#man knows his way around by now. even if they did finally claim his soul he'd just keep walking out the door

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader

tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired

word count: 3.7k

warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

���I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[talentforlying]

imagining a hades game-style hellblazer arc where constantine keeps dragging himself out of hell only to get punted back in immediately. feels thematically appropriate.

[shinjisdone]

When You Have An Secret Admirer - And Everybody Thinks It's Them (1; Heartslabyul)

A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that 'secret admirer' - everyone wants to help you out...but have their own reason for it. Yet now, it seems like there are quite a few misunderstandings on campus...and everyone thinks they have finally found that secret admirer.

Spin-off of the first 'secert admirer' series + form of headcanons

note: reader is gender-neutral but mostly mentioned in 2. pov; a series of everyone being mistaken for the secret admirer. headcanon will follow each char. own thoughts on the situation.]

"Hey...you think he could be the famous admirer of the Ramshakle prefect?"

2; Savanaclaw

3; Octavinelle

Ace Trappola

The first time Ace has heard of such whispers was when he was with you out in the hallways.

Students on the other side whispering amongst themselves, a clique subtly pointing at him...and eavesdropping on their suspicions...

"...You guys think its Trappola? He's always hanging around with the prefect ever since day one..."

Man, Ace was so close to spitting out his drink.

Did he just hear this right? Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, wait! He...didn't hear that just now, did he?

"Yeah, can't be anyone else. Have you seen how he looks at them?"

Oh no, he did right.

...Ha! Haha! Seriosuly? No way, does just...everyone in campus believe such crap? Haha, it can't be...

Though he tries to brush it all off, Ace quickly ushered you away from the hallways and anywhere where there wasn't a single soul. He couldn't bare to hear more.

But, seriously? Nah. No, no, no waaaay could...could Ace pull such cringy, gushy stuff. No one could seriously think he would even write a love letter, right?

Pfff, no. Ace isn't the type to even be capable of getting some notes for alchemy class right, or, or to get some flyin' mirror from somewhere, let alone steal roses from his own dorm. Have you seen how angry Riddle gets?

Totally in denial. Well, he is not that oh-so-great secret admiiiireeer, so what is there to deny? Nothing, that's what!

There are certainly a bunch of students that doubt he would and could do that...but others only believe it more.

The trickster Trappola. Your best friend who always looks out for you, always sticks with you even if he gets himself in trouble and seems to always look at you a certain way...

After all, guys tease those they like, right?

The whsipers get louder and louder throughout the week and Ace is visibly getting uneasy. You note and tell him how more fidgety and sweaty he seems recently but he brushes it all off with a scoff and a joke as usual.

He tried to think of a way to end this gossip...or at least escape it. But Ace will not ever think of avoiding you just for some stupid rumors. He is your friend, your best friend and he isn't gonna be a chicken and disappear into thin air just some idiots cannot tell the obvious - that Ace just isn't that romantic.

Would you like him to be more romantic...?

Alas, one day in the dorm, a few students approach him and directly ask him if he is the admirer. They may not have evidence but considering how the ace of hearts hangs around you like a leech, there is no other way that he doesn't like you.

Ace cracks an nervous grin and shrugs it all off despite pearls of sweat running down his face and tainting his jacket. Pff, whuat? Crazy such a claim, crazy he says! How deeply wounded he is by this suspicion!

Ace is honest and says, hey, he ain't the admirer. He ain't the romantic type either, he's just looking out for you, you know? Like the good classmate that he is.

A few believe that he is incapable of doing such acts and that it wouldn't fit his character at all. Though, that does not deter many to think that he does hold some feelings for you with how he is acting...

It just makes him more nervous.

Deuce Spade

Deuce coughed and cleared his throat the first time he heard such rumors at his club. Jack offered him water.

H-H-H-Huh??? WH-Wh-What, him? Him, Deuce Spade being your secret admirer?! Why would anyone think that?!

Genuinely baffled and surprised at this conclusion a few of his classmates came up with. How could he, Deuce, ever...be considered something close to a secret admirer?

But once he hears a few 'theories' his face is blooming a bright and deep red.

Constantly at your side? Protecting you in the smallest of ways like a hero? Giddy like a kid in a candy store when he gets praise from you? The thought of an ex-delinquent protecting and caring for someone being the ultimate proof that he is in love?!

L-L-L-Love?

H-Hold up! That can't be right! Deuce cares for you and you are his bestie but...! It isn't, it can't be...!

Too dumbfounded and embarrassed to do anything in the beginning. The thoughts and rumors of him even having feelings for you and people believing him to have done the things the admirer did, are constantly swirling in his mind. Day and night.

It's all getting too much...until only a handful of people approach him and ask.

Others back up in fear. "Hey, man, watch out! If you say anything wrong about his partner, the delinquent guy will beat you black and blue!"

WHAT

DELINQUENT GUY? P-P-PARTNER?!

Well, they are right, if someone were to hurt you, he would beat them up.

BUT ITS NOT ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW.

With the biggest blush on his face and back straight as a candle, Deuce seems like an upright, studious boy who loudly corrects them, saying it's all not true! Y-You are just his best f-friend!

The gossip affects him so much that he comes running to you, lips in a nervous but tight line, eyes as big as a deers and face blooming like a rose.

"I AM NOT YOUR SECRET ADMIRER!"

Unwittingly he blurts out but softly tells you of the rumors right after. He just doesn't want there to be a misunderstanding.

He fiddles with his fingers, quietly continuing; "Because, uhm...if I did like you like that...I'd be more direct with you than that admirer could ever be."

Cater Diamond

Eh, what? Cater? And being a secret admirer?

Hah! That is almost cute and flattering! But, uh...well, a bit embarrassing, too...

Some argue of how he always calls you 'cute' or wants to take selfies with you...but he does so with everyone.

Yet Cater has a tendency to call you his 'favorite, cute juniour' just like Trey.

Cater is one actually able to laugh it all off genuinely - but at the same time he does not deny any of these claims. Yeah, you are super cute and have they seen these pics? They must have with how many hearts they got on Magicam~

He isn't gonna go around telling people that he fancies you but he is sure to casually tell them, no, he isn't the admirer. Very flattering (and bold) that you assume that though!

Will straight up go to you and say the obvious. He is not, in fact, your dear, darling admirer but that doesn't mean he doesn't admire you at all~

Trey Clover

Uhm???

Trey laughed sheepishly, hiding his blush under his hat.

This isn't...That's not right!

Everytime he'd hear a whisper, he unwittingly gets nervous. The thought of him doing the admirer's deeds...and even worse, people believing him to be them!

It's stress and drama he didn't ask for.

Although it is kinda a nice thought...while the actions of the admirer, the gifts and confessions of love are too embarassing for Trey, the thought of him making you fluster and blush is nice...

Very nice.

With a sigh, he shakes the thought of. He isn't them. No matter how much he wishes he was.

So with a sheepish grin and a bit of a stutter he clears his name. Riddle would have his head if he did any of these things!

With a ruffle of your hair he confesses. Don't worry, he isn't lovesick. He just likes you normally.

Riddle Rosehearts

SPITS OUT HIS TEA

Excuse him?! What did he just hear?! Doesn't matter if it was not meant for him to hear, off with your head! ITS OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!

So...absurd! There's no way such gossip is being spread in his dorm, is it?! Riddle already once had an awful reputation. There's no need for one made out of lies!

...Even if the image of him writing love letters and handing you gifts does fit him...Riddle would never steal from his own dorm!

He would never cause such a wreck as that "secret admirer" has. It's insulting to compare Riddle to them, lest even think he IS them!

Though he hears of the rumors, no one has the gall to approach him. That doesn't stop his anger as he gets more and more agitated everytime he even hears your name slip off someone's lips.

"The Housewarden totally favors them, after all..."

"He invites them to Unbirthday parties all the time."

"And acts like a gentleman then!"

Red, red, red. Riddle's face blooms in a deep crimson but it isn't blood rushing to his head in anger, it is a blush of embarassment.

Each one of them is right.

He cannot take his feelings being dangled in front of his face like that. It's all so, so true but he shall never admit it.

Riddle will have to clear his name it seems for all of this to stop.

It's difficult - not many believe him considering how agitated he becomes at the topic, at the mention of you.

Yet he managed to calm the crowd...all there was left was to tell you the truth as well.

"Im sure youve heard of it," he began dryly even as he tried to hide his blush. "But you know me and I would never callously break the rules like that just to...confess. No."

He then turned to you, his voice firmer and eyes softer. "If I wanted to court you, I'd do it in a way you deserve."

[tojisun]

Angsty thot on the the ghost x reader x soap blurb;

I've been thinking about the what if Soap did actually reciprocate Ghost's advances? For a moment, he forgets reader. Finally, FINALLY, Soap thinks... until the bliss dies down and he remembers reader and guilt sets in. Ghost's only all too happy to show off to reader. Being affectionate with Johhny, leaving whatever marks were left visible, staking a claim that he won.

Reader, of course, is dismayed and feels betrayed. But how much can she really feel? It fucking sucks, it does, that Ghost doesn't care what she thinks or feels and she wasn't in a committed relationship with Soap. So if they were to pursue a relationship, what can she really do about it?

HOW I AM AFTER READING THIS anon i wanna crawl into your mind and poke around your brain because how could you (ext)

johnny knows he hasn’t been honest with himself lately. that, in the face of ghost’s desires—because nothing less could describe the fire in his lieutenant’s eyes; it’s all so heated and leashed. hungry. aching—he denies himself and pretends he cannot see what is crystal clear.

he pretends that every brushing touch was an accident, that every heavy look was a trick of the light. that the way simon calls his name—johnny, with the ‘y’ dripping from his mouth like honey—was all circumstantial.

friendly. platonic, truly.

but it’s becoming more frequent. more passionate. more territorial.

of course, it was all a matter of when, really, was johnny going to fall. and the answer, apparently, is right now.

his shirt is torn off his body, fatigues falling beside two pairs of boots. warm lips, fever-hot, are on his skin, tracing scalding trails that has him trembling. he feels jittery, bones rattling within his flesh. he feels untethered, floaty. nirvana pinched between his fingers.

then, he falls, body thudding against the mattress. the metal of his bed posts creaks, a gunshot in the silence, and johnny freezes. his mind catching up to his heart.

this isn’t—

simon towers over him, his scarred chest heaving in his ragged breaths. the mask is off, discarded to the floor, and johnny, he—

well.

he sees the man that his soul sings to—cheeks flushed, bright cherries, and eyes dark with yearning. simon looks at him like johnny’s all that matters in the world; like all that he’s fighting to live for is johnny.

johnny feels this bloating in the back of his throat, something in his heart swelling until all he tastes is his breaths. his lips wobble, teeth chattering. they stop at ghost’s tender touch, his callused hand cupping johnny’s cheek.

simon's thumb swipes at the skin just underneath his eyes. his lips, crooked, tug up in a smile. “y’r much too gorgeous, johnny.”

johnny doesn’t know what happened next, only that he was stuffed with a burn that scorches from within and engulfed whole; devoured every way possible until simon's marks—from teeth and just his overall brute strength—took. his throat aches, scratchy, and his skin throbs with the memory of their love-making.

he, well, he wept. he tucked his head on the crook of simon's neck, breathing him in, unable to explain the euphoria simmering in the pit of his stomach.

simon loves him. he desired him every way possible so who wouldn't—

who wouldn't lose themselves?

(johnny thinks of you and the memories blur; what had been fiery passion morphs into something ugly. into something cruel.)

there was something different in ghost's gait—that's the first thing you noticed upon walking into the mess hall. he was more relaxed, more open in a way you have never seen from him before. he even met your eyes as you walk towards their little huddled group, the first time in a while, and you are unable to look away because there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place.

it still spoke of danger, of a walled barrier that he firmly put between you two, but it was undiscernible.

still poised, though, for the hunt.

kyle greets you first, kind and gentle, but before you could reply to him, johnny's tugging you away. a protest builds on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip past your chapped lips, but you freeze, feet stumbling as the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"bonnie–"

"oh," you say, a whispered gasp, your eyes unable to drag from the bruises on johnny's neck. not made with unkind intensions, if the teeth mars were any indication.

briefly, you wondered if johnny's met someone else to satiate his desires. if, in your absence, he sought to snuff the burning need from someone else. you've been away for three months, after all, chasing a lead in shanghai and tracking them all the way to tianjin. it must have been too long for johnny too.

(you wonder why your heart twinges at the idea of johnny finding comfort in someone else that isn't you.)

but the thought is doused by an ice-cold realization.

"it's– you know that i–"

"oi, 'tavish," ghost's voice rings from behind you.

you tip your head back just enough to see him, to see with your eyes what must he must have done, but he's back to ignoring you again.

it seemed like now that you've noticed what it was that had him elated, ghost no longer wanted to interact with you. not a word nor a touch. not even a glance.

johnny bites his bottom lip, shoulders hunching into himself.

"i'm sor–"

"i have to go," you say, your voice even sounds foreign to your own ears. "i have to, uhm, to report."

you shuffle away from between them, your palm rising to press onto your chest as though that could truly stop the splintering of your heart. as though your heart was truly wounded and that the pressure could stop the bleeding.

but it aches. dear god, everything aches.

ANON THIS HURT ME SO BAD AND I COULDNT HELP MYSELF FROM RAMBLING IM SORRY!! god im wailing so much like i literally was bug eyed staring at ur ask bc OW??? (btw reader is gn in this ghoap x reader angst)

[v1x-x1]

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑: 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 - 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞✧

✧|| 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧ 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ||

✧|| 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩||

“Who was that?” Aventurine’s voice was thick with jealousy, his eyes were narrowed and were looking directly through your soul.

“I’m telling you again, I don’t know!” What else were you meant to say? You genuinely didn’t know the guy that was trying to hit on you earlier.

Aventurine got closer until his hot breath was all that you could feel on your face. He then trapped you against the wall of his apartment.

“You’re mine.” Without looking back, he gripped your face and slammed his lips on yours.

You oh so wanted to be angry with him for taking his jealousy out on you even though you didn’t do anything for that guy to come up to you, but you were enjoying this far too much.

Before you knew it, he was undressing you right there by the door, slowly walking with you to the couch in the living room, a trail of clothes now behind you as he throws them on the floor.

He pushes you down onto the couch, continuously capturing your lips in a claiming and bruising kiss. His calloused hands roaming over your whole body and trailing the inside of your thighs.

His lips then parted from yours and he moved down to your jaw until reaching your neck and he started biting on your sensitive skin.

His lips caressing your skin with hot and breathless kisses, with the words ‘you’re mine’ like a whispered chant of warning.

You didn’t push him off, his touches felt amazing even if it came from a slightly different place than pure love.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while his kisses travelled all over, marking you, painting you with a red declaration of love and a sign for all people that you are his and his alone. He would never let another person touch you or try anything because you belonged to only him, and he was determined to make that very obvious tonight.

His lips stayed on your body as he spoke, the vibrations of his voice creating goosebumps to cover your skin. “Anyone who looks at you after tonight will immediately understand that you’re mine. You won’t have to utter a word and they won’t try after seeing you. I will cover you with the signature of my lips, my teeth, my love and adoration for you.”

A small growl left his throat as he finally broke free and looked into your lustful eyes. “You. Are. Mine.”

Throwing the clothes on the floor earlier was a good idea given how desperate both you and Aventurine were for him to slam inside you.

And once he did, oh fuck…

His ragged breaths were the only thing keeping you grounded because it was only that way that you knew you haven’t yet ascended.

His hard cock continued slamming into you with an intense need to make you remember this night forever.

“Remember tonight, darling. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. So hard that another man’s cock would never be able to satisfy you. I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard that you won’t know how to live without the feeling of me thrusting into you.”

His words hit you like a sharp arrow of lust that went straight through your heart all the way to your dripping pussy.

Your noises were staggered with how much his cock was bouncing into you, your breast bouncing along with it. Aventurine obviously enjoyed this greatly but still needed to claim you further.

He leaned forward, his movements never faltering, as he began sucking on your hard nipple, licking the very tip, causing a breathless moan to escape due to how sensitive you were in this very moment, especially with how the feeling contrasted the hard and merciless thrusts against your walls.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

And you were. You were all his, your mind didn’t have the ability to wander to anything else, let alone anyone else. Aventurine was all that you wanted, and he was all you would ever get, he’s making that extremely clear.

He made it so very clear with how extreme your orgasm was, riding your ecstacy out along with him.

“Mine…”

He kissed your lips softly, his teeth tracing your lower lip. He whispered against them, “A little bit of softness for my darling to prepare you for a night of roughness.”

And then was when he bit your lower lip harshly and prepared for round two.

Taglist: @lov3-ly @velvetyshu @coffeeisbehindyou @sanestventisimp @bokukenmakuroo @starspinners-hsr

lmk if you wanted to be added or removed!!

[mokulule]

A Pinch of Salt - snippet 2

Okay, so I have been reminded by @clockwayswrites that I could post some things instead of just hoarding them like the dragon in my icon. So here ya go. Maybe I'll even get around to updating Catnip in the coming days who knows. Previous

Fuck, Danny cursed internally as he struggled to keep up with the long-legged stride of Trenchcoat. Whatever had happened to that ghost to make it into something like that was not good, he needed to do something! But as long as Trenchcoat was here he couldn’t exactly do as he usually would: transform and punch it. The man had seemed very ready to do something to Danny and the unspeakable soul situation going on had Danny extremely leery of finding out what that something was.

At least getting eaten seemed unlikely from the man’s earlier horrified response.

So running.

They went down a hallway, up a staircase, down another hallway and into a would have been shop. They stopped for a moment in the square space catching their breath. Trenchcoat let go of him to go peek back around the corner. Finally Trenchcoat’s shoulders relaxed.

“We lost it for now.” Actually it was more like the ghost lost interest in them; as they’d gotten further and further away from the central plaza of the mall the ghost had stopped following them. Not that Danny was going to tell Trenchcoat that. He had no idea how he’d explain it in a way that didn’t make him extremely suspicious. His hair was dripping salty water making it hard to forget he’d already been assaulted twice - he did not wanna know what else the man stored up his sleeves.

Preferably, somehow he’d get Trenchcoat to leave.

The moment of inattention cost him as he was grabbed once again by Trenchcoat and towed through the would-maybe-someday be a store to a door in the back. This led to a store room and a door to the outside. It was unlocked it turned out and Danny realized this was probably how the man had gotten in.

“Alright, kiddo, time to leave.”

Trenchcoat opened the door and pushed at Danny’s back.

“No way!” Danny exclaimed digging his heels in.

“Yes way,” Trenchcoat mocked, “go home kid, I’m a professional.”



 There was no way Danny was leaving, not at this point. Ghosts were his area of expertise - or well, Danny couldn’t really claim to be an expert, but they were his responsibility at least! He had a unique skillset and no matter what Trenchcoat claimed, he did not look any sort of professional. He made his opinion of his claim known by giving the man his most dubious look.
 - 
John hated teenagers and this teenager in particular.

He didn’t know what it was about teenagers, but they were just merciless in their judgment in a way adults were probably usually too polite to be. In any case that little up and down there, with the slightly raised eyebrow made him feel like he’d worn a clown costume to an accounting job.

“Bloody Hell, will you just leave before I decide to feed you to the specter!”

The boy crossed his arms, standing his ground. “You can try.”

John dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“What are you even doing here?” “I’m here for the ghost.” Plain, even, said with not a smidge of hesitation. “You’re here for the-“ John cut himself off, hands opening and closing, inwardly cursing children and their stupid dares. “And what pray tell where ya gonna do when you found the ghost?”“I figured I’d try talking to them.”“You what?!” John spluttered. He’d expected him to say he hadn’t expected to find a ghost, there went his theory of this being a dare.

“There is no talking to that!” He pointed vaguely in the direction they’d lost the spectral storm. “Of all the sodden-“

“Them.”

John’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “What?” “Them. They are a them, not an it or a that.”

John opened and closed his mouth. Was he really getting a lecture on pronouns?

“It is a spectral storm. Whatever poor spirit it used to be, is not there anymore. There’s no mind there, it’s pure emotion out of control. There’s no way back from that.”

The boy scowled at him, clearly disagreeing. It didn’t matter. 
John pointed at the door.

“Leave.” “No.” They stared at each other neither giving an inch.

Urgh, this had to be why Batman was so grumpy all the time. John could not do this. He threw up his hands and turned around. He worked around things, not through them and here he was engaging in the folly of arguing with a bloody teenager.

“Suit yourself.”

Gods, he needed a smoke. He’d hardly finished the thought before he was pulling the package of smokes out of its pocket with practiced ease. He was lighting the smoke by the time he noticed the unimpressed look he was getting. Satisfied, he took a deep drag and slowly breathed out the smoke. The kid grimaced and John smirked.

“Those are gonna kill you.” “As opposed to the rest of my lifestyle?” He returned with a nod in the direction of the Storm that probably couldn’t kill him, but the kid didn’t know that. Satisfied at the way the kid’s nose scrunched, he walked back the way they came from.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Kid asked falling in step with him, and John just knew he was being annoying on purpose with that tone of voice. He was not gonna bite. He was an adult. He kept his gaze straight ahead as the kid started guessing.

“Excorcist? Ghostbusters wannabe?”

There was a pause, then a flash of a sly smirk John only caught because he’d stopped to look down the hallway.

“Ectologist?” The suggestion hit John like a metaphysical sledgehammer and he recoiled in disgust.

“Fuck. No.” He shuddered an extra time as if that would remove the oily feeling. “I’m an occult detective. You happy now? Shit kid, you don’t pull your punches do you?”

-

“So what’s the plan, Trenchcoat?”

“Trenchcoat,” John mouthed to himself before shaking his head. “The plan is you keep out of the way and I deal with the raging ghostie.”

“Yeah, no, you’re gonna do better than that. This is not my first time dealing with a ghost. But I don’t know what occult detectives do.”

John pondered the statement about this not being the first time he’d dealt with a ghost, and maybe there was something to the death magics he gave off after all. He groaned internally, why was he doing this?

“Standard practice, kid. Contain and banish.” He held up first one finger then two.

Danny rolled his eyes. It didn’t sound too different from his approach to ghosts, he caught them and sent them back to the ghost zone, but Mr Occult Detective didn’t exactly carry around a Fenton thermos.

“And how do you contain? No,” he offset the clearly sarcastic response. “I mean what are your requirements?”

Trenchcoat rolled his eyes, but humored him.

“I need a large enough open space and a small moment of preparation, then just gotta lure it in and do a binding spell.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and looked towards where he felt the raging storm of ghost energy. “Like the plaza.”

“Ideally yes.”

“So you need a distraction.” Danny started walking. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? If you’re so insistent to stay, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Danny shrugged off the hand and turned around.

“The plaza is the center of the their power. You need someone to lure them away.” Danny watched the emotions flash across the man’s face with a small bit of amusement. He really didn’t want Danny involved if he could help it. Finally the man’s face settled on exasperation.

“I will figure something out.”

Danny smiled, taking a step backwards.

“No, you will give me a ten minutes headstart to lure our ghost friend far enough away they won’t immediately notice your stench so close to the heart of their haunt.”

As if sensing his intentions Trenchcoat made another grab for him which he dodged. And then he ran. He was sure it was only the threat of the ghost that prevented the man from yelling after him.

He just hoped he’d listened, because Danny was about to go piss off an already raging spirit. Trenchcoat better be ready.

Fun times.

[heartfeltcierra]

Reacting to you making/giving them a friendship bracelet Pt. 2 (Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Bartolomeo, Sabo and Law

AN- I hope you enjoy part two of OP character receiving a friendship bracelet! (You can find part one that included Roger, Ace, Shanks, Marco and Doffy here)

MasterList

Characters- Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Bartolomeo, Sabo and Law

Warnings/Contents-Fluff, All SFW, Mentions of fights, Law's is a little angsty and a bit longer.

I'll be posting a marine version tomorrow night including Koby, Garp, Smoker and Issho

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ More under the cut

Zoro

 ���� Zoro was confused at first but smirked seeing what it said “Best swordsman huh?”  “You need to make one for curly brows that says “Dumbest cook.”

🍶  Immediately took that back saying he wants to be the only one you make bracelets for 

🍶 He noticed there was some spare room on the bracelet, so he came up with a idea to fill the blank spots

 “You were pretty tough.” Zoro said, putting his swords back into their sheath. “I’ll get my girl to add you to my bracelet.” 

 “Excuse me?” Despite being half dead, the  bloody man lifted off of the ground with a rather angry expression. “What the hell does that mean?” 

 “You see this?” Zoro bends down, showing the man the many beads decorating the bracelet. “They represent my victories, and since I won against you, she’ll add a bead to it.” The man could only give Zoro a baffled look knowing he was now nothing more than a mere bracelet charm. “Anyways, nice fight and all but I gotta go. Which way is the exit?”

 “To the left.”    

 “Thanks.”

 “You fool, that's the right!”

 (To bad the bracelet doesn’t have a GPS)

 Luffy

🍗 Rubber boy was very excited when you gave it to him

🍗Would walk up to strangers to show them saying “Y/N made me this, I bet you're jealous!” 

🍗The only person that was genuinely jealous was Sanji 

🍗 Tries to take good care of it, note TRIES

 

  “Y/n…..” You look and see Luffy peeking his head into your room with an unusual gloomy look on his face. 

  “What’s wrong Luffy?” He padded over to you and laid the bracelet, or more like parts of the bracelet in front of you. 

 “It broke earlier during the fight. ” You knew from his tone he felt bad. “I’m sorry.” 

 “It’s okay!” You rummaged through the remains and smiled realizing the damage wasn’t irreversible. “I can fix it.” The frown on your captain’s face was finally replaced by that wide smile you know and love. “I’ll even make it more durable so it’s harder to break!”

  “You’re the best.” Luffy nearly sent you to the floor as he snaked his limbs around your body. “Also can you make one for my other wrist?”

“Sure what do you want it to say?”

 “Meat.”

  (I mean it’s Luffy, what did you expect?)

Sanji

 💛-You might as well have proposed to the man

 💛- Picks you up immediately and starts spinning saying “We might as well plan our wedding~”

 💛- A little bummed to hear you weren’t proposing, but is still eccentric that you made him something 

 “What kind of fighter doesn’t use his hands?” The beaten looks up at Sanji

 “Listen pal, my hands are only meant for two things. For Cooking…” His serious face scrunches up to his signature lovestruck idiot. “And for wearing bracelets made by my dear Y/N-Swan~” 

 (Please make this man more bracelets)

 Bartolomeo

💚 -His soul ascends into the clouds seeing that you made him something (Bonus points if your a straw hat pirate)

💚-Would fall to the ground and cry for a good half hour claiming he was “unworthy.” 

💚- But despite loving the bracelet, he NEVER wears it

 “Look at what was bestowed upon me.” He proudly holds up a small display case. “A friendship bracelet handcrafted by none other than Miss Y/N.” 

 The entire Strawhat lovers congregation would ooh and awe at the encased bracelet.

 “I could sit all day and bask in the sheer awesomeness.” Bart hits the floor with tears running down his face. “I just…I love her so much.”

 “Oh no boss man’s going down!”

  “What do we do?!” 

 “I don’t know, but we better figure something out. Were losing him!”

 Luckily after a cold towel and some fanning, the Barto Club was able to revive their green haired leader.

  (Please do not make this man any more bracelets , unless you want to send him into a coma.)

 Sabo

🎩- You had no idea what you were really getting yourself into

🎩-You know how people flex their engagement rings? Yeah Sabo’s going to do that… a lot

🎩-“Oh this thing? Well my beautiful Y/N hand crafted it for m-“ Would go on and on when literally no one asked 💀💀💀

 

“Y/N come quick it’s Sabo!” You follow Hack in a full blown panic as he leads you down to the RA’s infirmary.

 “Sabo!” You see him lying in one of the beds breathing heavily with a towel on his forehead. “What happened?”

 “Y/N….” You rush to his side and he takes your hand in his. “I’m sorry. But…” Tears roll down his face. “I promise I did everything in my power to save it….”

“To save what Sabo?”

 “My…..my…..MY BRACELET.”

 ….

 ….

 “I’m leaving.” 

 “Why?” 🥺

 “Sabo you literally went into shock, scared everyone half to death and ended up hospitalized , over a bracelet.”

 “But it’s not just any bracelet.” He frowns. “You made it for me.”

 “And I’ll make you another one.” You playfully roll your eyes. “So tell me what exactly happened to it?”

 “To be honest, I burned it off accidentally.” He nervously scratches the side of his head. “I’m still not quite used to my new powers.” 

  “I see.” You nod.  “I’ll see if I can somehow make one that’s fireproof.”

 “You will?” The blonde smiles and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him on the bed. “I love you so much!”

“I love you too.” You let yourself relax into his hold. “With that being said, can you promise me that you'll never do this again?”

 “You have my word not only as the chief of staff, but also as your overly dramatic boyfriend….. that I may do this again.”

 (Sabo is a absolute drama queen and you cannot tell me otherwise)

 Law

 🫀- And the crowd goes mild

 🫀- Literally had no initial reaction

 🫀- Law would stare at it, then back at you, then back to the bracelet, then back to you

 🫀- Poor man is not good at showing his emotions, so bear with him

 “Why?” Law gives you a confused look while staring at your labor of love. 

 “Because I wanted to.” You shrug your shoulders,  a little hurt seeing the lack of reaction.

 “I see.” Law doesn’t put the bracelet on, instead he puts it in his pocket. “Thank you.” He immediately turns his attention away from you and goes back to working.

 “Sure” You turn away with a frown. “I’ll go now, see you later.” 

 The second you leave the room Law is pulling that bracelet back out of his pocket while sporting the deepest shade of red on his cheeks. 

 He was so caught off guard and over the moon because of how cute and excited you looked while giving it to him that he completely went brain dead. 

 But he was now back to his senses and remembered the frown on your face as you left the room. 

 ~~~~

 You were laying on your bed sulking when you heard a knock on your door followed by a “It’s me.” You recognize your boyfriend's voice, but you're still hurt from earlier so you don’t reply. Instead you bury your face deeper into the pillow

 “SHAMBLES.” 

 “I didn’t say you could come in…” You spoke into the “pillow” which is now none other than Law.

 “You also didn’t say I couldn’t.” His tattooed arms pull you closer into his chest. 

 “Guess not.” Despite being angry at him, you can’t help but enjoy the closeness. “Is there something that you need, captain?”

 “Yes there is actually.” Law says in a matter of fact tone  “I have a very important task to assign you to.” You look up at him completely confused. “I need you to make me a bracelet with our jolly Roger on it.”

 “You want another bracelet?” You pull back from his hold. “I didn’t think you liked the first one I gave you.” 

 “I didn't like it, I loved it... see.”  You smile seeing the bracelet was in its rightful place on his wrist. “So do you think you can do it?”

 “Of course I can.” You jump up from the bed and run over to your desk that was covered in different colors of twine. “I’ll work on it right now!”

 Law feels relieved seeing the smile he fell in love with back on your face. Mission accomplished. He was about to leave the room to let you work, but couldn’t help but notice a huge pile of bracelets sitting in a basket on your dresser.

 “Damn Y/N you really like making these don’t you?” Law said while rummaging through the bracelets.

 “Law, wait!” It was too late, he was already holding the cheesy couples bracelets you made out of self indulgence. “I umm. I just made these for fun..”

 “Oh really?”  Law smirks while spinning the bracelet around his finger. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take this one with me.” 

 “Are you sure?” 

 “I’m sure.” Law nods before throwing the other bracelet into your lap. “And you should wear yours too.”

 Law leaves you an embarrassed mess, but at the same time,  despite his “cool guy” act, he was just as embarrassed if not more. Why does she have to be so cute??? 

 (Won’t say it out loud, but is loving the fact he now owns a bracelet that say “I ❤️ Y/N”)

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

All Night

Summary: This man has been on my mind like nobody’s business and I need to do something about it

Pairing: Swerve Strickland x F!Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, masturbation (female receiving), dom x sub dynamics, edging, adult language.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

A/N: Thank you @theworldofotps for helping me choose the prompts 💕

-> Prompts are in red. And their credit goes to @delusionisaplace

“Are you ready?” He asked, eyes roaming her figure from behind, admiring how the pale blue silk dress laid on her body.

“Almost. Can you help me?” The small sapphire blue flower pendant dangled from the delicate chain draped around her forefinger.

“Of course, Sunshine” Swerve smirked, placing himself behind her. His long fingers covered her hand, softly pulling the necklace away from her grip. He unclasped the gold locket, placing it around her neck and softly securing it at her nape.

Her scent attracted him like a moth to the flame, his soft lips pressed against the side of her neck, above the pulse point. Swerve’s full lips parted as his tongue darted out to leave a wet trail on her skin.

“If you start this we’re going to get late” She sighed deeply, leaning back to rest her head on his shoulder.

She felt the pressure against her skin, along with the warmness of his breath as he spoke with a smirk “I’m not starting anything, I’m just making sure you’re fully ready”

“Oh, I am getting very ready” She teases, half jokingly.

Placing her hand on the back of his head, her fingers toyed with his mint-scented dreads, playing with the soft tips of his hair.

“I’ll fact-check that in a moment, you can be sure of that” Swerve teases back, sucking harder on her neck until her soft moans make him pull back to admire the glistening skin.

“There you go” He gave one last final lick on her pulse point “So everyone knows you're mine”.

“Baby, why did you have to do that right now?” She whined, failing to hide her desire behind the complaint.

“Because I felt like it” Swerve’s left hand pulled up her silk dress and balled up a bunch of fabric at her hips. His free hand sank into her baby blue lace panties, his warm palm covered her mound, long middle and ring finger circling her wet entrance.

“And because you belong to me, heart and soul” His fingers entered her pussy, filling her up in the most delicious way, causing her to moan louder.

“You’re mine, Sunny, aren’t you? So I can claim you whenever I want, no?”

“Yes, Sir”.

“It sounds selfish, but I can't help but want you all to myself. Even right now” His eyes met hers on the mirror reflection “The only thing I can think of is tossing you onto that bed and doing the most nasty things to you”. Swerve’s fingers turned up their pace, relentlessly thrusting in and out of her.

“Baby, please…Fuck” She grunted when his palm pressed down on her clit. “Oh shit, do that. Please, do all of that”

“Oh, I will” He chuckled against her ear, “But not right now”.

Swerve suddenly stepped back, making her instantly miss his fingers and body. The sarcastic grin plastered on his lips only served to make her even more frustrated.

“I hate when you do that! Can’t you show me some mercy before we go?” Her hands caressed his suit-covered chest “You’ve been teasing me all day, I’m not sure if I can take it”

“Of course you can take it, Sunshine” Swerve teased, his devious grin only grew as he placed her hand on top of his clothed erection and earned a small whimper from her lips.

“If you want this cock inside you, you will take everything I’ll put you through. You’ll receive every teasing and every time I edge you on that wedding tonight you’ll put a pretty smile on that face and a soft ‘Thank you, Sir’ will come out from those soft lips, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir”

“That’s my good girl, Sunny” Swerve placed a soft kiss on her lips “Are you ready to go now?”

She only nodded in return, making him chuckle “Good, let’s go”.

Swerve stopped by their bedroom door and turned to her with a sinister smile “Lady’s first”.

Her brows frowned in concern as her gaze stopped at his smile, it was her silent warning, Swerve was up to something and she was almost certain it would be something that she would despise.

As she passed by him to reach the stairs, the soft buzzing sound coming from between her thighs paired with her shaky moan made her realize that this was about to be a long, long night for her.

[muiitoloko]

Owned by a Nobel

Summary: Eli, the arrogant Nobel Prize winner, claims what he believes is his — his lover. Through intense passion and undeniable control, he proves that she belongs to him alone, body and soul.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: I just wanted to write a smut with Eli 🤷‍♀️

Also read on Ao3

Eli leaned against the doorframe, his sharp eyes following your every move as you danced around the kitchen to the infectious beat of Britney Spears’ Oops!... I Did It Again. The song filled the space with a playful energy, and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the rhythm, moving your hips in time with the music, your voice singing along with abandon. You wore a pair of short jean shorts and a tight tank top that hugged your curves in all the right places, and Eli couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

It had been three months since the two of you had started living together, and even now, Eli found himself surprised by how quickly things had progressed between you. He was a man used to control, precision, and certainty in his life, but you had slipped in unexpectedly—bright, spontaneous, and full of life. He hadn’t planned for any of it, least of all proposing after just a few months of dating. But there you were, in his kitchen, your presence a stark contrast to the cold, calculated life he had known before.

Eli watched as you swayed to the music, your hips moving in a way that was both innocent and sinful at the same time. He crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as you spun around, catching him watching you. You gave him a teasing smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

"Are you singing that song to me?" Eli asked, his voice rich with amusement and a hint of something darker, more dangerous. His eyes gleamed with a possessive hunger as he took in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on the curve of your thighs exposed by the short denim, the swell of your breasts under the tight fabric of your tank top.

You laughed, flipping your hair over your shoulder and giving him a playful wink. "Maybe I am," you teased, your voice light but filled with suggestion as you turned back to the stove, stirring the contents of the pan in front of you. "Maybe I’m just a girl who can’t help making the same mistake twice."

Eli chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken. His presence was commanding, as always, but there was something different about the way he looked at you tonight—something darker, more intense. He reached you in a few strides, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as his lips hovered near your ear.

“Well, if you’re talking about me,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "I wouldn’t call it a mistake."

You felt the heat of his body against yours, the hard planes of his chest pressing into your back as his hands slid down your waist, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts. "Maybe it’s a mistake I like making," you replied, your voice breathless as his fingers grazed the skin just beneath your waistband.

Eli chuckled darkly, his hands moving with slow, deliberate intent as he unbuttoned your shorts, his fingers slipping inside the waistband to rest against your hips. "You’re playing a dangerous game," he whispered, his voice a low growl as his lips brushed the side of your neck. "But I think you like that."

You gasped softly as his hands slid further into your shorts, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your thighs, teasing you with just the lightest touch. "Eli..." you murmured, your breath catching in your throat as his hands roamed your body, his touch possessive and demanding.

He smirked against your neck, his hands finally slipping lower, finding the heat between your legs as he pressed against you, his fingers moving with expert precision. "You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been teasing me all night?" he growled softly, his voice thick with desire as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles. "Dancing around in these little shorts, knowing exactly what it does to me..."

You let out a soft moan, your body responding to his touch as his fingers worked you with a skill that left you trembling. You could feel the heat building inside you, the tension coiling tight in your core as Eli’s hands continued their slow, torturous movements.

"Tell me," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough as his fingers slipped deeper, teasing your entrance with maddening precision. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me ."

Your breath came out in a shaky exhale, your body arching back against him as you struggled to form the words. "I want you," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built inside you, your heart racing with anticipation. "I always want you."

Eli growled in approval, his hands tightening on your hips as he spun you around, pressing you against the counter with a firm, possessive grip. His lips crashed against yours in a rough, hungry kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed his body against yours, leaving no space between you.

"You’re mine," he muttered against your lips, his voice filled with dark, dangerous desire. "And I’m not letting you go."

You moaned softly as his hands roamed your body, his touch rough and insistent, his lips moving to your neck as he kissed and bit at the sensitive skin there. "Eli..." you gasped, your hands clutching at his shirt as he pressed you harder against the counter, his body demanding, hungry, needing more.

"Upstairs," he growled, his voice thick with need as he pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "Now."

You didn’t hesitate. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than ready to give it to him.

And as you both made your way upstairs, the tension between you only building with every step, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Eli Michaelson—a man who once prided himself on his control and detachment—was completely and utterly consumed by you.

Eli followed you into the bedroom, his sharp eyes never leaving you as he started to undo his belt with deliberate slowness. You sat obediently on the edge of the bed, your fingers playing lightly with the hem of your shorts, waiting for further instructions. Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help but softly hum the tune of Oops!... I Did It Again under your breath, still lingering in the playful energy of the song, knowing exactly how much that drove him wild.

As Eli kicked his pants off his ankles, his eyes dark with that familiar, arrogant hunger, he gave himself a few teasing strokes, his hand wrapping around his already hard length, the faint glisten of pre-cum building at the tip. He smirked, his lips curling into a condescending smile as he caught the way your eyes flicked down to his hand, your breath quickening.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. His tone left no room for hesitation, his thumb swiping lazily over the head of his cock as he beckoned you closer with a crooked finger. "Take care of your Nobel Prize winner first, like a good girl."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you slid off the bed and knelt in front of him, your body already responding to his words, to the authority in his voice. You loved it when he took control, loved the way he demanded everything from you with that arrogant air of superiority that made him so uniquely Eli.

He watched with a smirk as you positioned yourself between his legs, your hands reaching up to wrap around his length. But before you could even begin, his hand was in your hair, gripping it tightly, pulling your head back slightly so you had no choice but to look up at him. His eyes gleamed with dark amusement, enjoying the power he had over you, the way you obeyed him so perfectly.

"That’s right," he muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You know what to do."

You nodded, your lips parting as you leaned forward, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, tasting the salty tang of pre-cum. Eli groaned softly, his grip tightening in your hair as he guided your movements, keeping your hair pulled back so he could watch your every move, his eyes filled with possessive satisfaction.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice thick with disdainful pleasure. "On your knees for me... exactly where you belong."

You moaned softly at his words, the vibration sending a shiver through him as you began to work your mouth over him, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock before taking him deeper. His hand never left your hair, holding you in place, controlling the pace as he pushed his hips forward, filling your mouth with his length.

"Good girl," Eli growled, his voice rough with approval as he thrust into your mouth, his cock sliding deeper with each movement. "Just like that... I always knew you’d be good for something."

You whimpered softly around him, the degrading edge to his words only making you want to please him more. His hand in your hair tightened, holding you in place as he began to fuck your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, each one pushing deeper, making your eyes water slightly as you tried to take him all in.

"God, you look so fucking perfect like this," he muttered, his voice a mix of arrogance and desire as he watched you struggle to keep up with his pace. "You should be grateful... not every girl gets to take care of a Nobel Prize winner, you know."

You moaned again, your hands gripping his thighs for balance as he continued to use your mouth, his hips moving with a steady, relentless rhythm. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, and you could feel the tension building in his body, his control slipping as he got closer to the edge.

"Fuck," Eli groaned, his grip tightening painfully in your hair as he thrust harder, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. "You’re going to make me come... and you’re going to swallow every fucking drop."

You nodded as best as you could, your body trembling with anticipation as you continued to work your mouth over him, determined to give him exactly what he wanted. His breaths grew more ragged, his movements more urgent, and with a final, rough thrust, he groaned deeply, spilling himself into your mouth.

Eli held your head in place as he came, his eyes locked on yours, watching with satisfaction as you swallowed every drop, just as he had ordered. When he finally pulled back, he smirked, his hand releasing your hair as he leaned down, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips.

"Good girl," he muttered, his voice filled with smug satisfaction as he wiped the last traces of himself from your lips. "Now get up... we’re not done yet."

You obeyed instantly, the command in Eli’s voice sending a rush of excitement through your body. You stood up from your kneeling position and began undressing, your fingers trembling slightly as you pulled off your tank top and shorts, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Eli’s eyes were glued to you, his gaze dark and hungry as he watched your every move.

“Lie down on the bed,” he ordered, his baritone voice dripping with authority, making your pulse quicken. You nodded, climbing onto the bed and stretching out, your body already aching with anticipation as you lay there, waiting for him. Your hands instinctively moved to your breasts, squeezing them lightly, your fingers teasing your nipples as you watched him, your breath coming in short gasps.

Eli took his time, clearly enjoying the sight of you laid out before him. He removed his shirt slowly, revealing the broad chest and strong arms you had come to crave. His hooked nose flared slightly as he inhaled deeply, his hazel eyes darkening with lust as they roamed over your body, lingering on the way your hands caressed your breasts.

“You know how much I love those,” he murmured, his voice a low growl as he finally climbed onto the bed, crawling toward you like a predator stalking its prey. His cock was already starting to come to life again, twitching with renewed arousal as he reached you. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your collarbone, kissing and nipping at your skin as he slowly made his way down your body.

You gasped softly, your back arching slightly as his mouth moved lower, his hands sliding up your sides until they reached your breasts. Eli paused, pulling back slightly to take in the sight of you, his eyes filled with raw hunger as he looked at your full, soft breasts. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, his hands moving to cup them, squeezing them firmly as his thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples.

His touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you let out a soft moan, your body trembling with need. Eli’s lips followed the path of his hands, kissing along the swell of your breasts before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. His other hand continued to knead your other breast, his fingers pinching and teasing your nipple in a way that made you writhe beneath him.

“God, I love your tits,” Eli growled, his voice muffled against your skin as he switched to the other breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth. “So fucking soft… I could spend all night right here.”

You whimpered softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to drive you wild. “Eli, please…” you gasped, your body arching toward him, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly, pulling back slightly to look up at you, his lips curling into a smug smirk. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his hands still massaging your breasts as he leaned down to kiss your neck. “Are you getting impatient?”

You nodded, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the heat between your legs grew unbearable. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Please, Eli…”

Eli groaned softly, his hands sliding down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping between your legs. He pressed his thumb against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, making you gasp and buck your hips toward him.

“Patience, my dear,” he murmured, his voice dripping with arrogance as he teased you, his thumb rubbing slow, torturous circles over your clit. “You’ll get what you want… when I’m ready.”

You whimpered softly, your body trembling with need as Eli continued to toy with you, his fingers brushing against the wetness that had already soaked through your panties. He smirked, clearly enjoying the way you responded to his touch, the way your body was completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice filled with dark satisfaction as he slid your panties down, exposing your dripping wet core. “So fucking wet for me… you really can’t help yourself, can you?”

You shook your head, unable to form words as his fingers slid between your folds, teasing your entrance with maddening precision. Eli’s eyes darkened with lust as he pushed one finger inside you, then another, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he began to fuck you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You gasped, your hips bucking toward his hand as the pleasure built inside you, the tension coiling tight in your core. “Eli… please…” you whimpered, your body trembling with need as his fingers worked you with expert precision.

He chuckled softly, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down to kiss your neck. “That’s right,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Beg for it.”

“I need you,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as your body trembled beneath him. “Please, Eli… I need you inside me…”

Eli groaned softly, his cock twitching with renewed arousal as he pulled his fingers from your wet heat, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean. “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

He didn’t wait for your response. With one swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. You cried out, your hands clutching at his back as he began to move, his pace fast and relentless, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

Eli cursed under his breath, gripping your hips as he drove into you with deep, powerful strokes. He fucked you nearly every day, and yet you were still so deliciously tight around him, clenching and squeezing as if your body had been made for him alone. He didn’t understand it in the least—how you could still feel this good, this perfect, no matter how many times he took you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he lowered himself against you, his chest pressing into yours, the rough scratch of his chest hair brushing against your sensitive breasts with each thrust. Your hands roamed his back, one of them moving lower to cup his ass, squeezing as you tried to pull him even deeper inside you.

But Eli wasn’t about to let you take control. He growled softly, grabbing your wrist and pinning it above your head, his fingers tight around your skin as he held you there, immobile, beneath him. He smirked, leaning down to bite your chin gently, his breath hot against your lips.

“Still playing games with me, are you?” he growled, his voice thick with lust and arrogance as he continued to fuck you hard and deep. “Was that song for me? You think you can toy with my heart like that?”

You moaned in response, your body arching beneath him as he hit that perfect spot inside you over and over, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “Eli...” you whimpered, your free hand gripping the sheets as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to overwhelm you.

He chuckled darkly, his hips slamming into yours with brutal precision, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “That’s right,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Dancing around in those little shorts, teasing me like a fucking schoolgirl.”

He bit your lip, not enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp, the sharp pleasure mixing with the overwhelming sensation of his cock filling you completely. “You think you can play with me?” he whispered, his breath hot and rough against your skin. “You’re mine.”

Eli’s hand moved to grip your jaw, tilting your head so you had no choice but to look up at him, his dark, hazel eyes gleaming with possessive hunger. “Say it,” he ordered, his voice filled with the kind of arrogance that made your pulse quicken. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You shuddered beneath him, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to pound into you, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. “I’m yours,” you gasped, your voice breathless, barely able to form the words as the tension in your core built to a fever pitch. “I’m always yours, Eli...”

He growled in satisfaction, his hand tightening on your jaw as his hips moved faster, harder, his breath coming in rough, ragged gasps. “That’s right,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “You’re mine... and I’m not letting you go. Not ever.”

You moaned, your body arching against him as the pleasure became too much to bear. His cock filled you so perfectly, hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, his arrogant words driving you wild with need. “Eli, please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as the tension coiled tight inside you, ready to snap. “I’m so close...”

Eli didn't let you come yet, though your body was trembling, aching for release. Instead, with a dark chuckle, he released your wrist and gripped your thighs, pulling them up toward your chest until your knees were practically touching your head. The shift in position sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, but the frustration of being denied pushed your arousal to a near unbearable peak.

"You’re not getting off that easy," Eli muttered, his baritone voice low and commanding, his breath hot against your ear. He rocked his hips against yours, thrusting faster and harder, the bed shaking beneath you with the force of it. The headboard slammed repeatedly into the wall, the sound echoing through the room, but neither of you cared. Your moans mixed with the steady rhythm of his deep, guttural groans as he lost himself in the pleasure of controlling you completely.

Your body was on fire, every nerve alight with need as Eli continued to pound into you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he took exactly what he wanted. You could feel the slickness of your arousal coating his cock, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you with each brutal thrust. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your fingers clutching at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure built inside you, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Please, Eli," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you tried to meet his thrusts, your hips moving in rhythm with his. "I need to come... please..."

But Eli wasn’t ready to let you have what you wanted. His smirk deepened, and he leaned down to bite the curve of your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. "You’ll come when I say you can," he growled against your skin, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You don’t get to decide, I do."

He thrust harder, the angle making you see stars as he hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again, the tension building and building until you thought you might scream. Your body trembled beneath him, completely at his mercy, the need for release so overwhelming it was almost painful. You could barely think, your mind clouded with lust, with the raw, animalistic pleasure of having Eli take you like this—so rough, so dominant.

But just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, Eli’s cock slipped out of you, the sudden loss of him leaving you gasping in shock and frustration. The slickness of your arousal had made it too easy for him to slide out, and now you were left trembling, your body throbbing with unfulfilled need.

"Fuck," Eli muttered, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he realized what had happened. He glanced down between your legs, his cock hard and glistening with your wetness, twitching with the need to bury itself back inside you. His hazel eyes darkened with frustration, but there was a flicker of amusement in them as well, as if he was enjoying the fact that he could keep you on the edge for just a little longer.

"Looks like you’ll have to wait a little longer, sweetheart," he said with a dark, mocking smile, his hands gripping your thighs even tighter as he positioned himself to enter you again. "You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?"

You let out a frustrated whimper, your hips bucking up toward him, desperate to feel him inside you again. "Eli, please..." you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I need it... I need you..."

Eli chuckled, clearly savoring your desperation. He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with slow, deliberate movements, but not giving you what you wanted just yet. "Beg me," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "I want to hear you beg for it."

Your body was shaking, the need for release so overwhelming it was almost unbearable. "Please, Eli," you whimpered, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as your hips bucked toward him, seeking out the relief only he could give you. "Please fuck me... I need it... I need to come... please..."

Eli’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your pleas. "That’s more like it," he growled, and without another word, he thrust back inside you, filling you completely with one hard, brutal stroke.

Eli groaned in satisfaction as he began moving inside you again, his hands releasing your thighs to take hold of your breast, his mouth descending onto it with a hunger that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sucking hard, and the combined sensations of his cock filling you so perfectly and the relentless attention to your breasts sent you spiraling toward an orgasm you couldn’t hold back.

Your body arched off the bed, your back curving as the pleasure overwhelmed you, a scream tearing from your throat. "Eli!" you gasped, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as the orgasm hit you hard, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. You had no control, no ability to stop it, and before you even realized what was happening, you were coming hard, your body trembling beneath him as your release gushed out of you.

Eli froze for a moment, pulling back to watch in fascination as your body reacted, his hazel eyes widening slightly as he saw the way you squirted, your release soaking the sheets beneath you. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of surprise and arrogant satisfaction. "Well, well," he muttered, his voice low and thick with lust as he watched the way your body trembled, your legs shaking as you came apart in front of him. "I didn’t know you had that in you."

You gasped for breath, your chest heaving as you struggled to come down from the overwhelming pleasure, your body still twitching with aftershocks. But Eli wasn’t done. He pulled out of you slowly, watching every movement, his cock glistening with your release. His gaze darkened as he looked at the mess you had made, a slow, arrogant smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

"You’re perfect," he muttered, his voice dripping with condescension as he ran his fingers through your slickness, bringing them to his lips to taste you. "Absolutely fucking perfect... for me."

His words sent another shiver down your spine, but Eli was too wrapped up in his own superiority to care about how wrecked you were. He leaned over you, his face close to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, "You think anyone else could make you do that? No one could. You’re mine. My perfect little slut, squirting all over me like that."

He pressed his mouth to yours in a rough, possessive kiss, his hand sliding down your body to toy with your overstimulated clit. You gasped into his mouth, your body jerking in response to the sudden sensation, but he held you in place, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate precision. "You don’t come without my permission, understand?" he growled against your lips, his eyes gleaming with that arrogant dominance you had come to crave.

You nodded quickly, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release, but Eli wasn’t about to let you off easy. He pulled back slightly, his eyes raking over you with a possessive hunger that made your pulse quicken. "You belong to me," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you... this perfect body... it’s mine."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, sending another jolt of pleasure through your already trembling body. "Say it," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you belong to me."

"I... I belong to you," you gasped, your voice trembling with need as the pleasure built again, despite the overwhelming sensitivity. "I’m yours, Eli... only yours."

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your response. "Good girl," he muttered, his fingers finally pulling away from your clit, leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, slow and possessive, as if claiming you all over again.

As he pulled back, he looked down at you with that same arrogant smirk, his hazel eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You’re everything I deserve," he said, his voice full of superiority. "The perfect woman for a Nobel Prize winner."

[kiame-sama]

Hello, Can you write more yanChrollo with the newly hijacked and autistic reader? Maybe where the reader is not yet used to Chrollo or the situation, And afraid of him and the rest of the members

I would like to make the reader male but if you prefer to make the reader female then I don't mind at all

I am now in my twenties

Thank you so much

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, autistic reader, male reader, mention of kidnapping, less than pleased reader, tough situations, ficlet (not a fullblown fic), somewhat hurt/comfort,

(Despite being a male reader, still using my own autism as a reference)

~~~~~~~~

"Why are we just letting him-"

"Don't question Boss. His soulmate, his rules."

"But why the hell is he just letting his soul mate sit in the corner like that?"

You watched them closely as you sat and stared, trying to keep to yourself as best you could. It had been days but you still couldn't bring yourself to relax among the group of people that had so readily grabbed you off the street. They were much more openly curious than Chrollo- the man they had grabbed you for- and clearly did not care if you could hear them or not.

Chrollo, the man that claimed you as his soulmate, had been rather keen on letting you acclimate to him but also keeping you in his sight. Luckily, he did give you some privacy, but he was never too far away from you even when you were out of his sight. Even when you slept you knew he was somewhere nearby and it only made your stress levels rise.

"No sense in upsetting him more than getting him to me had," Chrollo, spoke with a vague grin on his lips, "clearly I just have to learn how to best interact with him, that is all."

"I can hear you."

"I know you can, my darling (Y/n). However, you are not keen on talking, so there is no point in making you talk."

"... But there is a point in taking me from my home?"

Chrollo turned to you now, intentionally blinking in an attempt to come across as less threatening despite how it obviously didn't fool you. Still, he was learning what unsettled you and what was going to keep you calm. Any progress in relaxing you around him was good progress in Chrollo's eyes.

"Yes. As I explained earlier, we are soulmates. You can distrust me as much as you wish, you will eventually never want to leave my side. Soulmates are connected for a reason, Dear."

You just let out a soft humming sound in response to his words, drumming your fingers against your arm idly. Chrollo continued to smile at you despite your lack of response before returning to his book. The other members of the group didn't seem to feel the same way as they continued to glance at you suspiciously from time to time.

The sounds from the outside wre muffled but absolutely enough to occupy you. Not many cars went by, but there were still the various barks of dogs as others passed the abandoned building you were held captive inside of. Despite the sounds, your eyes stayed fixed on the relaxed figure of Chrollo.

The more you stared, the more your situation began to weigh on you. A very faint sting of salty tears burned your eyes as your throat seemed to tighten with distress. When you finally dropped your gaze, you had to hide your face against your arms and you pulled your knees to your chest. The first few tears fell quickly but you tried your best to remain as quiet as possible to not draw attention to your now sensitive state.

It was while you choked back any sounds from escaping that you felt something drape over your shoulders. Whatever it was almost seemed like a blanket and you quickly took to wrapping yourself in the material. The faint brush of fur against your arms brought to mind thoughts of the coat Chrollo always wore and you gathered just what the item was.

A soft sound of movement next to you made you peak one eye past your arms where you hid your face, seeing Chrollo settle an arm's length away from you. He leaned against the wall as he sat- completely topless- and opened his book back to whatever page he had been on. He didn't even glance at you as you stared at him, trying to gauge what he was doing. Without missing a beat, Chrollo spoke in a soft tone to you, the low rumble of his voice somewhat soothing your anxious heart.

"I know it is a frightening time for you. You're somewhere new. Somewhere you don't know very well. It all is so sudden and confusing for you. I understand. Even if you don't trust me now, I still don't wish to bear the thought of you hurting all by yourself."

Chrollo had that grin again, the one where he seemed to be both bemused and patiently waiting. You couldn't tell if you liked that look on him or not.

"You will warm to me eventually. For now, take comfort in the fact I have quite the patience. I can wait as long as I need to until you begin to trust me."

[cruyuu]

Hey have you seen that one managa panel in the latest leaks where its sukuna just gently graeping yuuji's head as he just beats the shit outta him?

Theres a post on tumblr where it has it and like a powerscaler from twitter basically saying "is sukuna really tryna fuck up yuuji bc i would have personally sunken my nails into his skull" and uh... yeah the person has a point. Sukuna really is just gently holding Yuuji's head.

Like his actions seem both brutal yet... protective? For a man who 'hates' Yuuji he sure as hell is giving mixed signals during his fight against him.

I did, anon! The "holding gently" and "beating the shit out of" being in a single sentence together tho lmfao.

I'm glad people are starting to notice that these two are not just fighting because that is true. If they were truly fighting, the fight would've ended a long time ago and would've been way, way more serious than whatever this is. Atp, I don't even know what the hell they are doing. They're groping each other more so than causing any real damage, like I'm genuinely tired of them lmfao.

Ever since the start of this arc, we've got Sukuna gripping his waist and holding him like they're dancing (?), Yuuji clinging onto his arm like a koala, Sukuna smiling as he hugs him closer to his face and Dismantles him, Yuuji wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist and now... add the gentle head cradling as they throw punches at each other. Truly the fight of all time, isn't it? Just a bit of jujutsu (ft. a Domain Expansion not for ripping away Sukuna's soul but... talking with him and spending a day with him?) a lot of unnecessary touching (and gentleness), and hatred which is showcased by... gentle head holding?

Sure, Megumi is still in there so that explains why Yuuji would be holding back from damaging Sukuna too much and not tearing him limb from limb but still, that notion didn't stop him from nearly tearing his heart out in Chapter 260 nor does it explain why he wrapped his arms around his neck (like what was the purpose) so... yeah.

As for Sukuna... yeah, there's absolutely no way to explain his behavior at all.

With that hulking form which towers over Yuuji, you would think, since he hates him and wishes to see him gone (and especially since he knows Yuuji's punches are dangerous and need to be avoided), he'd be trying to put some distance between them. Like idk grab him by the leg and throw him away or just in general do something which is beneficial to him and act like Yuuji is as insignificant as he loves to yap that he is.

Well. Nope lmfao.

Somebody had said it is because they were one body before so they're unconsciously leaning into each other and cannot know of personal space and that headcanon is just a perfect way to explain this. They may "hate" each other but that longing to be close is winning the fight in this case. Isn't that sweet?

Like his actions seem both brutal yet... protective?

Ngl anon, Sukuna is brutal but this is as far away from his usual brutality as it can possibly be. Remember that this is a man whose CT is literally tearing something into shreds, who had cut a person in half, who had turned a literal teenager into little cubes for simply daring to attack him. That is Sukuna we were introduced to, the one who never gave a fuck about anyone and was pretty brutal. For him to be brutal now, he'd have to do something far worse than just throw a punch. Maybe finally start behaving like he feels? He claims he hates Yuuji and yet... doesn't fight him with visceral anger?

Ah... It's always something with these two lol. I'll miss them a lot.

[deathbxnny]

may i request a Yanqing x magical girl s/o head canon or one-shot please and you can decide which one you what to do also i got this idea from watching Madoka magica and magica record

Hey there, moot! I decided to make this into a longer headcanon thing with the ideas you gave me, so I hope you'll like this and thank you for your request!!<3

Content: Magical girls reader, slight angst, mentions of injuries, near death, Jing Yuan is considering retiring, fluff, sfw

Reader is asked to be female but no pronouns are mentioned!

((Not fully proofread))

You met Kyubey on a casual, normal day. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and for a moment, you thought you were dreaming when you saw the odd white cat creature happily speak to you. It asked you if you'd like to be a magical girl, and whilst the appeal of it did excite you at first, something deep down told you to decline Kyubey's offer. But unfortunately, that didn't make him go away.

Instead, he simply followed you around as you went about your duties as a healer and medic in the Xianzhou. Your abilities weren't really special nor good enough to be notable, but they got the job done for any minor injuries your boyfriend Yanqing got during training. You didn't really pay Kyubey any mind and continued to reiterate that you weren't interested, even when he claimed it could make you stronger and everyone finally appreciate and notice you the way you always secretly wanted! But alas, you weren't sure if the secret consequences that came with that were worth it.

Things changed, however, when Yanqing showed up at your doorstep gravely injured. He had been patrolling alone and got surprise attacked by a mara struck soldier. He was pierced with his sword before he could deflect the hit, and that left him with a large wound on the side of his body. You were the first and only person he thought of going to for help.

You panicked, knowing that such a massive injury was way out of your scope of fixing. But you knew it would be too late for him if you ran off to get help now. This left you with one option in your mind as you turned to Kyubey, who was calmly resting behind you, waiting. Yanqing was panting heavily and bleeding out on the floor of your home. You had no other choice. You had to make a wish and become a magical girl to save him.

And so, you wished for a strong enough healing ability to save his life.

Kyubey granted your wish happily, and after transforming into your new magical girl form, you found yourself holding a blue soul gem and spear, which seemed to be your weapon of choice from now on. You had no time to ponder either, however, as you went right to work and healed Yanqing right back to normal. He was weak and about to fall asleep by the end of it, but the confusion on his face was clear. Since when were you able to do all that?

The general was just as confused and asking the same thing when you stepped into his office with Yanqing practically being carried on your back. Your new magical girl outfit and soul gem left the man speechless, yet he decided not to question anything anymore and just be happy that Yanqing was okay.

Once said boy woke up, he definitely asked you a million questions about your new abilities and just in general how you even got to this point. He was definitely worried about the soul gem and the issues that may come with it... but he wasn't against it and instead just felt guilty that he had to make you choose such an option in the first place. He'll make it up to you by protecting you and keeping a good eye on that sly Kyubey.

[velvette-creations]

Everybody's Looking for Something

Hazbin Hotel: Alastor x platonic!reader

Rating: Teen

WC: 1.6 k 

Prompt: Sweet Dreams for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Brief mention of past drug use, mention of a car accident, angst, Alastor having nefarious plans

Summary: Hell claims your soul and Alastor offers a helping hand

You don’t remember the pain; all you can recall is the blackness as it swallowed you up while the broken glass splattered onto the asphalt. You felt swallowed by the abyss, an endless falling as your limbs flailed in the hopeless attempt to grab onto something. Finally, you hit solid ground as the smell of burning flesh hit your nose. The acrid smell of sulfur made you gag. A deep groan rumbled through you while you slowly sat up to peer around your new surroundings. Brimstone crunched beneath you. A smoky haze clung to the air, making breathing hard, which you thought was rather silly. You were clearly dead; did you even need to breathe anymore?

“Salutations! My, my, where did you come from?” 

The dulcet tones of the voice felt oddly soothing yet there was something in the tone that made the hairs stand up on your arms. It reminded you of the old black and white movies you watched with your parents as a child—Old-timey, a throwback to the past, yet a touch unearthly. You pressed up onto your palms, blinking your eyes a few times. Even in the dark, murky haze, you could make out the malicious grin, teeth spiked and dangerous in the widely stretched mouth. The figure was tall and slender, looming over your sprawled body with black antlers perched in the middle of their fluffy hair. Was this a man? No…it had to be a demon, right? This was Hell, after all.

“Uhhh…from above?” you replied, pointing your finger upward, “Can you tell me where I am?”

“Why, you’re in hell, of course! Up above, you say? I suppose that makes you a human sinner or a fallen angel then, though I would assume the former. A fresh soul.” An eerie green light flashed around the demon as they seemed to grow taller.

Your heart sank as you took in their words. You should have known, should have figured it out. Given the life you were living and how you crashed through the windshield as drugs pulsed through your system, you weren’t surprised this was your fate. How could you even be deemed worthy of heaven?

“Yeah…guess you must be right. Can I ask your name?”

“Only if you’ll give me yours in return. I’m Alastor, my dear. Now let’s get you off the filthy ground,” the creature chirped, the sharp smile still plastered on his face. 

You told him your name as he extended his arm, offering you a gloved hand. “Thanks,” you murmured as you were pulled to your feet. You felt chilled to your bones even as heat blazed through this place.

“Come now, I know the perfect place for you,” Alastor stated, offering you his arm. While it probably wasn’t wise to go off with a stranger, what other choice did you have? Navigating hell by yourself seemed…stupid, or so you surmised from the screams echoing through the air. Better the devil you knew. Not that you really knew him., but he seemed the safest option.

“So are you a demon or ….” you asked, slipping your arm through his and letting him guide you away. You thought if he wished to harm you, he would have done so by now.

“Indeed I am, darling. They refer to me as the radio demon around here.”

A soft laugh fell from your lips, as Alastor tilted his head in a way that made your nerves stand on edge.

“Sorry…but that’s exactly what your voice reminds me of! I was thinking old movies, but radio dramas suit you much better,” you explained, feeling your cheeks grow hot.

His delighted chuckle chimed through the air and put you at ease. “Oh, you and I are going to be great pals, I can tell.”

Not much else was said as he helped you navigate the streets until you arrived at a hotel, blinking as you took in its sheer size and the neon sign buzzing overhead.

“I never would have guessed Hell would have a hotel,” you said in shock.

“My dear, you’ll discover we have all sorts of clever things down here. I have…friends who reside here and help to run it. Think of it as a safe haven.”

You clung tightly to his arm as you followed him inside.

“Hey Al! You’re back, and you brought a stray! What’s your name, gorgeous? I haven’t seen you around these parts before,” a spider-like creature asked, giving you a wink.

“A new arrival to our humble abode,” Alastor explained.

You nearly shrieked as a small creature with one eye scuttled under you.

“You are filthy! Dirty, dirty girl,” she cackled, her clawed fingers tugging at your clothing.

“Why don’t you draw a nice hot bath for our newest guest, Niffty dear?” Alastor suggested, and you watched in awe as the creature ran off, her tiny arms waving wildly in the air.

“A drink will help take the edge off. I’m Angel, by the way,” the fluffy pink and white spider creature said, shoving a shot glass into your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Angel. I’m lucky Alastor here found me,” you murmured before downing the liquor.

“Not sure luck has anything to do with it,” you heard a deep voice mutter, your gaze following the sound before landing on a winged cat creature. You might need another shot to process all this.

“Oh, Husker, what a jester,” Alastor sneered.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” a cheery voice chimed, and you watched a tall, horned blonde dash down the stairs before throwing their arms around you, “I’m Charlie!”

You were shocked at first before discovering you enjoyed her hug. It certainly wasn’t the type of behavior you expected in hell.

“I hope it’s ok, Alastor brought me here,” you whispered, gently patting her back.

“Of course! Our doors are always open, especially to those who want to redeem their souls!” she explained.

“Is that possible?” you asked.

“Of course! Well…at least, I think so!”

“Wow, that’s really cool. Sounds like Alastor brought me to the right place,” you smiled as Charlie beamed.

“He sure did!” she exclaimed.

“Lots of other nasty demons and overlords roaming those streets. You at least ended up with the right one,” Angel said before taking a long pull from a bottle of whisky.

Husk raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you momentarily before returning to cleaning up the bar he stood behind.

“Your bath is ready, filthy, diry girl!” Niffty shouted, dangling from the banister.

“Allow me to escort you to your room,” Alastor offered, guiding you up the sprawling staircase.

The room was decent enough and clean, and the steam swirling around the air beckoned to you.

“Thank you, Alastor,” you whispered, surprised when he took hold of your hand.

“Truly my pleasure, dear. Enjoy your bath,” he hummed before leaving you.

The hot water felt soothing against your skin as you soaked in the bath.

“Hello, hello, I promise I’m not looking! I just brought you some fresh clothes. None of mine will fit you, but you seem the same size as my girlfriend, Vaggie! Ohhh, I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Charlie bristled, dumping a pile of clothes onto your bed.

“Thank you, Charlie. You’ve been super nice, everyone has…which is surprising for a bunch of…”

“Demons?” she finished for you, chuckling softly, “We’re a unique bunch.”

“I can tell, but I think I’m gonna like it here.”

“Oh, that makes me so happy I could burst! You must be special if Alastor brought you here! Ok, enjoy your bath!”

You stayed in the tub until the water grew cold and your skin was scrubbed clean; the faint odor of sulfur still lingered behind. Once you were dry, you picked out a pair of black leggings and a red top to put on, thankful this Vaggie preferred a more subdued color palette. You settled on the bed, closing your eyes for a moment until a knock came at your door.

“It’s Alastor, my dear, I’ve brought some food for you.”

“Oh, come in,” you called out and watched as he entered, pushing a food cart over to your bed, 

“Something simple, dear, but you need to keep your strength,” Alastor explained as he lifted the lid off the tray, “A soothing, homemade chicken noodle soup.” The aroma made your mouth water and stomach rumble.

“Thanks, smells delicious,” you whispered, scooting to the edge of the bed before picking up the spoon and savoring the hot liquid. With each taste, the realization of everything that happened hit you like a ton of bricks. You were dead and stuck in Hell. Hot, salty tears rolled down your cheeks, splashing onto the white linen the soup bowl rested on.

“Now, now, there’s no need for tears,” Alastor tutted, sitting next to you and rubbing your back.

“S…sorry. It just all hit me at once,” you sniffled, swiping your hand under your dripping nose.

“You just need a good night’s rest. Come, let’s tuck you in.”

You allowed Alastor to move you under the sheets, tucking the blanket securely under your chin before he patted your head.

“My mother used to sing me to sleep, I found it most comforting,” he smiled, his eyes flickering and softening momentarily.

“That sounds nice,”  you whispered, blushing as he began to sing to you. His voice was soothing yet haunting simultaneously.

Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you 

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

His voice was incredibly comforting, curling over you like a warm, fluffy blanket and bringing you peace. Closing your eyes, you slowly drifted off to dreamland, sighing softly. You were out like a light by the time Alastor finished the pleasant little ditty. One clawed hand smoothed down your hair before a tentacle wrapped around your throat.

“Sweet dreams, my dear. Soon enough, your soul will be mine.”

[bau-drabbles]

goodnight n go

a/n: drunk reader and oblivious/love struck aaron, enjoy :)) a little nsfw at the end but nothing too explicit 🤍 ooc and v rushed but i kinda like it 😮‍💨🫶

everyone was in their pj's, sat around the roaring fire in rossi's home. they all had a drink in their hand, amicably chatting away with each other. catching on gossip, talking about their days. but there was a certain set of eyes on you, sipping his whiskey ever so slowly as he observed your every move.

hotchner wanted to take you straight to bed, but not to romance. though that thought seemed to occupy his head more often than not.

no, he wanted to take you to your room so he could finally tell you what he'd been trying to say for the last couple days. that he was completely, irrevocably, wholeheartedly in love with you

you both had a thing going on, a private relationship if you will. it had been months but hotchner refused to say anything about it and you grew impatient, just wanting to know whether he was embarrassed of you which is why he decided to keep you private. why couldn't the accept his feelings?? in some way you had understood due to the losses and tradegies of his life but it was so hard to constantly keep up with his mood swings. whether or not that day he chose to be extra affectionate or shut you out like a total stranger

so tonight you drank your sorrows away, not wanting to even look at him. and rossi's sleep over provided the perfect front for it.

which.... is what led to your predicament currently

normally you were able to take your alcohol well but tonight mixed with sadness and yearning, you were a mess. a cute mess, though. aaron couldn't help but smile inwardly at your drunken state, so full of passion and love and light. you practically sparkled around everyone.

you and morgan sat on the chairs, you telling jokes and him laughing his ass off. jj and emily sat on the other side of you, giggling as you spoke more and more of your life story. nothing too personal but just enough that would bring you some teases the next day. but the more you tried to stop, the more words would spill from your lips.

your secret lover watched you, every part of him wanting to take you away from his team and keep you to himself. he was selfish for even thinking this, that voice in his head criticised him over and over.

"i think i like.... love him" you sighed, an arm around morgan's shoulders. aaron froze, dread pouring in every crevice of his body. his heartbeat was erratic as he stared at you, hoping it wasn't true.

you had found another man already?

hotch tried but failed to stop the rising jealousy in his body. he had no right, there wasn't a claim over you. he had time to tell you how he truly felt and yet he didn't make a move. you were beautiful, you could have any young man you desired. why would you have him?

his heart had felt like it slipped through his body, on the floor for everyone to walk upon. why did he feel so saddened at that fact that you weren't his anymore? why did it feel like you were the air he breathed, his soul, his happiness, his love, his life? everything he needed was everything you were.

and now that crashing down because you weren't his to have.

"aw c'mon pretty, he must love you too" morgan nudged you softly but you shook your head glaring at the fire. he chuckled as he tried to steady you, much to hotch's displeasure. he hated how derek's hands were on your hips, even though he had pure intentions. it should have been aaron there by your side.

"actually he's a bastard. he doesn't care about anyone but him" with your inhibitions lowered, all the built up anger began pouring out of your lips. and it didn't help that derek, emily and penelope were egging you on to find out more about the mystery man

"i-i don't know. i mean, personally, i don't think i'm that bad to be kept a secret you know...." you chuckled softly but the hurt was clearly evident in your voice. it tugged on aaron's heart strings, he wanted nothing more than to reach to you. oh god, of course you weren't

you were his biggest strength and his greatest love. he would always be counting down the seconds until you'd be in his embrace again, until he could touch you again.

after haley's death, this time he wanted to take things slow. he wanted you to know that his life was rocky, nothing happened as it was planned. with him came emotional baggage, he wasn't perfect. but did you want to handle that?

but now, sitting here he berated himself over and over. he was a silly fool for ever letting you doubt yourself in his presence. god, he wanted to envelope you in a big hug and just hold you tight. this secret man of yours was doing the same thing he did and he wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole, he deserved punishment truly.

morgan shook his head firmly, holding you against his well-built arms. he looked into yourself eyes and they shone under the fire so beautifully, like diamonds in glittering in a river.

"never, kid. you are worth finding. worth knowing. worth loving. always. and if he can't see that, then that's a problem with him. not you, never you" morgan spoke sincerely, not a trace of amusement in his eyes and you heard agreement from the others.

"aww derek, ya big softie...." you giggle, leaning your head against his temple. he makes a joke and you nudge him away, the smile on your face growing by the second.

"you tell us who this man is and we'll set him straight, buttercup" garcia promised and you laughed, reaching over to give her a hug to which she happily reciprocated.

"okay okay his name is aar-"

"okay guys, rooms are made up. but four of you are going to have to bunk together. the space is limited" rossi yawns, gently rubbing his aching back from doing the absolute most for his guest. he eyes aaron and gives a smirk, as if this team could ever successfully hide anything from him. always a great host, an even better spy.

"whaddya say chocolate thunder? it'll be like old times" garcia winked, poking morgan's head.

"you got it baby girl" morgan teased and in the commotion of finding rooms, you hear someone else come up from behind you.

"i'll take you to your room, y/n" suddenly you feel a pair of warm strong hands pulling you up and away from morgan's arms. you glare at the intrusion but soon melt when you realise who it is. you breathed in his scent, he smelled like leather, sea salt and that comforting cologne which smelt heavenly.

the rest of the team don't even realise that you both made your escape but even if they did, you don't care.

hotch holds you steady as you walk to your room in darkness and it takes every ounce in you not to tackle him into a hug here and now. but he doesn't like you, he made that obvious already

hotch pulls the covers, making sure you were okay before he tucked you in. sort of how he was with jack and if you weren't so angry, you'd be a little tease.

"you okay?" he asks and you nod, turning away from him. hotch gently sighs, standing up. he deserves that, he knows

"just so you know, any man would be lucky to have you. you deserve so much more than your.... boyfriend" god, saying that word pained him more than he cared to admit but you were right. he was selfish and now that you had a proper chance at happiness, he wasn't going to stand in the way of it. even if that meant wishing and hoping he could do all those things with you, he would keep them locked in his mind. you deserved so much more than he could ever give you.

he turns to go out but you scoff, beginning to sober up a little. perhaps it was your rage or your desperation but your mind was a little less cloudy as you glared at him.

"are you serious right now?" you sat up, looking at him through the darkness. his eyebrow raised, turning around to meet your face. he truly didn't know, did he? if you weren't so frustrated, you would've laughed at his innocence.

"it was you who i was talking about. i'm just tired of being in the dark aaron. if you don't like me, just tell me-" getting cut off by another pair of lips on you was a shock but one you welcomed entirely as you submit yourself to him. he didn't know what overcame him either, relief? or a chance that he could be yours? whatever it was, he found himself before you kissing you as though his life had depended upon it. his hands come up to cradle your face in-between his warm palms, you hold him tight in fear you fall. he didn't anticipate for the kiss to be this intense but there's so many built up emotions between the both of you poured out.

"i-i'm sorry i-" he pulls away but you grab his collar and resume kissing him. you had waited so long for a crumb of affection, you were going to cherish every little second. he chuckles as he holds you closer again, deepening the kiss. his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for permission to which you gives eagerly. your tongues are caught in a slow erotic dance, depraved and desperate to feel more of each other.

you feel the familiar ache ebb deep within your body and you need more, grabbing his shirt and beginning to unbutton the first half. hotch groans, not wanting the stop but he had to. he couldn't make love like this.

"n-not yet y/n.... not here, sweetheart..." he breaks apart when every part of him wants to keep going. he rests his forehead against your own. his arms circle your waist, bringing you in and for a few moments it feels so perfect

"what, why?" you whine, clutching his shirt with your hands. he chuckles and kisses them, holding them in his own.

"believe me i want to. but... not here. not like this, i want you to remember it. i want you to know how sorry i am, i want you to know how much you mean to me..." he looks at you, he can see the exhaustion on your face and it makes him chuckle fondly. he places you back again in your sheets, cradling your face so softly.

"besides... you, my beautiful little firecracker, are beyond the pale of sobriety. it's time for bed" the nickname makes you swoon as you rest your head against his chest, both of you tucked together in your blanket. your eyes close, his big hands gently stroking your back before you hear something.

"i love you, y/n. i'm so sorry i couldn't say it before" he whispers, kissing your forehead and you snuggle in closer. he never expected to ever say that out loud but it felt so right, like a burden had been relieved from his shoulders. finally being able to breathe properly for the first time in a long time.

"s'ok... i love you too" your little yawn makes hotch laugh gently, wrapping you tight inbetween the blanket and his body. when you properly sobered up, you were in for a bit of a shock but right here and right now, there wasn't a place you'd rather be.

[gothy-froggy]

Let Me Love You in My Own Way

Killer Frequency (spoilers)

Note: this fan fiction doesn’t canonically follow the game fully to make the plot more interesting. It also takes place years after the game.

The Whistling Man (Henry Barrow) x (fem)reader

Warnings: mentioned deaths, obsessive & stalker behavior, not proofread AND rushed

Summary: reader is well known as one of few survivors of the Whistling Man after his return. While hanging out with another survivor on the Whistling night, the Whistling Man returns 8 years later. Reader now relives the night, but noticed an unexpected behavior from him..

——————————————-

“Good evening Gallows Creek! I’m your host, Allison Berks on the show Night of Terrors. Today I have one of our soul survivor from the Whistling Man after his return almost around eight year ago.” The hostess introduced as the cheered and clapped. Her smile as she glanced at some papers on the coffee table.

“Well Mrs. Berks I have to say, it’s a honor to be on this show.” The woman flashed a smile as she calmed her nerves down. It’s been so long since she really talked about that night. Allison chuckled.

“I feel like I should be the one saying that to you, really. I mean, you are Gallows Creek’s main survivor of the Whistling Man.”

“No, please, I’m not as successful as you are.”

“Well, I bet you won’t have any trouble. I’ve heard from your friends you’re quite talented. But, perhaps that’ll be a discussion for another time. As we all know, tomorrow is the night of the Whistling night. I just have a few questions about the night lit you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all, ask away.” The hostess grinned as she held her tea in her hand.

“Now you along with Carrie claimed that the Whistling Man spared you. Can you tell us what happened that night? We’d love to hear it from the final girl herself.”

The woman chuckled nervously, holding her beverage in her hands as she stared down at the liquid.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself the final girl, scream queen or whatever. Carrie deserves it. She actually made a plan and fought. It was..different for me.” She sipped her beverage before letting out a quick sigh.

“Um…I was in my home. Lights were off, nobody was with me, I was listening to Forrest Nash and Peggy Weaver’s station about the murders. While listening in, I heard the whistle,” She paused. Allison placed a hand over hers.

“It’s ok, you can take your time.” She reassured. After taking a breath in, she continued.

“He was in my kitchen. I don’t know how he got inside since my back door was locked, but he did. My front door was farther away and he was in front of my back door. So I ran upstairs and pushed whatever was near me down the stairs to slow him down.”

“That’s when you called Nash? You were whispering when you called.” The woman nod to confirm.

“Before I was able to make a plan, he- the Whistling Man grabbed the phone and placed his free hand on my face. He just…stared at me. Did nothing. After a bit he just tossed the phone and walked out.” Her voice softening, as if she dozed off to think about that night.

“Wow. That’s definitely out of character for him. Um, you must’ve been terrified.” Allison folded her hands.

“I was. I grabbed my phone and told Nash what happened. I didn’t see him after that.”

“Well, the night is tomorrow. Do you have any plans?” Allison questioned to lighten up the mood.

“Well, I’ll be having company over for the night. I hope that nothing will happen tonight for me. Or anyone else. It’s very traumatic and I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.” Allison nod at the plan before continuing the show. After a while, Allison thanks her before thanking the audience and ending the interview.

——————————————-

“Well, is it true?”

“Is what true?” She sat down with snacks right next to friend. The lights were dim. The television providing most of the light.

“You know, your interaction with the killer. Didn’t leave any details out?”

”Eugene, why would I make it up? Did you make up your ‘love of your life?’” She sassed him.

“Hey, I was a dumb teenager then…” He huffed. She chuckled, handing him some snacks.

“I wasn’t lying. It was really weird. It sucks that they still don’t know who was behind the mask. Forrest was so close to the truth..” Eugene nod in agreement.

“Yeah…so many people died during this day.”

The two changed the subject and switched through channels to find something to watch. She met Eugene while at work. He recognized that she was survivor and they talked about that night, becoming good friends after.

It was last. The night has been long. Maybe because she stayed up so late, maybe the dread of it being the night of the murders. She couldn’t tell if it was one of those reasons or both. She was a little bummed that Eugene had to leave for some emergency with his girlfriend. She waved goodbye and went upstairs to go to bed.

She tossed and turned under her covers. She couldn’t rest for some reason. Perhaps it was her just being paranoid, but she decided to try again. It didn’t work. She sighed, getting up and going down the stairs to get a glass of water. She looked around in her kitchen as she took a sip. An odd feeling raising inside her as her heart started racing.

Something didn’t feel right.

She tried to shake off the feeling, but it didn’t go away. The lights were off. The night was cold and silent. It was always haunting. The woman placed the water down and switched it out with a knife. She placed the knife in her hoodie pocket. She glanced outside of the back door.

Nothing.

She let out a sigh, making her way back to stairs as the feeling started to fade away and the weight fell off her shoulders.

But it came back.

The faint sound of a familiar whistle could be heard somewhere nearby. Was it inside? Was it outside? The whistle called out once again, proving that it wasn’t her imagination giving her hearing phantom trick again.

No. Not again.

She hurried up the stairs and quickly shut her door. She turned around to see him.

The Whistling Man.

He reached out and yanked her away from the door. She tried to scream and pull away, but his grip was too strong and his other hand was against her mouth. His horrifying mask tilted to the side as watched her struggle.

The man waited until she stopped struggling and quiet down. His hand slowly left her mouth. He let go of her body, shoving her dresser in front of the door.

“Hey, what the hell-” She was about to speak up before to made a sharp turn towards her. She shut her mouth, stepping a few steps back. He watched her for a few seconds before walking towards her desk. She hugged her arms as she watched him look at her desk. He scattered through the papers, picking up a newspaper. He turned back to her, looking up at her from the newspaper.

“I- um, I couldn’t help but do some research..” She chose her words carefully, barely speaking above a whisper. He tossed the newspaper back on the desk. The masked man walked back up to her. Her heart quickens, watching him get closer and closer.

Then she remembered. The knife in her pocket. She grabbed the knife’s handle and swung the knife, aiming it at his chest. But she wasn’t quick enough. The Whistling man grabbed her wrist. He added pressure. Forcing the knife to drop from her hand. He swiftly pushed her against the wall, keeping her in place.

“Let me go!” She cried out. She let out a sob. The man slowly tilted his head to the side. His hand reached for her face. Instead of being hit, choked, or any sign of violence, his hand caressed her face. A small gasped came form the woman.

“What do you want from me?” She whispered. He just stared, his hand still on her cheek. The masked man let her go, his hand leaving her face. She watched him grab his knife from the desk and slipped out of her window. He glanced at her one more time, disappearing from her view. She slid down against the wall, letting out a sigh out of relief. After a moment to collect herself, she got up and looked at the desk.

Is that…blood?

She then scattered towards the window. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The woman then reached for the door, moving the dresser out of the way. She raced down the stairs and looked outside of the windows. A car parked outside near her house. Her blood went cold. It was Eugene’s. She didn’t want to believe it. His car, the blood…is he?

She quickly grabbed her phone and ran out, calling out to Eugene.

“Eugene? Eugene!” She called out, sprinting towards his car. She stopped, seeing a familiar red liquid drip from the car. No, no, no. She followed the trail on the ground to meet Eugene’s still body. The screamed, letting out sobs as she called for the police.

“Hello? Hello police? Please I need help-”

“This is 189 16-”

“Forrest? Oh God Forrest please help me! It’s me. He’s back and he got Eugene!” She stammered over her words.

“Are you alright?” Forrest asked. She assured him that she’s alright. After answering a few questions, her breathing got heavy and quickened.

“Hey, breathe. You’ll be alright.” Forrest caught her attention back. She couldn’t believe it. It was like that night all over again. The police being down, having to talk to Forrest for help…

The Whistling Man.

“Hey, we called someone that’s going to help and get Eugene. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Yeah…yeah ok. I’ll uh, call you back. Thanks Forrest.” She hung up and sat next to Eugene.

“Come on Eugene…” She murmured.

——————————————-

“Forrest? It’s me. The person you called came and took Eugene.”

“Glad to hear that everything worked out.”

“Yeah…Forrest? How many other calls did you get about the Whistling Man?” A few moments of silent passed by until Forrest sighed.

“Quite a few. Doesn’t seem like he’s playing this time.”

“I wish you luck with the others. And please, figure out who it is. This needs to end.” She told him.

“Right. Talk to you soon.” Forrest said his goodbyes.

She sighed in relief before dragging herself back to her door. She looked down while looking for her keys.

Huh?

She looked down to see a single flower and a note.

I’ll see you soon

- Hen W.M.

She stared at the note as a shiver trickled down her spine. She took the note and the flower inside. She sat on a stool in her kitchen, twirling the flower in her hand.

“Who the hell could this be from?” She asked herself, staring at the note. It was haunting, eerie. She look outside, letting out a loud gasp.

A familiar mask was on the other side of the window. He let out another whistle before walking away. She didn’t even bother to call Forrest. It felt…different than being stalked and killed. Was he the one who left the note? Why? She was too tired to stress anymore. She placed the flower in a vase and went upstairs.

Tonight was stressful enough.

——————————————-

As she went upstairs, she failed to notice the masked man watched her go up through the window again.

He still had much so much to do, but

Harming her will never be on the list. He picked up his blood stained knife and walked back into the woods.

Gallows Creek needs to pay, to have a cleansing.

And he’s glad that she didn’t seem to notice his mistake signing the note.

He let out one more whistle, going to find the next one of the list.

——————————————-

A/N: very rushed but hey, this is just chapter one. Maybe? Might continue this. But hey! The Whistling man content for my simps

[maegalkarven]

AU where Dark Urge didn't loose memories and the events in Moonrise Towers in act 2 went a tag differently. Or very differently.

Fucking everything up in a new, interesting way.

Characters: m!Dark Urge, Enver Gortash, Orin the Red, Ketheric Thorm, Isobel Thorm, Dame Aylin, Wyll Ravengard, Ulder Ravengard (mentioned), Karlach.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash.

It was a stupid fucking plan from the very beginning of it.

To go to the Moonrise Towers to – what, confront Ketheric? Confront the Chosen of the God of the Dead?

Nemo knew better than the others what an idiotic idea it was.

But Nightsong already took a flight, and harpers moved to attack – and what was Nemo supposed to do?

He was a wreck, a shadow of his former self, weak as a kitten, clumsy as a newborn owlcub. He was the failed Chosen of Bhaal going to a place what was his demise.

Swooped by the currents of events unfolding, he had no plan.

But again, Nemo was never the plan guy; it was Gortash’s forte, it was his work. He was the brain of their plan, the brain of all of their operations. He thought things through as Nemo sliced around, creating chaos, bringing havoc, painting world in blood.

But it was before. Before Orin took her swing, before Nemo’s once great abilities were reduced to dust, before he became weak. So weak he had to depend on others, so weak he required, no, needed allies.

The voice of Father dull in his head; illithid parasite had to do something with it, had to change the rules the same way it changed them for Astarion.

Funny, before that whole mess Nemo would never put himself and a vampire spawn on the same page. But now? Oh, how alike they were, the spawns of unrelenting cruel force commanding their will, puppets of someone else’s play.

Waking up on nautiloid was akin to waking up from a fewer dream. The Urge...subsided. It was pushed back, held at bay. He was almost alone in his own head, more alone when he ever was with Father’s constant will moving his hands.

But what good did this free will do if he was about to die anyway, probably in the same damn place he died the first time? Would Orin be the one to slice through him one final time?

Nemo was never the one for plans, as clever as he was. Gortash always claimed it drove him mad, for Nemo had all the intellect, but rarely put it to good use.

“You have to exercise your mind the same way you train your body,” his unexpected ally would say. “Otherwise what use is it to you? You, my dear murderer, is capable of much greater things than your father foresees for you.”

These thoughts were atrocious, they were heretical, they were...compelling. Flattering, warming some deep corners of the soul Nemo didn’t know he had.

No wonder lordling ended up luring Nemo into his bed.

No wonder Orin saw her brother’s newfound weakness and used it against him.

Clever little thing, his slaughter-kin, to shift into Gortash to approach him. He was a fool to lower his defenses, of course he was.

He paid for it greatly.

“We’re moving down,” Isobel acknowledged. She, a daughter of a man who turned his back to two gods for her sake. She, the priestess of a goddess Ketheric Thorm forsaken. She, a child brave enough to confront her father.

Nemo hated her before he knew her.

He hated her for the way Ketheric turned the world upside down for her to live; he hated her for how ridiculously loved she was.

She hated her because even after being corrupted by Myrkul’s unholy powers, she still dared to stay unstained. Holy. Good.

He hated her so much his whole body hurt.

She who denied her father’s love, she who had love so selfless, so unconditional-

Father’s love was always conditional. Father’s love was always a leash and never a caress.

Father’s love hurt no matter how much Nemo craved it.

Oh, how he wished he could stifle the light of her life; oh how he wanted to see Ketheric’s face as he would tell him, in every gruesome detail, how his precious daughter died the second time.

How everything Ketheric did, everything he betrayed was for naught.

But Nemo was not what he used to be: he was weak, and Isobel was his advantage in a fight against her father. Her and Nightsong, but Nemo wasn’t even sure if aasimar was alive; the last he saw of her was when Elder Brain dragged the woman down.

Down, down, down-

Down they went.

Nemo didn’t want to go down there. He didn’t want to confront anyone, he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t strong, he-

He wanted to go home.

Home, such a strange concept it is.

Bhaal’s temple was never his home, even if it was the only shelter he has ever known.

No, home was...

Home was a mechanical clicking of devices operating in Gortash’s workshop. Home was the dim light and the huge table covered in papers; the smell of hot iron and smoke, and the man with fingers stained in ink.

The bitter bile rose up his throat at the thought of it.

The Chosen of Bane was never supposed to be his home.

The Chosen of Bane was his enemy.

Nemo has failed his life’s purpose in more ways than he could count.

And yet he wanted to go back; to the security of that place, to the delighted glint in the other man’s eyes, the mad plans, the notes on the table, the open books, the diagrams, the warmth of his skin as Nemo dragged Enver away from his work:

"Rest, you need to rest. It’s unbecoming of you to run yourself ragged like that. Sleep, your machines will not disappear overnight."

The way he struggled, tried to argue as exhaustion overtook his body. The way Lord Enver Gortash, the tyrant in the making, looked vulnerable in front of him in a way, Nemo suspected, he never looked in front of anyone else.

The way Nemo went to bed with him and expected to wake up in a pool of blood, but never did.

Because some part of him resisted Father even then. Some part of him claimed Enver Gortash for himself.

And it cost him greatly.

Nemo wondered if returning to Moonrise Towers could be classified as ‘coming home’.

He wondered if his home would meet him with windows shut and new lock on the door. He wondered how quickly he would be discarded by a man having no use for him anymore.

Turned out, Nemo was a fucking idiot.

***

It happens faster than it has any right to be; Ketheric spots Isobel, Wyll sees his father, Karlach lurches at Gortash, and Orin...

Orin steps away from the Elder Brain and smiles.

“My poor slaughter-kin,” she coos. “Came back so I could finish what I’ve started, did you not?”

And then the moves.

And fuck, Nemo forgot how fast she is, and he is so out of it, he is but a shell of his former self; his body is weak, feeble, damaged-

Orin knows it. Orin was the one who damaged it in the first place.

Nemo is vaguely aware of Isobel reaching out to Nightsong and freeing her from the bonds, he thinks he hears Gortash trying to reel Orin and Ketheric back in:

“Orin, we haven’t finished, the Brain didn’t receive command yet, come back here- Ketheric, two stones can’t hold it down, we need the third, Ketheric, forget about your daughter, come right here and make yourself useful for a change-“

But Ketheric doesn’t listen. Orin doesn’t listen. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own issues, their own grudges, their own fights. Karlach slices through the undead servant and knocks Gortash into the ground, only to be pushed back by a force of small explosive detonating right into her face. It doesn’t damage her much, but pushes back a significant amount.

“My poor brother,” Orin taints as Nemo tries to dodge one of her slices and comes out short. Blood oozes from the new cut and his murder-kin giggles. “So out of it, so pathetically weak. I did a good job on you, brother dear. But,” another smile, another attack. Nemo barely parries it in time. “I can do better. Father knows I can do better, Father knows you have failed him. He loves you no more, my failure of a brother. He has left you.”

Nemo would love to argue what Father went nowhere, what he still haunts Nemo’s every waking and dreaming moment, what the only thing stopping the God of Murder from consuming his wayward son is the illithid parasite in the bhaalspawn’s brain. But he doesn’t have the time, he doesn’t have the strength, he is failing, and-

The next strike to come is fatal.

Or it would be, if not for a huge tentacle of the brain to come flying out of nowhere.

Sending Orin flying right into the Morphic pool.

To the Brain.

With her stone.

Fuck.

Nemo turns around and meets a bewildered stare of Enver fucking Gortash, the man who just successfully compromised his own plan - their plan - beyond any recovery.

A fool.

Nemo’s blood is so loud in his ears he can barely hear; his heart is throwing itself against the cage of his ribs with a force unbeknown to him before.

He feels elevated, he feels scared, but most of all he feels-

“What the fuck did you do?” he snarls and everything, miraculously, stills. Everyone freezes, staring between them in a mix of surprise and dread.

Everyone feels what something just went very wrong.

“I-“ Enver starts, but Nemo gives him no chance to continue.

“You just threw the Netherstone to the Brain! The Netherstone we use to control the Brain! And you just threw it right at it,” there’s indignation burning in him but also...confusion?

Why? Why would Enver do something like that? Why would he compromise everything? Why would he-

“She was about to kill you,” Gortash seethes. “I saved your life.”

“By dooming everyone and everything in the process,” Nemo shouts back. “By dooming yourself. By the gods, Ketheric, did you see that? How he just- Ruined everything?”

“I did in fact see that,” Ketheric, who is pretty much being held down at the fire point, states. The only thing stopping Nightsong from murdering him here and now is Isobel’s hand on her shoulder. “It was a very stupid thing to do.”

Gortash looks appalled at that.

“I just saved his life!” he repeats like this fixes everything. Like it explains anything. There’s a mad look in his eyes, of a man who just realized what he has done. Then he turns to Nemo. “I saved your life, you ungrateful little-“

“Why?” comes out so quietly it’s barely a whisper.

At first Nemo thinks he asked that, the question was definitely on the tip of his tongue. But no, the voice belongs to Karlach. She rises from the ground, shaken but unhurt.

“I know you; you’re an awful fucking person who only cares for his own well-being. Why would you do something like that,” she gestures at Nemo and Nemo makes a face at her. He knows how he looks, thank you very much. “For him?”

Gortash opens his mouth, hesitates. His eyes dart to Nemo and Nemo meets his gaze with just as inquisitive expression as the one on Karlach’s face.

“Yes, Enver,” he agrees. “Why?”

But Enver never gets to answer, for in that precise moment the waters of the Morphic pool part and a figure crawls out.

A figure of a pale woman with even paler eyes, dressed in red.

Orin.

She takes a step, then another.

And something is wrong.

Her movements are unsteady; her head dangles as if she’s held up the strings and her eyes-

They’re vacant, her eyes, almost empty. They’re...peaceful, and Orin has never been peaceful in her entire damn life.

Nemo makes the involuntary step forward and is immediately held back by Wyll, who, gods only know how, managed to not only teleport his father right next to Karlach, but also come back to Nemo, and is now holding him firmly by the forearm.

“Don’t,” he whispers into Nemo’s ear. “This is not your sister.”

“Orin?” Nemo calls out regardless, because this is his sister. It has to be.

Orin raises her head and looks straight at him. Then she opens her mouth and speaks:

“Praise the Absolute.”

“By the Nine Hells,” Karlach curses. “She got tadpolled.”

“And she has the stone,” Ketheric is the first one to move, ripping himself out of Nightsong’s grip and stepping forward.

“Well, shit.”

An overwhelming, overbearing horror embraces Nemo.

Orin, his little sister. Orin, his murderer, his torturer.

Orin, the perfect slayer. The puppet of the Absolute.

“Maybe I can use the prism,” he starts. “I can bring her back to her senses.”

“And then what?” Wyll argues and it takes Nemo an embarrassingly long time to realize his friend has already started to pull him away. “She’ll try to kill us on her own volition and not the Brain’s? No.”

“We need to go,” Gortash speaks up. “Quickly, now.”

“There’s no ‘we,’”, Karlach argues. “And ‘we’ are not going anywhere with you.”

“Karlach, now is not the time to argue-“

“You sold me to Zariel-“

“Father?” Isobel calls out. “Father, what are you doing?”

Ketheric unsheathes his sword.

“Atoning,” he speaks. The moves to rip the Netherstone from his armor and throw it at Nemo. Nemo, surprisingly, manages to catch it. “Keep it safe,” the man orders and oh, is this his general voice now? “Keep her safe.”

Nemo doesn’t need to ask who he means by that. Instead he argues.

“I am a murderer, you know that, right?” as if any sane argument would work right now. “A murder incarnate. I do not keep people safe.”

“This time you will,” and this is why Ketheric was so feared and respected; a single hard stare pins Nemo to the ground. “Or I will come back and hunt you down to the end of Toriel. To the end of every known realm, if I have to.”

“Not to interrupt this fine and lovely conversation, but general,” Gortash looks just as puzzled as Nemo feels. “What are you doing again?”

The man has some strength enough to smirk.

“What I should have done long time ago,” he sends Isobel a long, sickeningly loving gaze. “The right thing. Isobel.”

“Father,” the girl’s chin trembles. “Father, I don’t-“

“I love you more than any god could understand,” the old general speaks. “And I will never regret bringing you back, never. But now,” he turns his gaze back and manages to parry the quick, efficient and entirely deadly strike of Bhaal’s unloved daughter. “You have to live. And I...I have to take a stand. Go,” he says. “Go,” he commands. “I will hold her back for as long as I can.”

“The undying against the slayer,” Gortash murmurs as he already sprints towards the elevated platform.

The ground shakes as the Brain breaks out of its bonds, bit by bit, slowly but surely. The wave of psionic energy what comes their way almost knocks them all down.

“Go,” Nemo shouts as he and Wyll teleport closer to the exit. Thank fuck for the teleportation spells. Thank fuck for Wyll.

Karlach all but carries dazed Ravengard away as Dame Aylin takes Isobel in her arms and takes flight.

“Go, go, go!” he repeats as a familiar hand grabs him by the shoulder. Nemo doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to act as he is dragged the remaining way to the platform by no-one but the tyrant himself.

The moment Karlach reaches the platform Wyll hits the control panel and they start to rise. Nemo is afraid it is not fast enough.

From the height of their ascend he sees the undying general fight off the slayer. Two Chosen of Gods against each other.

Even from that far away it is clear Ketheric will fall.

He sacrificed himself. He brought them time.

Fool.

***

Down below the illithid colony, amidst the Hell of his own creation, general Ketheric Thorm receives one last, final blow.

Blood oozes out of his wounds, painting the floor red. Above him a woman dressed in red stands; eyes vacant, empty, soulless.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Isobel is safe. And Ketheric...

“Melodia,” he whispers as the last breath leaves his body. “I am coming.”

Somehow he knows she is waiting for him; what she has always waited for him, no matter how far he strayed.

Ketheric Thorm dies peacefully. It feels like falling asleep.