family with you. This man has the biggest breeding kink, and any kind of love making he does never stops at one round. He needs to make sure he pumps you nice and full, eager to realize his dreams of a huge family ASAP. He practically salivates over the thought of how you will look stuffed with his children, thinking of how hot you’ll look round and full making him that much hornier and work that much harder to impregnate you.

He has an extremely hard time containing himself, and if you tease him in anyway (whether it be with sexy clothing, coy flirtations, or potentially just something you are doing unwittingly) he can and will take you right then and there. Who is he to deny himself the pleasure of you, when you so boldly flaunt your sex appeal before him? If you are in public he (usually) has the decency to pull you somewhere more private before he begins his assault, but he doesn’t do anything to try and muffle or hide what he is doing with you. In fact, he takes pleasure from knowing you may be caught or heard-people should be aware of how good he is at pleasuring his woman and be jealous of the fact that he can have you anytime he desires, and they never will. The ONLY time he shows any restraint is if children are present, but even then it doesn’t take long for him to shoo them away so that he can have his way with you without the fear of scarring any innocent minds.

Despite the thrill he may get over people potentially walking in on/hearing you two making love, he is EXTREMELY possessive and gets majorly pissed off if anyone other than him sees you in a compromising position, or ogles you for too long. He’s the kind of man that will make you wear an oversized tee and board shorts to the beach just to keep wandering eyes from lingering on you too long. Your body, wanton expressions, and your sultry moans-they are for him and him only. If someone else did manage to catch you two in the act he will hunt them down later and beat their ass, accident or not. The only exception would be if it was someone he trusted, but even then they are on VERY thin ice.

He likes to film his sexual encounters with you, and loves even more to make you watch them with him afterwards. Even if it embarrasses the hell out of you, he thinks it’s completely unfair that you don’t get to see how goddamn sexy you look when he’s plowing into you, and insists on sharing the experience. He happily narrates the whole thing to you as he holds you perched on his lap, rewinding his favorite moments to he can play them again and again for you. He’ll almost always touch you while the video plays, doing his best to coax the same noises and reactions from you as you are doing in the video. These viewings of course also lead to more sex, as there is no way in hell he isn’t hard as a rock once he’s done viewing it.

Jun is very perceptive of your mood and can always tell when you are in a self-conscious rut. He can’t stand when you demean yourself and gets agitated when you tear yourself apart over your appearance. Don’t you realize how fucking beautiful you are??? Don’t you see that you are literal perfection??? Well, if not, he’s just going to have to show you, isn’t he? He will take his time worshiping every inch of you, giving extra care to the parts of your body you are comfortable with. Every part of you is flawless, and if you have trouble seeing that on your own he has no qualms over helping you realize this. As long as it takes, he won’t stop lavishing you until you yield to him and realize just how incredible you are.

As much as he loves watching you when you are making love, he loves holding you during the experience even more. His favorite positions are the ones where you are a close, intertwined mess of limbs and carnal desire. He wants to feel you in your entirety, and there is no such thing as close enough as far as Jun is concerned.  When you are pressed against him you can feel each other’s heartbeat, and it’s easier for him to whisper in your ear about how much he loves you, tell you how fucking unbelievably good you feel. He is absolutely obsessed with you in every way, and he’ll keep you as close as he can for as long as possible, savoring the unity he feels with you beside him. You are half of his soul, and he feels incomplete otherwise.

[achaotichuman]

Mama's Boy

Day four of Tamlin Week! Today's prompt- Calanmai.

Tamlin is preparing for another celebration of Calanmai. As the blue is painted into his skin, Lucien asks an question that reminds him of his first time celebrating the Spring holiday.

"How was that the first time?"

Read on Ao3 or below the cut!

Laughter rang from the other side of the room, Tamlin glanced over his shoulder to see Lucien lounging on the chair in the corner of his room. One leg kicked up over the arm of the chair, Andras sitting on the window sill. Both giggling over something whilst making side-long glances at the High lord being painted in whorls of blue. 

“So, Taaam.” Lucien drawled, Tamlin let out a sigh at the tone, turning his head away from the fox, which Alis and the servant boy painting him both snorted at. 

“What is it now, Lucien?” Tamlin said.

“Are you excited for tonight?” He asked, the fox was clearly excited himself. Lucien had been in the Spring Court ten years now, and whilst he had seen Calanmai he had refrained from joining in on the celebrations. This year however, he had decided too. 

“I’m a part of this Court now.” He said with a shrug and a smile, “I want to be there.”

Tamlin had asked repeatedly if he was sure, and all he was met with was a grin and laughter, as well as the fox nodding his head. 

“Excited" is a strong word.” Tamlin answered. 

Truly he wasn’t, he never was, it was a chore he had to complete, and he would. The fertility magic sparking tonight would restore the land, and that would be his job complete. He would then join in on the happy celebrations and drink himself to oblivion. Before dragging himself back to the manor and collapse wherever the nearest soft place was. Whether that be a bed or the carpet flooring. 

“A night where you get to fuck whoever you want. Pretty good deal to me.” Lucien laughed, tossing Andras a smirk who returned it with glee. 

“Not entirely though.” Andras said, despite the smirk on his face, “The magic chooses.”

“I heard. How does that even work?” Lucien asked. 

Tamlin groaned low, not wanting to think about it just yet. He already had to experience it. Let alone explain it. 

“The Forest Spirit possesses him and takes over his body. Chooses a person to generate the fertility magic with, then they make love on a stone altar while everyone dances around the fires and makes their own fertility magic.” Andras thankfully answered for him. 

“They fuck on rocks?” Lucien asked incredulously.

“Yes, Lucien.” Tamlin answered deadpan, “I fuck on a rock.”

“Is it the same rock for every High lord?” Lucien asked. Tamlin groaned loudly and Alis had to step away, lest her snickering led her to messing the paint up. Not that it would be perfect for very long tonight. 

“Yes, Lucien.” Tamlin answered. 

“Gods.” The fox murmured, “How was that the first time? I don’t think I could fuck in the exact same place I knew my father did.” As he said the words, Lucien visibly shuddered at the thought. To which Andras cackled. 

But Tamlin didn’t laugh, stuck on what Lucien said to laugh. 

How was that the first time?

He was sitting in amongst the sheets, now new and clean, unscented and horribly, horrible clean. All clean, not a drop of crimson along the green thread, so clean. Not a single smell on them besides his own. 

He clutched onto a pillow like it was a real person. Knees bent up and his face buried in the emerald silk. He had cried so much he started dry heaving. Heh had cried so much blood ran down his face along with his tears. Entire face red and puffy. 

“Please come back.” He choked out, voice raw and gutteral, “I can’t do this. I can’t-” His voice was cut out by another sob racking through him. 

There was a timid knock on the door, which Tamlin ignored in favour of sobbing harder into the tear stained fabric. 

“Tamlin.” A muffled voice called out, “I’m coming in.”

“Get out!” He screamed, but Alis unlocked the door with her master key and went inside anyway. 

Any other would have run when they met the High lord’s furious eyes. But Alis’ face just softened. 

“I said, leave!” He shouted again, claws pricking against his fingertips. 

Alis closed the door, and walked up to the bed. Tamlin shoved away, baring his teeth at her, eyes with an animalistic glint to them. 

She sat on the edge, and then…

She opened her arms and whispered, “Come here baby.”

Every ounce of hatred and anger crumpled to dust. Another cry, adding to many, shook through Tamlin’s body as he lunged forward and fell into Alis’ arms. Breaking apart at the seams and shattering in her arms. Feeling like he was turning back into the little six year old who skinned his knee and ran straight to his nanny who tended to him in his mother’s absence. 

“Hush now, it’s okay.” Alis whispered, running her rough hands up and down his back. Kissing the top of his head whilst he cried and cried and cried. 

“I can’t do this, mom.” He whispered, “I can’t do this.”

She didn’t say anything. Alis just remained quiet and held him until he fell asleep. 

When he awoke later it was too Alis shaking him, the look on her face, one of utter pity, was enough to tell him it was time. 

He smudged the paint on his chest and neck when tears fell down his face as he stared at himself in the mirror. Shirtless, with low hanging trousers, only Alis painted him even thought it was customary to have two to speed up the process. He was grateful that for at least this first year it was only the woman he considered as much a mother as his actual mom. 

When she finished the final brush stroke, Tamlin felt himself slipping from his own body, as if he were watching everything as a bystander. Floating away from himself, the tears stopped pouring and he looked resolutely ahead. 

Alis said something he didn’t hear. When they took him out to the ritual, a crown of flowers was put on his head, and hands tried to reach out to touch him. He didn’t know when the spirit possessed him, he blacked out before it did. Whether from the sheer stress, or his own magic having pity on him, he didn’t know.

When he awoke the next morning his entire body was aching and he felt sick to his stomach. He vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach and spent the rest of the day sitting by his window, a cup of mint and honey tea in his hands that he never touched. Alis came to check on him by the hour. Always putting a hand on his shoulder, but he never looked at her, couldn’t bear to look at her. 

So he just stared at the rose gardens below, at the place his mother used to take him. Used to teach him to garden, to write poems, to just walk and have fun for a little while together. 

He had fulfilled his job, and he supposed it wasn’t as bad as he thought it might have been. Still he couldn’t look in the direction of the forest, without feeling the satiated spirit gazing upon its chosen King. 

“-Tamlin! Spring to Tamlin!” Lucien threw his shoe at the back of his head, or tried too. Tamlin caught it in a single hand and chucked it back. It hit him in the arm, Lucien told him to go fuck himself with a laugh. Andras nearly doubled over at the scene. 

Tamlin smiled at them both, then looked at Alis. 

She smiled, though it was small. She put the paint brush down and cradled his face between her hands, “How you’ve grown.”

“I had the best teacher and friend a boy could ask for,” Tamlin whispered. 

Tears welled in Alis’ brown eyes. She blinked them away as fast as she could, but gently pulled him down so she could kiss the top of his head, then murmured, “You will be okay.”

“I know.” He told her. He wasn’t the scared, confused, young boy he had been back then. She was right, he had grown. And whilst none of this had been his plan, he would make the most of it. He swore to himself the day he first came out of Hybern with his father, skin still burning from where she had laid hands, that he would never allow another to be enslaved. That he would fight against all tyranny, no matter whose freedom he was defending. 

He had the perfect opportunity here. Maybe the Mother wasn’t so wrong in her decision. Tamlin didn’t think it would have even crossed the minds of either of his brothers to do anything of the sort. 

“You ready Tam?” Andras asked, and he and Lucien stood up, the red headed male stretching out his stiff muscles. 

Tamlin turned to face both of them, the last drops of the sun beginning to disappear, and the drums beginning to stir. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

@tamlinweek

[dangraccoon]

Conspiracies

Day 28 ~ CCTV ~

Echo

Word Count: 1215 (heh, that's my birthday (which is the reason Fluke's number is that in reverse)) Content: conspiracy, reference to major character death because apparently I can't leave Fives' death alone, righteous anger, confrontation, sith magic (Fox), star wars sign language

Mando'a Guide: vode - brothers hut'uun - coward; worst possible insult to mandos osik'la - shitty sheb'palon - asshole dini'la jetii - insane jedi di'kut - idiot

Echo’s eyes turned glassy as he watched the footage. The audio was corrupted, but he could see his twin’s anguish, his fear- he could feel it in his own bones.

As Fox fired, Echo recoiled–as though he’d taken the hit himself–jerking his arm back, still stuck in the scomp port. 

He groaned, willing the scomp to twist and release him from the images being burned into his mind.

He’d been a fool. Rex told him everything he’d wanted to know about Fives’ death. He told him everything Fives said, everything he said. Every dismissal from his former general. That particular newfound blame and resentment would have to be left to simmer in his gut. He couldn’t confront a general. A commander, however…

Echo had collected himself quickly, rushing back to the officers’ barracks they’d housed him in, covering himself in the new armor he’d received. 

The walk wasn’t long, fortunately, but he struggled to push that horrid image from his mind.

“Fives, stay with me, Fives! Fives!”

“The mission… the nightmares… they’re finally over…”

“Fives? No, Fives… come on, Fives. Don’t go! Stay with me. Stay with me.”

He shuddered beneath the chill that rolled down the cybernetics that lined his back. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the haunted final words of his twin. 

The door to the Coruscant Guard office slid open, and the trooper currently condemned to front desk duty sat up, clearly confused by the sight before him. He seemed to be a shiny and looking up to see a brother, wrapped in burn scars, metal, and unique armor with a particularly pissed expression? Well, Echo couldn’t blame the slight panic he saw flash across his face.

“Where’s Fox?” he growled, all hints of calm or politeness eradicated from his voice.

The shiny pointed down a hallway. “His office,” he nearly whimpered. “Last door on the left.”

“Thanks,” he muttered as he stormed down the hall.

He didn’t bother knocking, scomp whirring the door open.

Fox sputtered, rising from his chair. “What the hell? Who the kriff are you?”

“Who the kriff are you to go around murdering your brothers?” Echo roared, closing the short distance between him and the commander.

Echo grabbed Fox’s chest plate, slamming him against the wall, his scomp pressing into his ribcage. “How many vode did you kill today? Does the number even matter to you?”

Fox’s scowl didn’t change. “You must be that ARC Cody told me about. Not surprised to see you here.” He tapped a button on his vambrace. “Call Captain Rex, 7567 from the 501st. Tell him to get his ass down here yesterday.”

Echo chuckled humorlessly. “What, are you gonna murder me in front of him just like you murdered Fi–”

“Fives didn’t give me a choice,” Fox said, his voice too calm, too even, despite the way his head seemed to jerk painfully. “He tried to assassinate the Chancellor–”

“He’d never do anything like that without a reason!” Echo snarled, throwing Fox to the ground. He was about to jump on him when a familiar voice stopped him. “Fives, no!”

“Echo, stand down!” Rex shouted as he pulled his brother away from the commander. Cody moved past to Fox as Echo struggled against his Captain.

“This hut’uun murdered Fives right in front of you!” Echo raged. 

Rex growled. “Echo–”

“I was following orders,” Fox spat. 

Cody sighed, “Fox, don’t–”

“That order was wrong and you know it! Fives needed help, not a kriffing blaster bolt to the chest!”

“That’s enough, Echo!” Rex screamed, finally wrestling his friend into a headlock until he stopped struggling. He dragged him out of the office into an interrogation room.

“Echo, you know it wasn’t his fault,” Rex panted. He ran a hand over his face. “The whole osik’la situation was kriffed from the beginning. He didn’t have a choice.”

“We always have a choice!” Echo cried. “I read the files on Umbara; I know Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase stood up to that shebs’palon sith wannabe. I know you did, too!”

“Umbara was different,” Rex sighed. 

“It proves–”

“Echo, stop.”

“–that if an order is morally corrupt–”

“I mean it, Echo.”

“–it shouldn’t be followed just because–”

Rex was on him in an instant, grabbing Echo by the collar. “I said stow it, trooper! Before I bust your ass back down to cadet.”

Echo’s words died in his throat, coating his tongue with a sour taste. He couldn’t think of a time he’d heard Rex more angry.

Rex took a deep breath, releasing his grasp. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, moving to lean against the table.

“Rex, I–”

“You know I’m not defending Fox, right?” Rex said, his eyes trained on the room across the hall. “Fives… he wasn’t himself. He should’ve known better than to pick up my pistol. I still don’t know why he did it.”

Echo closed his eyes. He could see the security cam footage behind his eyes–not that his neural interface would let him forget it. 

“You found the footage, didn’t you?” Rex asked, his voice softer.

Echo didn’t need to answer but he nodded anyway. 

“I know why you’re angry,” he continued. “I was angry for a while, too. We always expect to lose our brothers, but not at the hands of another one.”

Echo’s thoughts were back in the files from Umbara. 

“We all know what it’s like to receive orders we don’t agree with,” Rex said, his eyes finally landing on Echo’s face. “You should know that, too.”

Echo sighed. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

“I’m not the one you threw to the floor.”

“Right,” Echo said, turning towards the door.

“Maybe thank Cody while you’re at it; his soft spot for me is probably the only reason Fox didn’t put you on your ass.”

Echo knocked this time and waited for the door to slide open.

Cody let him in with a raised brow.

“Commander,” Echo started. “I acted without thinking. I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, Fox chuckled. “Yeah, you’re one of Rex’s alright.”

Echo’s brows shot up. “I– what?”

“Little Rexy here was a firebrand back in the day, too,” Fox smirked, nodding to the captain as he joined them. “Always jumping without looking. Why did you think he got stuck with Skywalker? That dini’la jetii is the only person in the galaxy crazier than this di’kut.”

“Guess that does make sense,” Echo hummed, lips pulling in a slight smirk. 

Fox sighed. “For what it’s worth, Echo, I– I didn’t… agree with the order. I thought it was extreme.”

Echo nodded. “Thank you, Commander.”

“I was–” Fox started, before stopping with a slight gasp and groan as he clutched the side of his head.

“Are you alright, Commander?” Echo asked, startling slightly as Cody placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head slightly.

“I’m– ugh, fine,” Fox growled, his eyes meeting Cody’s as his hands moved somewhat rapidly.

Cody sighed as he looked up at Echo’s confused expression. “He’s using Basic Sign Language. He said ‘I am silenced, but I’m so sorry.’”

Fox nodded as Echo looked at him, continuing to sign as Cody translated.

“‘You’re part of this now.’”

Fox gestured to Cody and Rex.

“Part of what?” Echo breathed.

Cody sighed as he translated again. “‘Your twin was right about the chips, and he’s alive.’”

Mando'a Guide: vode - brothers hut'uun - coward; worst possible insult to mandos osik'la - shitty sheb'palon - asshole dini'la jetii - insane jedi di'kut - idiot

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[amazingmsme]

I am also here to add to the EPIC: The Musical agenda!! Thank you fluff-void because you made my writing brain go brr <3 -Sheridan

Polites and Odysseus start a damn tickle war, once Odysseus’s ticklishness gets out.

It’s really cute; Polites is jumpy and giggly for however long Odysseus feels like dragging out his anticipation, which can be a while depending on how mean he’s feeling. 

He plays it completely straight too, despite the smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. 

“Why so jumpy, brother? I was merely letting you know it’s my watch!” 

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you, there was simply a loose thread I didn’t want to risk you getting caught on.”

He’s so smug, ugh. 

The master of playful condescension and sarcasm as he lers. 

“Oh; this tickles? I had no idea!”  

“Being as ticklish as this? You must be an anomaly even the Gods can’t figure out. Heh; that or they cursed you. Wonder what you did in a past life~? Maybe you were just too cute for your own good. I’m willing to believe it- just listen to those adorable giggles and hiccups of yours!”

No strategy a lee of his thinks up will work 9 times out of 10. He’ll typically either know the person well enough, wait them out, or get a read on their strategy and then nip it in the bud. 

Eurylochus let slip a bad spot of his only he remembered and started to hide, only appearing for his scheduled shifts, burying himself in his work. and dodging Odysseus at meal times only to get cornered in his room by an already waiting Odysseus who just grinned at him with a glint in his eyes. 

“You know, I don’t think I quite remember your worst spots nearly as well as you do mine; shall we rediscover them together?”

“Captain, we can talk about this!”

Eurylochus tries to plead his case, already feeling a grin spreading across his lips but Odysseus merely cracks his neck and starts to move towards him. 

“Oh I think you’ve already done quite enough talking for your own good, don't you?”

Eurylochus is lost to laughter after that. 

He’s the one that gets most embarrassed when tickled in public, or in front of his men. His laughter is loud, and hard to contain when he finally cracks. 

Odysseus truthfully isn’t much better embarrassment wise inwardly but his ler side tends to keep the men more in line, along with being Captain so no-one’s the wiser. 

Eurylochus is there to make sure no-one goes too far, and intervene or turn the tables for those that deserve it. cough Odysseus cough

Odysseus gets so flustered if a God shows up while he’s being wrecked. Good Lord.

He can typically hold onto some remnant of his Captain persona otherwise but he crumbles if Athena or Hermes show up, especially if either teases him, or makes a sarcastic comment or dry quip like he tends to do when he’s the ler, or Gods forbid they help? It’s all over for him.

I’M EATING THIS RIGHT THE FUCK UP YOU HAVE NO IDEA! They’re so fucking cute & silly, they deserve to just have some fun & chill out. This got a lil long ‘cause I’m “normal” about them

Odysseus & Polites just go back & forth getting each other, & it all started when Polites just wanted to sneak up & startle him while he was having a conversation. But he surprised him by squeezing his sides & Odysseus was like “oh, you wanna start this?” & he’s so innocent like “start what?” & that’s the last thing he’s able to say

He’s Odysseus favorite to wreck because he’s just so cute & he makes it too easy. Odysseus loves fucking with him & pretending he’s not, it’s literally his favorite game

Shxjsvxuu his flimsy excuses are so funny cause like, yeah he COULD be telling the truth, but look at that smirk! Look at his eyes sparkling! That’s pure mischief baby! & the way he’s just so smugly casual is almost like a dare to be called out on it. & Polites tried to, once

“I know that’s not what you’re really doing!” & Odysseus cocks his head like “oh? So you’re calling me a liar?” & Eurylochus is looking at him from over the captain’s shoulder like don’t do it, but Polites keeps on truckin’. “No, that’s not what I’m saying” “then what are you saying?” & he’s using that teasy mocking tone & Polites is trying not to giggle & is like “you’re just trying to mess with me” & he grins & shrugs like “well now that you put the idea in my head” & Polites tries to be like “but the idea was already in your head!” But he’s wrestled to the ground before he can finish that sentence

I fucking love your examples of some of his teases cause they’re so spot on! He’s so smug & mean about it, he’s literally such a bullyyyy. He LOVES rubbing it in their face how ticklish they are or how much they’re laughing. Literally the best worst

Poor poor Eurylochus knew he fucked up the moment he said it. It just slipped out, Polites was finally getting some well deserved revenge, & in front of a small audience of some very amused soldiers. But he could see Odysseus was trying to get the upper hand, so he casually says “you should try his hips, they make him scream louder than the gods” & then freezes because he knows the target he just put on his back. & as if to confirm it, it the midst of the struggle Odysseus catches his eye & mouths “you’re dead” soooo yeah it’s time for his disappearing act

Some of the soldiers that bore witness catch on when they see that he’s not hanging around their captain & think it’s hilarious. They’ll sneak up behind him & go “boo” pretending to be Odysseus & it gives him a heart attack every damn time! Polites definitely notices his absence by their captain’s side & hunts him down to tease him about it. It backfires, but it was worth it in the moment. After like a week of hiding & strategic avoidance, he goes to his room to grab something. He walks in & the door slams shut behind him & Odysseus is standing there with his hand on the door, smug as ever. Just like “you’re a tough man to track down, you know that?”

He just starts backing up wondering if he could fit through the porthole window, slowly & carefully trying to plead his case. But Odysseus’s smile never falters & he’s just so ready to make him shut the hell up & laugh

Eurylochus has prided himself on his ability to always keep a cool head in most situations, so he gets really flustered any time he loses his composure. & nothing makes you lose your composure more than being tickled

He’s definitely really shy about it & his top priority is trying to hide his face or muffle his laughter. Odysseus loves to point out how he’d rather hide than fight back (that backfires because now he IS fighting back & Odysseus wasn’t prepared for that)

Odysseus talks such a big game for someone who can’t take what he dishes out. He blushes so much as soon as someone starts teasing him. He gets so cute & shy if he thinks he’s about to get wrecked & he goes over every escape option in his head

Ksbskandkf he would absolutely die on the fucking spot if a god personally bore witness to him in such a vulnerable, embarrassing position. Athena once showed up in the middle of Eurylochus & Polites wrecking him & she just quietly waits for them to finish. He’s soooo flustered & pissy that she just stood there & did nothing “I mean, the least you could’ve done was leave” & she’s smirking like “I need to talk to you. And you deserved to be humbled” but he’s still grumpy & embarrassed about it

[goforth-ladymidnight]

On ACOTAR Faeries and Names

For some reason, SJM undoes most, if not all, of traditional faerie lore in her books. (I haven't read TOG or CC so I can't comment on those.) The cynical part of me thinks it's because faeries can be difficult to write well, therefore she took the easy route; the more forgiving part of me thinks it's because she set out to explore why humans believed certain myths about faeries, but then lost interest as she spent more and more time in the realm of the Night Court. (Side note: I find it odd that SJM chose to emphasize that the Illyrians are NOT really faeries, whether High or "lesser". I honestly wonder why that is.) Regardless, there's nothing very faerie about SJM's High Fae, etc. except for their ethereal beauty and pointed ears and the fact that they can do magic, I guess.

I've already written about Aging and Lying when it comes to ACOTAR's Faeries, and I thought I'd touch on another aspect of faerie lore that SJM chooses to ignore. (Heh, that rhymes.)

Names.

His [Rhysand's] eyes shifted to my face. “What’s your name, love?” Giving him my name—and my family name—would lead only to more pain and suffering. He might very well find my family and drag them into Prythian to torment, just to amuse himself. But he could steal my name from my mind if I hesitated for too long. Keeping my mind blank and calm, I blurted the first name that came to mind, a village friend of my sisters’ whom I’d never spoken to and whose face I couldn’t recall. “Clare Beddor.” My voice was nothing more than a gasp. ~ACOTAR ch. 26

Clare and her family are killed because Rhys revealed that name to Amarantha, even though he admitted later (in the next book) that he thought she made it up. So, Feyre's fears were not unfounded, but once she is Under the Mountain with everyone else, she is still reluctant to give her name when Amarantha asks for it.

Lucien is even brought forward and refuses to give away Feyre's name. For his defiance, Amarantha orders Rhysand to shatter his mind before Feyre finally gives in and shouts her name for everyone to hear. The Lady of Autumn even repays her sacrifice by helping her with one of Amarantha's "household tasks".

What is the sacrifice, though? It would seem that the only reason Amarantha wants to know her name is because Feyre knows hers, and wants to address her "properly":

“Feyre,” Amarantha said, testing my name, the taste of the two syllables on her tongue. “An old name—from our earlier dialects. Well, Feyre,” she said. I could have wept with relief when she didn’t ask for my family name. “I promised you a riddle.” ~ACOTAR ch. 35

In traditional faerie lore, it is said that names have power, so giving a faerie your name gives them power over you. (It is important to note that they cannot take anything from you. It has to be given.)

There is a scene in Hayao Miyazaki's animated classic in which the young protagonist Chihiro signs a contract to work for the sorceress Yubaba. In a beautifully animated sequence, her signature floats away and into Yubaba's waiting palm. She literally signed away her name. Chihiro is then given a new name in exchange: Sen. By the next day, she has already forgotten her original name and her purpose (freeing her enchanted parents). It is only when another ensorcelled young man gives her the bundle of her old clothes with a card in the pocket (with her name written on it) that she remembers who she was, and why she's there.

I just think it could have been very interesting to give Feyre a similar plotline in ACOTAR. By giving Amarantha her name, she no longer has it, and can no longer remember it. (And since the story is told in first person, it's easier to convey.)

How she gets her name back could be handled in one of two ways: Lucien gives back her name like the true friend he is, or she doesn't remember it until the very end.

If we explore the second option, this is what I'm thinking: Amarantha sought to break Feyre in mind, body, and spirit. The one thing she could never take from Feyre was her love for Tamlin.

“I love you,” I said. “No matter what she says about it, no matter if it’s only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I’ll love you.” My lips trembled, and my vision clouded before several warm tears slipped down my chilled face. I didn’t wipe them away. ~ACOTAR ch. 43

In my Faeries and Lying essay (linked above), I think it would have been more powerful for Amarantha to want Feyre to admit to lying about her love for Tamlin. In the same vein, I think it would be that much more impactful for Feyre to admit that even if she does not know her own name, she knows she loves Tamlin, and that's enough.

It's the one thing Amarantha couldn't take from her. It's the reason Feyre went Under the Mountain in the first place. And most importantly, it's the answer to the riddle. Love. And that's enough.

[new-revenant]

Have an unfinished fic! It was supposed to be a monster au thing, but whatever. I don’t know what I was thinking anymore. I don’t really like this that much, but it isn’t terrible. Putting it under the cut so I think about it less lol. It’s 2,372 words, not that bad.

“Day 3, July 13, 2004. I have been…dead for three days, hence the ‘Day 3,’ you know?” Danny solemnly chuckled, sadness seeping through his voice. Why was even doing this? For the sake of his sanity? Must be something like that. For his sanity, he continues.

“Us Fenton-Nightingales have monster-hunting in our blood. Although, my parents only believe in ghosts, not all those other magical creatures. But my parents also thought that ghost were monsters from another realm, so guess what-they know jack SHIT!

“Heh heh, ‘jack,’ that’s my dad’s name,” He paused, closing his eyes before inhaling sharply, continuing his meaningless spiel. For his sanity, he speaks into the recorder.

“I died, I died…three days ago, and now I’ve somehow fled to a town FULL of MONSTERS. And they were so nice, so nice because they think I’m one of them. They’ve let me live-live, ha-in a house that they couldn’t find a buyer for since I guess there aren’t too many of them living in the damned town!”

“So now I’m staying here. A not-quite-living not-quite-ghost boy with monsters. A monster hunter living with monsters.”

“My name is Daniel,” -he paused, he sighed, he continued- “Daniel Vladimir Fenton-Nightingale. And I’m half ghost, half human, and full on confused about just about everything I guess. Signing off!“

        ☁︎Two Days Earlier☁︎

Danny knew he was about to be doing something stupid. It would not be the first time he’d do something stupid. But this time, this time he was prepared. He had looked over the blueprints and notes for his parents’ machine thousands of times, he knew what it was supposed to do, and he knew that his parents failed.

A portal to the realm of ghosts, right in their basement. Their life goal, their lives’ work. And it failed. Jazz, his sister, took them both out to get some fresh air and groceries once it did. Danny engraved the looks of despair they bore as they dragged themselves out of the house into his mind.

Danny was smart. He had mostly straight As in school, getting only Cs in math. God he hated math. The Fenton-Nightingales-or just the Fentons-were a family of hunters, of geniuses, and he was no exception. Two heads were better than one, so three heads were even better. He could-no, he should help. He was going to make them happy.

Danny noticed the flaws in the wiring, in the circuits, in the paneling. They were minor, barely noticeable even to him, but even small holes can sink a ship. So he put on a hazmat suit-and took off the giant sticker of his dad’s face on it-and set out to work. It didn’t take too long, and Danny managed to fix every single thing he could find. He had worked with machines with his parents as soon as he learned how to solve those putting-the-right-shape-in-the-right-hole puzzles. He had worked with his parents with hunting ghosts, he knew how they worked, how they acted, how they faked human emotions to gain sympathy. He was born for helping his parents with this machine. And he would fix it no matter what it took.

So Danny turned on the portal again, waiting for something to happen. Seconds passed, nothing did. He sighed, and sat down on the floor. But he did something, and he would help even more when his parents came back. It could be one of those fun bonding moments between them all. He was sure even Jazz would love to help them, wanting to make their parents happier as much as Danny did.

Taking his hazmat suit off, he carefully and neatly put it back into the storage he got it from. Danny didn’t know what to do now, his parents wouldn’t be back for another hour at the very least.

So Danny was going to do something even more stupid-going inside of the portal. Since it didn’t work, maybe Danny missed something that he could fix later. The portal was spacious, going back several yards and being more than twice his height. He was awestruck at it all, loving every moment of scouting around the machine.

Then he saw it. A lone wire sticking out of the paneling. Without any thoughts in his head that weren’t focused on helping his parents, he took the panel off, and with his left arm he grabbed the wire and connected it to another.

He never turned the portal off.

The next thing that Danny remembered after moving the wire was his senses being invaded by an agonizingly bright green, by the smell of his own burning flesh, and by his own pained screams. Then he was on the ground, that green light pooling at his feet.

Danny could only blink. Danny tried to breathe, before quickly realizing a stomach churning fact-he didn’t need to breathe. He always had a feeling that his parents’ theory that ghosts were actually monsters from another world were a bit…off. And now he could see the truth.

Danny Fenton, the son of two ghost hunters, was now a ghost. He had an idea of what this meant. He could be next. No, he would be next. His parents wouldn’t even think he was their son, wouldn’t even think twice about ripping him apart. He tried to scramble to his feat, but instead ended up hovering a few feat above the ground. He was upright though, so that was a plus. A small, small plus.

A second plus was that the portal was on. It worked, his parents’ machine worked and Danny made it work. It only costed him his life. Danny started to laugh, laugh at how he was now the very thing that his parents hated. It was a crazed, depressed laugh. A laugh that echoed throughout the basement. It quickly turned into a scream, a shriek, more like. He barely registered the tears coming down his face as he mourned his own horrifically ironic fate.

But Danny had to move on, move on for his own twisted survival. Wading through the air, Danny went over to flip the switch for the portal, attempting to turn it off, failing to not pass through it multiple times before the green, swirling mess of the portal disappeared. He heaved out a sigh of relief. His parents would come home, and they would try to turn on the portal again, and then they be happy. He looked in the portal, a ghost of a smile on his face. He saw the panel he took off on the floor, and put it back without a second thought. Only after a lot of spinning around in the air and failing multiple times to even pick the stupid thing up.

Then Danny thought about something-where was his body? His body wasn’t there, not even any ashes. Oh god, it probably fell through the portal. But if it fell through the portal, why was the panel still there? Suddenly, outside of his control, Danny gasped, a breath of air coming out of his mouth, like he was out on a cold winter day. But it was mid-July and he was dead. Danny looked around and saw something-blob ghosts, many of them surrounding an ectopuss. That’s when he learned that ghosts can have adrenaline.

Danny zipped to one of the tables in the basement, grabbing the Fenton Thermos on it. Turns out, it was much easier to move as a ghost when you ignored your legs. The thermos was a ghost catching device that his parents were working on, that they were almost done with. Danny pointed it at the ectopuss, which now noticed him, shrieking at him. Danny pressed the capture button, half expecting it not to work. And it didn’t. He passed it to his left hand to examine it further, before seeing that his fingers were charred, with lightning-shaped scaring starting from his palm that went up his arm, probably going even further across his body. A lightbulb went off in Danny’s head, and he pointed the thermos back at the ectopuss as it scuttled closer to him. Danny pressed down the capture button yet again.

His scar lit up green, and he could feel it from the left side of his face, his chest, and back down to his arm. A beam of circulating blue light erupted from the thermos, sucking in both the ectopuss and all of the ghost blobs. Then the cap closed with a snap, leaving Danny alone in the basement lab. He hovered there for a moment, stunned.

Danny quickly came to a conclusion as to what to do now. He obviously had to leave. His parents couldn’t know that he was a ghost-that he was dead. Danny flew up the stairs, flew up all the stairs to his room. He grabbed a travel bag, focusing on making himself more solid as he did so. It worked, and he was able to shove a bunch of clothes in it. He didn’t think he would actually need any of it, but he’d rather have his parents think he had ran away.

Actually, that was a great idea, he should do that. He grabbed another bag and put some miscellaneous items in it, like toiletries, a headband, a voice recorder, and an unopened bag of glow-in-the-dark stars. He was going to put them all around his room eventually, but now that was never going to happen. Danny even put one of his goggles in there, the lens being the same pale blue his eyes were. But were his eyes still blue now? 

Usually ghosts didn’t look much like humans, typically having green, blue, or blueish-green skin. But as Danny looked at his hands, they looked...more human-like. His skin did look a bit tanned, a bit burnt, but it didn’t have any green or blue coloring to it as far as he could see. Maybe a very, very slight green tint if he stared hard enough.

Maybe he could try phasing through the wall to get to the bathroom. His parents probably would’ve put up something in the walls to make sure ghosts don’t-and holy fuck they didn’t Danny just went straight through it. Why didn’t they have anything to stop ghosts from phasing through the walls?! Wait, was that even possible? Danny didn’t dwell on that for too long, trying to just focus on looking at his reflection. His black hair was now a snowy white, his once white shirt with red accents now black with blueish-green accents, and his blue eyes now a bright green. His lighting scars were glowing the same green, albeit very faintly, reaching all the way up his face to just below his left eye. Danny himself was emanating a very faint white glow, which was the most normal ghost thing that was going on, but it’s not like he even knows what’s normal anymore.

Danny groaned, dragging his hands over his face, scowling into the mirror. His eyes and face were stained with his tears, and while looking at his reflection just a bit more, he noticed that his hair was longer. He had a bit of a mullet now, and his bangs almost completely covered his face, even though he could see through it perfectly fine. Another lightbulb went off in his head, remembering something. He went back to his room, picking up a book. It was an encyclopedia about ghosts that his parents did not write but he loved anyways. Flipping through the pages, he found quickly found what he was looking for.

“‘The Banshee,’” Danny read the passage aloud, “‘an Irish spirit that foretells the death of a family member by wailing, screaming, shrieking, or keening.’ What is keening? Whatever. ‘They are typically perceived as a young woman or an old hag, with pale skin, long hair, and a long dress, ’” Danny skimmed the rest of the page until he found something else that caught his eye.

“‘In some Irish mythology stories, the Banshee is the ghost of a young girl that suffered a brutal death,’“ Danny muttered. Would he…would he count as a Banshee? He was definitely similar in some aspects, especially with that brutal death part. Would dying in the portal count as a brutal death? Probably. 

Danny groaned, he was going to think about this later. Him being a banshee or not wasn’t  as important as booking it out of here. He stuffed the book and the working Fenton Thermos he used into his bag and closed it. He needed to go now, before his parents came back. Before then, he grabbed a spare piece of paper and a pencil, racking his brain for what to write. Soon enough, he figured out what to do.

Dear mom, dad, and Jazz,

I can’t stay here any longer. I hope you’ll understand one day. I hope I’ll be able to come back.

But I need to leave. I’m so sorry. I fixed the portal and I’ve seen things no one should ever see. I love you all and I’m so sorry.

With love, Danny

Danny sighed. Maybe he should just come clean and tell the truth. But that would be risky, and Danny could barely write without his hand slipping through the pencil. He’ll come back one day. He had to. And he had to leave.

Danny phased though the walls, carrying his bag with him. Now he knew that he could make objects intangible along with himself. But where would he go? Then, he remembered an old folk tale that his parents told him.

Amity Forest, a place where once someone goes in, they are never seen again. Monsters were said to eat those inside, or that the trees came alive and feasted on your flesh. Jazz had told him that those stories were just that-stories, used to prevent kids from getting lost in there. She was always a sceptic, but there was definitely a chance the stories could’ve been true. So that’s where he’ll go. It was nearby, so it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. With that in mind, he took off towards Amity Forest, clueless and hopeless as to what to do next.

[sneezingfetishftw-fics]

Insufferable (7/7)

At long last, Vox's suffering is complete! (For this fic anyway lol, I'll probably torture him again later). Enjoy the final chapter.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Wavs: 1 3

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“Are you sure you’re going to be alright, Amorcito?” Val asked, stroking Vox’s arm. 

Vox shook his head. “You can’t come along, Val. It would make negotiations even more tense, and that’s the last thing we need.”

“Do you want me to…” Velvette started. 

Vox shook his head, then winced from the pain of moving it. “Someone needs to keep running the company while I’m gone.” He sighed. “You’ve done well so far, just… heh’tzzzzch! Just keep it up. I’ll be fi… hi… hih… hih’TZZZZZSCHT! I’ll survive.”

“Alright, but if you’re not back by tomorrow I’m coming after you!” Velvette said, her expression intimidating despite her stature. 

Vox chuckled. “Deal,” he said, walking out the door. 

The walk to the hotel was every bit as awful as Vox had expected. To make matters worse, it seemed the trees had chosen today to release all their fucking pollen. There were several times Vox had to hypnotize someone who witnessed his disheveled state, and having Alastor go through his body to do the hypnotizing was a thoroughly unpleasant feeling, like someone crawling under his skin and pushing all his organs out. He may have wanted Alastor inside him, but not like this.

By the time he finally arrived at the hotel, Vox was an absolute mess. His suit was wrinkled from doubling over with the more intense sneezes, his screen was dull, his movements were slow and weak, and he was pretty sure his voice was shot too, if he still had his voice at all. 

Charlie did a double take at the door, closing it in shock for a moment before she finally left it open long enough for Vox to speak. 

“Greetings, your Highness. I… Hhhhh’tzzzzzmp!” Charlie raised an eyebrow as the sparks flew. Velvette had finally managed to teach Vox how to use a handkerchief, but that didn’t stop the old television in the lobby from shorting out. “Excuse me,” he said, trying desperately to find his usual charm and professionalism. 

“Bless you, Mr. Vox. What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, staring at him with pure confusion. 

“Please, call me Vox.”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Vaggie repeated, staring with more hostility than confusion. 

Vox sighed. There was no point tiptoeing around it, especially since he didn’t know how long his voice would last. But he was a businessman, he knew the importance of selling to his audience, so taking the right angle was important here. Vaggie would see through any bullshit—the main thing that mattered to her was honesty. And Charlie? The bleeding heart was so big on her sleeve it’s a wonder her arm hadn’t fallen off. He died a little inside as he realized what he had to do. Loathe as he was to appear weak, there was no doubt that groveling and being pathetic was the best way to tug on those heartstrings. 

“As you may have noticed, I’m not exactly in the best state at the moment,” he began, breaking into a coughing fit that he let drag on for longer than it would have naturally. 

“I can see that, but uh… why come here?”

“Well, uh, it’s kind of a long story, but I am looking specifically for your heh… heh…heh…heh…heh’TZZZZZZSH! For your help, Princess.” As he dragged out the buildup a little longer, he wondered whether this was the right move. Would Charlie be grossed out by his illness? But the sympathetic look on her face told her all he needed. After a moment, her face shifted to one of realization. 

“Oh! Alastor said to expect a visitor. Someone who wanted to try redemption? Was that you?”

God fucking dammit. Of course Alastor would have said something like that. Now he had to pretend to be caught up in Charlie’s hippie nonsense… on second thought, maybe not. The doubtful glare from Vaggie reminded him that even the smoothest of lies wouldn’t work. And it’s not like Alastor would step in to help him with hypnosis here. Vox was saved from his musings by a wracking cough, one so awful on its own that there was no need for exaggeration. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Here you are standing in the doorway, when you must feel terrible! Please, come in! Can I get you some water?” Vox nodded weakly as he stumbled in. Technically he probably could have walked better than that, but there was no point spending the effort when appearing weak gave him an advantage. Vaggie gave him the side-eye. It was clear she wasn’t 100% convinced. He took a long gulp of the water, disappointed that it did nothing to soothe his throat. Maybe Charlie would get him some tea later. He wouldn’t be the one to ask, though. He was already about to ask for a lot. Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but paused as Vox had an absolutely horrendous sneezing fit. He had thought it was bad on earth getting illness and allergies at the same time, but there was no doubt that it was far worse in hell. To add to his frustration, Charlie had a ridiculous determination to bless every single sneeze. Vox wanted to claw off his entire face, resisting the urge only because he lacked the energy. 

After he was finally done sneezing, Vaggie broke the silence. “Alright, Vox. We know you didn’t come here just to look all gross and pathetic. What do you actually want?”

Vox frowned as he realized his voice was gone. Why now? Ugh. He deliberated for a moment, then smacked the side of his head, hoping to Satan it would work this time or he would look like even more of a fool. Thankfully, that seemed to have done the trick. “As you might have guessed, I’m sick.” Vaggie rolled her eyes at the obvious statement. “What you might not know is, Alastor did this.” He grimaced with the restraint it took to not curse his rival. “It was a targeted virus,” he said bitterly. “Not contagious,” he added as an afterthought upon seeing their concern. 

The pair stared at him for a while. Charlie spoke up first. “You want me to… talk to Alastor?”

“Not quite. I already talked to Alastor. He agreed to… hi’tzzzch! He agreed to remove the virus if I do a favor for you. You decide the favor.” Charlie’s eyes opened wide in surprise and excitement, then she got a look of intense concentration as she tried to consider how to handle this power. Vaggie’s eyes narrowed, and it was clear to Vox that she saw through the power play here. Still, that wasn’t enough reason to refuse what could be a very advantageous deal. The hum of fans echoed through the room as Vox awaited his fate. 

“It starts with sorry,” Charlie said. 

Vox raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“She said it starts with sorry, not that it ends with sorry, dumbass,” Vaggie corrected. 

“Be nice, Vaggie, we have to assume he’s trying. But yes, you make a good point. You can’t just say sorry, you also have to not do those things in the future.” Vox opened his mouth and Charlie quickly added, “Before you go claiming that that’s not one favor, keep in mind that… bless you! Bless you again! Oh dear, bless you!” She realized Vox hadn’t been opening his mouth to protest after all. After a few minutes of sneezing and blessing (seriously, did this girl never get tired?), Charlie resumed her speech. “Uh, as I was saying, this can be defined as the following single favor: repent.” Vox thought he caught a glimpse of Charlie’s horns peeking out on that last word and he gave a shudder which he managed to pass off as a shiver. Pissing off the princess of hell definitely seemed like a bad idea. 

“Right, um, uh, of course, Princess. Repent. Yeah, that makes sense.” He found himself stammering awkwardly as he grappled with the idea that Charlie could tear down everything he’d built. Could he refuse the deal and accept being sick forever? At Alastor’s mercy forever? No, that had to be worse than whatever Charlie would ask of him.

“What, afraid of a little redemption?” Vaggie asked, finally cracking a smile as she saw the fear he no longer had the energy to hide. “It was good enough for Sir Pentious, the demon you sent here to spy on us and then told to kill himself.”

Vox winced. That one really stung. But he knew it was deserved.

Angel walked into the living room and froze. “What the fuck is Vox doing here?” He glared at the TV demon. “Please tell me you didn’t bring Val.”

Vox shook his head, then cradled it in his hands as he felt the ensuing dizziness. Before he could speak, he found himself in another long sneezing fit. Angel’s expression gradually changed to one of amusement. It was rare to see the CEO so vulnerable. A nice change of pace. 

“Vox here is trying his hand at redemption!” Charlie answered, beaming. 

“Only because he wants to get out of being sick.” Vaggie amended, frowning. 

“Redemption is redemption, even if the motive is less than perfect,” Charlie insisted. 

Vox groaned, dreading this whole negotiation already. “Just tell me what you need me to do,” he said, the resignation in his voice even thicker than the congestion. 

Angel strutted over, seeming to have gained a little more confidence from the whole situation. “How about you start with removing those cameras you put in my dressing room?”

“He WHAT?” Charlie asked, revealing her horns fully this time. 

Vox tried to smooth down his suit as he thought this through. He’d never really cared for the cameras anyway - as much as he loved having eyes on everyone and exerting his control, he knew Angel Dust was Valentino’s plaything, and Vox would be lying if he said he wasn’t sometimes jealous of the attention. At the same time, he knew Val wouldn’t give up that power so easily. Vox thought back to the events earlier today. Wait, hadn’t Velvette seemed especially mad at Val? Maybe she knew something Vox could use as leverage against him. He sighed. “Consider it done.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “You really think I’m going to just take your word for it?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

Vox groaned (more from the effort of moving than anything else) and took Angel’s hand. “I will remove the cameras from your dressing room as the favor for Charlie.”

“Nice try, asshole,” Angel said, refusing to shake. Val may have gotten one over on him years ago, but he knew better now.  “Don’t forget the part where you also prevent cameras from being added back there later.”

Vox nodded wearily, too focused on wanting to go home to have the energy to argue. He updated the terms of the deal and shook Angel’s hand. 

“Wait!” Charlie’s voice rang out, but she was too late. A crackle of electricity arced across Angel’s arm, and the porn star jumped back in shock. 

“Sorry,” Vox said with a sniffle. “Forgot to warn you about that side effect of making a deal.” Wait, a sniffle? Was he still sick? Was Alastor a fucking liar?

Alastor entered the room, the ever-present smile on his face looking quite smug. “Now, this is an interesting bit of contract lawyering, isn’t it?” All eyes were on him. 

“What do you mean?” Angel asked, shaking out his hand in an attempt to get it back to feeling normal. 

“Quite a few deals going around here. I made a deal with Vox that relies on Vox making a deal with Charlie. Then Charlie discussed potential terms of that deal with Vox. Vox then made a deal with Angel that claimed to fulfill the deal with Charlie. But does that really count if Charlie didn’t give her explicit approval? And if not, then should that deal be discarded?”

Vox groaned. “This is giving me a headache. Stop being a show off and just give us the fucking answer already.”

“Now now,” Alastor said, smile burning brighter, “is that any way to treat the person who’s in charge of your fate?” Vox frowned. “As for the deals at hand,” Alastor continued, “let us return to Charlie. Charlie, do you accept this deal?”

Charlie shook her head. “The favor was to repent. I’m sure Vox has quite a bit more he’s guilty of so I’m not ready to close this deal just yet.” Alastor nodded approvingly. The girl was learning. Probably not enough to be wise to Alastor’s tricks, but she was learning nonetheless.

The room was uncomfortably still as Charlie contemplated her next move, the silence punctuated only by Vox’s sneezes and coughs. Finally, she had an answer. “Apology letters. To everyone in this hotel.” Vox scratched his chin and absentmindedly mimed typing. “Handwritten.” Handwritten? With these claws? That was torture in and of itself! “They get to respond with any grievances they have against you. And then,” Vox sunk further and further into the couch as he realized just how deep repentance goes, “you have to take sufficient action to address those grievances.”

Vox’s eyes went wide and he coughed into his fist. “Princess Morningstar, I appreciate the uh… thoroughness of that proposition, but, um… if I may, thah… ahh… ahh’TZZZZSH! That will take me some time. And I do have a business to run. Forgive me for asking, your Highness, but is there anything that can be done to make this a little more manageable?”

Alastor stepped forward, extending his microphone like an olive branch. “I think we can work something out to lessen your symptoms a bit. After all, you’ve survived allergy season just fine!” Vox suppressed a growl at that. “Oh and don’t forget, I’m a resident of the hotel, so I expect to see your best handwriting in that apology letter!” Alastor said, grinning so wide there was barely any room left on his face.

A grim line set across Vox’s face. He had no leverage here, and everyone knew it. “To repentance, then,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I will write apology letters to every member of the hotel and then, in response to each member’s one letter of grievances, I will take action as determined sufficient by Princess Charlie Morningstar. And doing all of this will fulfill the requested favor and thus free me from this damned virus. Now then,” he said, extending his hand, “do we have a deal?” He felt a sneeze building up as Charlie and Alastor took his hand, then swirls of green, red, and blue energy coursed through them and the sensation was gone. The sneeze was lost. God fucking dammit!

[simplepotatofarmer]

blood pact

a short vampire au fic for my 'hey loyal write this' challenge. this prompt was given to me by @michygranger23! i have intentions to finish this but for now, have the first 'chapter'.

content warning: allusions to child abuse though nothing is stated outright but the context is fairly obvious

Techno wasn’t supposed to go out on his own.

He was too young, too vulnerable. He was supposed to stay with the coven. It wouldn’t be until he had gotten older, until he developed all the abilities of a born vampire that he would be allowed out alone. But the voices in his head were restless and Phil had other business to attend to and he had seen a small playground nearby.

It couldn’t hurt to sneak out, just for a bit, and he was bored.

When Techno got to the playground, he almost turned right around and went back to the coven.

Despite the fact it was the middle of the night, somewhere past one a.m., the playground wasn’t empty. There was another child, balancing on top of the jungle gym, the laces of his ratty sneakers undone, walking the metal bar like a tightrope, back and forth. 

He was human. Techno could tell that from this distance, could smell the blood and hear the boy’s heart beating.

In his indecision on whether to leave or stay, he had lingered long enough that even a human would notice him.

“Who the hell are you?”

The human boy had stopped, leaning forward precariously to peer at Techno.

This was bad. He wasn’t supposed to talk to humans.

“Uh…”

‘Are you some kind of freak?”

“Heh?!?”

Without thinking, Techno had moved closer.

“Watch what I can do,” the boy said before dropping down, hanging off the bar, upside down, waving his hands out in front of him.

Techno grinned.

“That’s pretty cool. Wanna see what I can do?”

The boy returned the smile.

“Yeah!”

Techno pulled himself up onto the jungle gym, easily scrambling to the top. Like the boy, he let himself drop down but holding onto the bar with his hands. Then he did a somersault, still holding onto the bar. When he was done, Techno settled onto the top bar.

“That was alright,” said the boy, climbing back to the top and sitting down. His eyes were intense, clothes in about the same condition as his shoes. “I bet I could do it.”

Techno laughed.

“I could show you,” he offered.

The boy’s features softened.

“Really? Cool!” He shoved his hand in Techno’s direction. “I’m Dream.”

Techno took his hand, careful not to use too much strength, forgetting that his hand would be cold to the touch. Dream didn’t seem to care.

“I’m Techno. Are you supposed to be out here?”

With a shrug, Dream shook his head.

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

Both boys shared a conspiratorial giggle; nothing bonded eight year-olds quite like doing something they shouldn’t be, a fact that transcended both life and undeath.

“Okay, show me how to do it,” said Dream.

***********************************************************

Winter didn’t bother Techno.

He had always liked the snow, ever since he was little. Or littler. According to Phil and the others in the coven, he still wasn’t old enough to go off on his own. But that didn’t stop him from slipping out again, when all the others were busy, and wandering down to the playground.

He could hear the creaking of the swing before he rounded the corner.

A grin spread across Techno’s face and hurried over to the swings.

“Did you sneak out too?”

Dream looked up, immediately brightening.

“Hey!” He dragged his feet to stop the swing, same old sneakers making a trail in the gravel. “Do you want see how high we can go?”

“Sure!” Techno sat on the swing next to Dream, kicking off the ground. “I’m the best swinger out of my friends.”

Techno didn’t mention that the only friends he had were members of his coven and out of those, the only people he had ever played with like this were Wilbur and Tommy.

“I bet I can go higher,” said Dream, his smile wide as he began to swing.

“You’re on.”

Caught up in the thrill of having someone else to play with, in the sort of spirited rivalry that only comes from childhood friends, Techno didn’t realize exactly how high he was going, pink hair whipping out around him. It was higher than any normal child should’ve been able to go, level with the top of the swing, almost as high as the trees around them.

“Techno!”

Dream’s voice was a mix of awe and panic. It startled Techno and he lost his grip, sliding off the swing and tumbling onto the ground. Dream scrambled off his own swing, catching himself with his hands before hurrying over to Techno.

“Dude, are you okay?” he asked, shaking Techno’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but you’re shakin’ me,” Techno pointed out.

Dream stopped and pointed at Techno’s knee.

“You’re bleeding.”

Using his sleeve, Techno wiped the blood away. Already his scrapped knee was healing itself, skin knitting back together. A hint of panic rose in the back of his mind, knowing that the most important rule was never telling a human what he was but there was no fear present in Dream’s expression.

“Whoa…”

“Yeah, it’s kinda cool.” Techno grabbed Dream’s hand. His palm was also scrapped but he had no healing abilities. “That’s not so bad.”

Dream jerked his hand away and tugged his sleeves up over his hands.

“I’m fine. I’ve got hurt way worse. I even broke my arm once,” said Dream.

“How the heck did you do that?”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

Something about the way he said it made Techno feel sad but he didn’t know why, couldn’t understand the alarm bells that were ringing. After all, there were a lot of things Techno wasn’t supposed to tell people. He lowered his voice into a whisper.

“I’m not supposed to tell people that I can heal, either,” he said.

“Is it like, a really important secret?”

Techno nodded empathetically.

“I’d get in so much trouble.”

A solemn expression settled on Dream’s slightly grubby face.

“I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to die.”  

“Okay.” Techno scooted closer and cupped his hand around Dream’s ear. “I’m a vampire.”