#let alone coordinate with 3+ people

[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive part 3 - nsfw congressman bucky barnes

okay so forgive me i know nothing about how it works to be elected for congress i apologize

also just pretend that Bucky's assistant is like lowkey his campaign manager ok please humor me.

part 1

part 2

~~~

nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos that would come when you got the news.

he's been elected.

everyone in the office is running around. the constant ringing of phones continues to fill the room, people are loudly talking over each other, trying to celebrate and stay on task at the same time. 

it's insanity, really.

right now, you feel like you're going crazier than anyone else. you have to coordinate everyone, make sure things are getting done, and you're scrambling for time. 

Bucky has to give a speech tonight that you have to prep him for, accompany him to, and you've barely even finished making the arrangements for the press and the location and the timing and where the hell is Bucky?

you're just trying to keep up, let alone remind yourself that you're going to be jobless after this. 

you're on the phone, still on hold, all while typing out your formal thank-you note to go out to the donors. 

amongst all the chatter and everyone continually bothering you, you were getting fed up of sitting at your desk. so when you found Bucky's office empty, you figured it's a relatively quiet spot. you can finally get some work done, and no one will look for you here. perfect.

when the person on the other line finally takes you off hold, Bucky opens the door and walks in. you mouth sorry to him for having taken up his desk, and try to make your phone discussion as short as possible.

he's standing there, on the other side of the desk, watching you with a small smirk on his face. you can't help but smile back at him while you continue to talk, maintaining the intense eye contact you've held since he entered. 

fuck, he looks good. hands in his pockets, hair slicked back, wearing that navy blue suit that makes his shoulders look broad and his waist look snatched as fuck. 

the past months have been insanely stressful, both of you working long hours, all of it leading up to today. yet it's been utter bliss getting to spend every minute with him, getting to sleep in his bed on nights you work way too late and are too tired to drive home. 

you finally hang up the phone and sigh in exhaustion, leaning back into his chair and rubbing your forehead. "fuck, who knew it would be this crazy when it finally happened?" you comment. 

"I just can't believe it happened," he admits to you, still standing there, still looking so delectable. 

you look back up at him. "of course it happened. you deserve this." 

he can see the tiredness in your smile, the way the stress has been following you around all day. he knows you're both going to be here late tonight, even after he gives his acceptance speech this evening. 

he watches as you prepare to stand from his chair, shutting your laptop. "sorry for stealing your office, my desk-" you begin, but he interrupts, walking around the desk and standing in front of you.

"where do you think you're going?" he teases. 

"uh, my desk," you quip back. what's he getting at...  

"nope. you're not going anywhere," he smiles, gently urging you to sit back in the chair. you do, but begin to protest, "Bucky, I have so much-" 

your words catch in your throat as you watch him get down on his knees in front of you. 

it's probably the hottest thing you've ever seen, but you have so much work, you can't do this here, not now-

"Bucky," you gasp as he begins to run his hands up your thighs, under your pencil skirt. "I'm so busy, and we're literally in the office, and..." you trail off as he begins to put his mouth on the inside of your thighs.

you try to protest some more, but he tells you off. 

"you gonna keep whining, or are you gonna let me make you feel good?" 

you feel lightheaded in only the best way. you nod. this is so reckless, and so unlike you, but fuck if you don't love the sight of him on his knees in front of you. 

you let him lift your hips as he rolls the skirt up just high enough to expose your entire lower half, still in awe of how strong he is, how easily he can move you without even trying. 

you feel him run his thumb up and down the wet spot on your underwear. you can't even feel embarrassed at how quickly he turned you into a drenched mess because you know he loves it. 

"that's it, that's right," he coos as you lean back in the chair, letting your eyes shut. "just relax for me." 

if you had told yourself when you first started this job that you would end up sitting in your boss' chair, with said boss about to eat you out in said chair, you wouldn't have believed it. you'd have called yourself delusional. and yet, here you are. 

you watch him use both hands to peel your panties down to your ankles before diving in. 

fuck, his tongue is exquisite. 

this is so wrong. you have so much to do. you can hear the people outside buzzing around the office, trying to get things done for you and for him, and you're in here doing this?

you don't care.

you run your hands through his hair, gripping tightly as you grind your hips against his face. in this moment, screw everything else. it's just you and him. 

the five o'clock shadow on his face does nothing but work you up even more. you lean into the feeling, letting go of all the stress, and reminding yourself of the good things, like Bucky's mouth between your legs. 

you're probably suffocating him, you realize, and force yourself to get a grip, letting go of his hair to give him room to breathe. 

he pulls back. "nah, baby, come on-"

"don't want you to asphyxiate," you pant.

"fucking hell, baby, want you to take what you need." 

no way you're saying no to that.

you lace your fingers back in his hair, interlocking them at the back of his head, and you do exactly as he told you. 

you're probably a fucking sight right now, rutting against his face like there's no tomorrow, but god it feels so good. 

he loves when you finally let loose, letting go of all inhibition to let him get you off. 

"that's right, baby, come on," he encourages, pulling back for just a minute, replacing his mouth with his fingers. "look at me."

with all the strength you can muster, you look down at him, eyes surely black with lust for him. god, his face is soaked. you let out a groan at the sight. 

"you're gonna come like this, with my mouth on you, then I'm gonna bend you over my desk, got it?"

he doesn't give you the chance to respond before his tongue is back on you, and it doesn't take much longer. your mind goes fuzzy, cotton in your ears, and you're willing it, just waiting for the drop��

you exhale deeply when it finally happens, and you let him work you through it until you twitch from overstimulation.

a moment passes where you finally catch your breath, and then he’s picking you up by the hips and seating you on the desk. your hands come to his shoulders lazily as he manhandles you, not even opening your eyes, too engulfed in the aftermath of the pleasure he's just drawn from you. 

you suppose he forgot about bending you over the desk, because he’s facing you and pulling you in to kiss him as he unbuckles his belt and pushes your legs apart with his hips. 

“you okay, baby?” he asks. 

you nod your head, eyes still shut, smiling. he chuckles. “there you go. that’s what I like to see, all fucked out 'cause of me, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

you nod as he brings his hand to your face, cradling your head and running his thumb over the faded scar on your forehead before bringing his lips to press a light kiss to it.

you know he still feels terrible about the accident, even months later. you remind him as often as you can that it’s not his fault, shit happens. he makes sure to remind you every day how beautiful you are, scar or no scar. 

and then he’s stretching you out on his dick, making you moan out wantonly. 

he begins rambling in your ear as you cling to him, barely able to listen to his words with the feeling of him fucking you on his desk.

“this is all I’m gonna be thinking about tonight, baby,” he begins. “gonna be at that podium… reading whatever fuck-ass words on the teleprompter… thinking about you, baby,” he says, rubbing his hand over the scar again. his words are messy and breathy as he tries to get them out, but it’s music to your ears, listening to him as he takes you apart, only for him. 

“love you so much, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispers. you lift your head from his shoulder and press your lips messily to his. there’s little coordination, and you’re too busy moaning out into the room, barely making any effort to actually kiss him, but it’s perfect. with him, it’s always perfect. 

“love you,” you whine as you get closer. “so… much… love you.”

“gonna let me fill you up, baby?” 

the fog in your head lifts for a moment as you remember where you are. you shake your head. “not now… later,” you urge him. “later, Bucky, promise.” 

he nods, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as you clamp down on him, reaching your peak. 

he pulls out only moments before he comes, making a mess all over his hands. 

you breathe heavily, leaning back on the desk, resting your weight on your palms as he cleans the both of you up. 

your eyes barely open to look up at the clock. fuck, you just lost so much time.

“Bucky, fuck, I have so much to do–” you begin, but he cuts you off with his lips on yours. 

“I know, baby. I know. but just think, tonight, after my speech, we’ll come back here and do this all over again, yeah?”

you nod. the night ahead is guaranteed to be the busiest one yet, but you know he’ll make good on his promise regardless. he’d do anything for you.

~~~

part 1

part 2

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[catcherwrites]

The people voted for Corvus and Soren to be the next of my Arc 3 redesigns, and so it was done! I apologise for taking so long, things irl have picked up so I didn’t have as much time to spend on our guys.

Check out the more in-depth story and design choices below

Corvus

Story Choices

Following the events of Arc 2, Corvus, Soren, and Terry travelled with Pyrrah to find King Harrow but were unsuccessful for several months. Returning to Evrkynd empty-handed, King Ezran and Queen Amaya summoned Corvus, informing him that Amaya was stepping down as General of the Standing Battalion and wanted to name Corvus as her replacement. He was deeply honoured to be trusted with the responsibility and accepted the position, believing that he’d still have enough freedom to spend time how he wished. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple, and while Terry continued the search for Harrow with his new ally (who I’m keeping secret for now), and Soren returned to his Head Crownguard duties, Corvus was thrown into the proverbial deep end. Stuck coordinating recruitment and training, patrolling the borders, and going on aid missions, Corvus could only return to Katolis once a month for a few days. And while the distance had left his relationship with Soren…awkward, the Crownguard’s schedule was always suspiciously free during his visits (“Well, I have nothing on right now, so I guess we can go for that hike…”).

Design Choices

Designing Corvus was a fun challenge! I tried to communicate his promotion in the Standing Battalion without making him completely unrecognisable. However, because his Arc 1 and 2 designs outfits look like he cobbled together the most practical pieces of armour, they lack the cohesiveness one would expect from a leader – which meant I had to depart from his usual style. To bridge the gap between Tracker-Corvus, Crownguard-Corvus, and General-Corvus, I decided to take inspiration from his initial concept art and blended that with elements of the Standing Battalion uniform and Corvus’ old designs. His scarf, of course, had to stay – but you may notice it’s been stitched up, a strip of the scarf being a gift from Corvus to Soren before he left the Crownguard.

Soren

Story Choices

Soren’s been through quite a lot in Arc 2, dealing with the reopening, mending, and re-reopening of old wounds. He, Terry, and Corvus were sent to look for Harrow, but after a few months, they returned to Katolis defeated. When Corvus privately confessed he’d been transferred back to the Standing Battalion, Soren was happy and supported him through the adjustment period. Though Soren can’t quite explain why, he grew more bitter as the years went by – though he’s done very well to not show it. During the daytime, Soren trained King Ezran in swordplay, improved his poetry, and did his best to keep everyone safe and happy. In the dead of night, however, Soren would slip through the city streets and secretly meet the spies he’d sent to look for Claudia. No one else was allowed to know he was seeking her out alone, not until Soren himself could decide what he would do with Claudia when she was found.

Design Choices

It wasn’t easy to develop an Arc 3 design for Soren! His silhouette was fine, but I went through about 5-6 different colour schemes and 3-4 different cape designs, and I spent so long toggling layers to see which combination worked best. Soren’s armour is a blend of Arcs, but the cape design has completely changed to reflect his elevated rank. His hair is longer and tied back with braided cloth from both Corvus’ scarf and Soren’s cape, and he’s clean-shaven again. I wanted to show that while he’s matured a lot – Soren’s regressed a little since S7. Post-Arc 1 and post-Arc 2 share a lot of similar traumas (Viren dying, Claudia escaping) – but this time, he lacked the same support system. On a more upbeat note, that scar across his face? Hat had grown too big for Soren’s head and dug in to avoid falling. Now Soren only lets Hat rest up there when he has the downtime for it.

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire pt. 3

part 1 and part 2

Summary: Hewn City bs and lots of Eris screen time haha

Pairing: ErisxArcheron!reader

Word Count: 4k

Notes: I am so so excited that people are liking this story so far !!! I love all your comments and am so appreciative of the likes and reblogs ! For this chapter, I did use a big chunk of the direct dialog from ACOWAR for the Hewn City meeting with Eris, because I think its important context and I wasn't about to rewrite SJM's mastery. So disclaimer, I do not own any of SJM's characters or speak for her or them in anyway ! This is just for shits and gigs and I hope y'all enjoy this chapter ! Also please let me know how we feel about the Eris POV :)

Amber eyes and a pale face littered in freckles, framed by fiery red hair,  stared wildly at her. Eyes full of fear and confusion contorted his beautiful features. He was stunning, truly. Rakish, almost lanky, but toned muscles rippled under his well-fitted clothes as he fell to the ground gripping and clawing at his throat, trying to force air back into his lungs. Y/n did that to him. She made another being feel that pain and suffering. But he was hurting her sister. He was hurting Feyre. Y/n didn’t know why she had to remind herself of that fact so often to justify her actions that day on the frozen lake, but she had fallen asleep thinking about the male every night since.

Now that Feyre was home, things started moving pretty quickly. Hybern was making moves in the Spring Court to bring down the wall to the human lands, and thus putting Prythian on the brink of another war. Everyone was hard at work planning, coordinating, and scheming, but Y/n was told to just keep training. She wanted to be useful when the time came, so she was going to need to hone her powers and her physical abilities. She finally got to be a part of the plans when Rhys announced at family dinner that everyone would be taking a trip to Hewn City.

Y/n wasn’t afraid per-say, but she wasn’t sure what to expect. Feyre had told her that Amarantha’s ‘lair’ for lack of a better term, was designed after the city. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see that firsthand after hearing about everything that Feyre and Rhys went through. She was going to put on a brave face though. It’s not about her. It was about helping this court, her new family, and potentially the fate of the world as they knew it.

She studied herself in the mirror after selecting the right dress. Rhys had told her to wear whatever color she wanted, but she knew that this visit to Hewn City was all about appearances and she needed to help show that they were a united front. She had never been fond of black. It always looked so good on her twin, but Y/n preferred softer, neutral tones that helped her blend into the trees and underbrush. Tonight however, she would step out of her comfort zone. Adapt. Her constant mantra. So, she studied herself in the mirror, eyes gliding along her body that was no longer too thin, but now tones and showing real muscle. Her hips were wider, her arms and thighs thicker. A body to fill out such a fine dress. It was a floor length gown, as black as obsidian. It had see-through long sleeves and a modest neckline. Nothing flashy, she didn’t need to draw attention to herself, she just needed to blend in and help silently from the dais. But as she looked at herself, she thought that she looked quite pretty. She always thought she was the most plain of her sister, even now as Fae, but tonight, Y/n would try to wear this dress with confidence and that casual coolness that came so naturally to all the others.

 Eris’ POV

 That beautiful female on the frozen lake haunted him every waking and sleeping hour of Eris’ life. The way she literally took his breath away. If it weren’t for her power actually stealing the air from his lungs, her beauty alone would have stopped him in his tracks. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his many centuries of existence. He could help but laugh when she stormed up to him in the Winter Court wearing little more than pajamas. He shouldn’t have laughed. If the Illyrians thought she was important enough to bring along, he shouldn’t have underestimated her. He saw her face every time he closed his eyes. Her y/e/c orbs staring straight into his soul. It ratted him, which not much did anymore.

Eris hated Hewn City and he hated Keir. He was so tired of playing these court games and scheming behind the scenes. He knew Rhys liked to make an entrance, but he was growing bored and restless. Until he saw her. She was just as beautiful as the first time he saw her, but now, dressed in a night court black gown, she didn’t glow like she did when she was comfortable in her chestnut brown pants and a forest green sweater. Who is she?

Y/n’s POV

Stood atop the dais behind the single throne that Feyre and Rhys shared, Y/n scanned the room. Doing her best to keep her face carefully neutral, she stood there while Rhys addressed the court introduced Feyre as their High Lady, and coolly demanded that they kneel. After a long pause, the whole room on their knees before them, he released them to enjoy the festivities.

A man with blonde hair, that Y/n identified as Keir, Mor’s father only by blood, approached the dais. Then, the last person she expected to see approached as well. The male from the lake, with the glowing amber eyes and hair that reminded her of a maple trees falling red leaves. She swore her heart stopped beating when he made eye contact with her as he bowed. Not to Rhys or Feyre, but to her.

“Keir. Eris. So kind of you to join us. But don’t be so eager to get our meeting over with, go enjoy the evening. Azriel’s shadows will find you when we’re ready.” Rhys slid his bored gaze over each male and waved a hand in dismissal.

Eris. That was his name. Eris Eris Eris. The name clanged around her brain, and she had to choke back the desire to know how it felt on her tongue. She knew his name now and it made falling asleep to picturing his face feel like she was violating him in some way. She knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him in the first place. He tried to kill her sister, or bring her back to his father who was a known tyrant and took brutality to another level. She should definitely not be thinking about him. But there he was. And gods damn he was even more devastating than she remembered. For starters, he wasn’t covered in blood, and she wasn’t choking the daylights out of him. But more than that, he had this air about him. He exuded a confidence that was purely Fae male and came from centuries of a life lived. Then she remembered the way that fire had danced from his fingertips. He could wield flame like an extension of his own body. It was beautiful. Y/n once again had to reprimand herself, because those same beautiful flames coming from his long, calloused fingers, were causing harm and pain to her own sister. That light and radiance that fire had was diminished in the context of it’s use. How dare he make Y/n fear something she loved so dearly? How dare her use fire, which is the root of all life, use it to hurt and destroy?

Y/n was snapped out of her daydreaming by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She realized Eris had not broken eye contact with her and was now starring at her expectantly. With no small amount of embarrassment, she realized she was probably just standing here gazing into his eyes while her whole family stood there and watched. He cheeks heated and Eris’ smirk grew.

“I asked you for a dance, lady…?”

“Y/n, you do not have to dance with him. Honestly, you don’t even have to talk to him.” Rhys said.

“Y/n...” She hated how much she liked her name falling from his lips. “Just once dance, Lady Y/n, and I’ll share what I know of the Spring Court in our meeting this evening.” Still smirking, he held out a hand.

“Fine.” Y/n unceremoniously slapped her hand into his. Just because she was practically vibrating with anticipation of being so close to the male, didn’t mean he needed to know that. And neither did her family. For all anyone else knew, she hated Eris as much as they all did. She certainly should if she knew what was good for her. Gods, what was wrong with her!?

That smirk turned into a cocky grin as Eris led Y/n to the dance floor. He tugged on her hand still held in his and pulled her close to his body. Not pressing against her, but close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. He was unnaturally hot being a fire wielder, but Y/n never minded the heat. Even found herself having to hold back from pressing every inch of her against the warmth. He stood close to a foot taller than her, and she had to tilt her head up to lock eyes with him. She was met with amber eyes dancing with amusement, and he was met with a cold hard glare.

Eris blew out a soft laugh and asked, “why, little dove, do you hate me so much? We don’t even know each other yet.”

Y/n tried not to linger on the ‘yet’ as she leveled him an incredulous glare. “You mean aside from the fact that you chased my sister across a frozen lake, blasting fire at her and then restrained her with said fire?”

He had the audacity to laugh again. “Yes, Y/n, aside from that. I would very much like to know you. You hating me makes that slightly difficult.”

Gods that smirk. Y/n was trying to think straight as he floated her around the dance floor like it was nothing. She hoped he didn’t realize she was using her magic to keep herself from tripping over her own feet or stepping on his. He was such a beautiful dancer. And the truth was, she wanted to know him too. But instead she said, “you use your gift of fire to hurt others. You use that delicate flame to inflict pain and fear.” She desperately hoped her voice was staying steady, but then he scoffed at her and the leash she had on her temper slipped from her fingers. She feels her voice raising and her cheeks heating as she goes on. “Fire is not meant to cause pain, Eris!”

He halts their movement. That was enough to make her blink and remember where they were. Her eyes and her voice soften as she tries to look straight into his soul and speak directly to it. Her hands drift to hold both of his in her much smaller ones. “Fire is beautiful and lovely and soft and warm. Fire is nurturing and breathes life into everything. Fire is a gentle protector and a kind companion. I am so sorry someone told you otherwise and that you’ve been told to use it as a weapon.” He just blinked at her for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly the music stops, and the room erupts into applause for the musicians. “Eris…?” Y/n sys his name as gently as she can, but he pulled away from her so fast and muttered an ‘excuse me’ before he turned on his heels and practically ran out of the ball room.

Y/n stands there until someone accidently bumps into her and jolts her out of her head and back into her body. Slowly, she makes her way back to the dais staring at her feet, still not totally present. She looks up when she reaches her family only to see them all with a hand over their mouth to choke back a laugh. “What?” Y/n’s brow scrunches and she tilts her head in confusion.

Cassian is the first to break, laughing so loud a few partygoers jump and glasses shatter. The next is Mor, and finally, Feyre asks through tears in her eyes and a barely concealed giggle, “What the hell did you say to him!?”

Y/n just took her spot on the dais next to Feyre and Rhys as they laughed and laughed together and resumed staring at the floor trying not to be eager to see Eris at the meeting later this evening.

Eris’ POV

He had to get out of there. Had to get out of that room that felt too similar to under the mountain and away from that female who was far too gentle and kind to be anywhere near him. ‘The Mother must really hate me’ he thinks as he reaches the city’s edge and can finally breathe again. He knew the shadowsinger would find him soon and call for the meeting, but before then he needed to regain his composure. Y/n didn’t need to use her power to stop his breathing and make his heart race.

He took a few deep breaths and the shaking in his hands and the ache in his chest eased slightly. His mind drifted to the feeling of her in his arms, how well they danced across the floor together and how lovely her hands felt pressed to his chest. ‘Fire is not meant to cause pain’ Y/n had said. The words had come from her mouth with such passion and determination that he almost believed her. He wanted to. Gods did he want to believe her and her kind words and her cold calloused hands that soothed his burning skin. There was no way for Y/n to have known his father had struck him across the chest just this morning. A show of power after his father bested him during sparring. The punishment for winning would have been far more gruesome. Y/n’s cold unassuming hand placed directly over where his father’s had left the flesh raw and painful. Her lovely hand placed there while she looked him in the eyes and told him that fire wasn’t meant to cause pain and that she was sorry. He couldn’t believe she was real, and his need to know her just grew tenfold. But he wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good. He should keep his distance and save her the misery of his company again.

Eris was dreading the mask he would dawn in this meeting and the monster she would think of him as afterward. A shadow wrapped around his wrist and tugged. It was time. Eris schooled his features into the calm, bored, arrogant heir, winnowed back into the halls of the palace, and sauntered his way into the meeting.

Y/n’s POV

The meeting was nothing of what Y/n expected. Eris came in, and straight up avoided eye contact with her. She couldn’t lie, that stung a bit.

He sat across from Rhys, but looked to Mor with a knowing glint in his eye and said, “you look well, Mor.”

“You don’t speak to her,” Azriel said softly.

Eris gave a bitter smile. “I see you’re still holding a grudge.”

Y/n was so confused.

“This arrangement, Eris,” Rhys spoke, “relies solely upon you keeping your mouth shut.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “And haven’t I done an excellent job? Not even my father suspected when I left tonight.”

Feyre glanced between her mate and Eris. “How did this come about?”

Apparently, Feyre was just as lost as you were.

Eris explains that he caught Azriel’s shadows snooping around the Autumn court after they returned from the frozen lake, and that his brothers ‘mysteriously’ forgot about Feyre’s powers. He said that he had taught himself a few things about daemati powers and how to block them out. He says that he didn’t tell his father because he knew that Baron would want to hunt Feyre down and kill her for his belief that she stole part of his power. He doesn’t believe that Baron knows just how much of a threat Hybern is, but that he wont join forces with them if he finds out about Feyre’s powers.

“So what’s the asking price for you silence then, Eris?” Mor demanded. “Another little bride for you to torture?”

All the blood drained from Y/n’s face as her eyes darted between Mor and Eris. Her head hurt from trying to put this puzzle together without having all the pieces. She knew that Mor’s father had tried to marry her off and Mor took control of her own fate by sleeping with Cassian, but she hadn’t known the male she was sold off to was supposed to be Eris. The pounding in her head did not cease.

Something flickered in Eris’ eyes. “I don’t know who fed you those lies to begin with, Morrigan,” he said with vicious calm. “Likely the bastards you surround yourself with.”

A sneer from Azriel. And a sharp intake of breath from Y/n. If he had looked at her she would have seen the brief flash of guilt in his eyes.

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

“You hunted me like an animal,” Feyre cut in. “I think we will choose to believe the worst.”

Y/n didn’t know how to feel. Couldn’t think of anything to say or do, so she just dropped her gaze to the floor. She shouldn’t come to Eris’ defense. She just met the male and apparently her gut feeling about him was wrong. Her family hated him and he hurt Mor. Something didn’t feel right, but what would she even say? There were literal centuries of bad blood between her found family and this male who for some gods forsaken reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about. This arrogant, spiteful, male who attacked her sister! Not just Feyre it seems, but Mor as well. Even if he didn’t have direct hand in harming her, he didn’t help her. Why didn’t he help her? Her head was still spinning trying to sort through all these conflicting feelings. She felt like she needed to come to Eris’ defense, but why? Maybe because she felt deep down in her soul that no one ever had. She could feel that he was good, so why were his actions such the opposite? The pounding in her head wouldn’t stop and she felt as if she might faint. The conversation starting to sound like they were underwater.

“I was given and order. And sent to do it with two of my…brothers.”

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?” Feyre accused.

Eris slammed a hand on the table, which did nothing to help Y/n headache. No one seemed to notice her flinch and start to sway. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

“Indulge me,” was all Feyre said in response.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” Eris’ voice had returned to its normal low and sharp nature. “I wasn’t there- when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the firs and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free… They were going to kill him too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word- anonymously- to get the hell over to his own border.” Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket, “not all of us were as lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

Sharp, stabbing, shooting pain ran through Y/n’s head and it was so surprising that she let out a yelp as she dropped to the floor, and everything went black. The last thing she remembered hearing was the voice of Eris’ panicked voice crying her name.

Taglist: @abysshaven @myromanempiree @lilah-asteria @96jnie @ivy-34 @minaethrym

[joontroverted]

thinking about sweet single dad satoru who you could never tell is a single dad. 

this is HELLA unedited and just a brain dump lol. 

you probably should not be out tonight, especially not this late. but that's the beauty of being your own employer right, you have no boss! the only person who's gonna be holding you responsible is yourself but that's not tonight's problem. that's tomorrow you's problem.

so you're out the house too damn late, spinning on the bar stool, waiting for the bartender to fix your drink, and you spin right into the chest of someone tall. soft hands gently hold your shoulders, lifting you off of him with a melodious laugh, and you turn to see such a pretty man. just stupidly pretty. pale skin standing out in the darkness of the club and white hair slightly spiky with sweat, with his blue eyes trained on yours.

“whoa there, are you okay?” he leans in to your ear to ask.

you apologize immediately, and you see that you've made him spill his drink, causing you to apologize even more, offering up your concoction in exchange. he laughs and says that it's not even alcohol, just sprite. he even pays for your drink! you still insist on him having your drink because of how mortified you are, and after a second of consideration, he gulps it down.  

if that wasn't enough, he spend the entire night with you, hovering around you, tucking your hair behind you ear, and when you finally hit the dance floor, he dances with you like he's drunk, spinning you about and dipping you every chance he gets, no real semblance of coordination, but his charm and earnest have you beaming and blushing. 

he's flirting right? he's definitely flirting.

you ask if he's drunk once you see the pink flush spreading across his face, to which he responds saying that he’s a lightweight and doesn't even enjoy drinking. when you ask him why he accepted your drink and why he's in the club alone at all, he giggles and says he just wanted to keep talking to the pretty woman who bumped into him, silly! also it's been a long day, and he's had some family trouble, which he just wants to cool off from.

you nod, rubbing his back and out of nowhere he blurts out “my son told me i'm both clingy and avoidant at the same time, like a teenager that never developed so i better start acting like my millennial age.”

you have no idea what to say to that. 

“and funnily enough we have a father son bonding activity planned tomorrow morning and i don't even know how the fuck to go about it after that.”

“today morning,” you supply unhelpfully.

“what?” 

“it's almost 3 am, it's already tomorrow.”

“what?” he repeats, incredulously, staring into his chunky sparkly watch that looks too expensive to be here in the trenches with you. “it's fucking three am? what the fuck?? i am a stupid teenager who never grew up!” 

and in under a minute, he's up and gone.

you uber yourself home, completely sober, wondering what the fuck you just bumped into. as you near home, as pretty and charming as he was, you're glad you’re not messing with that train wreck. a dad with a whole son old enough to roast him like that? let alone the fact that he probably has some poor woman or significant other waiting at home for him as he makes poor decisions with you of all people. you really dodged a bullet with that one, you chuckle. 

***

you smile at the newest student and direct them to their seat. it's a beautiful morning, and you truly love your job. the sun is out, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fresh! you don't have even a drop of tipsiness in your body and you are well rested and excited for the class. you look up with a smile as the bell tinkles and the door opens, to welcome in the last of the students, and you see a familiar tall man's white head of hair accompanied by a sulky black haired teenager, arguing. 

“now if you could just talk to me and let us bond over these fucking flowers, that would be great! and we're already late, which is- “ his eyes meet yours. “oh.”

the teenager doesn't even bother being surprised, as he looks between the two of you with a flat look. 

“hello! good morning!” you say, trying not to sound odd.

“hi,” replies the man, blinking at you.

the teenager looks at him, and then at you again. “he has a wife,” he says before walking in and taking a seat.

“no i don't!” sputters the man. “i don't!” he insists to you, and you can't be fucked to deal with this nonsense. taking a deep breath, you gather your composure and push into the class. 

the art of flower arrangement is not something to be taken lightly. it is an art, something soothing yet there is a system to it. it's important to find your style and flow as you go through it, and you've mastered it over the years, and you hope that your students take something they can cherish from your 1 day work shop. or at least fix their father son bond. in silence.

you learn that his name is gojo satoru, and his son is megumi. you can't lie, they're good students. quiet and dedicated, listening to you explain and following your every step and instructions. you catch them helping each other out here and there and you're glad that this cheating man can actually create some beauty, despite his flaws. 

the class draws to an end in a few hours, and you’re glad to see that everyone's had a good time, from all the pictures they're taking and how almost each of them personally came up to you and commended you, some even taking your business cards. you look up and see that megumi has made his way up to you.

“he's single. no wife. just me.” 

“did he ask you to tell me that?” you snort.

“yeah. but i said i wouldn't do it.” he shrugs. “he’s a good guy. and i really enjoyed the class. thank you,” he adds awkwardly, before turning and rushing out.

that leaves you with just gojo satoru.

he's sheepish, but the boyish charm from last night is still present and as you break the ice with what megumi said, the conversation moves rather smoothly. smooth enough that even though the environment in your shop is vastly different from that of the club last night, the energy between you is the same. light and flirty at first, but he doesn't show any signs of leaving, helping, no doing most of the cleaning up of the set up, his blue eyes following and lingering on you as you flit around him. he takes every opportunity to abuse his height privilidge in helping you put things away and is surprisingly strong despite his slim build. 

you can't help but look at the strip of stomach that shows as he lifts his arms and how his forearms flex as he moves about. 

by the time you've cleared everything up, both of your stomachs are growling in hunger for lunch. he has both his and megumi's flower arrangement to take home, and you're leaning into each other's personal space and that's not even talking about how he has a large hand placed on your waist, blue eyes piercing into yours.

you're barely done eating the ramen he's cooked before you're on his lap, his hands coming up from under your shirt, kissing sloppily. he picks you up and takes you to his bedroom in his too big apartment that is neat but sparse save for the flower arrangements set at the table.

the two of you roll around in his bed, him seemingly obsessed with mapping out every inch of your body from the crook of your neck to the cushion of your soft thighs. it's not in your nature to ever move this quickly with a man, especially one that has an entire son, but soon enough you are rid of your panties as he is sinking into your heat. long and hard, he pumps into you, slowly eyes never leaving each other as he whimpers when he settles into you. what started out as slow soon becomes hurried and desperate, the cool sheets clinging to you as he buries his head in your shoulder, biting it in frustration as he has to pull out and come on your stomach. 

he’s not done with you though. mouth latched onto your clit, he sucks and sucks, pulling two orgasms out of you in quick succession till you have to push him off of your pussy, causing him to whine. 

after he cleans you up and your snuggling, he has his head on your chest 

you giggle. “megumi's not wrong. you are clingy.”

“forgive me for wanting to rest on your tits,” he grumbles, only snuggling in closer. “can we not talk about my son after we've fucked?”

you laugh and nod. “okay.”

there's some silence between you as you run your fingers up and down his spine, scritching his scalp and ruffling his hair. he almost purrs like a big happy cat.

“you know megumi's not biologically mine, right?”

“hmm, i figured,” you reply, thinking about how they more or less look nothing alike except for their hairstyle, and even that was a reach. 

“his father dumped him on me when i was eighteen and fucked off. megumi was like barely four. his father was a distant cousin. which would make megumi my distant nephew. i tried telling megumi that, so i could be like… his cool uncle. most unhelpful thing ever. i could have told him i was jesus christ himself and that wouldn't have stopped him from launching his school bag at my head at every minor inconvenience.”

the thought of anyone let alone a small angry kid you had no urge to care for throwing a school bag at your head at a whim sounds like actual hell, but satoru (what a beautiful name) has a fond smile on his face as he recalls the memory.

“you think he's moody now? oh this is nothing in comparison to what he had going on back then. he was such an angry baby. so sulky. so moody. and so unwilling to speak to me. and i had no patience for him either. we used to have these screaming matches and it's crazy to think about now. i was screaming back to an actual kid who had completed only a grand total of four trips around the sun. and here i was. eighteen and looming over him, also moody and fresh off of a break up, wondering how the hell this kid had the audacity to hate me so much.”

you press a little kiss on his forehead. “aww, you were an angsty little teenager too! like father like son!”

he pouts, pushing his nose further into your soft breast. “that's why i was so annoyed with what he said last night. i'd like to think i've gotten better. and megumi actually took it back and we did bond today. thanks to your class.”

that makes you feel warm and happy. people don't usually, well ever, see the importance in your craft, invalidating and degrading it too often. you're glad that both satoru and megumi not only enjoyed the class and did well, but also could make a good memory out of it.

“you're welcome.” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his hair.

“we've gotten through much worse without any flowers to help us through it, me and gumi. you know once he took a hammer to school and threatened to smash some kid's head in because he kept pulling the local stray dog's tail. and that was the day i was elbow deep in work and decided to put my phone on silent, and i forgot to pick him up from school. imagine the screaming match we had when we got home after i checked my phone to see 24 missed calls and had to get yet yelled at by his principal. and mid way through it he just burst into tears. and then so did i. and then we cried together as he told me that the stray was his only friend and he missed his family… that's when i finally saw that he wasn't just some annoying kid dropped off on my doorstep. he was just a baby.”

you pull back to look at him. his big doe eyes and unblemished skin, his hand kneading your breast as he thinks back fondly. you think of how gentle he was with megumi in class and how sweetly he speaks of him. you think of the past, a younger, gangly, angsty version of him.

“so were you” you say softly, brushing his hair back. you can feel him breathe in and out against your body.

“huh?” he says, looking up at you.

“you were just a baby. and you're not even thirty now. people have kids when they're past thirty and they still think they're too young. and here you are doing an amazing job! but... you're still just a baby,” you tell him gently, holding him against you.

satoru feels naked under your caring, thorough gaze. vulnerable and safe. his eyes widen as he feels comfort spreading through his body, tangling his legs with yours even more. he continues watching you as the room darkens and your eyes shut, drowsiness taking over you. 

he feels like he’s been given a miracle in hands, not for the first time in his life. and as he snuggles into your warm embrace, he decides not to resist falling this time. 

[lovesim09]

Invisibility and Teleportation

The book has a soft magic system, there is a description of what magic, mana and dead mana are but it is not that detailed. Why did I decide to write about magic? I remember rereading the book and in the comments there were comments about invisibility and teleportation and why the enemies don't use them the same way Cale and his group do.

Why can Cale use invisibility and sneak into enemy hideouts with such ease? Why he can teleport to other places, to other countries without consequences?

The answer to these questions is incredibly simple. Cale has a dragon from the beginning of the book and later another dragon joins him. If we compare it to the game, Cale as a new player got a mythic item on his first roll, an item that has a 0.001% chance of dropping. The dragon is literally a cheat item.

No one expects to meet a dragon, let alone a dragon traveling with a human. Most devices are built to detect middle grade mages or high grade mages. People above these ranks are often geniuses and have ways to bypass devices that detect the use of magic. Raon could teleport and use invisibility in the palace. He could teleport them right to the crown prince's bedroom. Later of course, they tightened the palace's defenses and Alberu allowed his allies to be exceptions.

Few people can notice Raon when he uses invisibility on himself, Bud had his ancient power, dragons are sensitive to magic. White Star is a magician, he has ancient powers and years of experience. Fredo is a powerful vampire, even White Star admitted that he would have trouble fighting him. Rosalyn noticed him because Raon sent his mana her way. Half Blood sensed him but thought Cale was a dragon or half dragon like him. Alberu sensed something, but he didn't know about Raon. At the beginning of the book, he wondered if Cale was human. The Elementals and elves who have never met a dragon thought Cale was under the dragon's protection. Not that the dragon is with Cale. Cale has been mistaken for a dragon many times due to invisibility and how close Raon always is.

When it comes to teleportation, it's pretty simple. It's a complex spell that only stronger mages can use, and even they can have problems. You need coordinates, sometimes you can't find them safely or something is disrupting your mana and preventing you from teleporting to that location. When they were looking for Blood drenched rock, they couldn't teleport to the mountain. The whale house is constantly moving so it's also an impossible place to teleport. Raon never teleported the group directly to the elf village where The World Tree is. Raon couldn't teleport them to dubori territory because of the disturabnce mana tool. Also in the illusion, Rosalyn had the strength she had two years ago, before she began learning from the dragons, and had trouble teleporting 3 people a greater distance. The distance was Harris Village and the mountain where Raon was trapped. When Cale teleported to other kingdoms with Raon multiple times without any problem. You can see the difference between a dragon and a human in using magic. In most cases, people use magic circle to teleport over longer distances. The only time dragons used magic circles was when they were using really complicated or difficult spells. Like teleporting to another continent, setting a permanent magic circle to a dragon's lair. Teleporting a huge castle that was also a dragon's lair.

So the answer is simple why White Star never used these spells in the same way as Cale's group. Cale has the upper hand when it comes to magic. On the other hand, White Star had 3 talented people and lost all of them. The Lich sacrificed his life, Half Blood was captured, and Becrock was also defeated. Half Blood was literally responsible for the teleportation magic scrolls that ARM, Redrika and the bears used. Lich was the strongest and oldest black mage. Becrock was a genius, the dragons themselves admitted that he had talent. And he lost them all, left only with the weaker black mages.

And when it comes to the law, I'm sure Cale broke more than one law with teleportation and invisibility. I'm sure there's a law against teleporting between kingdoms.

[moon-ayyye]

OMG i am so happy to see your response and I just finally got down to sitting again I cant believe I forgot my other headcanons or elaborations I'd like to touch up on so forgive my word vomit again

Jason is so "I don't know why the Hive (all-caste) chose me but it did. and I think it always had. It's song (the blades) is very loud and beautiful I am so very afraid." coded to me I don't know what to say.

1.) In my own universe, I like to merge both Lost Days and RHATO backstories together to explain him having all the the skills he does. I have to mention two things for context for this headcanon:

a.) Jason spends lots of time away and alone, being tutored by other people around the world, all sponsored by Talia. She does not want him to be the curse that Ra's warned him to be, and she wants him to be the bright boy she knows he can be instead of having lost everything in his ressurection. She takes the hands off approach, opting to let him figure things out himself and not getting involved with stuff unless he personally asks or if its too big to handle alone (she has her own helpers deployed here and there to keep an eye to make sure he's alive, but otherwise contact is minimal. It's for his own sake, and she figures he does not want to be put under the spotlight and tracked down the way Bruce does for all his loved ones). For the most part, calls are not common unless between training and that's okay for the both of them.

b.) The All Caste exists somewhere like a pocket dimension of sorts that does not exist on earth itself. As a result, time does not move the same way in their own world as it does for earth. What could be a century in that dimension could be an hour on earth. There is no proper estimate, as everything flunctuates, but generally it can be said that time runs much slower on earth than in that other dimension

Aka my headcanon is that at some point between tutors, Jason, somehow, someway, slips through the cracks of dimensions and finds himself with the All-Caste. I believe its canon that he said that the training was so brutal he wishes he had died, or something to that effect. I do not think for a moment the training he received was something that could be achieved within months or a few years. He was there for what genuinely felt like an eternity, and perhaps he was. It took more than a few measly years or so to forge that boy's soul into a weapon, to teach him how to summon the blades but also how to effectively use it, how to not be overcome by it, and how to hide it away so the blades, and by extension, Jason would not be exploited. Jason probably, nearly go insane at the prospect of never being able to go back home, to not just put his revenge into motion but to be able to see Bruce and reach gotham at all (and he missed talia too, and wondered if she is looking. he does not give himself hope).

And when everything was over, and he had been at the end of his training, he wakes up in a forest, the same spot in the same forest he was in before he slipped through the cracks of space and time. He finds a missed call from talia, 3 days ago. He swipes it and calls her back, and she is relieved, yet peeved of his lack of response. He gets coordinates to the nearest airport, and a plane ticket. everything immediately disappears into exasperation and mild anxiety, knowing he's going to get chewed out by talia for worrying her. and its he's been fed a sedative to numb everything and cut out the source of suffering.

(The All-Caste made sure if they wanted him to succeed, they had to be wary of his mortal constraints. They've seen the results of not acknowledging such short life spans and how it would wither away at any promising protege. So they had to, for lack of better word, tinker a little at his brain, here and there. Nothing that would fuck with him too much, at least not his mortal body and brain, really (but his soul is a different story), but if they want a weapon to live long, they have to take care of the sheath too. he also. compartmentalized everything really hard to not think about everything. So whereas he does have the memory of his training, its not kept in his brain, its detached and its more a part of his soul, and the all blades more than anything, and as a result he can look at it all detachedly without his brain melting down)

2.) YOU MENTIONING HIM HAVING NON HUMAN FEATURES/BEHAVIOURS MY BELOVED!!! I like to think that when Jason uses the power of the the all blades or the all caste, whereas Essence's eyes are entirely black, no whites to be seen, I like to think that Jason's pupils expand until all the pretty teal in his eyes are swallowed up by black. In the same way that pupils expanding have a purpose (letting in sunlight) i think this too should also have a purpose: mainly to be able to better perceive magical things that he usually tries his best to hide away from. I think over time, or after his mortal death, he'll have eyes that are much more like essence's, but for now its a terrifying black hole amidst a white background. i just think it would be neat, for someone to look him in the eye and understand what it means to see something that is, for once, NOT the Jason Todd they know.

(something something i want to elaborate on how The boy that died and the boy that came back are not seen as the same person even when they are. Jason is still the same boy, just experienced circumstances that have changed him radically. He did not suddenly come back wrong or is different from the boy that everybody knew and like to, in their head's, keep separate. They say he's not the same but when you take in the sight of All Blade's wielder, the last few living mortals of the All-Caste, you realize that *this* is what is means to come back different. Robin II and Red Hood are the same person. Jason Todd and the one who's soul has been permanently altered to be a weapon in the grand scheme of things, are not. And the Bats realize that when they stare at a black hole and it stares back at them)

3.) Talking again about weird body modifications in general, I think Jason, despite the contrary, runs cold. He's a corpse, he's come back *wrong*, and I think despite there being multiple dead bats and birds, the fundamental difference between all of them is that nobody has ever reached the final stage of decomposition and come back from that. Coming back from decomposition does a lot of fucked up things to you and that involved you being more corpse-like. He's cold, and he's very pale, and when its particularly cold his lips are a haunting(ly pretty) shade of maroon, almost verging on a bluish purple if you look hard enough or you are close enough for you to get punched in the throat. He constantly has warm clothes on, like his leather jacket and heavy duty armor under his kevlar zip up even in the summer and he's just fine with it for a reason. He enjoys warmth, and his body seeks it out badly, to the point where the palms of his hands have slight burns on them from how he's put his hands directly into the fire to feel warm (he did it, once, in front of Dick's fireplace, forgetting about the other's presence until dick had to pull him back with thinly veiled horror, and then it was dead silent as Dick patched up Jason's hands and quietly mentioned he'd have to take a few days off physical labor for the injury to heal. They don't talk about it ever again, but Dick starts to keep his room a bit warmer when he knows Jason will visit.)

(Also, it makes everybody who knew Jason before he died a little bit squeamish to look at Jason for too long. Jaybin was pale but grew a soft, healthier tan that made him look so full of life. It makes the change so much more worse to look at)

4.) cursed Gotham is canon and real idc, especially lady Gotham. I think shes jaded and toxic and is representative of Gotham's despairing nature. I think she looks down at Jason (or up, ion think she going to heaven if that's even possible) and she looks at all he is, and she, in the most affectionate way she can muster, is like "I'm going to put that Beast into Situations". he eventually deals with more and more magical bullshit shenanigans and has nearly died a few times again and that's her doing. She does not let him die though, the last time he came back, he left her clutches and got stained with magic that is not hers. So she would rather have him to herself as long as she can, which is contingent on him being alive.

5.) Jason can see and hear spirits. He's learned to "block out" (read: dissociate until it doesn't feel real) his ability to see them for the most part, but when he concentrates, he sees and hears phantoms. It's helpful that him being alive means they're translucent and barely visible to him and he goes on with his life. Except sometimes something cursed happens and the magical part of him doesn't let him ignore it, and he is forced to see them clearly, like people and not smoke. Sometimes they're in a death echo. Sometimes they're weeping or screaming at nothing in particular. Sometimes they stare at him and try to process his presence the same way he tries to process theirs. Very rarely, there is something' is tugging on his sleeve and wailing him to look back or get his attention. he tries not to look. Not much scares him but this truly unnerves him, especially when he has to act normal because he's in the company of someone else.

6.) i think he should have a cool visual effect like ghostrider in which when he holds the blades, and the blade his held up near his face, the flames create a visual in which the person looking at Jay sees his skull.

wow this was so fucking long i got lost in the sauce and lost the plot. this was the true word vomit more than anything else, but I'd like to hear your thoughts and you own headcanons too omg!!!

Honestly rn I don't think I have anything else to add. You genuinely might be my favourite anon. Consider writing fics or posting this shit on your own blog, this is gold

[citrinae]

lotus eaters.

robin x reader

contents; in which you and robin wind up on a deserted island. fluff, suggestive content, established relationships, afab!reader, wc: 1k. i’m just happy that i brought myself to post this around her birthday <3

masterlist

Toes buried in white-hot sand, legs tangled, skin catching colour where the sun was able to reach. Opening before you were infinite flashes of ocean; its waves murmured a cool accompaniment to Robin’s voice as she was reading from a volume with histories of the first people who came ashore to this island. Explorers. Adventurers. A runaway couple taking destiny between their teeth. Her voice was morphine, and you found the narrative hard to follow. But you weren’t surprised to notice that associating her face with the more relevant cast made it feel coherent enough to keep you there. 

Enjoying her company was enough. 

Seagulls piercing their way through the cloudless sky. The breeze cupped your face in a balmy retreat; sunscreen and sweat and the floral undernote in Robin’s perfume. With one of her many hands, she turned the page. 

“Let me know if this bores you,” she said. It took you a while to realise that this begged for a conversation. 

Heat surged to your cheeks, “No, no.” You look up to meet her face, brow raised. “Does it bore you?” 

Closed eyes and thin amusement met you like a riddle; Robin was a graceful cocktail of patience and casualness. Incense dispersing across the silver ceiling of a church, you knew she was never easy to read. And Robin seemed to know it too as she wore it the same way she would wear a favourite pair of boots: with pride. 

“A little, maybe.” A small chuckle leaves her, and something clutches in your stomach when it does. “I'd rather use my mouth for something else.”

To this you said nothing, but you knew that the hitch of your lips as her face moved closer was response enough. You kissed her. She returned it, a bitter trace of the coffee she’d had aboard the Sunny still lacing her lips. The fig she’d shared with you as you had been pushing your way past the jungle. For a moment you allowed yourself to drown.

Then, brushing a strand of hair behind her ears, your curiosity pulled Robin’s attention back to the volume she was reading you. 

“Is it true they lived there?” But most importantly, “You really think so?”

Two hands bloomed across your back and arm, soothing you closer. Your head rested at the crook of her neck. 

“Coordinates do match,” she started. “It may also explain the shipwreck we found on the other side of the island, plus the ruins scattered throughout the jungle. Their architecture is quite distinctive as well. If anything I’m positive this is the place.”

Your mind raced to hours ago; there had been a ship. Dusted and falling apart, a memory of expeditions failed. “Legend has it they continued their journey home,” Robin had told you as you tried to make something of the writing cut into wood and in a cryptic language you couldn’t understand, but she did. “But all historical findings have gone scarce after they debarked on this island. Curious, is it not?” Curious. Not worrying, not unsettling. She had been smiling. 

Could it happen? Can a crew wind up on an island and be lulled into not leaving it? Be caught in a narcotic fog, let themselves be eaten away by sand and vegetation? With the breeze whispering lullabies in your ear and Robin’s lukewarm breath on your cheek, you could admit that you somewhat understood them. Journeying with the Strawhats was a tempest, all battered feet and dusted clothes, and no matter how fond you’d grown of the taste of sweat under your bottom lip, tranquillity was the one thing you’d lose yourself to, always. When they happened, a foreign part of you wished that such moments would stay with you forever. 

Being alone with her made you tranquil. 

There was a cottage you could imagine, an unpretentious corner doused in lavender and summer fruit. You would aid Robin in her research by the day, and by night you would lie with her on the beach, chests pressed, flushed lips. Waves lapping at your feet, salty and cold under the Moon’s ghostly eye, her voice would weave poetry to the stars as your mouth would work its own across her inner thigh. Crickets and toads and rustling palms; with the sounds spilling their honey from the sultriest depths of your musing, you tried to recall how long you’d been here. You couldn’t. Your heart squeezed in your chest, thinking how easy it was to want these minutes extended and turned into a new reality. 

“This tale made you uneasier than it’s worth,” Robin looked at you with a prying eye. “Are you afraid we will disappear?”

Fretful people fascinated her. 

“No, I,” you tried, knees dragged to your chest. “I mean this is a beautiful island.”

You never had to give Robin a full answer for her to know exactly what you meant. That could be part of why you two worked so well. And to give the impression of broader extrapolation, she always lingered on what you said. Just like she did now, tapping her bottom lip with her index.

“It is,” spilled out, an airy sound. The pause that came after made you dizzier than the first and you almost regretted allowing yourself a moment of selfishness. 

“But I’m sure the ones to follow are even more so,” Robin took a beat to measure the waves. Then, out of the corner of her eye, “And if they turn out differently, we are more than free to return here.” Her lips were curled in the shape of a promise. 

You felt like being pulled out of a dream. “Yeah, sounds more like it,” you said eventually, brushing your nose against Robin’s cheek. “Now let’s go find the others.”

“Ok,” she said. “Let’s.”

From afar the wind carried with it the histories of pirates and heroes and lovers; all with their arrivals, and their departures, sails billowing to soothe a sunburn. They were the strangest kind, their ships furious, their eyes alive, kindled brighter with each wonderful place they landed on. You hadn’t witnessed half of what they did. Hadn’t listened to half of the stories they told. And some say the sea is infinite. 

Robin was already standing up, a hand out to help you get on your feet. 

Your adventures would not end here.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy! I wanted to say i rlly luv your fanfic and it would be great if you wrote a nanami kento one with prompt 6 🩵✨

There you go! Sorry this took me quite some, guess I'm too much of a hurt writer. But since 3 people requested prompt 6 with Nanami, I just couldn't let this one slide. Hope you like it though <3 I also added Promp 64 to this! 6. "I'm not crying. It's not worth crying." 64. "Don't be stupid, I'm not leaving you."

Beautiful mistake

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: You are in a secret but healthy relationship with none other than Nanami Kento despite being the sunshine to his rain. Until one day, you accidentaly spoil your secret to Gojo Satoru.

Warning: None, slight language like always

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage. The sun has just set, which means he’ll be here any second. You nervously fumble on the hem of your sundress. Do you look good? Hopefully he likes your new dress.

It’s always weird to meet outside of Jujutsu High in everyday clothes. Of course you should be used to it by now, considering that it’s been like this for two years now. Nanami and you decided it is best to keep your relationship private, far away from work. Therefore no one knows about your meetings late at night or the fact that you basically live at Nanami’s place. And this is just fine, perfect the way it is.

“There you are, sweetheart. Is this dress new? It suits you very well.”

The sound of his voice alone sends shivers down your spine, you greet your boyfriend with a wide grin and a tight hug. As usual, he smells absolutely breathtaking good. You need to finally ask him about his perfume.

“Glad you came”, you reply, face buried in his suit.

You love the fact that he’s always wearing suits, it definitely does something to you.

“You know I would never miss spending an evening with you. Here, I just couldn’t show up empty-handed.”

He hands you a gorgeous bouquet of purple, white and rose flowers, perfectly arranged and coordinated. You smile to yourself, taking in the delicious scent of lavender that now hangs in the air. Words can’t express how much you love the man standing in front of you. Even if he acts aloof and uninterested, he has a heart of gold. Suddenly you feel overwhelmed by your feelings, tears water your eyes. Unlike Nanami, you are terrible at hiding your feelings.

“I’m not going to cry”, you whisper to yourself, fanning air into your face to stop the tears from running.

“It’s not worth crying, I bring you flowers almost every time. But I’m glad you like them.”

Strange how your frequent bursts of emotion don’t bother him at all while everyone else is getting on is nerves. You truly are something special for him, the sunshine that scared away his rain, the joy that helps him to overcome his numbness. You are a gift, a true sweetheart, loved by everyone who knows you. Maybe this is the reasons why no one seems to even notice the chemistry between you two when working together as jujutsu-sorcerers. You are an absolutely poor liar, bad at hiding your feelings and the blush that creeps up your cheeks whenever you look at him. Even an untrained eye would be able to see your affection towards him – everyone expect members of Jujutsu High, as it seems.

“How was your day? Did your mission go well?”

“Oh, not at all. I’m glad you weren’t assigned to accompany me”, he signs and takes off his glasses.

Your hand gently brushes through his thick blonde hair. You can tell by one look at his tired gaze that this day was rough.

“Maybe I would have been able to help you.”

He gifts you a small but gentle smile, hands wrapped around your waist.

“Sure, but I just can’t risk you getting hurt because of helping me.”

“You know that’s also my job, right?”, you tease him.

“And you know that your job sucks, right?”

You can’t help but giggle at his response, the warm feeling in your chest keeps growing and growing. How is it that one man can make your life feel so much better just by his sheer existence? You simply cannot imagine carrying on without Nanami anymore.

“And you know that I love you, right?”

Your hands gently cup his face while your body aches to close the minimal distance between your bodies. Oh, how much you’d love to stay in this position forever, for the sun to never go down this evening. But you know all too well that tomorrow will be an exhausting day with a meeting of all higher up jujutsu-sorcerers that you and Nanami have to attend. It would be foolish to stay here any longer. But still you want to let these delicious seconds of togetherness melt on your tongue.

“Well, considering you already told me 13 times today alone, I sure hope so”, he replies before pressing his soft lips against yours.

You simply can’t believe it. The man that is holding you is the love of your life, the one you want to marry someday, the only one who has the key to your heart. Even though you are the complete opposite of him, even though no one seems to even be aware of the fact that you are in a relationship, you are absolutely mesmerized and obsessed with him.

“I hate to say it, but I think it’s better to get home. After all, we have to be up early in the morning for that stupid meeting”, he growls against your lips, face twisted in annoyance.

“How much I hate it when you’re right”, you sign while taking in his delicious scent.

“But that happens quite often. Come on, I’ll cook us dinner tonight.”

-Next day-

“There you are, golden girl!”, Gojo cries out in excitement as soon as you enter the room.

You gift him a breathtaking smile. In some way, you and Satoru are pretty similar to each other. Almost always in a good mood while wearing a bright smile on your faces along with loving a good joke and the company of other people. But unlike him, you tend to be quiet in your own way, only opening up around people you know and love.

“Nice to see you again. How have you been Gojo?”

The sincerity that glitters in your striking eyes is always a blessing for everyone around. You are so real, tender and kind in this cruel world that it’s sometimes hard to believe that you are able to survive in it.

“I’m doing better since you came here, (y/n).”

You giggle at his light-hearted comment, very aware of the fact that he’s just trying to tease you. Although you know that Gojo is very easy on women, you never felt more than sympathy for him. After all, you laid your eyes on someone else this whole time…

Oh, where’s Kento?

He told you this morning that there’s something he has to take care of, but it’s very untypically for him to show up late. Worry lines appear on your effortless features. Did you miss something? Did he maybe tell you about a meeting?

“Why do you look so worried, (y/n)?”, Gojo questions.

“I’m just wondering about Nanami-san…Normally, he’s never late”, you mumble while racking your brain.

To be honest, you’re pretty forgetful, without your boyfriend you wouldn’t even be here right now. But something important like a reason for being late wouldn’t escape you, right?

“Who knows? He never tells anyone about his private life anyway.”

Lost in thoughts, you slowly but surely fall into panic mode. Something has to be wrong. This behavior doesn’t suit him at all.

“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine, (y/n). Nanami is a tough guy”, Gojo tries to calm your tingling nerves down.

But it doesn’t work. Frantically, you swipe over your phone, desperately trying to find an excuse in one of his text messages – nothing. You try to call him multiple times only to be greeted by his mailbox.

Oh no, this is bad. This is very very bad. Something must have happened, you just know it.

“I should now if he has something to do, I mean, I’m his girlfriend after all. It’s kinda my job to know these things-“

Gojo stares at you wide eyed, mind trying to process the information that just came out of your mouth. Did you really just call Nanami your boyfriend? This can’t be true…right?

“(y/n)”, he interrupts your babbling, your innocent eyes darting at him immediately.

“Did you just call Nanami your boyfriend?”

Your heart sinks to the floor, mind going completely blank. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so lost in thoughts that you accidentally spoiled your secret relationship of two years to none other than Gojo Satoru.

“Gojo, please don’t freak out”, you beg.

“So it’s true? Oh god, I can’t believe it. That are some pretty fucked up new. How long?”

“How long what?”

Kento is going to hate you for this. From all the people you could have told about your secret, why on earth did it have to be Gojo Satoru? Your face goes pale just thinking about your boyfriend’s reaction.

What if…What if he doesn’t want to be with you anymore? Your thoughts are raising, eyes getting wetter and wetter the more you think about what you just did. This was your little secret, the only thing you had to do was keeping it to yourself. And you? You ruined everything by mindlessly telling Gojo about it.

“Sorry I’m late, the traffic-“

“Nanami, when did you plan on telling me about your relationship with (y/n)? You have to be kidding, right? How the hell did you pull her?”, Gojo blurts out immediately.

You are on the brink of tears, Kento's eyes darting towards you without emotion.

“None of this is of your business. Let me talk to (y/n) alone for a second, we’ll be with you soon”, he instructs the white-haired man with firm voice.

“Only if you promise that you’ll tell me every little dirty detail about this.”

“Leave. Now.”

“Urgh, what a bummer…”

You swallow hardly, your gaze glued to the floor while you try to blink away your hot tears.

“How did this happen?”, he questions, his well-polished shoes standing right in front of you.

“I-I…I was so w-worried about y-you that I panicked and…and then it j-just slipped out…”, you stutter.

“Huh, I understand.”

Your eyes dart up at him.

“Are you going to leave me now?”, you cry out, tears now running down your cheeks uncontrollably.

Kento tilts his head and steps forward, hand gently cupping your face.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you. Sooner or later, he would have found out anyway”, he responses.

You wrap your still trembling arms around him tightly, tears soaking into his fine suit.

“I’m really sorry”, you mutter into his chest.

It’s like a massive weight falls from your heart. For the split of a second, you really thought he’ll end things with you right here and now. You simply can’t afford to lose him, Kento is your ray of sunshine on rainy days, you love him with all of your heart and more.

“Please, don’t be. I should be sorry for you worrying about me. Be prepared for Gojo’s constant teasing though. These will be hard times.”

He brushes a soft kiss against your lips, a tender smile on his face. God, how much you feel for this man. More than any words could ever express.

“We’ll get through this together”, you reply.

“Yes. Like always.”

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, kidnapping/abduction, obsessive behaviors, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: The 141 team’s fear hardens into fierce determination. The team splits up, scouring the city with relentless focus, driven by a shared promise to bring you back. The hunt is on, and this time, they’re not leaving without you.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 5: The Rescue Mission

The atmosphere in the 141’s HQ had shifted—what had started as worry had now solidified into something colder, sharper. Determination hummed in the air, electrifying the space where minutes earlier, dread had pooled in the silence. Ghost stood at the center of it, his masked face tilted down toward the sketches spread out on the table in front of him. The faint glow of the overhead light caught the edges of the rough lines, casting shadows across the grainy paper.

The sketches were crude, but they didn’t need to be perfect. They were enough. Enough to set Ghost’s mind racing back to the bar, to that night—those fleeting glimpses of a figure slipping in and out of the crowd like a phantom. He remembered the man now. The way he lurked on the fringes, his eyes always flickering in your direction, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. And Ghost had dismissed it, chalking it up to the usual riffraff that crowded the place. But now, seeing those sketches, the face twisted in his memory like a knife.

“This is him,” Ghost said, his voice low, gravelly with the weight of what they’d discovered. He jabbed a finger down at the sketch, his eyes narrowing. “I remember seeing him at the bar. He was always there when they were. Watching.”

The room tensed further as the others leaned in. Soap, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped, eyes flicking from the sketch to Ghost. “That bastard’s got to be on the streets somewhere. We can’t sit here, letting him slip through our fingers.”

Ghost nodded. The urgency was palpable. You were out there somewhere, alone, in the hands of a man whose face had been nothing more than a shadow in the background until now. He wouldn’t let that mistake happen again. “We need to hit the streets. We can’t ignore this. Not anymore.”

Soap didn’t need to be told twice. “Right then, let’s move.” His usual humor was absent, replaced by a hardened focus. This wasn’t just a mission—it was personal now. You were one of their own, civilian or not, and every second wasted was a second too long.

Gaz was already slipping on his jacket, his movements quick, efficient. His eyes met Ghost’s with an unspoken agreement: they weren’t coming back empty-handed. Price, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a small nod, already coordinating their moves in his head. He wasn’t the type to rush into action blindly, but there was a steel in his gaze that said he was ready to burn the city down if it meant getting you back.

“Soap, you and Gaz take the east side. I’ll cover the west,” Price said, pushing off the wall. “We’ll meet back here in four hours with whatever we’ve got. Ghost, you keep your eyes on the comms. Anything pops up, we need to know immediately.”

Ghost didn’t argue. Someone needed to keep the operation under control, and there was no one better suited than him. His eyes scanned the maps pinned to the walls, marking potential hotspots where the abductor might hide, places where people went unnoticed. “I’ll stay in touch with the local contacts. We’re not leaving any stone unturned.”

As the team filed out, the weight of the mission pressed down on them. The night outside was heavy with fog, the city lights blurring in the distance. Soap and Gaz moved swiftly, their boots barely making a sound as they hit the streets. Every corner, every alley, every face in the crowd became a potential lead. Gaz’s sharp eyes swept the surroundings, taking in the smallest details, while Soap’s mind churned with thoughts of you, alone and in danger.

Their world, once filled with drinks and shared laughs, now felt eerily quiet. The streets that had once been familiar now felt hostile, as if the city itself was conspiring to keep you hidden. Soap's knuckles tightened around the grip of his weapon, his jaw clenched. “We’ll find ‘em,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “We’ve got to.”

Meanwhile, Price moved with calculated precision through his section of the city. His years of experience sharpened his instincts as he navigated the urban sprawl. He kept his focus on the task, but in the back of his mind, reality gnawed at him: time was running out. You could be anywhere, and the man who took you—this Devon—wasn’t going to make it easy.

Back at HQ, Ghost sat alone, the hum of the comms the only sound in the room. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the table as he monitored the team's progress, his eyes never straying from the maps or the live updates from local informants. Every piece of intel mattered now, no matter how small. He couldn’t shake the image of your captor’s face from his mind, couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d seen him before and done nothing.

But guilt wouldn’t help now. Only action would.

The search was relentless. Soap and Gaz questioned everyone they came across—bartenders, street vendors, anyone who might’ve seen something. Their descriptions were vague, but the sketch of the man with sunken eyes and a dark coat was enough to turn heads. People remembered a guy like that, especially the way he moved in and out of the crowd like a predator.

Hours passed in a blur of frustration and dead ends, but none of them wavered. The team was driven by something far deeper than duty now—an unspoken promise that they wouldn’t leave you behind. Not this time.

And as Ghost sat in the dimly lit HQ, staring down at the map in front of him, a message flickered across the screen. A contact from a nearby neighborhood. A sighting. A lead. His hand moved fast, fingers tapping out commands to alert the team.

The hunt was on. And this time, they were getting you back.

Read Part 6

Coming soon in Part 6, the team stalks through the shadows, closing in on a man whose twisted obsession had gone too far. This was no ordinary rescue. The hunter would become the hunted, and justice would be delivered, swift and unforgiving.

We're halfway through the adventure! Will the team find you in time?

Tag List:

@strawberryrnilk

@rafaelacallinybbay

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list lovely!

[macabr3-barbi3]

Dream a Little Dream (of Me)- Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Even more fun new abilities, like making Alastor have a real conversation!

I'm sorry, I know it's been forever- I have a terrible habit of getting caught up at chapter 5 on all of my fics for some reason 🤣 the new banner was created by my beloved @fraugwinska who is this fic's #1 hype woman (ily 💕)

I've hit a point in this story where I think I'm going to start implementing a few more plot elements- I love writing the smut but I have some fun ideas for actual story; they can only do so much before something else is needed to keep it going, so going forward there will be a bit less of a focus on the sexual aspects of the reader's relationship with Alastor and more on some emotional parts and world-building. I hope that's not too disappointing, and that you all will stick along for the ride with us <3

For weeks following your fleeing of his bedroom, Alastor is in an absolutely foul mood.

The night after your argument, your silent lounging on your bed- in your own bedroom once again, sleep deprived and irritated, unwilling again to interact with anyone else’s dreams- is disturbed by a shuddering of the hotel and loud, clattering thumps coming from down the hall. You stumble bleary-eyed into the hallway with everyone else, Charlie identifying the disturbance as coming from Alastor’s room and knocking gently on the door.

When he opens it he looks distraught, eyes wide, smile strained, his hair looking like he’s been running his hands through it constantly, tugging at it. “What is it,” he asks the Princess, and to Charlie’s credit she doesn’t shrink back from him when she asks if he’s okay, tells him that he’s disturbing everyone’s sleep.

He locks eyes with you where you stand a few feet away, still hovering halfway into your own room. “Perfectly fine,” he tells Charlie, but his eyes don’t leave your face. “Merely a… nightmare, I suppose. More of a disappointing dream than anything else, really.”

You duck back into your room with a slam of the door, chest heaving with your anger and frustration and not listening to whatever else he had to say to Charlie. What right did he have to say that you were a disappointment? You didn’t even know what he wanted from you, let alone what you had done wrong- what, not wanting to kill people? You were no saint, having ended up in Hell in the first place, but you had morals still, lines you wouldn’t cross. Regardless of anything that had happened between you thus far, any yearning or feelings that might have resulted from it, you wouldn’t change who you were as a person for him. You came to the hotel seeking redemption, for fuck’s sake- how could he think that he could ask that of you?

You start booking other hotel rooms with the money you’re earning as the Resident Events Coordinator- honestly, Charlie probably pays you way too much, but it's helping you in the meantime so you aren’t going to complain- and you’ll camp out for a few days at a time and practice your abilities in the dreams of others. It’s fun for a while, to innocently mess with people by creating clones and turning things upside down. You find that once you’ve been inside someone’s dreams you can almost tune into their thoughts like a radio broadcast now- a little concentration and you get fleeting snippets of consciousness from them; grocery lists, work tasks, gossip. It’s nothing like it had been with Alastor, like you were deep-diving into his brain, seeing his memories through his eyes. He might have been right about your connection to him being what allowed such a thinking to happen, since you showed no signs of being able to do such a thing with anyone else.

Charlie notices how often you’re away from the Hotel, because she’s doing everything in her power to keep you there aside from having Vaggie physically restrain you. She keeps proposing new activities for you to coordinate, from a night at the club to an outing at LuLu World, and most recently she had you planning a trip to her father’s mansion for some fancy dinner and tour- Lucifer himself wouldn’t be interacting with them beyond the actual meal, he was just opening the space to them so they could all see where Charlie had grown up, another lesson in ‘empathy’ that Charlie hoped would help them make progress.

So you spent the evening making sure that everyone was corralled into the correct locations and not slipping off where they shouldn’t be. Angel had already tried to convince Husk to raid the wine cellar with him, Niffty was lamenting that she wasn’t allowed into the King’s personal quarters to clean, and Charlie was growing more and more frustrated that rooms she wanted to show the group had been filled with rubber ducks. Alastor keeps his distance from you, occasionally fading into the shadows to go do his own thing- you hope Charlie and Lucifer don’t hold it against you that you have no ability to control that man. 

Dinner calms everyone down, wine and delicious food putting everyone in a better mood while Lucifer dazzled them with magic and stories about Charlie as a child. You laugh along with everyone but you can feel Alastor’s eyes on you the entire meal, and when you finally steal a glance at him he’s looking away.

Typical.

You help Vaggie herd everyone into their rooms- their own rooms, to Angel’s disappointment at not being able to share with Husk- and leave Alastor to Charlie so she can berate him about not making an effort to get along with her dad, snippy barbs flying across the table at each other between stories. You tell the girls that you’ll stay up a bit later to make sure no one does any ill-advised exploring in the night, and bid them a goodnight as you head off to clean up from dinner. Lucifer seemed to have used his magic to take care of most of the food mess, but he’s nowhere to be seen when you return to the dining room so you take your time in stacking plates and organizing the dishes so that whatever staff he might have has an easier time of taking care of it all.

Just after midnight finds you seated on the couch in Lucifer’s library, your eyes surprisingly not bleary with a need for sleep despite not having truly rested in days. Everyone else is asleep- you focus your powers for a moment and can’t pinpoint anything coming from the others, other than an unpleasant staticky noise that comes from Alastor’s room. The fireplace crackles pleasantly a few feet away from you, the comforting smell of old books surrounding you and making things feel… calmer than they have as of late, with Alastor stomping around the hotel like some angry beast and refusing to interact with you at all. He was always making this expression towards you, like he wants to say something, or wants you to say something, and it was wearing away at your resolve.

You didn’t want to have this distance between you. Even beyond the more intimate moments that you had shared, Alastor had always been good company; he was helping you learn more about your powers, even if it was only to sate his curiosity; outside of his bedroom he was friendly and fun, and would probably rather die again than admit that he enjoyed the company of the others as well. Throughout of the course of this… thing between you, something had changed on your side. You think about the night he tore his stitches, the words you had whispered before realizing he had passed out above you.

“I would be yours. Forever. For as long as you want.”

The words still sit uncomfortably true in your ribcage, make the rift between the two of you feel even wider. Maybe it would be easier if he knew- if you could take his avoidance of you as an answer. You wanted to find him, try to have a proper conversation about boundaries when it came to your power- have a proper conversation about your feelings, and-

A throat clears in the doorway of the library, and when you turn Alastor himself stands in the doorway. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he says stiffly without stepping into the room, and you wave a hand at him to indicate that he can join you. He stands at the other end of the room still, closer to the fire, and won’t meet your eyes. “I heard you telling Charlotte that you would keep an eye on everyone tonight- but I know you haven’t slept. I’m happy to take up the watch if you would like me to place a temporary pocket dimension in your room, or transport you back to the hotel for the night.”

You want to drop it- ignore the fight that still hovers frustratingly between the two of you when Alastor is offering an out. His way of apologizing, perhaps, but your thoughts from earlier are still there. You needed to actually talk about it, or the pair of you would just keep coming back to the same issue.

“It depends. Does accepting your offer mean that we wouldn’t be talking about how you casually mentioned having me kill people for you? Because in that case, no thank you.” You watch the fire instead of him, how the flames twist and dance with one another as he stiffens at your words.

“I… regret how that evening transpired,” he says at last, ignoring your sigh as he comes closer to the couch. “I’ve thought on the matter and I recognize how such a request-”

“A request that you made seem like a command,” you remind him, “with that shit you pulled with the leash.”

He takes a deep breath, the flames flickering green behind him as he tried to keep his composure. “Yes, I can see now how that would have upset you. Regardless- I recognize how such a request was inappropriate, even if we did have a tentative agreement in regards to my limits with your powers. I understand that it is a boundary for you, and I will do my best not to test that again.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he looks… properly abashed. But there was no way he would have come up with that on his own, not with the glee that had been evident in his features when he brought up the idea. “Did Charlie help you with that?” You ask, and he scowls- which is less scary than he probably hopes it is, and is more a confirmation than anything else.

“I may have sought her expertise in handling interpersonal conflict,” he says, his stiff posture finally loosening up as he joins you on the couch. “Apologies do not come easily to me- not sincere ones, anyway. I don’t-” He clenches his fist and turns away from you, dark shadows crawling across the floor in arcs away from him. “I don’t know how to have something in my grasp without possessing it entirely. We have a deal but it’s not one that grants me the liberties that I would prefer in regards to your powers and your actions.” 

You take a deep breath and scoot closer to him. “I appreciate you being honest with me,” you offer, and he grimaces like the idea is distasteful. “Listen, I’m sure you think having feelings makes you weaker or something but really, it’s important to talk about these things. And to apologize… which I accept. But if we want to keep, you know, experimenting with my powers and whatever else, I think we need to have specific guidelines of what we expect of each other that isn’t crossing any boundaries for either of us. What, exactly, do you want?”

Alastor seems to struggle with himself for a moment, clenching his hands and refusing to meet your eyes. “I… I’m not quite sure what I want,” he says, like the words of ignorance pain him. “I’ve despised having to keep my distance from you since our disagreement. To see you laughing with the others and turning away from me with that look on your face was unpleasant to say the least. I don’t want that space between us again- if you’re amenable to the idea I think I would like to have you back in my bedroom, once I have repaired the bayou dimension.”

“You want to be closer then- physically.” You hop cushions, sitting right beside him and placing a hand on his knee. “That’s fine, we can do that- you’ll have to tell me what happened to the bayou sometime, though.” He nods stiffly, hesitating a moment before he places his hand over yours on his knee. “Anything else?”

“In regards to your powers, I would still like to experiment if you will allow me.” Alastor lifts your hand from his knee and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “I understand that hurting others is a limit you will not cross-”

“I won’t hurt you either, if that was your idea of trying to get around that.”

He frowns. “Too clever for your own good- I suppose that is part of the reason that I tolerate you. Very well- I will not ask you to cause physical harm to anybody, period. I also still would like to ask that I am the only one who knows of your abilities for the time being.”

“Done. I do have a condition of my own.” You turn to face him fully, and pull his hand to your heart. “I don’t want this to be a proper deal- no soul binding or anything like that. I would want the rope from our wager removed.” He stiffens at that, but he doesn’t jerk away from you like you expected so you continue. “We have to be able to trust each other if we want any sort of relationship to work, whether it be for experimentation or something more. We should be able to follow each other’s requests and boundaries without needing it sealed with a chain- that doesn’t give us any room to adapt or change as my powers grow and situations shift.”  

His jaw clenches, and he doesn’t look at you for a long moment, instead keeping his eyes trained on the flames before he finally nods- you bite your lip to keep from grinning or doing something stupid, like shouting in excitement. “I hope you realize what you are asking of me,” he says finally. “I don’t generally keep people close to me that I cannot control or own in some way or another. It keeps me detached from needing people, or caring about their approval. But I do believe I want those things from you, which is why I am agreeing to these terms. Please understand that this is… new territory for me.”

You lace your fingers through his. “It is for me, too. But that’s where the trust comes in- I have to trust that you’ll respect my boundaries without the compulsion of a deal, and you trust that I’m here with you because I want to be- whether you just want to continue experimenting with my powers or… anything else.”

Alastor’s red eyes glance at you from his peripheral. “Anything else, you say? I take it to mean that you also wish for things to return as they were between us in an intimate manner?” Your face flushes but you nod, and to your relief he smiles softly and reaches across the scant distance between you to touch your shoulder. “I would like that as well,” he says, and cups your cheek in one hand, leaning in so your foreheads rest against one another. His breath ghosts across your lips, and you realize with startling clarity that this would be the first time you’ve kissed him outside of dreams; the first one in reality, a milestone to mark the resolvement of your disagreement. You embrace it, leaning in and letting your lips meet, a gentle pressure before your mouth opens with a gasp when he trails his free hand up your thigh to caress the skin under your shorts with his thumb. “So soft,” he murmurs into the kiss, almost absently, and then he’s pulling you to him, maneuvering so you sit sideways in his lap. He lets his fingers creep a bit further under the hem of your shorts. “May I?”

“Please,” you whine, and he grants you mercy by snapping your clothing out of existence so he can make unhindered contact with your skin. His fingers move slowly, tracing through the wetness along the folds of your entrance before he parts them and slips a digit inside. The short weeks that have passed since the last time you were with him feel like a lifetime, but he still knows the intricacies of your body like a well loved instrument; a second finger follows, and pressure against the spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Fuck, Alastor…”

He steals the rest of your words with his mouth, his tongue snaking in to tangle with yours, drinking down the sounds you make like ambrosia. Another finger, and you twist in Alastor’s hold to grind yourself down against them, to angle your hips to guide him more effectively where you want him to go. “Someone is eager, hm?” He pulls back to whisper in your ear, hand finally leaving your face to come around your back, pulling you as close as he can to his body while still working his fingers inside you. His thumb comes into play, brushing with perfect pressure on your clit, dipping into the wetness that coats his fingers so the slide of it is slick and perfect. Tension builds inside you, muscles shaking as you ride Alastor’s hand towards a sloppy orgasm. He brings his mouth to your chest, sharp teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there before sucking gently, still making eye contact when you glance down at him through the haze of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. “Go on, darling,” he says softly, laving his tongue over the marks he’s sucked into your skin, fingers thrusting more insistently as everything in you coils tighter than a spring. “Cum for me, go on-”

You cry out his name as it takes you over, the electric flash of ecstasy that consumes you from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers as Alastor works you through it. You can feel your heartbeat in your eyes from the force of it, a soft throbbing that you know Alastor is experiencing where his digits are still inside the grip of your internal walls. Everything is tingly and fuzzy afterward, as your pulse returns to normal and your breathing slows, aware now of the soft kisses that Alastor is pressing into your collarbone.

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his mouth to drag his tongue up and down the length of them while you blush. And despite the pleasure he’s already given you, you want more- you grind your hips down to convey the sentiment, the mess of your orgasm still evident and soaking through the front of his trousers where you can feel the hard ridge of his cock. He hisses at the friction, twisting a hand up into your hair while the other grips your hip and pulls you down harder. “You tempt me, my dear,” he says, “but someone is coming.”

“I don’t hear anything,” you mutter, continuing to rock your hips in little circles. Even with how sensitive you are, the pressure against your clit feels damningly good, too good to stop or heed his warning. “And if someone comes in, I’ll handle it.”

Alastor laughs out loud. “Oh, you’ll handle it, will you? By all means then, have at it.” He gestures vaguely towards his pelvis, unaware of the trick that you’ve been holding up your sleeve in your recent solo experimentations. You would never get a better opportunity to surprise him, you think, as you rip the belt from his pants and help him shimmy them off, his thick erection beading with fluid at the tip when it’s freed.

You lean back against the couch cushions, pulling him down with you and using a gentle hand to guide him to your entrance. You let out a soft whimper as he pushes into you, breath punching out of you with a gasp when he sinks to the hilt in one swift thrust. You tangle a hand into his hair, gripping the base of one of his antlers and grinning when his hips jerk against you at the action. His eyes are half-lidded and soft as he stares down at you, seeming to have to focus on slowing down when he pulls out and slowly presses back in. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, and your pulse leaps into your throat when he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind is flooded with images when he makes contact, emotions that ride through your veins along with the physical pleasure you’re feeling- evidently he’s been watching you the last few weeks, following you when you left the hotel to make sure you weren’t in any danger, sending his shadow to watch you sleep. You can feel the bitterness in your pulse as he watches you interact with the others, only to turn away when you notice him. The vague sadness that night that he had destroyed his room, his bayou, because how could he remain there when there were traces of you everywhere? 

You break the connection with a gasp, using your grip on his antler to pull him back to your mouth as he continues to fuck into you at a steady pace. He groans into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, marks that you can come back to when the need was to great, more tangible proof that this was real, that he wanted you outside your abilities. “Alastor, please,” you beg, letting the fingers not currently brushing the base of his horns to trail down his spine, tracing the vertebrae beneath your touch as he shivers. He shifts his legs, brings himself closer to you, the angle changing and pushing the tip of his cock exactly where you need it. 

The door to the library creaks open, and you both freeze.

“Hello?” There’s a hint of pain as Lucifer’s voice echoes in the room, where Alastor has tightened his grip enough to break skin with his claws. His other hand untangles itself from your hair to press against your mouth, silencing your heavy breathing. “Who’s in here?”

The couch you were seated on was high-backed- he wouldn’t be able to see you from the door, but if he entered the room, came around the front, you would be fucked in a far less pleasurable way than you currently were. Alastor’s nostrils flare above you as he hears the soft clacking of the King’s boots as he takes a couple steps in, apparently not able to help himself from bucking his hips forward, his teeth bared in a snarl when he feels your muffled groan against his palm.

More light blooms in the room from the wall sconces- you had been sitting in here with just the fire, and the glare of more lighting makes you squint your eyes, Alastor silhouetted beautifully above you. “I know someone is in here,” Lucifer demands, and you take a deep breath against Alastor’s hand and snap your fingers. “You were all told to-”

“Why, good evening, your Majesty!” 

You almost wish you had manifested in Hell like the CEO of that tech company, with some sort of electronics built into your head so you could record the look on Alastor’s face at hearing his own voice respond to Lucifer. Your eyebrows are creased, trying to focus on the figment you’ve conjured to keep the King’s attention away from the couch. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” Lucifer says, and you can hear the hint of disdain in his voice- you wonder, not for the first time, what the issue was between these two- some conflict that had started before you were at the Hotel that no one felt necessary to fill you in on. “I thought you were told to keep to your own quarters past eleven.”

You make the thing twirl it’s cane, snapping it back to the ground and inspecting it’s fingernails. “Yes, well, I had some business to attend to. And might I add, sire, you are also out past your imposed bedtime.” 

Maybe it was something about using your powers to sass the king of Hell with some false puppet, but Alastor seemed to react well to it- his eyes dark, teeth bared, he plants a foot on the floor to brace himself so the couch doesn’t shift and thrusts into you hard, his hand pressing harder against your mouth when you whine at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. There’s wonder in his expression, something akin to adoration; this was what he wanted from you, you realized, displays of power, shows of your abilities that he could see and benefit from, that showed that he could trust you. 

Lucifer scoffs across the room. “This is my house, if you’ve forgotten,” he retorts. “I can go where I please. And I heard you talking to someone!” Rapid footsteps, like he’s coming further into the room, and even as it makes Alastor buck his hips wildly against you, you don’t think he really wants to be caught in such a compromising situation.

You make the figure step forward- if you really concentrate you can almost see through its eyes, a vague image behind your eyelids of Lucifer standing before it with his arms crossed where you’ve blocked him, his gaze frustrated. “I was talking to myself,” you make it say. “I must have intelligent conversation on occasion, you know, and with everyone else in bed and only you left awake, I had to make do.”

Alastor grins above you, pleased with the tone and the words of this replica you’ve created of him; refusing to use his likeness to submit or offer pleasantries to get him out of the room; you were doubling down like Alastor himself would. You can hear the inaccuracies- you’re sure Alastor can, too- but Lucifer appears none the wiser as Alastor begins to fuck you in earnest, the couch thankfully staying still and not squeaking or moving as he holds his hand over your mouth harder and leans down to nibble at your collar.

“Of all the disrespectful-”

“Careful now, your Majesty,” it says, and you make shadows appear to crawl across the floor towards him, tendrils approaching the couch as well. When Alastor notices them he groans into your skin, and through the copy’s eyes you see Lucifer snap his head in the direction of the sound. “You wouldn’t want Charlie to catch us in a disagreement, would you?” And thank whatever beings heard prayers down here, Lucifer deflates- you had made a gamble with that, assuming that Charlie had spoken with her father about getting along with her hotelier, but knowing the princess the way that you did you figured there was no way that she would allow them to be at each other’s throats like they were. You let the false shadows sink back, and have your illusion give him a cheeky little wave. “There’s a good King. Now, may I get back to my business?” With the last word, Alastor stills, waiting for a confirmation or denial, possibly preparing to phase the two of you out of the room if Lucifer came further into the room-

“Do whatever you want,” Lucifer grumbles, “Charlie and that little coordinator need to keep a closer fucking eye on you, but I can’t be bothered.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that to our event planner,” you make it say, and Alastor makes another soft noise into your throat against where your pulse beats steadily, replicated in the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his still hard length. The interruption doesn’t seem to have doused your arousal, nor Alastor’s- the possibility of being caught like this makes your blood boil in the most pleasant way, Alastor’s cock still filling you perfectly even as he’s stopped actually fucking you for the time being. “I’ll bid you a good night, sire; I still have matters that need tending to, free of distractions.” You see Lucifer cast a middle finger back at the image of Alastor as it speaks, and then mercifully he’s storming out, a swirling golden portal opening for him to step through and then closing with a loud crack.

In time with the noise of the portal slamming closed, Alastor pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again- his hand is removed from your mouth with your gasp, and he moves it to your hip to pull you more forcefully into his thrusts. “You,” he growls against your jawline, “are perfect.” He kisses you, licking into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs as it’s punched from you with every rock of his pelvis. “The audacity to pull such a stunt- the control you maintained over the illusion was breathtaking, I don’t- fuck,” he concludes eloquently, fingers coming between your bodies to rub at your clit again as he races towards completion. It reignites the fire in your abdomen, heat flashing through your body like a strike of lightning that burns across your skin, making you cling to him tighter. He looks down at you with dark, unfathomable eyes while he fucks you, his pace growing uneven and broken as he approaches his end. “Please, darling,” he whispers against your lips, “cum for me, I need-”

The plea is what breaks you, every muscle in your body tensing and releasing as the orgasm slams into you like a car into a brick wall- messy, sudden, destructive. You don’t leave your own mind this time, your consciousness firmly rooted in reality as you watch Alastor lose his composure, his eyes fluttering closed with a gasp of your name while he spills into the slick heat of your cunt, his hips still rocking as if he means to fuck his release as far into you as he can. You shiver with the aftershocks, Alastor still maintaining a gentle swiping across your clit, and you can feel the way your walls twitch around the length of his cock while he stays buried in you to the hilt.

“No mind traveling today, I see,” he asks quietly, another kiss pressed softly to your forehead, and while no mental images come forth you can feel what he’s feeling now; the lingering ache of pleasure, the pride he still feels at your show of your new ability, an overall sense of happiness that you wouldn’t expect to be able to bring Alastor. He had put aside his discomfort to have an honest, responsible conversation with you to fix what you had both thought might be irreparably broken, and you were thankful.

You hum against his throat. “I’m content where I am,” you tell him, and the vibration of his laughter on your lips is perfection.

From the previous tags list: @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @minamilinaqueen

if any of you would like to be removed for any reason, please let me know! <3

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Searching

Are you guys ready?! We are going continue where we left up last drabble :3 I hope you all are up to date on the story :D @spotaus

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We good? We good :3

*--------------------------*

Dream checks his inventory. He has medicine and a first aid kid. He has the reports from the last few meetings and the news he spread about his mess up.

Just in case that Nightmare doesn’t want to listen he can at least leave the proof he had been working on fixing the mess he made.

Dream rubs his arm as he checks his bag again. Is it enough? He messed up so many things and left his brother alone to deal with all of it for so long-

“Dream?” the voice and a hand on his shoulder shake him out of his thoughts.

Dream looks back and sees Blue looking at him worried “If you aren’t ready I can go by myself first and look around.”

Dream shakes his skull “no no! I want to go! I need to go!”

Blue frowns and speaks softly “Dream. I am not even sure if they are actually there. It is just a lead… I just… I don’t want you to be disappointed if he isn’t there or if you don’t see him.”

Dream blinks but smiles at Blue “I know that. I know there is only a small chance… but I just want to be prepared… What if we do see him and I don’t have any of it with me? And I never find him again? It is just in case.” Of course Dream really hopes he finally gets to meet Nightmare again. It has been a year and  a half and he is going crazy.

Dream hadn’t realised how much comfort he had gotten out of seeing Nightmare each time they fought.

Blue sighs but smiles “Okay. If you are sure.”

Dream feels like a terrible friend and he grabs Blue’s shoulders “Hey. When this is over. You are going to tell me something I can help you with okay?”

Blue blinks and laughs “No need Dream. We are friends.”

Dream nods “Exactly. So I am going to help you with something after all of this! I promise!”

Blue blinks and laughs as he looks to the side with a blush- wait a minute! Blue keeps chuckling nervously “No need! There is nothing that would require help or assistance or anything! Lets focus on your whole thing! Come I have the universe coordinates!” and he manages to duck under Dream’s arms as he messes with his phone. Trying to hide his blush.

Oh. Oh!! Oh Dream is so going to help Blue with his crush! Dream wonders who it could be… Well Dream doubts it will be hard. Blue is one of the best people in the whole multiverse. Anyone would be lucky with his attention.

Dream joins his side and grins knowingly at him. Blue just glares back at him, a blue blush still on his face. Dream giggles and wiggles his eyebrows. Blue gets bluer and looks away “Knock it off Dream.”

Dream giggles and nods “Okay… but just so you know. I don’t think you have to be nervous or worry. Whoever you like will be lucky that you like them.” Blue mutters as he looks away nervously.

Dream nudges their shoulders together before checking the coordinates Blue has pulled up. He grabs his staff and concentrates. The universe ripples and a portal opens.

Dream freezes as he stares at the portal. Feeling nervous all over again.

Blue nudges their shoulders together and grins “Ready? Let’s go.”

Dream smiles and nods “Let’s.”

They step through.

The thing with dimension hopping that most people don’t realise. Dimensions move around.

They rarely move around enough to need completely new coordinates. But unless you know the place well you will not cross-dimension teleport to the same place twice.

Dream and Blue step out on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. They look around but only see fields upon fields of growing crops.

Dream hums “Well… that was to be expected with a Farmtale.”

Blue nods “I am already happy we didn’t show up in the middle of a town or city. That is always a mess. Especially if it isn’t a universe in the know.”

Dream agrees full heartly. He looks around and pulls on his magic.

Blue keeps an eye out as Dream feels the universe out. One of the nice things about being a god. It is rather easy to get a feel for if a universe has been tampered with in anyway.

Normally Dream could also feel when his brother is near but ever since losing his domain Dream doubts he still can.

The edits to this universe are… very limited. It almost seems like the only thing that has been changed is some kind of shielding or camouflaging all around the universe. Dream frowns as he knows this type of work.

Dream puts his hands down as he glares ahead “Error.”

Blue looks up shocked “What?”

Dream glares at the ground as his hands form fists “Error. Error put up a shield.” Technically both Error and Ink call it firewalls but it is the same.

Blue frowns as he joins him “Why would he put one around a Farmtale?”

Dream knows Blue knows as well “Error doesn’t like me.” Which is putting it mildly “And he is close to Nightmare.” Maybe closer than Dream thought. Dream had thought they just worked together and after how Error defended Nightmare and backed up how their jobs worked Dream figured they were at least on friendly terms.

Blue glances around “Well.. that is good right?”

Dream frowns as he looks at his friend.

Blue grins “It means there is something here. Something important that Error is trying to hide. Maybe it is another lead? Or… well… maybe you finally have the right universe?”

Dream feels any irritation and annoyance melt away. Oh stars…

Blue grins and nudges their shoulders together “Best we keep being sneaky about it. Get a feel for the land and how things work. Maybe find the Sans of this place? See if he saw anything noteworthy?”

Dream feels himself relax at the familiar routine “Some good old scouting.”

Blue smiles “indeed. Come! I see a city in the distance! Lets get a feel for everything there and then get searching!” and he starts walking.

Dream smiles and follows his best friend.

They have done this song and dance quite a few times. They walk around. Make some small talk with people. Get a general feel for how things work in the universe to fit in better.

Only once they have established these things they start to search for a way to find this universe ‘main cast’ with the hope that at least one person is in the known about multiverse things.

It is always a gamble if the people in the universe know or don’t know about the bigger multiverse and Dream and Blue generally try not to let this information slip. If they don’t know it can cause trouble.

They had multiple people try and attack other universes when the more aggressive people found out about the option. They were… dealt with. As many others are much better prepared for these possibilities.

Blue returns to his side “I don’t think they know here.”

Dream nods “Which means even more careful information gathering…” At least that would explain why Nightmare picked this spot. Why hide in a place that hates you because of the multiverse? Best start over new and fresh somewhere.

Now with the knowledge of how to act the two quickly decided that they are looking for old friends. Sans and Papyrus. Them being the safest bet for multiple reasons. One, because they are both most likely to know about multiverse stuff. Two, because they are all skeletons people will ask less questions about them searching for each other.

Yes. Dream thinks it is a stupid reason but it is what it is.

The two of them split up and get to work with asking around if anyone knows their friends by any chance. When asked why they don’t know where they are Dream just says that he can’t quite remember the address but knew it was somewhere around here!

It takes a while until they speak to some humans. The humans look thoughtful and mention that they are not sure if the skeletons were named Papyrus and Sans precisely they are very sure they saw skeletons at the farmers market a bit further to the east. A few cities further by a very small farmers town.

Blue happily notes down the address and they waves goodbye before starting their journey.

Blue grins at him “Want to get an actually vehicle or shall we keep walking?”

Dream feels nervous and answers “Walking.” He needs to figure out what he is going to say. Blue nods and the two make their way into the right direction.

It takes about two days of steady walking in which Dream tries to think of what to say and how to say it.

What if he actually sees Nightmare? What does he say to him? How does he make Nightmare hear him out? What if Nightmare is actually willing to hear him out?! How can Dream tell him everything? Without making it sound like he is trying to excuse himself?

What if the gang are actually the ones who meet him first? How does he convince them to let him see his brother?

Or worse.

What if the gang only lives here? What if this is just the place that Cross and Dust settled with their child? What if they don’t know where Nightmare is?

What if there really is no way for Dream to find Nightmare?

Blue shakes him out of his thinking by saying they are there.

The town is small. Very small. Only like one main street with a few shops and a few side streets.

Blue and Dream share a look as they look around. Some people are walking around. Blue and Dream share another look before Blue nods towards the large tavern reading Grillby’s. Blue grins “Probably the best place to start.”

Dream smiles and nods.

They walk together but Dream can’t help but feel… watched. He sneaks a few glances around and can’t help but notice that everyone is watching them with clear suspicion on their faces. They have been met with nerves and curious looks before. But rarely with suspicion. That usually only happened in a fell verse.

Dream shoots Blue a look and mutters “Blue?”

Blue just keeps smiling as he walks straight towards the target “I noticed the same. But I am sure this isn’t a Fell verse… Lets focus on out plan for now.” then he opens the door.

A few people are moving around and talking but as soon as Dream and Blue step in they grow quiet.

An icy silence as Blue just smiles and walks towards Grillby. The fire elemental is preparing some things behind the bar. Another fire elemental looks nervous as they glance between them and Grillby just nudges them towards the back where they disappear into.

Blue gets to the bar and Dream just stays by his side. Blue smiles “Hello! I was hoping you could maybe help us!” and he smiles.

Grillby watches them and shrugs “Don’t know until I know what you want strangers.”

Blue laughs and rubs the back of his neck “I am sorry. I am Blue and this is my friend Dream! We are looking for friends of ours.”

Dream wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been already on edge. The soft mumbles around them stop as soon as Dream’s name is said. Grillby shoots him a considering look and seems to look both of them up and down.

Grillby hums and turns back to his glass “Never heard anyone looking for either of you.”

Blue blinks and smiles “We are old friends of them. Fellow skeletons like us.”

Dream frowns as he feels more and more tension in the air. Fuck he wishes he could still feel emotions. Get an idea for what everyone is feeling and leaning towards.

Grillby hums as he keeps cleaning “Seems rude to just assume any skeletons I may or may not have seen would be the ones you are looking for. Even if they are rare. At least that is what people say.” And he puts some glasses away.

It is like a wall.

Blue nods thoughtfully before smiling “Well,” Blue pauses for a moment as he shoots him a look. Dream isn’t sure if it is smart to mention the others. Mostly because their names are not the friendliest and they don’t want to make it seem like they did something wrong. Dream catches Blue’s eyes and shakes his skull a tiny bit. Blue catches it and smiles back at Grillby “If you happen to see either Sans or Papyrus can you tell them we wish to see them? It has been so long and we would love to catch up.”

Grillby just gives a short nod “If I see anyone named that I will mention it.” and he turns back to his work.

Dream and Blue both quickly leave the building.

They exit the building and share a look.

Blue speaks first “Okay that wasn’t just me right? They all don’t like us at all.”

Dream nods as he glances around “They are very on edge… I wonder why…”

Blue frowns as he glances around “We can check out the stalls and shops?”

Dream thinks before nodding “Let’s. We can then just take a break and try again tomorrow if we need to.”

They walk into the decided direction and check stores and make small talk. Or try to make small talk. People are not willing to reply to them at all. And questions even hinting at a different topic aside from their wares is met with annoyance and dismissal.

Dream smiles at the dog monster before him. She just looks uninterested at them while her friend is outright glaring at them.

Dream frowns “You sure you don’t know any skeletons?”

The dog monster shrugs “Seen a few. But not anyone specific coming to mind.” she looks outright bored.

The other woman, a bunny, huffs “Well are you going to buy anything or waste time we could be spending on other customers!?”

Blue looks around and behind him but no other customers are in line. Dream laughs softly as he rubs his neck “I mean… It seems to be a quiet day at least?”

The dog monster, neither of the ladies had given them their names, shrugs “Can change at any moment.”

Suddenly the bunny sits up straight and nudges her friend “Wait I just spotted my friend! I need to check if he has my dvd still. That okay?”

The dog monster frowns at her but nods “Sure. Just be back before the rush.”

The bunny smiles and rushes off to the side. Dream follows her with his sight but the other monster disappears around a corner.

Blue tilts his skull before grinning at the dog monster “Well… If you by any chance see anyone who fits the description we gave you. Please let us know?”

The dog monster shrugs “Maybe.”

… right. That is about as far as they had gotten with these people.

Dream sighs and nudges Blue “Come Blue. Let’s go. We can check some other people.”

They spend more hours just like that. Talking with people and getting nowhere except unhappy faces and dismissive hand waving.

Dream sighs as he sits on a bench “Are we in the right place?”

Blue nods “According to the people we spoke this is the right town.” He sighs and gives him a half grin “Maybe people are just nervous about strangers? I know back in Snowdin we were always a bit cautious when people suddenly showed up… unless someone we knew vouched for them of course.” Blue looks around the place “This place reminds me of Snowdin…”

Dream frowns as he looks around. Maybe that is it? They are just being cautious. That is it. Dream needs to stop being paranoid. Stop thinking people know or suspect what happened. This is a locked universe and seems to have no contact with others-

Blue suddenly jumps up and rushes off “Hey Sans! Papyrus! Wait up!”

Dream looks up and spots who Blue has spotted. Two skeletons. This was the place! Dream smiles and rushes to follow Blue. Oh things are finally looking up!

*--------------------------*

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[germhammy]

“Time to Hyde pt 2”

Xavier: WEDNESDAY!

Wednesday: -kneeling and petting the little skunks- you guys did good

The three little skunks squeaked happily

Xavier: what the hell?

Enid: your big strong hero sure left in a hurry

Pugsley: -talking to Phineas, Flower and Bianca- no. We don’t want you to get hurt. You did good.

They were very proud of themselves. Wednesday fed them rotten grapes from the bag Pugsley held

Xavier: Wait a minute! Pigsley, are those my grapes?

Pugsley: the name is Pugsley. And I’d watch out if I were you. The water polo team at Westfield High that bullied me called me Pigsley. Wednesday got expelled and sent to Nevermore for defending me

Xavier: I’m not afraid of Wednesday. She loves me. She would never hurt me

Pugsley: Do not try my sister’s patience, Xavier. Her bark may seem louder than her bite? But that is only because Wednesday 1 loves the long game. Watching people suffer 2 she has a high tolerance 3 care for people in her inner circle when it comes to actual violence. But do not mistake that for kindness or weakness

Enid: you’re walking on thawing ice, Xavier

Xavier: -laughing- the saying is ‘thin ice’, Enid. Not thawing ice. Geez

Enid: nope. In this case? I meant thawing ice. You’ve been out on the thin ice with Wednesday for a while now. But the ice is beginning to thaw.

Ajax and a few stoners approached

Ajax: yo! Wednesday. I’ve got a few of us gorgons here and ready to help

Wednesday: -petting the happy little skunks- great. Have you worked out a plan so innocents do not get stoned? I would hate for the Hydes to shatter anyone

Mary: (one of the gorgons) maybe we can hide out at the crypt? We can’t affect ghosts or demons

Enid: that sounds good. Illyana in her armored or Darkchilde form is immune as well. But make sure you coordinate with my brothers

Ajax: great plan. Let’s go

The gorgons left for Raven Island. Xavier stared at Wednesday

Xavier: what should I do?

Wednesday standing up as the skunks went back into their carrier

Wednesday: you should check on your friend.

Gomez and Morticia arrived

Morticia: -smelling the air- what a lovely smell. Did I miss the Phineas, Flower and Bianca show?

Bianca: you did. But I’m sure they won’t mind coming out for an encore if a certain someone doesn’t leave your daughter alone

The skunk trio could be heard stomping and squeaking in the carrier

Enid snickered

Pugsley: Wednesday?

Wednesday: it is up to Xavier

Xavier: excuse me?

The Foundation reappeared in the middle of the streets taunting louder than before dressed in his wrestling shorts and shirtless. Wednesday’s walkie crackled to life

Sheriff Jackson: should we move in and remove the obstruction?

Wednesday: -sighing- as much as I would like to say yes, Sheriff? I do not think it will do much good. Just protect him and make sure Tyler and Françoise do not hurt him too much

[thetomorrowshow]

forged in blood

Hey everyone!! Here's my fic for session 3 of @trafficzine :)) ren enjoyers come get yalls juice

~

Ren hears Jimmy when he calls out.

“Will anyone give me a life?”

Most everyone will ignore him, more likely than not. Most everyone will laugh at such a desperate bid for mercy; Jimmy, as always, so close to death. Who would give up their life for one such as Jimmy? What use would that be?

Ren has given lives before. He knows how that song and dance plays out.

He knows of the bond that such a sacrifice brings. He knows the feeling of his head separating from his body, of blood dripping down his crown and into his eyes as he gives and takes and takes and takes.

Perhaps it isn’t about what use there is to be found in Jimmy. Perhaps it’s simply the power of sacrifice, the gift that it is.

It’ll hurt. It always does. Sacrifice is communication with the divine, and the divine is not meant for men.

Ren hops down from the tree he’d climbed, trying to escape the dreadful snail chasing him. It’s getting close, anyhow—he can see its waving antennae cresting a lump in the ground. He needs to head out.

He finds Jimmy amongst chaos—people and snails running right and left, shouting to each other and trying to coordinate for long enough to save their lives. Mumbo especially seems to be having a rough time of it, judging by the repeated cut-off screams for help.

There’s something off about Jimmy. It might be the loosened bow tie around his throat, carelessly thrown there. It might be the smear of blood on his cheek. It might be the Red glint in his pupils, the way his eyes rove across Ren’s face, one brow raised.

Something . . . not-quite-right. Something that makes Ren do a double-take—is this really Jimmy? Something about him brings to mind Scar, back at the beginning of all this, his eyes red and skin grey as he leered from his desert mountain.

He must be Jimmy, though—he doesn’t raise his sword, even though he quite clearly notices Ren coming forward. Jimmy’s never thought to fight first. So Ren shakes off his discomfort and approaches him.

“I come to offer my life,” Ren declares. “I—”

Before he can say another word, Jimmy grabs him by the arm—his nails dig uncomfortably into Ren’s skin, talon-like and just shy of painful—and drags him through the woods, out of this clearing and into a smaller one.

It’s a moment alone, somehow. A moment between the two of them.

Jimmy shoves him up against a tree trunk, the bark scraping at Ren’s back as his red shirt hikes up. Ren grunts in surprise, that odd sense that Jimmy isn’t quite right returning. There’s . . . something about him is wrong, very very wrong, a wrongness that curls around the back of his throat and chokes his senses with its thick darkness.

Ren’s dealt with the divine.

He’s tried his best to avoid the devil.

“What?” Jimmy demands, pushing way too far into Ren’s personal space, until their noses nearly touch. Ren does his best not to cough—he smells like sulfur up close, sulfur and sweat and copper. Not the most pleasant of colognes.

“I will let you take my life,” Ren says, one hand to Jimmy’s chest and the other still in his grasp, pressed between their bodies. “I will—in exchange for an alliance.”

“You and me, yeah?” Jimmy says, nodding quickly. “I’ve got your back.”

“And Martyn,” Ren reminds him. “You and me and Martyn.”

This will all be for naught if it doesn’t protect Martyn as well.

“Right, right, right,” says Jimmy. Ren doesn’t like how quickly he rolled with that, but there’s nothing he can really do about it. They haven’t got anyone else.

They haven’t got much time, either. Shouts of fear echo all around, like so many crows screaming from the trees.

Was that cry another death? Did that call for help belong to Martyn? Where is his own eternal hunter?

There isn’t time to dilly-dally. Every moment is a moment closer to doom.

“Forgive and forget,” Jimmy says, and suddenly, he pulls back, drawing his sword. Ren drops without notice, bracing himself against the tree.

Ren’s knelt on the ground before. The soft, squishy dirt soaks the knees of his jeans—jeans, just jeans on dirt, not homespun trousers on the cold stone of an altar.

He’s bowed his head before.

Jimmy doesn’t strike, though. He circles Ren, the tip of his sword wavering.

Jimmy’s eyes dart from the edge of his sword to Ren’s neck, his tongue darting across his lips. “You’re sure?” he asks, like he’s never wanted anything more, like he doesn’t care what cost Ren sets.

Of course Ren’s sure. “You and me and Martyn,” he says. “Allies to the end.”

That look—it once again sets alarm bells ringing as he looks to the ground, tearing his eyes from the hunger that has consumed Jimmy’s face. You can’t trust him, Ren’s instincts scream. He’s not right.

Should he have consulted Martyn about this? Probably. Martyn’s never been too happy with his deliberate brushes with the gods. Something about knocking on enough doors.

There’s no time, though. A distant shout in the woods denotes another death, these wretched snails—and Ren’s snail will catch up to them at any minute, he needs to get this over with without any second thoughts—

“Do it!” he growls, just like he did then, and for a moment it is Martyn and an axe and a night darker than the depths of the void.

“My lord—!”

“Ready, ready—”

A glimpse of sun reflecting across steel, projected on the grass—

Ren gasps out as blinding pain strikes his neck, as blood pools in his throat and mouth—

Then shoots up in bed at Renwood Mound, alone.

It takes a moment to still his heaving chest, calm his ragged breaths. Being beheaded isn’t any more fun than it was the first time.

Offered defenseless on an altar, as bread on a table, always hurts the most. It hurts for the divine to tear him apart, to devour him and find what worth he might bring them, what they can bring him in return.

An alliance forged in blood. His fingertips tingle, curling—he needs to find Jimmy, bring him under his protection.

He’s sworn now to protect Jimmy, just as Jimmy is sworn to him. Ren can’t imagine loyalty going any other way.

But when Ren stumbles his way back to the woods where everyone else is, mouth still fuzzy and throat still burning, he doesn’t see Jimmy.

He doesn’t see him until night falls, until he spots him on the side of the mountain, Lizzie and Scar with him.

Ren waves up at him, even as Martyn tugs his sleeve back toward Renwood Mound, waiting, waiting—

Jimmy’s eyes pass over him like he doesn’t see him, and the lad turns away, headed back up the mountain.

There’s something wrong about Jimmy. There’s something wrong in the ruthlessness that had seized him, determined to get a life as if failure wasn’t even an option.

Perhaps that ruthlessness will serve Ren in the end.

Ren has a horrible feeling that it won’t.

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: You’ve arrived in Paris and have successfully infiltrated the catacombs. However, things take an unexpected turn for the best and worst.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

The train approached the station right on time, the brakes smoothing out right onto the platform. By now, the train station was busy with people. It wouldn’t be hard to lose someone within the crowd. That was why it was so important to tag the targets instead of relying on eyesight alone. 

From a suitable distance, the 141 tailed Makarov’s men, making sure to blend in when necessary. It wasn’t hard to look like one of the many groups of tourists in Paris. An odd group, but a group nonetheless. Soon enough, you halted the chase, allowing the targets to head to their destination. If you followed them all the way to their secret entrance, you all would be spotted immediately. For now, it was wise to head to a hotel spot nearby and track the targets by computer. The men weren’t used to hotel hopping so much. According to you, it was much less conspicuous to stay in a hotel rather than a guarded building on behalf of the United States government. 

Not that they were complaining. They were grateful to have comfortable beds while on a mission. There were many, many missions that required them to sleep on the ground. Sometimes they didn’t have sleeping bags or cots with them. The actual beds have led to most of them getting better rest than normal.

This hotel looked just about the same as the last one. Pretty generic, clean, and only local art on the walls that looked similar to the many artists on the streets. The room pairing was the same as well. Soap and Ghost in a room, Price and Gaz in the other, and one all to yourself. You didn’t mind bunking with any of them if it was necessary. Right now, it just wasn’t.

Ghost was a little disappointed that you didn’t invite him to stay with you, but he wasn’t surprised. Admittedly, a part of him did love the chase. He also had a new motivation when it came to you. Complete the mission and convince you to stay. He knew that you were wavering when it came to the possibility of going back off the grid after everything was over. While he wasn’t sure what you would end up doing if you decided to stick with him, he didn’t care. He just wanted you by his side.

Perhaps if you could see how capable he was during the final stages of the mission, you would.

You all sat in a bedroom, carefully tracking the targets and their luggage. On a large map, Gaz began to trace the trail for Paris on the surface. Price was going through local cameras as well to determine their secret entrance. Soap was looking at a laptop that kept track of them with red dots. All of it took coordination and relying on each other. When it came down to it, the 141 was like a well-oiled machine.

As soon as Gaz noticed that the tracking route didn’t match the Paris roads and Price lost sight, Ghost and you began tracking the targets on a different map. A massive map of the catacombs. When men went one way while the luggage went the other, you both picked out a focus and traced them on the map. The targets went deeper into the catacombs each minute, amplifying just how dangerous this mission was going to be.

The targets were far from where tourists were allowed to be. It seemed like they were venturing into parts that haven’t even been discovered yet. If the 141 wasn’t careful, they could get lost or die. Whichever came last.  

The team spent hours mapping it all out. By the time you all had a better grip on the labyrinth layout, it was nightfall. 

You’ve skipped lunch with the team in order to memorize the route. Worst case scenarios, you lose light or lose the map. Memorizing the routes could save you if the worst happened. It took you a long time, though. By the time you did, you were starving for dinner.

Thankfully, Simon saved a room service plate for you. He didn’t like the fact that you skipped lunch, but he decided it wasn’t worth the fight. All that mattered was that you had something in your stomach for dinner. Not that you were completely engrossed in your meal to really enjoy it, though.

During dinner, you went over the plan with the team. It was proving to be much too dangerous to have all of you enter the maze of bones. There needed to be backup on the surface. It was finally decided that you, Ghost, and Gaz would go into the labyrinth while Price and Soap tracked you from above. Before leaving, you would plant trackers on yourselves. Then, after entering the maze, Ghost and Gaz would separate from you to head to a different part of the catacombs for standby. You would follow the target route, refine the map with new discoveries, and find Makarov to assassinate him. 

If Makarov wasn’t there, you would call him there. However, that meant spending a night underground. 

As everyone geared up in their rooms, you sat alone in yours. You’ve never been nervous about a mission before. You have always kept your cool, confident that you would be able to finish the job no matter what happened. In and out. Undetected. The fear of death never even had you anxious. Now? Now it was different. There were actually many things on the line for you. Too much at stake to make any mistakes.

There was a soft knock on your door before it opened up. Simon stood in his full gear. Bulletproof vest, helmet, boots. Everything that told the world that he was a soldier. As much as you wanted to admire it, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, your gaze focused on your twiddling thumbs.

“Hey, you alright?” He came closer, kneeling in front of you to see your face better. Having you be nervous was making him nervous. What could possibly have you, the greatest assassin in the world, rattled?

In response, you shook your head. “I never feared death because I never had a life. It’s different now.”

“Oh. . . Hex. . .” He called out, his gloved hand caressing your cheek. For the first time, you leaned into his gentle touch. It nearly had his heart explode for you.

“Sorry. This won’t be a problem once I’m down there and I find my groove. I’ll be okay.” You reassured him and yourself. Giving yourself a pep-talk was new too. 

Just for a moment, Simon wanted to share this short time with you. To be the one to calm your nerves. He lifted his mark partially up, kissing you deeply to break your anxious thoughts. When his kiss finally registered in your brain, you couldn’t help but kiss him back like it was the last kiss you would ever share with him. If things went wrong, it may very well be. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were sharp. Confident. “You’ll be perfect. I know you will.”

Your chest stung painfully at his words of encouragement. Focusing on what could go wrong wasn’t helping you believe in yourself. All you needed to believe in was Ghost. With a resolute nod, you accept his support. “Yeah. I’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

His heart swelled at your quick recovery. If he could, he would follow you all the way through the catacombs and back. 

Simon gave you one last kiss before pulling down his mask again, already missing the feeling of your lips pressed against his. You felt that absence as well, hating and loving that you could now never imagine a life without his kisses. That just made you more determined to finish the job with grace just how you’ve always done. 

~

In the dead of night, Ghost quietly peeled back a manhole cover, revealing nothing but sewer at the bottom. Gaz raised a brow at the reveal, expecting to see bones on bones already. You double checked the map to make sure this was the correct entry point. Unfortunately, it was.

One by one, you climbed down to the sewers, careful not to land in the waters. Ghost spoke into his earpiece. “Entry successful. Can you read us?”

“Crystal clear, Lt. Be careful down there. Who knows just how many of Makarov’s men are there.” Price stressed, carefully watching the monitor from the safety of the hotel bedroom. Soap was tasked with coordinating a mass arrest and seize of weapons once Makarov was confirmed dead. He was on the phone coordinating the plan while Price focused on his team under Paris. 

Carefully, you made your way through the sewers, following the same path as the targets from earlier. The walk already felt long as it was dark, cold, and quiet save the sound of water dripping every so often. No chit chat. No small talk. All focus.

Eventually, you all came across a dead end. Gaz and Ghost began to feel the wall, trying to determine if there was a secret they were missing. You checked the map to confirm your positions. Just as Gaz swiped his hands over the left side of the wall, he felt something out of place. A piece of brick that jutted out just slightly compared to the others. When he pressed down on it, the wall popped open, waiting to be opened like a door. Gaz relayed the information to his captain while you marked it on the map. On Price’s end, he marked a similar map, wanting to match yours with each new discovery. 

Beyond the wall was nothing but pitch black darkness. There was no light for what seemed like miles. When you all turned on your flashlights, you were met with the remains of people from floor to ceiling. Bones dating back hundreds of years surround you. It was eerie. It was somehow a little worse than being surrounded by freshly dead bodies. Perhaps it was the more profound sense of death that made the endless halls feel grim. 

Ghost couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out as well. Skulls were his signature icon, wearing one right on his face. Yet here, it didn’t feel right to wear his mask so blatantly. It was like all of his kills were haunting him now through the bones of thousands. 

Gaz let out a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control. It wasn’t a pretty sight, being down there. He wondered how the hell tourists felt so excited to visit this place voluntarily. 

For you, it all just felt like a bad omen. 

“Let’s go. We don’t want to linger for too long.” You announced, trying to shake the heebie jeebies off your shoulders. The others followed closely, listening for human life when their flashlights didn’t reach far enough into the depths. 

After walking for a few miles, you finally approached the anticipated fork in the path. It was time to go your separate ways for now. As you stared down your path, you took off your jacket along with your tracker. Ghost’s eyes narrowed, a fire already erupting in his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The stagnant air was cold, already giving you goosebumps beneath your long-sleeved shirt. “They may search me if we need to go with Plan B. As soon as they find the tracking device, radio, and earpiece, they’ll kill me. Or capture me for interrogation. Either way, that’s not ideal.”

“How are we supposed to know where you are then? How are we supposed to communicate?” Gaz question, growing worried about your sudden decision as well. 

You threw your jacket to Kyle, him catching it with his fast reflexes. Ghost clenched his jaw tight, almost cracking teeth. He didn’t like this one bit. But, if this is how you perfected your craft, he had no choice but to accept it.

From your pocket, you took out a small bobby pin that matched the color of your hair. You pressed the button on the end, causing it to start connecting to the 141’s earpieces. A new dot popped up on the monitor that Price still watched as well. Through the bobby pin, you spoke softly, your voice coming through their ears. “This is a new piece me and Kate have been working on for a while. It’s more discreet. This will be hidden in my hair and less likely to get spotted even with a search. Any complaints?”

“Hear you loud and clear, Hex. Good thinking, bringing a discreet backup. I’ll have to ask Kate to get me one of those.” Price praised, lightening the mood. Ghost still had complaints, but he kept them to himself for now. There was something heavier weighing him down.

Simon didn’t want to split up. He thought that he would have no problem with it back in the hotel room when he was comforting you. Right at the moment, however, he didn’t want you to go. Especially without your jacket. 

Before you could go off on your own, he pulled you in for a tight hug, not caring if Garrick saw. Kyle, being pretty intelligent about these things, pretended that he didn’t see anything and turned around. Simon would have to treat him to a drink later. 

“Be careful, kitten.” He squeezed you tight, the hug almost crushing your lungs. In response, you wrapped your arms around him too. Well, as much as you could with all that gear on him.

Reluctantly, he let you go, allowing you to look up at him once more before turning to disappear into the darkness. When Simon turned to go on their designated path, he heard a familiar voice snicker in his ear.

Soap was having a little laugh. “Kitten?”

“Can it before I decide to add a new set of bones down here.” He threatened, something that even you heard from down your skull-decorated corridor. 

In the cover of darkness and a faint flashlight, you made your way down the catacombs. At this point, you were completely relying on your map and instincts. The halls never seemed to end. It was so difficult to determine how much further you needed to go as well. Taking a deep breath every step, you moved forward. 

Suddenly, there was a yellow light in the distance. One that casted haunting shadows on the walls. There were voices too. Voices engaged in casual conversation like it was a regular Tuesday night at work. This was it. You were finally close to finding the main center of this operation. 

Hiding in the shadows, you waited for the men to pass before going down the path behind them. More light illuminated the way, ensuring that even Makarov’s men could come back safely. The confidence Makarov had in this secret was amazing. Few guards, a few too many lights, and footsteps standing out on the dirt floor. It didn’t take long for you to figure out the guards’ path pattern either.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, the bobby pin coming in clutch. “Found their hub. Preparing to infiltrate now.”

“Copy that. Ghost and Gaz are in position as well. Keep us updated, Hex.” Price answered back, carefully watching your new dot enter the heart of the operation. Hopefully, if things went well, he was planning on trying to convince to stay with the team as well. You’ve been a good influence on the group. You’ve challenged them to think outside the box, take the time to think about unexpected possibilities, and to rely on the psychological aspects. 

John couldn’t remember the last time they were so close to catching Makarov since his escape from prison. It felt like they’ve been chasing after him for forever. The fact that you were able to get a step ahead of him, something the 141 has failed to do until now, meant a lot. The fact that you were willing to put yourself so close to danger spoke volumes about your character too. 

The team could really use someone like you.

For now, Price would table that conversation for later. He needed you to come back safe first. 

Sneaking around the operation was quite easy for you. The guards were pretty lax in terms of security. With how narrow the catacombs were and how many boxes of weapons they had, you were able to get pretty perfect cover. On your map, you marked down where you were as well as the amount of weapons were down with you. You relayed the information to Price and Soap, them also take note of it on their side.

Everything was going smoothly. Except, there was no sign of Makarov anywhere. Not even a mention of his name from his men. You had a bit more area to explore, but that seemed like a waste of time. There was no evidence in knowing if Makarov would come personally within the next hour or the next week. You were genuinly hoping that it wouldn’t have to come down to this. “No sign of Makarov. No evidence of future arrival. Plan B.”

From Ghost’s position, he and Gaz looked to each other. It looked like they were going to be down there longer than planned. They did have the option to leave and come back later when Makarov does finally arrive, but they would never do that to you. Not after all that you’ve done for them. They were going to stay down here with you for as long as it will take. Ghost confidently spoke into his earpiece. “We’ll be here.”

“Plan B is a go.” Price confirmed, his muscles tensing up more than they were before. Everyone was feeling more tense. They were nervous for you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was going to happen. Then, you emerged from the shadows, hands up in surrender. It took a whistle to get someone to notice you. Once someone did, everyone was pointing their guns at you. Questions were yelled out to you in different languages you couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until someone big and burly came over and spoke to you in English that things could get a move on.

“You! Who are you?! How did you come down here?” He growled, his finger hovering over the trigger of his pistol. 

Calmly, you explained yourself, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’m an assassin. I wish to speak to Makarov for employment.”

“And you infultrate our operation to do so? How do I even know that you aren’t lying to me? Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now and save everyone the trouble.” He argued, his muscles aching to fill you with bullets. Something about you didn’t seem right to him. However, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t impressed that you had found their operation.

“I consent to a search if it will make you feel better. All I have is a knife in my boot and a twin pistols on my hips in terms of weapons. Take them. I figured that sneaking in like this would catch attention. I’m pretty good at my job. I can be a very valuable asset.” You promised, hands still in the air, not even flinching to defend yourself. 

The men looked between each other, silently trying to decide what to do with you. Their boss gestured to your body, prompting a few men to take your weapons off your person. Paranoia of more was quelled thanks to you wearing tight clothes. “She’s clear.”

“Anyone follow you down?” The boss asked, his tone becoming more relaxed. 

You shook your head and chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t be a very good assassin if there was. Search me for communication tools.”

They were buying your performance, not even realizing that they were taking orders from you like dogs. The 141 listened carefully through your bobby pin, fists clenched as they tried to keep it together. They couldn’t help it. They were protective of you now. 

Ghost heard the shuffle of clothing, imagining how those men have their dirty fucking hands on you for a thorough search. He wanted to storm right through the catacombs to you like a demon from hell to cut their hands off. Doing so would compromise the mission, but it would probably feel worth it. He had to bite his cheek when he heard you hiss.

Someone got a little too handsy with their search, your tone biting as if you really will bite. “Hey! Watch your fucking hands!”

“Just being thorough, girl. Follow me.” The leader finally said, his men ushering you along right behind him. Price and Soap carefully tracked your position, making sure that their map would be able to lead them right to you when the time came as you were unable to update yours. 

You were led to a more open corridor that was divided into sections almost like rooms. In one of them was a small table, two chairs, and a small battery lantern, much like a makeshift interrogation room. You were guided to have a seat, to which you complied. Across from you sat the one in charge around here while a couple of men with rifles manned the exit. The rest dispersed, business as usual. 

“So, you’re telling me that you want to help Makarov. Why?” He questioned carefully, his eyes scanning you for any kind of slip up. Any indication that you weren’t who you said you were. 

You leaned back in your chair casually, arms across your chest. “I’m only interested in going through an interview with Makarov himself.”

He have a mocking laugh, not knowing that he was eating right out of your palm already. “What makes you think he’s gonna come all the way here just to interview you? What do you think this is? A cooperate job? Why do you think you are so special?”

Smirking, you shrugged your shoulders. “I found and broke into this operation, didn’t I? You may have the rest of the world fooled, but if I can waltz right through your skeleton entrance, it won’t be long until your enemies do. You guys need help. I can provide that.”

He raised a brown and stroked his chin in thought, his brain mulling your words over. You had a point. By the time they noticed you, you were already right in the middle of their big secret. There was obviously a loose end somewhere. Makarov wouldn’t be happy with that. Perhaps they could use the support of a skilled assassin.

“What’s your name, girl?” He asked, interest piqued. 

“Don’t have one. Wouldn’t be a good assassin if I did.” You lied effortlessly like it really was the truth. 

A few seconds passed before he finally took the bait. If anything, Makarov would kill you instantly the moment he suspects something wrong. The ghost weapon parts were going to need a final approval too before being shipped out. 

With a heavy sigh, he caved. “Alright, girlie. I’ll leave this business you have with Makarov. You have to stay here, though. Unless told otherwise, you will not leave this room.”

You were left alone in the open room, obeying the order for the sake of the mission. You could hear some sighs of relief from the bobby pin close to your ear hidden within your hair. First part was over. However, that didn’t mean that the hardest part was done with. Things were only going to get more tense from here on out.

You spend hours sitting and doing nothing. You couldn’t even engage in any conversation with the 141. If you weren’t going to die from a bullet, you were going to die from boredom. When the boss of the catacombs operation came back, you nearly sighed in relief. “Makarov will be here within the next twenty-four hours or so. Until then, you are confined here. Good luck, girl.”

After that brief interaction, he left once again, leaving you to wait out even more. No food. No water. Little light. Nothing to do but wait.

The same went for the 141. At least they had each other in closer proximity, though. You, on the other hand, had no one by your immediate side. Hopefully, this would be the last time you would have to be alone like this. 

~

There was no telling if it was still night or day. There was no telling as to how much time has actually passed. Ghost and Gaz had been quite on their end, cutting of communication briefly to avoid you or them being discovered. Soap and Price were silent too, trying to work out final steps on their end. After a certain period of time, you truly felt isolated. This wasn’t like being alone in your cabin. There, you had the sounds of nature surrounding you, books to read, things to do. You could see sunlight and moonlight from your windows. 

Here, there was nothing but bones, dirt, and the tiny light of the lantern. Even the men guarding you decided to turn in for some rest, situating themselves further away from you, but still in close enough range to notice an escape attempt.

A chill ran through you, making you rub your arms with your hands. You were beginning to get tired and hungry. Just as you tried to slip into a cat nap to pass the time, a low voice woke you back up. Hearing it felt like you were being brought back to the land of the living. “Hey, kitten. How are you holding up?”

You didn’t say anything back for a moment, listening for eavesdroppers. Your voice dropped to a whisper so faint that it was like a spirit speaking. “Fine. You sure you want to keep using that nickname right now?”

“I had Price patch us for a private line for a moment. Gaz is sweeping the areas around us. It’s just you and me.” Ghost reassured, grateful to hear your voice like this. He didn’t like you being isolated the way you were. At the very least, he hoped that his voice would provide you with enough company to tie you over for several more hours. 

Your heart felt lighter already just hearing his voice through the pin. Quietly, you go up from the chair to lay on the floor, not caring if you were getting dirt all over yourself. You just needed to stretch your back and legs out. Try to relax as best as you could. “What time is it out there?”

“Nearly noon. It doesn’t feel like it.” He groaned, hardly believing that there was sunlight somewhere himself. It was way too damn dark under Paris.

“Tell me about it. I can’t tell if only a couple minutes have passed or a couple hours. Time seems to stand still down here. The skeletons aren’t helping.” You half-joked, causing Ghost to actually chuckle. The dark sense of humor that you were demonstrating now made him miss you more than he already did. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you, both of you feeling more secure in the dark now that you have heard each other’s voices. Yet, an unsettling feeling began to take over your stomach, tying it in knots. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything goes wrong, you’re prepared to say goodbye to me, right?” You shakily breathed out.

The nature of your whisper still nearly knocked the wind right out of him. The way you said it, like it was an absolute, an unavoidable inevitable, scared him. Genuinely. “I won’t let something like that happen. I’m not gonna lose you.”

Suddenly, you bolted up from the floor, ears trained on a sound you heard further down the catacombs. You almost thought that it was just the illusion of darkness getting to you until you heard it again. Faint chatter from afar. A familiar voice that you have only heard through tv speakers. 

“Y/n.” You confessed your real name to him with a heavy heart. 

Simon almost didn’t register it. His heart nearly stopped beating. “What?”

“Y/n. My name is Y/n.” 

Before he could say anything, let alone find the words to say, he heard the chattering too from your end. The voice was undeniable. Quickly, he radioed Price to reestablish the communication lines again. “Captain. It’s Makarov. He’s arrived early.”

You returned to your chair, dusting yourself off just before the man of the hour entered your line of sight. With a sinister smile, he entered your room and took a seat across from you. “It’s not every day that I have someone demand to go through an interview with me. In fact, I never held a formal interview before. Nor took demands from anyone. This better be worth my time.”

“Trust me, Makarov. The information and help I have for you is gonna be worth both of our time. I would be lying if I said that their was something out of this for me too.” You faked a gracious smile, something you weren’t sure was selling it enough.

Thankfully, you had Makarov’s attention. For now. 

“I’m listening.”

-

Taglist:

@eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby @kdadss @lexuria @dookiedanish@horagamu @bitchvxbes @aldis-nuts @hellhavevibes @annyis @lunaryst25 @xheera

[dragon-susceptible]

Moonshadow Headcanons

A collection of random headcanons about Moonshadow Forest and its culture, which will be relevant for the Different Path Taken universe.

Moonshadow Forest is dangerous. Runaan talks about this a little bit in Bloodmoon Huntress; it's full of illusions and plays tricks on the mind even at the best of times, and it can be a killer during the Blood Moon for even the most experienced of warriors. Children in Moonshadow Forest go nowhere alone, and are taught from the time they can talk and move around under their own power "Five is company, four is enough, three is a test, two is a risk, and one is a death" in reference to leaving the safety of the village. Only assassins and rangers move outside the village boundaries alone, and even they don't go far on the blood moon, because the illusions get extra aggressive.

That said, the Forest is never quite safe, especially for someone who is struggling with grief. It plays tricks on the mind, shows you want you want to see, draws you into its dangerous depths. Ethari saw Runaan around every corner and heard his voice constantly after his death in canon, and never left the village because he knew it was a trick meant to pull him in. Others have fallen for it and never returned. Moonshadow grief is often focused less on remembering the dead and more on preserving whoever they left behind.

The ritual of ghosting requiring a unanimous vote from the village is not unique. Moonshadow villages are run on democracies, with every able adult casting votes for who to fill various roles. Keeper Lyrennus earned his place as the leading Keeper of the Silvergrove's sacred places, just as Runaan earned his as the leader of the assassins' guild. Guilds are unique in that they are not voted on by villages, but by the people inside the guild. So while both Runaan and Ethari voted on Lyrennus' election, neither Lyrennus nor Ethari had say in Runaan's election as the leader of his guild. Guilds are done like this because they span multiple villages and must coordinate over longer periods of time as a result.

Because of the danger of the Forest and the generally fairly casual view Moonshadow elves have of death, it's a quietly accepted fact that Moonshadow elders sometimes just wander off into the trees alone of their own volition. If they are tired of living, they go into the forest and let the illusions take them, and generally are never found again. They leave behind anything of importance in a shrine for their loved ones. Generally, this is considered a respectable enough choice, as the elf just cannot take this phase of existence anymore, and they have no cultural fear or shame around the concept of death. It is considered a shame (as in, regrettable that it happened) if a younger elf is driven to this mental state, and they do try to help each other through mental struggles that will lead to it. If the support of the community simply isn't enough, there's no shame on the elf who wandered away. Wandering into the woods is a euphemism for death for Moonshadow elves as a result of this.

The Mooncubs is a system the Moonshadow developed to deal with their heavily decimated numbers and new, incredibly dangerous home ground after the Mage Wars drove them to Moonshadow Forest. Prides of Mooncubs are small groups of children (around 3-5 of them) in roughly the same age group, which the adults of the village take responsibility for on rotation. Pride leaders' job is to keep the children safe, primarily, though different leaders may offer them different life lessons too. Pride leaders are separate from teachers though. The children in a Pride tend to be within 5 years of age of each other, but if say, the village has 9 kids of 5-10 years, they'll be separated into a Pride of 4 kids 5 through 7 and 5 kids 8 through 10. Prides are kept deliberately small because a single pride leader is expected to keep track of the entire pride at once. Assassins are often exempt from the rotation of pride leaders because they spend so much time away from their home villages, but they are allowed to volunteer for rotations when they're home, and expected to participate if they have their own children.

Moonshadow elves are said to be largely vegetarian, but their primary mounts are shadowpaws, moonstriders, and gryphons, all of which are carnivorous animals, so either they just let the animals hunt for their own food or they do have some hunting culture to feed those mounts. This may be why they don't seem to keep smaller pets all that much, though.

After the Mage Wars and the war over the Cult of the Blood Moon had decimated their numbers twice over, the Moonshadow invented the concept of marriage as separate from romances. Marriage was initially a contractual deal to partner two compatible elves in order to produce children; they weren't required to stay together after the fact, except in that they were both responsible for the child or children, but it was considered something of an obligation to ensure their people would survive. Because they also prioritize personal choice so much, though, the concept of a Challenge was also brought up, where if an elf's love was contracted to be married, they could challenge their betrothed for their hand. The elf being fought over had to validate the challenge for it to be considered binding, and some effort was made to level the playing field if the challenger or betrothed had significantly more training than the other, and the winner of the challenge was granted the privilege of marrying the elf they were fighting over.

Privileges of the challenge were not granted to gay couples during this time, until the magic that allowed them to produce children was invented by Earthblood elves and made its way into Moonshadow Forest. After that magic was discovered, the Challenge was broadened to everyone, and as tensions cooled with other elves and their available pool of partners broadened, the concept of marriage became just a way to officially recognize mated couples.

In the modern day, Challenge Season (longer post about it here) is largely just a big game, as its purpose is now defunct. It can sometimes be used to make a point about thinking your friend's partner is bad for them, but mostly it's all in good fun. Lethal weapons are now banned, as is using too significant of force; leaving scars is fine, they do have fangs and horns so it's somewhat to be expected, but no permanent or severe damage. It's considered somewhat rude by some to leave horn scars on one's opponent's chest, arms, or face, as those are regions most often scarred by sexual partners who throw their head back too quickly.

Connected to that, Moonshadow elves have a sort of "we all know, we just politely don't talk about it in front of the kids until they get old enough to figure it out" mentality towards some minor exhibitionism in the form of visible marks and some noises. It's considered more eyebrow-raising if neither of a couple have any scars from horns or fangs somewhere visible, because it tends to indicate either they're Incredibly Soft with each other or they're immobilizing each other (through pinning or ropes) as a kink.

Women tend to have more slender horns than men, which led to their horn cuffs in marriage being more like armored plates as we see with Tiadrin. This is also largely just a personal choice now, though longer cuffs that cover more of the horn have a remnant of a "feminine" connotation. Ethari's cuffs are more typical of a masculine fashion despite being more intricate, because Runaan's are longer. Lain's were similar.

Moonshadow elves also still practice duels. They value preservation of their people too much to allow duels to the death, but if two Moonshadow are having too deep a disagreement and they are too heated to solve it with words, they are allowed to challenge each other to fight it out. It often just leads to them shouting while they fight and eventually burning themselves out enough to actually discuss their problems like civil adults, since the same rules apply to duels as to challenge season - no permanent damage, no deaths.

The leaping up into the air to come down on an opponent trick that Runaan, Rayla, and Skor do is a highly traditional form of Moonshadow combat, which is reminiscent of the style they used when they lived in the mountains near the Moon Nexus. It was far more practical back then, when they could often just drop from a higher ledge like mountain lions. Because of their cliffside origins and habit of climbing anything that looks vaguely climbable, they're also very hardy when it comes to blunt force impact, and often don't take as much damage from falls as humans do. Their horns work as shock absorbers when they strike them against things, as well.

Coming of age ceremonies are done when the adults in an elfling's life have judged that their horns have reached their adult stage. Horns continue to grow throughout a creature's life, but elflings have dull nubs that sharpen with age. When they are sharp enough to cut, they are "fully grown", so to speak, though their angle can still be adjusted somewhat with metal caps if they grow too far directly backward and become unwieldy. At this age, the elfling's parents wash their hair and stain their horns with a faint color (Runaan's and Rayla's are stained pink, but Ethari's are purple, and Lujanne and Andromeda's are blue), and the wood grain stripes we see on most of the adults. Children will sometimes draw stripes on too, for special occasions, but the staining is a ritual using the same henna as their tattoos and lasts much longer. What color their horns are stained with does not really mean anything in particular, though it often runs in families with children choosing a color that reflects someone they admire. (Runaan came to terms with being Rayla's father because she didn't even think to ask about Lain filling the role at her coming of age, she just came straight to him and never mentioned her birth parents)

Hollow Wood is one of the more open villages in Moonshadow Forest and has a handful of elves living in it who are not Moonshadow, often partners or children of Moonshadow elves. It's where Ethari is from; his mother was a Sunfire weaponsmith, who met his father, a Moonshadow jeweller, at Moonshadow Market on the edge of the forest. The Silvergrove is shrouded more than the other villages because it was explicitly established as a base of operations for assassins, and simply grew later to include their families and eventually a community beyond them. They generally do not have outsiders in the Silvergrove. However, their tenets of loyalty are so strong that if one does enter, as Callum does, without setting off any magical defenses, it's safe to assume they have earned the trust of a local, which means they are also safe to be around. That's why no one batted an eye at Callum taking Ethari's rotation with the Mooncubs.

Edit to add: Moonshadow Market is a bazaar/outdoor market with stands that is posted on the edge of the forest, and is the primary location of trade with other types of elves in Xadia, because most avoid Moonshadow Forest and the illusions get more dangerous the deeper in you go. It remains behind the treeline, in the forest, but there are clearly marked, roped off paths to get to it and indicate its boundaries. Guests are generally advised not to duck under or go over the ropes into the actual forest, but Moonshadow elves do it with impunity because they live there, and the illusions on the edge of the forest are like shitty AI images to them compared to the more convincing/dangerous ones further within.

might add more later, just wanted these consolidated in text.

[constesplanetarium]

Watch the show.

☼⚠︎ Male! Yandere Circus Ringleader/Magician x GN! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Getting a little shocking now.”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

this is inspired off what im dressing up as for halloween, literally a circus ringleader :)

i hope u guys like him <3

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TW! General Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, jealousy, aggression towards other guys, etc.), light sexual activity, violence, blood, murder, choking, dacryphilia, implied kidnapping.

Word count: Around 4k.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

The acrobats swing too and fro above you, lighting up the crowd's eyes with excitement and anticipation for what's next. Will one of them fall? Will they pull off the trick? You gasp as the acrobat flings himself across the stage, almost covering your eyes in case he misses and falls…

But as always, he lands the trick, the acrobat clinging onto the other one's arms as the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter. Your nerves ease as you smile softly at the acrobats on the stage, still swinging as they revel in the excitement.

This is your… What, fifteenth show by now? But you never get sick of any of the tricks they do. The circus always comes over for the fall, and a friend of yours won tickets from a raffle for the first show when this whole festival started, about a week ago. The show ended up being so good, that you went to the next one on your own accord. And then the next one. And the next one after that. And the next one…

They have shows pretty often, huh? It’s surprising how they never run out of energy.

You had never been interested in the circus before this, but the jaw-dropping tricks, alongside the good-looking members of the cast, made you stay and come back for every single show. It looks like many shared your sentiment, since it seemed that the crowd grew more and more ever since the first show of the season.

Ah, those acrobats are really cute. Maybe you can get lucky and get to meet both of them after the show. Maybe you’ll even get to meet the ringleader, he’s so handsome…

You don’t rip your eyes away from the rest of the show, cheering alongside the crowd at every little trick and flip the cast does; you cheer the loudest in your row once the ringleader bows in the center of the stage with his members, concluding the show.

“Make sure to come see us for our next show in two hours! You won’t want to miss it.” The ringleader does a simple wink, sending every fan of his into a frenzy. You still aren’t sure why people like him so much. People don’t even know his last name, let alone his first one. He’s just referred to as ‘the ringleader’ or ‘the mysterious master of the circus’ by eccentric journalists who are trying so desperately to keep the reader’s attention. A bunch of celebrities, along with reported billionaires and people from big spots in large companies have come here to watch his tricks, and maybe even strike business, but reportedly he’s always turned down these people, no matter how much money they offer him.

Strange. If they offered him a billion dollars to buy out his circus, would he take the offer? Ah, you know you would. Maybe he already has a private sponsor?

Once you gather your things, you step back out into the festive atmosphere of today's holiday; halloween. Jack-o-lanterns and scarecrows line the pathway back to the main center of the festival, and you can hear the screams of fear coming from the haunted house they all set up. The orange and red lights from the ferris wheel look so pretty from here…

You find yourself wandering around the festival for around 10 minutes, noticing every little detail the festival coordinators setup. There’s even cute little artwork for the signs pointing you in the events you might want to check out later. Looking at everyones costumes and the decorations makes you feel all giddy.

Oh wow, look at that huge skeleton! Your hand digs into your pocket quickly to-

Wait.

Your phone?

Where’s your phone?

You pat down your pockets, and the moment you realize it’s not with you, you run back over to the building, swinging open the door and bound for your seat. Holy shit, lady luck must be on your side today. Thank god no one had closed the entrance yet.

You bend down, trying to dig around for your phone on the floor. It’s so hard to see, since they already shut most of the lights off, damn it…

Where the hell is it?!

“Hello.”

Oh my gosh!

You jump up, almost stumbling right back down, yet a hand grabs your arm before you can fall, and you see who it is instantly once you look up.

“Looking for this?” The ringleader smiles cheekily, waving your phone around as the screen lights up your surroundings a bit. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited by the door to see if the owner would pop up.” The shock of seeing him this up close is so bad, you don’t even reach for your phone. He takes your hand in his and sets your phone down, right in your palm.

You slowly hold your phone close to your chest, and thank him for returning it.

“It’s not a problem.” Should you ask him for a picture? Maybe an autograph? “I’m glad you came back for it, instead of giving up, and assuming that someone already stole it.” You don’t even have paper for him to sign. Maybe he’ll sign your clothes or something?

Oh my gosh, he’s so much better up close…

“Are you alright?” He chuckles, brushing his hand across your cheek, and your body flinches in response. “You were zoning out there. Oh! I see,” He chuckles. “You’re surprised to see me up close.”

Right on the money.

Warmth spreads all the way up to your face, and all you can do is giggle nervously. God, it’s like you’re a schoolgirl asking out her crush.

“It’s alright. I find it flattering.” He glances between you and your phone for a moment. What’s up? “Would you like a picture?”

On my god.

He brushes up next to you, pressing your hips together as you open up your camera app quickly, setting it in selfie mode. “Is this okay?”

Yes.

“Good. Smile.” You would find it amusing how he’s holding up a peace sign for the picture, but you're more nervous about the hand he’s set on your hip, digging into your body.

“Oh, you aren’t going to take the picture?” Oh my god, the picture. “Or are you distracted by something else?” You glance up, seeing his guilty smile as his gloved hand rubs your hip slowly.

These pictures need to be taken before something else happens right here, right now.

You signal him to look over and smile, snapping a couple random pictures. You don't even know if they turned out good or not. Is it hot in here? You should probably get out.

You thank him quickly, and turn your heel-

“Leaving so soon?” You turn back to see a clear frown on his face, the dimmed lighting shining right on him. “You can stay a bit longer, if you’d like. I’m not in a hurry.”

But what about his next show? Doesn’t he have to prepare?

“The break is more for my members than for me.” He sits down in an empty seat, patting the spot next to him. “Come, sit. I would love to have your company for longer.”

You walk back up and sit down next to him, shuffling in your seat as he takes his hat off, setting it down in the empty seat adjacent from him.

“Thank you for staying with me.” He clears his throat and starts to take his gloves off, flexing his fingers in and out as he tosses the gloves in his empty seat too. “Meeting all types of people when they come to my shows is wonderful, but not being able to talk to them personally makes me a bit sad.”

You smile empathically, and he returns your smile.

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers, his smile widening at the thought of his sudden new idea. “How about I save you a seat for my next show? Please, tell me where you’d like to sit!” Woah, really? “I mean, you are coming to my next show, right?”

Uh. You were planning to go to the ferris wheel with a friend of yours, actually…

His mood shifts from happy, to immediate disappointment. “Well, you can just visit the ferris wheel after my show, can’t you?” Well, you COULD, but-

“Oh please, I would really like you to be at my next show…” He takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your palm. “Please?”

Urgh.

“Oh, just amazing!” He laughs and stands up, pointing to a seat around the front row. “How about there? Perhaps I can even perform a trick for you once I’m on stage! How does that sound?”

Wow, this man’s pulling out all the stops, huh? You can’t help but thank him again, from saving your phone to getting you a free seat. This ringleader’s so nice…

“Oh? ‘Thank you, Mr. Ringleader?’” He laughs and grabs your shoulder, rubbing it affectionately like you two are good old friends sharing a joke. “You don’t have to call me that! Loosen up a little, will you?” Even with his encouragement, your whole body is still tense with nervousness. “Please, call me Mr. Vidales.” So that’s his last name! Ah, how pretty…

“Now, now, don’t be all fidgety with me.” Mr. Vidales grins, clasping your hands with his again. Oh my god, what if your hands are clammy now? But the way his thumb is caressing your hand is strangely putting you at ease. “You’ve been looking all over the place.” He tilts his head while peeking at you, seemingly lost in thought, until his face lights up. “Ah, how about this? Watch me.” He pulls out a small deck of cards from a coat pocket around his right thigh, pouring the cards out into his hand. It doesn’t take long to see he’s performing a small card trick for you, yet you don’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Pick a card, any card.” He murmurs, the enthusiasm still there behind his voice, but it also sounds like he’s sweet talking to you, enticing you further. You pick a card on the far left, looking at it discreetly.

The 2 of hearts.

“Back in the deck now.” He shuts his eyes as you slip the card back in, and he shuffles it all with his eyes still closed. “Now,” he starts, picking a card from the deck. “Is this what you chose?”

NAH.

Hah! He failed the trick! You grin and shake your head, the king of hearts in his hand instead as his smile drops to a frown. “Oh.” He stuffs the deck into his left hand, placing the card face up on top. But strangely enough, he starts to smile, and reaches behind your head, leaning closer to you. “Now let’s see.”

Oh. He smells really, really nice…

Why is your heart racing?

You peek up at the ringleader’s face, your body warming up as he looks down at you, a mixture of amusement and something else in his eyes. “Ah, now what do we have here…” He whispers, and his hand drags down your back slowly as he shows the king of spades in the deck on his left hand. Is he still trying to prove he’s not cheating? You sigh at the shivers flowing up your spine, pressing your thighs together once you feel the heat between your thighs get more intense. Lord, he’s good at this. Does he do this often or something?

“How cute.” He says adoringly, like he’s talking to a small puppy. “Look at you, how cute.” He repeats, his hand pressing itself against your waist, tugging you closer to him. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be showing you a trick…” He can show you something else in just a few seconds if he keeps this up. Mr. Vidales groans loudly once you palm his bulge, followed by a small laugh once you tease him for reaction. “Please, let me finish my trick. Unless you want to do something else right now…?” He begs quietly, and you sigh with a smile as you move your hand.

A bit disappointing, but you do want to see the end of this trick.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat, clearly still a bit riled up, but fine. “Now, watch me.” His warmth vanishes from your waist, and you see his hand come back into view with…

The 2 of hearts in his right!?

You stare at his right hand in awe, as he waggles the card around a bit, grinning sheepishly at your dumbfounded expression. “Good, huh?” Even after all of that, you never saw the deck vanish from view! How did he…?

“I’m not just a ringleader,” he says. “I dabble in some magic here and there too.” He shuffles the cards again, stuffing them back into the box, then back into his coat pocket. A light clap of your hands at his trick and his mood shifts from proud to flustered, fidgeting with the buttons on his outfit as you praise him for the trick.

“Thank you, thank you.” Mr. Vidales bows a bit and laughs quietly. “Your praise is very appreciated.”

… He looks scared. Ah, no.

Shy?

“There must be something on my face, with the way you’re looking at me, it’s…” Mr. Vidales stops talking, staring into your eyes for a moment. “Oh…”

Is he okay? You frown, tugging on his sleeve in concern for his well being. He seems to snap out of his trance, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh! Erm, yes,” he says. “Yes, I’m fine.” A smile spreads in his face quickly, but you can’t help but think that it’s all insincere.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He sighs. “It’s just some fatigue.” There’s a voice in the back of your head, telling you repeat that he’s lying, but you ignore it in favor of his charming voice and attitude.

Maybe he just needs some time alone?

And, to be completely honest, the hunger’s kind of getting to you too; maybe you can grab a bite to eat and bring something back for him?

“Oh, please.” He nods quickly. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Perhaps you can get me those cinnamon bites with the glaze? They’re delicious.”

You fidget with your wallet as you run out the tent, waving him goodbye as you run for the food stalls.

Hopefully the lines aren’t too long…

The line was pretty damn long. You glance down at your phone to check the time, and decide to jog back over to the tent once you notice it’s already been 25 minutes. And it’ll probably take you another 5 minutes to get there, ugh, the ringleader probably thinks you left to go on a couple rides or something, and forgot about the food entirely.

You slow down once you notice the door’s closed, and look around for a sign of him, but there’s nothing around. Maybe there’s another entrance in the back?

Clutching a drink in one hand and a bag, witn a box of sweets at the bottom in your other, you make your way to the back of the building to find the door slightly ajar, and you use your foot to kick it open the rest of the way, walking through.

There are several doors on both side of you, and by just reading the names on the doors, you can tell these are the member’s dressing rooms! Ah, no way…

It’s so tempting to go up and knock on one of their doors, but you have to shake your head a little to get those thoughts out. Mr. Vidales. That’s who you’re looking for.

You wander around for a bit until you come up to his dressing room, about to bang on the door, but as soon as you try to, the door slowly opens up, and you-

You…

What.

What?

The smell of iron and the sight of crimson fill your vision as you stare at the ringleader, tugging and shoving a man's body into a small closet. It looks like the man was stabbed repeatedly in the chest, along with the broken teeth in the pool of blood in front of you, and a spot of blood on his head.

Isn’t that… Isn’t that one of the employees here? He literally gave you free shit, what the hell…

Mr. Vidales’s face is splattered with blood, alongside his chest, and his outfit has puke on the lower side of his coat. A fallen, bloody knife lies on the ground, surrounded by his victims blood.

“Bastard. Must’ve wanted to give me a goodbye gift before his passing…” He scoffs, staring at the stain with disgust.

The police.

You need to call the police.

Mr. Vidales looks up at the sudden stream of light, and a couple beats pass as neither of you move from the sheer shock.

“Oh.”

Run.

You turn your heel, but trip once someone grabs onto your arm and pushes you down, spilling your drink all over the floor. You try to scream, but a hand covers your mouth instantly, and you feel the tears start to flow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He frantically whispers and he climbs on top of you, his hands shaking and bloodied as he struggles to keep you quiet. There’s blood all over him, and he’s spreading it onto you. All over your mouth. Your body.

It’s sickening. You have to fight back the urge to throw up once he turns you over and you see his face. Why does he look so excited to see you?

“Stay quiet. Quiet.” He hushes you, keeping your mouth covered as he helps you up. "It's okay darling, see?" As soon as you get up, you’re going to run. That’s what-

“Quiet, or I’ll kill you.” A sharp knife is suddenly pointed at your throat, and you let out a choked-up sob. “Oh, I’m so sorry darling…” He whispers, as he slowly lets the hand from your mouth go.

You don’t dare scream.

“Come on, come.” He pushes his arm against your waist, slowly pushing you back as he steps into the room, shutting the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, or kill you. I promise.”

You shut your eyes as soon as you step in, shaking as you hear the door lock. The bag you’re holding is slowly taken from your grasp, and set down with a thud on his desk, along with the knife. All you can do is listen to what he says.

“Oh, you did get my favorite! Thank you.” Mr. Vidales cooes, pushing you closer as you wince at the gesture. You can feel the blood seeping through your clothes. “Shame about the drink. I’m sorry for grabbing you so tight.” He sighs. “Now, let me just…”

He slips his coat off, revealing that the blood stain on him went deeper than expected, staining his grey undershirt with a dark crimson. You stare at the blood on your own body and almost feel like puking yourself.

“There’s no point in running,” his face is full of pity, yet he smiles at you all the same. “My acrobats are already outside, waiting to catch you if you try to run. Not that I’d let you get that far anyway.” He wipes the blood on his hands away with a loose rag, the white of said rag being stained with that sickening red. “Weren’t their tricks just wonderful? I worked hard to teach them, you know.” You immediately catch that he’s stepping closer to you, and you back away in response, glancing around the room for another exit point. “I know a thing or two about flipping around myself. Maybe I can perform some tricks for you?”

There isn’t any. Not even a window.

“Why do you keep looking around? Why can’t you be happy with me?” Mr. Vidales whines, throwing the rag aside in frustration, with a small splat. “I did all of this for you! You like me, don’t you?” But… Why?

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid that someone else will hear him. “When I first saw you in the crowd, I saw your excited face and couldn't stop thinking about how adorable it was. But then,” He takes a step. “You came back. Again.” And he takes another few steps closer, suddenly feeling yourself bump into a wall behind you, frantically glancing around for a way out. “And again,” His breathing becomes shaky as he lunges forward, grabbing your arm as you try to escape from his right side, your left. You cry out in fear as he pins you up against the wall, grasping your neck tightly. “And again. And again, you came back every time. You must’ve loved seeing me so much…” The grip on your neck tightens. “Next performance, I’ll be up on stage with all of them. Performing just for you.” Your breathing becomes ragged and hazy from the lack of oxygen, but he acts as though nothing is wrong, kissing your cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do anything.” It’s getting hard to see. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and run down your cheeks as he kisses them away, licking them up before they drip down to your shirt.

“You’re adorable, even when you cry…” His soft lips press against your cheeks repeatedly, his chuckles making you feel sick to your stomach. “You’ll be all mine, ah,” Mr. Vidales lets go of your neck, and as you take those much-needed gasps of air, he hugs your body close to his, and you wince once you feel his hard cock press against your thigh. “There’s nothing better than that…” His hand wraps around the back of your neck, applying some pressure, but jot enough to cut off your oxygen

What the fuck…

You try to turn your head, trying to get a glimpse of the corpse so you can identify who it is, yet he’s already shut the door to the closet, so you can’t.

“Are you trying to peek?” He frowns. “You don’t need to look at him. He isn’t your concern.” It looks like he’s trying to avoid the topic of the dead body altogether. He reaches over and pinches your cheeks, chuckling at your displeased expression. “Ah, I hope you understand how angry I get when you get so starry-eyed by looking at my member’s performances.” Mr. Vidales sighs, pushing you over to his desk by your waist. “I wish it were only me that you show that adorable expression to.” Why the hell is he acting so casual? He just killed someone. Your eyes keep on glancing towards the door, since you don’t see any other escape route.

Oh, when will you get your chance?

“But, I guess we all can’t have what we want.” He stops. “Well, maybe I can.” He shoves you up against the desk, patting his hand on top. “Sit.”

Oh.

You shakily hop up to sit on his desk, and he slides himself in between your legs, both of your faces mere centimeters apart. You have to hold your breath with the way you can see every drop of blood slide down his face,

“Now you’re with me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He presses a small kiss on your lips, grinning. “You’ll get to be with me everyday!” What? He tugs you closer, pressing your back against his chest once he pulls you into a big bear hug.

“Yes! With me.” he says plainly. “Forever.” No way. You glare at him in horror, but his smile never falters for even a moment. The blood splattered all over himself and his clothing, along with his declarations of love towards you…

It’s so sickening.

“What a dream come true.”

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

happy halloween! ik i said i was gonna do the ghost boys for halloween, but i couldnt help myself </3

plus im gonna just extend the ghost boys into november bc i got hit w/ a mean writers block halfway thru….

hopefully this little fic can get me thru it

BUT IM WORKING ON OLIVERS DAY AGAIN SO YAY!!!!

yall gonna see the fnaf movie??? i am <3