#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

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"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them. 

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays. 

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?" 

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late." 

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious. 

"sorry, maybe next week?" 

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star." 

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips. 

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. 

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations. 

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt. 

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him. 

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that. 

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control. 

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills. 

-

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks. 

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.” 

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension. 

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.” 

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.” 

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?” 

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.” 

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.” 

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?” 

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?” 

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?” 

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.” 

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.” 

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?” 

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend. 

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you. 

you missed him. a lot. 

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over. 

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports? 

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take. 

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3 

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’ 

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm. 

“you ready?” 

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles. 

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved. 

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.” 

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!” 

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.” 

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased. 

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.” 

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close. 

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.” 

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it. 

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him. 

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena. 

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?” 

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped. 

luke was here. 

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction. 

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.” 

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.” 

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.” 

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.” 

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you. 

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.” 

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.” 

“i’m not mad at all.” 

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?” 

“we’re okay.” 

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.” 

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.” 

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.” 

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.” 

“what?” 

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.” 

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.” 

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?” 

“what?” 

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?” 

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.” 

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?” 

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.” 

“bullshit.” 

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?” 

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.” 

“it’s ridiculous?” 

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.” 

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?” 

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.” 

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.” 

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?” 

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: It's time to find your handler and make him answer for what he's done to you.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

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[celestialprincesse]

Hello! Can you write Lieutenant Ghost x Colonel or Captain reader, please! And take your time with it! Thank you 💗💗

I really did take my time with getting around to this whoopsie🥴 Anyways !

John Price retired four months ago, and to the surprise of everyone in TF141, had been replaced externally, instead of by one of them. Ghost, in particular, had not been thrilled with that information. Until he met you.

You'd been one of Laswell's most trusted associates, worked alongside her for years in all different military and CIA branches. Truly the cream of the crop. Despite all your acclaim, the 141 had always been a tight knit family, held together by Captain John Price. What if you couldn't fill his shoes? Keep them running like a well oiled machine?

He'd be the first to admit that despite he and Price's similarity in age, his Captain had been the closest thing to a paternal figure he'd ever had, in his own weird, fucked up and emotionally distant way.

Admittedly, you're beautiful, funny and completely magnetic - but you're not Price. Something about how - how seemingly flawless you are seems to only make you less approachable to Simon, like he'll say one wrong thing to you and not be enough.

You feel the exact same way about him.

Realistically, you know he's your lieutenant, he was Price's too. He should've been the next choice for captain. All of them could've been better for the position than you. Gaz had shadowed Price for as long as he was in the 141. Johnny was the youngest ever to pass the SAS recruitment test. Ghost was noted as exceptionally physically proficient on his file, and had been in the military since he was legally able. Not to mention, Laswell had raved about him to you. You can see why now.

When he lurches at your back, seeing you safely to your office like some loyal guard dog, you can't help but to feel so immensely comforted, like he's a storm, in which you've somehow found yourself in the eye, protected fro, the world outside. And Ghost, loyal as he is, will always protect his team.

The others had taken to you so well, instinctively protective towards the only woman on their team, although you've shown them time and time again that you can hold your own. Simon, however, is on a different level entirely. It's stayed the same since day one. Something in him calls to something in you, and vice versa, and where you go, he goes.

At first, you had thought maybe he was trying to suck up to you, earn your favour, but when he'd started getting in your space, memorising your coffee order and helping you with everything you could imagine, you'd quickly realised that your lieutenant, the big, brave Simon 'ghost' Riley, has a big fat crush on you.

The feeling is mutual.

Obviously, you've got to be careful with the way you go about showing it, especially in a professional environment where fraternisation is frowned upon. It's clear to the both of you though, the pining isn't one sided.

Maybe when you're fully comfortable in your position as captain, well settled into the team, and sure that no one will think that to only way you achieved your position was by blowing someone higher up, maybe then you'll act on your feelings. God forbid you want to. One thing you've fortunately learned in your months working with Ghost, however, is that he's a patient man. He's willing to wait, to let you get comfortable.

Good thing you're patient too.

But until then, you'll settle for the stolen glances with soft eyes, or the way he's always checking on you when you're in the field together. You'll savour the gentle hands patching you up, or the moments between sparring sessions when you sit there sweaty beside one another, just breathing, touching, being.

Pining!! Mutually!! fuck yeah!! They can't have each other!! (yet)😛

still in love though

just subtly

[xxsycamore]

SINFUL DESIRES

╰┈➤ 🖤 You have a hard time relaxing on your spontaneous overnight trip with Victor, so he wastes no time showing you he has tons of fun in store for the two of you…

Victor x f!Reader; • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Overnight Trips; Crimes & Criminals; Mentions of Dungeons; Baking Together; Jealousy; Humor; Competition; Kissing; Biting; Mentions of Knife play; Kitchen Sex; Oral Sex; Cunnilingus; Gentle Sex; Embarrassment; Hair-pulling; Hair Kink; Hand Kink; Finger Sucking; Table Sex; Victor briefly makes reader imagine a dangerous situation; Creampie; Post-sex cuddles; Aftercare • wordcount: 3,842 • masterlist

a/n: Here's my fic for the Ikemen Villains Gift Exchange hosted by @aquagirl1978 ! My giftee was @konekotaichou - I'll let you know I had the widest smile on my face finding out I'll be writing for you. I see your name often under my fics so that's just one way of saying thank you for the support~ Hope you enjoy! <3

"We're hoooooome!"

You should be used to the loud exclamations of your dear Victor by now, but there are still some occasions where you can't help but jump at the sheer volume of them. No, no, you have a very valid reason for your reaction right now! It's because you're still linking arms with him - you have been doing so ever since setting a foot out of the carriage - and this close up, his cheerful greetings directed at no one in particular are even louder.

But it's also because this is not your home at all. It's the vacant ex-base of some criminal group, the estate now seized by Her Majesty.

"Victor… are you sure this is a suitable destination for an overnight trip…? What if there's a dungeon right under our feet filled with—"

"Worry not, my darling! Even if there was such a thing here, right now it would be nothing more than just another empty room with no other purpose but to make things a little more thrilling while we walk above. But you haven't come here before on a mission, have you? I'll let you know - there's nothing like a dungeon in this building!"

Victor's words are very reassuring, if only there weren't another dozen adjacent possibilities to utilize a base that you want to ask about. Whatever. Even on the off-chance that someone was lurking inside the shadows of the place, Victor's noisy and nonchalant barging in has surely scared them way more than it scared you.

Your beautiful Grim Reaper makes himself busy lighting candles left and right, making the place more livable, even if just for the short duration of your trip. It all happened so spontaneously. Just earlier in the day, you mentioned how nice it would be to go somewhere for a change, just the two of you, and in the next moment Victor swept you right off your feet and declared that it's been decided. Being an Aide of the Queen definitely comes with its perks, you just weren't aware that borrowing one of the numerous properties of her Majesty was one of them. He's been very convincing at telling you not to sweat over the details and enjoy the impromptu trip, painting picture after picture with his words earlier while in the carriage, of all the nice sights to be seen around the estate… Though, that would be left for the next day. Right now it's only you and Victor and the empty halls that he's trying to fill with his exuberant presence.

"May I have your attention?"

While distracted with your own thoughts, Victor has entered another room so you hurry to follow his voice to what seems like the kitchen. As if waiting for a spotlight to land on him, Victor's smile widens upon finding your gaze on him. He opens his jacket to reveal…

"Are we going to bake?!"

At least it's not doves taking flight or anything else alive, but that doesn't make the contents of his inner pockets less bewildering as he takes the items out on the counter one by one.

"Ahahahaha! Are you surprised? I came here prepared! I've brought flour, milk, sugar, and butter! Yaay!"

"Scones?!"

"Scones!"

Of course it's scones. But what compels him to enter another's home and bake scones?

Your chemistry must be very good because the look on your face is always enough for Victor to read your mind. Sadly, you can't say the same about the numerous shades of a grin that typically occupy his features, but you're still learning.

"You see, I was thinking of allll the exciting ways to use our privacy, now that we're here. And there's always been one thing I've wanted you to indulge in without limits…"

Victor's eyes shine with a strange light, and you find yourself sinking into their alluring amethyst waters until the meaning behind his words gets all twisted and tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Heat creeps up to your cheeks.

"Like what?..."

"Like stuffing yourself full of scones, of course! As much as I loooove my dear fellow Crown members, these just disappear awfully quickly when they're around!"

Ah, true.

You fight the urge to shake your head and with that shoo away any other unwelcome thoughts like the one you just had. Victor, now stripped down to his black dress shirt, does the next step of preparing himself for the self-appointed task and gathers his long, luxurious dark hair into a ponytail. It's your cue to do some prep of your own, and by habit, you look around for an apron… But of course there'd be no extras like an apron here, the people who used to live in that place were criminals! The mental image of them using the kitchen as intended is somehow comical and it definitely distracts you from the eerie energy gathering around the place. Admittedly, Victor does a great job at it as well, you remind yourself as you sneak a peek of him with a hair ribbon in his mouth - a rare instance of him being quiet, due to the obstacle preventing him from speaking. The giggle finally falls from your lips, and you realize you're having a good time here.

"Oh? Did something funny happen?"

"No, I'm just excited to share this moment of privacy with you. Though, Victor, I can't help but worry a little… Would the others be alright without you? What if they get into a fight with each other… I'm sure William is going to miss you too, you barely warned anyone about us leaving so abruptly! And besides—"

Before the name of another Crown member could fall from your lips, a tall figure towers over you; a pair of hands grab your shoulders and turn you around with the gentleness of a courting dance step. Your rear presses into the counter, and you realize Victor has trapped you in between it and his body. The smile is still on his face, but it's not a grin - it's something lighter, a tad more modest.

"You talk about being excited to have privacy with me, but you're thinking about other men, my little robin? Tsk, tsk, tsk…"

The clicking of his tongue lacks the usual eccentricity that he dresses his manners with. It sounds more threatening than anything, even if you know better than to feel intimidated by the slight change in his tone. It's something else that catches your attention, the tang of jealousy where you least expected to find it. It truly wasn’t your intention, and you probably should find your words and speak up-

"Not that I could blame you. I think about my boys too, haha! But tonight, will you let it be just the two of us?"

His gaze softens, and you can breathe again. The lungful of air is enough to make your chest expand and touch Victor's front, and you realize how tightly he's pressing you into him with his current proximity. It doesn't last long, because Victor steps away the very next second.

"Why don't we play a little game while we're here? There's always room for more fun to be had and I just thought of the perfect thing in our current arrangement."

You remain backed against the counter, just for the sake of the support you didn’t know you needed in the first place. "What kind of game?"

"There are quite a few drawers and cabinets around here, and we have to retrieve all utensils needed for preparing our scones… We will search for each one of them on our own, but whoever finds it first wins one wish to be granted by the other. How does that sound to you?"

Now, this is unexpected. Even though your partner always has a few tricks up his sleeve to spice things up between the two of you, he's still astonishing you with his ideas. You think about it for a second. If you take his word for granted, he must be as unfamiliar with the terrain as you are, putting you on equal grounds for this little game. Besides, you might have a wish ready for him - something small and intimate and fitting for the purpose of utilizing the privacy you just talked about.

"Okay, let's do this! Bring it on! What do we need first?"

Victor finishes starting the coal oven in no time before readying himself for the search and announcing, "A bowl, of course!"

You give each other a brief competitive look before going into opposite directions of the cabinet-lined space, hands reaching out in a rush. Victor uses his height advantage to check the upper shelves first, while you aim for one that is near the sink.

Bingo.

"Here, a bowl!"

Blinking in yet-realized defeat, Victor stares at your triumphant face and then chuckles in his usual tone.

"My, aren't you quick! You better start thinking of a wish, I'm afraid we're having a limited time for goofing around!"

Oh, you're not going to waste any more of it. Or at least no more than enough for the duration of one longed-for kiss.

Victor's expression goes through another change when you pull him down by the collar, and you close your eyes to let it linger in your mind when his lips crash down into yours. You savor them slowly, risking the intended innocence for the sake of enjoying him just a little longer. Soon he's out of breath, and it comes out in the form of a moan - and instead of letting go, it makes you want to kiss him breathless for a little longer. So you do. Because he's so irresistible when he lets you take the lead, when he stays still and pretends to be caught off-guard and lets you have him. He must have held back just for that - else he'd kiss you as soon as setting foot inside the house, he can't fool you that he wasn't awaiting this moment as much as you did.

His jealousy-tinted remark earlier, and this little game… they tell you he might have waited for you to make the first step and show him how much you missed his kisses, his embrace. It doesn't tarnish your victory one bit, for it is still your victory as long as you get what you want.

Victor hisses into the kiss as you realize you got a little too lost in it and bit his lower lip. You withdraw, drawing a breath of your own that you didn’t know you needed this much, but not without placing an apologetic little peck over his lip. The distance between you grows a bit more and looking him in the eye suddenly robs you of the courage you just demonstrated. Even if his cheeks are noticeably tinted pink by the endeavour.

"Next, we'll need a knife."

Your imagination fills with corset ties cut by a sharp blade and garter belts following them, and you fail to consider the task at hand, involuntarily giving Victor an advantage. It only takes two or maybe three drawers for him to find where the cutlery is stored, and he turns back to face you with the glint of a silvery surface catching abundant candlelight.

"First."

Victor gains himself the right to a wish, and you know you'll do anything he says at that moment. He's still carrying a small smile on his face, without showing teeth, just menacing enough to pin you to the counter from a distance. He still prefers the more hands-on approach, and so he takes those few steps to where you're standing, knife still in hand.

He tosses it somewhere on the counter and it lacks the decorum otherwise accompanying his every action. Instead, the hands that crawl all over you are warm and gentle, nothing like the cold blade of a knife. They don’t cut through clothing, but rather make it fall undone in a slower, more lascavious manner.

"Let's take this off…"

To think you were worried about putting on an apron earlier… Victor leaves you down to your underwear, and the last bits of your patience have crumbled to dust by the time he noses your exposed neck. You press yourself more into him, embarrassed at the mewling sounds that fall from your parted lips every time he kisses or sucks at the sensitive skin. He always makes sure to love you throughoutly, no matter how starved he might seem - the gleam in his eyes might trick you into thinking him a beast, but his actions always prove the opposite. His hands run all over your body, grasping and caressing where you want him most, but it's only when he puts you on top of the counter that he strips you down completely in order to please you properly.

He parts your legs with his big sturdy hands, and the trademark chuckle reaches your ears again.

"Ahahaha! Aren't you a dirty girl, getting wet so easily for me? When did that happen? When you kissed me so passionately, or perhaps even earlier? Could it be as soon as we got here?"

Moving to close your legs proves to be futile as Victor's grasp on them prevents you from doing so. There's no point in hiding the obvious, so even with your head turned to the side, you give him an answer.

"I don't know what's gotten into me, I just… I need you, Victor."

"Hmmm…" Victor hums and the sound vibrates low in his throat, "I believe it was my turn to have my wish granted, no?"

You squeeze your eyes shut when his fingertips dance on your belly, making their way down lower and lower.

"And what do you- wish for?" You ask between breaths, trying not to just grab his hand and place it directly where you want it.

Victor looks at you and smiles. "Why, to make you relax of course! Now, if you'd be so kind to let me…"

Unceremoniously, Victor leans down and buries his face between your legs, sending your senses to overdrive with a single sweep of his wicked tongue right across your swollen nub. You groan out his name, but it comes out meekly, troubled by the imaginary danger of someone overhearing you. Even through the fog of immense pleasure coming from Victor's newly-set steady pace, you remind yourself that this shouldn't be the case now - but you still can't let your voice out. It doesn't take long for Victor to notice, and he interrupts his actions to look at you.

"My dear, I need you to tell me how good I'm making you feel."

His gentle voice coaxing the sounds out of you is contrasting with his actions as he shows no mercy on your hot center, making your juices seep out and coat his tongue as he drinks them down hungrily. Victor is a great lover, able to send your head in the clouds with ease, ready to pleasure you for hours on as long as you're able to take more.

You keep your hand in front of your mouth but make sure it doesn't block out the noise, your fingers grazing into the skin of your knuckle just for the sheer need of finding an anchor in this whirlwind of pleasure. You can't stop looking down at Victor, his beautiful long lashes, the slight blush on his smooth cheeks…

"V-Victor- Nhhh, Victor~!" The sound of your own voice embarrasses you as you're not used to hearing it out loud, wanton and obscene like that, and you curl the last syllable into something meeker, softer. It makes him chuckle.

"If that's too much for you, you know how to make me stop." He sing-songs, even if it does little to hide the desire rasping his voice. It awakens a new need inside you, now that you're bare and exposed and things are so unfair - from this angle you don't have a chance of spotting his own arousal and you have to know you're not alone in this uncontrollable desire, heightened by the thrill of the unknown place you found yourself at. It's this that convinces you to make him let go instead of grinding down on his tongue until you find your peak.

Bitting on your bottom lip, you reach out a hand to perform the familiar gesture as Victor laps at you again and again. Your hesitation grants you a bolt of pleasure that drives you dangerously close to the edge, and it's all you need to finally reach for his ponytail and yank him off of you.

"Ahh…" Victor moans at the sensation, knowing fully well he was the one who asked for it and still falling prey to the tantalizing act he loves so much. He straightens himself back up and his lips are glistening with your liquid arousal, so you can't help tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, caressing over the beauty mark. He takes the initiative and kisses you on the spot.

His sweet kiss serves only to distract as Victor makes a quick work of unfastening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Warm arms wrap around your middle and in answer your snake yours around his neck, whining at the sensation of his diamond-hard cock pressing against your folds so close to where you need it. But Victor doesn't take you just yet, because his strong arms carry you to the table instead.

Your back meets the wooden surface and your legs are spread apart at the knees by a pair of large hands as Victor looks down at you, open and dripping and ready for him. His smile never leaves his face as you sense him giving himself a couple of pumps before aiming for your aching hole.

"Remember to scream my name loudly!"

Victor's sizeable hardness is gradually stuffed inside your tight hole as you find yourself doing anything to prevent his kind request.

"Ahh—"

One of his hands comes to brush yours away but instead you take a strong hold of it, almost enough to bruise him with little crescents left by your nails, in an attempt to keep it over your mouth. As Victor takes his time getting you used to his cock, you put his index finger in your mouth, looking him in the eye as you both test the limits of your patience.

"Be careful now, I don't want you choking on that when I start loving you in the earnest!"

The promise of what is to come sends a shiver down your spine as your mouth is left agape even after the loss of his finger.

"Nhhhh- Victor!" You shout his name as he suddenly picks up the speed, fucking you onto the table and holding you securely into place. You toss your head back and stare at the ceiling, unable to catch your breath as the head of his cock repeatedly prods at your deepest parts.

"My, aren't you starting to relax at long last!" Victor exclaims between heavy breaths, not being one to hide his own sounds of arousal, "Being fucked on the table where such dangerous men used to sit, plotting their next crime…"

Your eyes snap open, insides clenching tightly around Victor's cock, a mere instinct and nothing you have control over. The words sink in, even if you're mostly unable to think straight with your current circumstances. Your brain, high on pleasure hormones, gets creative against your will, until you can almost see playing cards being passed around on the table right where you lay bare; drunken shouts and crude remarks birthing shrill laughter and cigarette smoke dancing in the air to leech thickly onto the curtains.

Your body convulses, but it only serves to shake away the unpleasant visual as it all dissipates like a fog around you until only Victor remains. It makes you want to scream his name louder, to feel his presence domineering over every silly thought in your head. Perhaps it was his plan all along. It's so easy to lower your guard around Victor, around Victor's hearty laugher, around Victor's ever-smiling eyes-

"Nhnnn— Ahhh!! More, give me more!"

You lock your legs around Victor, and the hand reaching out to his shoulder quickly gets naughtier as you tug at the ribbon holding his hair together. Long strands cascade down and frame his form, the ends of it pooling just over your belly and tickling you softly in a very familiar manner - you can't help but miss the dark veil of his hair falling over you every time he's taking you from the front like that. It also makes it easier to tug down on it and make him groan.

"Ahh— You're too naughty, aren't you?"

You can't help it, feeling your climax approaching, wanting to drag Victor into that pit along with you. You chant his name as you care little about letting your voice out anymore, focusing only on the man in front of you and how badly you need to feel him erupt inside you. Your legs locked around his torso prevent him any escape that you know he won't look for anyway, because he only fucks you harder and faster, losing all demure and rhythm as he moans your name in return.

"I'm coming—"

His warning sends you over the edge as hot-white takes over your vision, nerves sparkling with pure pleasure all over as your whole body tremors in copious amounts of ecstasy upon feeling Victor join you suit, his come painting your insides spurt after spurt. He keeps fucking you through it all, half-broken I love you's whispered among other not-so-sweet things that still somehow keep his gentleman persona intact when combined with the soft caresses he places over the small of your back, your body arched and unnoticeably raised from the table to meet his thrusts. He lays you back down carefully, but your arms are still held out and inviting for another embrace, a freshly fucked-out but pouty look on your face to match.

"Hahaha. I'm not going anywhere, cute little robin!"

Still catching your breath, you press clumsy kisses all over his cheeks as he hugs you, and he does the same.

"Victor, that felt…somehow sinful."

"But so good?"

You hum out a sound of agreement, and he giggles in your neck like a naughty child. The peace doesn't last for long, because his next whisper alerts your senses anew.

"What about making something even more sinful now?"

You ask with hesitation and just a tad of curiosity in the mix.

"Like what?"

Victor grins, withdrawing so you can clearly see his closed-eye grin.

"Like adding some eeeeextra butter to those scones! It could be our dirty secret!"

Oh. Your heart should be signaled to calm down now, but the truth is, this is one thing you can't pretend to be a saint about, not when your mouth waters at his words. There's little left to do than to answer your partner in a fashion that matches his antics.

"Yaaaay!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @justpeachyteastea Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[semisolidmind]

How does the Modern Reincarnation AU work in the Twice as Bad AU? Especially with MK and everything? I know it would probably be completely unlikely that Peaches would get the opportunity to die with her two monkey hubbies always around her, but what if her dying happened on the journey? Like her death was something that happened while the monkey demons were restrained and couldn't do anything about it, causing them to wait the couple hundred years until she pops up again?

(Also, I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am for your creativity and art! You're awesome. Hope you have a great day! 💙)

oh man oh boy (also thank you skye, you're making my day :))

(so both monkeys have wrist and ankle cuffs in this au, and the cuffs work like a less harmful version of the circlets. anytime reader says a certain command, they throw the demon wearing them to the ground. i imagine that the moment reader dies, the cuffs fall off.)

it's utterly silent when they hit the ground.

the boys are distraught. they're inconsolable. theyre angry. whatever demon caused reader's death will be torn apart peice by peice, tortured until death. and then...

...nothing. the monkey demons shut down beyond an occasional terse word. they're still technically bound to the journey by the circlets and the bodhisattva's command, and so they continue on. they only speak to their companions when necessary. macaque spends most of his time in the shadows, and wukong walks behind the group. they take out their sadness and rage on the myriad demons that get in their way. the journey concludes with wukong and macaque denying their enlightenment and going home to flower fruit mountain.

their conquests become especially brutal for the next couple hundred years.

–––

centuries later, mk comes into the world. wukong finds him wandering the mountain, and adopts him as his own. macaque is an uncle figure to the boy, helping in his training and teaching a different worldview. mk grows up knowing very little about humans beyond what his monkey family tells him. regardless, he's curious and wants to know more.

the two elder monkey demons are jaded, and their resentment for the celestial realm and humanity has only grown. though, they'll both slip into wistfulnesss occasionally, telling mk about reader and what she was like. he heard plenty of stories about her growing up, and he always finds himself wishing he could have met her. it's the only time mk will hear his caretakers speak positively about a human.

when mk asks to go into the city, wukong refuses. he doesn't want his son around any mortals, and were it not for his "infinite mercy," that wretched city would be dust by now. it's only when macaque agrees to go with mk that wukong relents. macaque, who's somewhat more knowledgeable about modern humans than his brother, tells mk what he knows about how the mortal world works. mk doesn't get the chance to make his friends until later in this au, when he's allowed to make short solo excursions into the city to buy groceries.

he's taking too long on a run when it happens.

mk has encountered mei, and thinking the dragon heir was trying to start a fight (given the monkey demons' history with dragons), mk battles her. while the two have their brawl that eventually ends in tentative friendship, macaque waits at a rendezvous point.

when mk doesn't show after twenty minutes, macaque lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets out across the roof tops and alleyways to search for him. the kid, for all his strengths, has never been good at time management. after a while, macaque is able to track him to a little noodle shop in the downtown area.

the dark-furred simian watches from a nearby rooftop as mk and...a disguised dragon? girl? go inside the shop. macaque melds into the shadows, following them in through the half-shuttered doorway. the shop isn't anything to write home about; simple decor, simple noodles, a suspiciously familiar pig demon manning the kitchen, a woman managing the register—

macaque stops cold.

it only takes a second for macaque to get a read on the woman's soul. and upon closer inspection, she looks familiar too.

heartbreakingly familiar. same hair, same eyes... same smile, aimed at mk as she welcomes him. this woman—she's their reader, reincarnated. she has to be. mk makes a joke, something about monkeying around, and the girl laughs; the same joyful sound he remembers from all those centuries ago. it's the same. she's the same.

a shadowy tear makes its way down his incorporeal face. she's here. alive.

he has to tell wukong.

[ghostgirl101]

Can we get some headcanons of Jeff t.K. in a relationship? ^^

Dating Jeff The Killer Would Be Like This:

A/N: Well, this is a long overdue request, hope the wait was worth it 🙃 I’m going to be waiting for you all at least twice a week from now on, and there are a few spaces left for requests if you want to get yours in for Jeff and others now if you're interested 🔪 This is the original creepypasta Jeff, but I could try writing for David Near's version too if anyone's wondering... enjoy.

🔪• Well damn, there's a lot to include for this crazy son of a biatch, so get ready-

🔪• It's an uncomfortable night, the skies outside pitch black, stars clouded over and your curtains ruffling as you glare tiredly at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to overtake you. But there's just something that's keeping you half-aware, something that makes you toss and turn for a while, eyeing the window with a furrow of your brows. It's almost like someone's watching your every move. You just can't see them.

🔪• Until that whispering, hoarse voice pierces through the still silence from behind your curtains, making your eyes widen in horror at the sadistic chuckling that only gets nearer as you will your body to move from its frozen position.

🔪• The tip of his blade skims across the skin off your face before you can make out his own, pale and deathly and twisted with a nasty, deeply cut grin etched up his cheeks. His cold blue eyes linger over your features, and it’s a frustrating and vulnerable feeling knowing that can read you a lot better than you can him. It’s a tense few moments when all you feel is the end of the sharp dagger trace just light enough down a cheek and your lips, resting there for a second, as if he’s thinking.

🔪• Jeff doesn’t keep you alive just because you’re you - he doesn’t know who you are, or why you look, in his eyes, almost as beautiful as he does. But it makes him curious and confused, something he’s not used to and doesn’t particularly like at first. So with a scoff, the knife is suddenly snatched away, replaced with his face right down next to yours, with a “go to sleep~” and sudden darkness.

🔪• It’s a wonder to you when you wake up the next morning unharmed. It’s unheard of for the infamous killer to let his victims go, but after that night, it’s clear to you that what you experienced wasn’t some sort of weird nightmare. You feel eyes on you almost every minute of the day, footsteps that aren’t your own following you when you’re by yourself, shadows in the hall that turned out to be nothing…

🔪• The only times Jeff will make his appearances where you can actually see and talk to him is at night. At first, it's kind of to see how you'll react - scared and screaming panicking like the others, or oddly curious and mildly apprehensive - if you show the latter, he'll definitely be caught if guard, because he's used to the screaming and crying. But even if you do panic and start some weird chase scene around your house, Jeff seems to find it amusing, until he's had enough and corners you, hissing in your ear, "would you calm the hell down doll, you don't wanna wake the whole damn street, now do you?"

🔪• And you're like yes?!?? Because a scarred maniac is in my room and getting blood stains over my non-washable flooring??! Or maybe that's just me

🔪• This boy can be an absolute mystery to anyone who manages to survive him, because they never really figure out the solid reason why, or his whole backstory, his intentions, etc. All they know is that he's a killer who preys on young people at the night and disappears in the morning. Some survive him because they're interesting for a while, and die when they're not anymore. Some remind him of his past self, and on a bad day, he remembers how much he hates that and gets rid of them too. Some are just to play around with. And then there's you.

🔪• Jeff doesn't give you much of a reason either when you question his motives, because at first, he can't even be sure of why he's ket you around. Is it because you're pretty? Somehow different from his other victims? It's not because he's gone soft. The whole thought process ends up frustrating him, so he'll storm out the window to be alone and try taking his mind off it by going after some whiny targets. But still, he keeps thinking about the question, about you, watching him in some kind of awe and confusion. Why do you care? Why does he care?!

🔪• This whole thing is not some fast-paced cliche love story where everything's sappy and sweet and he'll kill everyone but you. He's still the infamous Jeff The Killer. But that doesn't mean he isn't a little soft for you. Just don't point it out, or he gets flustered and defensive.

🔪• At one point, he wanted to just kidnap you and have you with him all the time, but you had to put your foot down and promise to stick around every night for him to come and go as he pleases, which calmed him down. Because, yeah, that's not happening Jeff, calm yourselffff

🔪• It ends up being him popping in almost every night, with you learning to keep your windows open so you don’t have to keep on replacing the forced-in smashed glass. And even when he visits, it takes time for him to reveal himself, little by little, until you can make out all the rough burns and dried blood that blemish practically every inch of his skin. It's not that he's all insecure - he thinks he’s beautiful most days, and he’s not trying to make you feel less scared by his appearance, because him being the jackass that he is, finds jump scaring you funny.

🔪• But he can have bad days, days where he can't stop thinking about his brother and parents and all that made him who he is, and when that happens, he either bearly says anything and sulks with his knives in the corner of your room, and pretty much lets you do anything. Like, you could end up playing and studying his knives - he watches apprehensively at first, all ready for you to try to stab him in the back - but after time goes by and you've given up questioning yourself as to why you're letting a cold-blooded murderer hang out with you almost every night in your room, he sees that you're not trying to defend yourself in those extreme measures, so kind of lets you do your thing.

🔪• It's nice for him to have the company, too, and he enjoys the small conversations he has with you: the nosy, lucky, pretty little survivor who asks too many questions about him and has a smile that's almost as good as his. Him being him offers to carve one in, and still jokingly tries to while you fight him off with a string of curses. He can be really annoying when he wants to, because he finds your reactions cute. If, on the extremely rare occasions, you happen to see him before it goes dark, doing your homework or something, he'll try drawing on the paper or mucking around with your stuff to distract you. If you're watching something, he'll spoil the ending or give a stupid running commentary. If you annoy him back by any means you can, Jeff gets all pouty and frustrated, but it's also sort of endearing to him??

🔪• So he'll be all "are you freaking stupid, or just suicidal, antagonising a serial killer?!" but he can't help scoffing at you in some form of fondness that he hasn't even realised has been growing in him

🔪• When he ultimately realises that hey! you're stalking and killing the bullies of and are increasingly obsessing over this person, it takes him a bit of time to process. He might not show up on that night, wanting to get his thoughts straight, leaving you very confused, but Jeff does show up the next night wanting you to shut up and sit down and listen to him, because he doesn't want to make this any weirder than it feels for him. You'll hardly understand what he's getting at when he spurts out how you're different and he doesn't really believe in fate but something feels right and every Clyde needs his Bonnie and random crap like that 😂

🔪• You'll have to cut him off with a "so are you asking me out?" and he's like "well... yeah, duh. Don't even think about saying no, because you're not getting rid of me, even if you want to, alright?!?" You can tell he's uncharacteristically nervous. So when you've assessed the situation and see that there's no more harm than there already has been to saying yes, there's an unreadable look of shock and something more in his stony eyes. Then his grin is back, and he's annoying you again by whirling you around in the air and stuff, and boom! You're never getting rid of the maniac. He's yours. Congratulations.

🔪• I'm gonna be honest with you; dating Jeff The Killer is definitely not the easiest mountain you chose to climb, but at the end of the day, if all you want is his manic, obsessive love and devotion to you, then it's well worth it. Take the amount of obsessiveness and stalker behaviour he's shown to you as a weird-ass friend and multiply it by a thousand. I'm not kidding.

🔪• Jeff The Killer genuinely cares about those who have somehow made it to that point with him, and as you're at the top of that list, damn, you'll be spoiled. Don't ask him where he gets all the jewels and trinkets and things you've been wanting or that match your hobbies and talents, because they're yours, and they've always been yours. So your welcome, enjoy, he knew you'd like it. That's one way he shows his love. It's kind of like a way of saying that he's always thinking about you, which isn't an exaggeration at all. I can definitely imagine him killing for you with pride and bringing back a heart all casual-like, while you shake your head with an awkward smile.

🔪• "That's, uh, sweet of you, Jeff, but seriously, throw it away now, that's rank."

🔪• No one else catches his eye after you, too. He's never met someone truly beautiful, inside and out, before you, and he's convinced he won't after. So if someone tries to beg for their life or give him compliments he used to like, it's pretty much ineffective now. "You'll ever be as hot as my doll is, you sadass, but here, I'll carve a little something to get you halfway there~"

🔪• He can actually be surprisingly sweet when he wants to. On his bad days, now he'll just lean into you in silence and twirl his blade around, while you play with his hair or put something on TV or somehow end up staring at him. If you look closer and beyond the chalky white shade of his burnt skin and the deep, bloody scars that trace up from his lips, you can notice how he probably was a good-looking boy before the 'accident.' But don't let him catch you looking, because, bad mood or not, he's a cocky bastard, and will end up grinning and saying something like "it's rude to stare, dolly," which ruins the moment lmao

🔪• Jeff can also get clingy when he feels like it too, though he'll never admit it. He likes how your body's always warm when he is somehow always freezing, and being able to have time alone with you, where you're all his, and no one can take it away from him. He'll go freaking rabid if anyone tries, and no one wants that.

🔪• He gets a little awkward when it comes to comfort and opening up, but he'll get there. He learns from you to just give you a silent hug instead of patting you on the back and telling you to chin up or something stupid, or tries to make you laugh, or kills the thing that's getting you down, if you let him. That's your decision 🙃

🔪• He eventually opens up to you about his past, too, which takes him a lot of courage and a lot of patience for you. It's good that you know, though, because it's something to be even closer about, and the more you know about each other, the more you belong together. At least, that's Jeff's logic.

🔪• Jeff can be a bit possessive and sulky when those moments have to end in the mornings, and he's been known to just shove his white hoodie over your head and demand you wear it when he's not with you. Which is fine, Jeff, but seriously, clean that blood of it first.

🔪• But when all is said and done, no matter how heartless and cold and crazy he may seem, and undoubtedly is, he's sane enough to know that he loves you. His love can be ridiculously intense and overwhelming at times, but you can learn to work around or with it. He will do it. Whether anyone believes it or not, him and you knowing your love is enough for Jeff.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello!

How are you? I was wondering if you could write some Fairy Tail fluff please?

I was thinking of something with Laxus and Sting ( separately) jealous hc please?

Thank you!

A/n: Hello, I'm doing pretty good. How are you? Anyways thank you for request I hope you enjoy these and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Sting:

He's not normally the Jealous type so I feel it would take a lot for him to really get jealous

for this we'll say you've been spending a lot more time around Rogue

At first he just thinks you're getting closer with Rogue because He's his best friend and he's happy about it

But then the two of you start being secretive, nothing big just hushed conversations and going quiet when he enters the room

He can't help but think something is going on, after all what if you changed your mind and fell for the shadow dragon over him

So thinking his friend won his s/o, Sting would start to grow distant

He'd eat meals in his office or skip them all together, not go on jobs with You and Rogue as much claiming he had guild master work to do (even though we all know he never actually does it)

Sting would also get easily irritated, snapping at guild members for little things and ignoring anyone who tries to ask if he's okay

Once finally notice and try to talk to him, he's on guard after all how can he trust you when you've been spending more time around Rogue instead of with him

You'll most likely have to slap him once to get him to actually listen but don't worry he does eventually listen

He'll apologize repeatedly for thinking anything was happening between you and Rogue, especially once you tell him you were hang out with Rogue to help Frosch become a little more independent

Sting will also be a little more clingy for a little while after

Always having a hand in yours or on your waist or shoulder, he just wants to reassure him self that you really are still with him and aren't going to leave him

Laxus:

This wall of a man is 100% the silent/protective jealous type

He wouldn't get jealous super easy but there is one person who can cause this man to get jealous over nothing

That person is none other than the Pink haired Dragon slayer, Natsu

Laxus knows that you're friends with the fire dragon, but something about the way he can always make you laugh really grates at the Lightning dragon

His jealousy starts out as glares across the guild hall, if looks could kill the pinkette would be dead 100 times over by now

He just sits silently and watches telling himself and the rest of the Thunder legion (who already figured out he was jealous) that he is just making sure you're okay

After a while of just glaring and neither of you noticing his stare, Laxus will get up and walk over to you

He'll stay quiet except for a slight grumble as he sits down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder

The blonde would just sit there, chest puffed up a bit trying to silently show who you belong too

But once he feels you relax into him, he softens

He may not say it but feeling you lean further into his side, while you talk with your friend helps calm him down

Laxus still shoots a glare at his fellow dragon slayer but it's more out of the fact that Natsu gets on his nerves than anything else at this point

He'll still wait for the perfect moment to pull you away from the conversation with Natsu so he can fully relax but having you next to him reassures him that you wouldn't trade him for anyone else

(dividers by cafekitsune)

[traumxrei-archive]

Suddenly getting emotional thinking about Jamil and how his life was chosen for him when he was born. If he would take the chance to leave his position if he could- if he'd feel lost with his newfound freedom or resentment at all his skills that, while he's great at them, were gained because he served Kalim.

I wonder how it is that others can't notice Jamil, how others can see him as just Kalim's shadow, how anyone can say, "Just have Jamil do it." And then there's you, who will look past Kalim to look for Jamil. You, who can ignore Kalim unintentionally because your staring at and daydreaming about Jamil. When you ask something of Jamil, you're not asking because it's his duty as a servant or tossing him some task while not caring if he can do it or not- we ask specifically for him because we know he can do it.

And trying to imagine how Jamil would be able to see the difference. How he'd be used to not really being seen- the name Jamil is not an individual, just the name for a faceless, identity-less thing in the background who's supposed to live for others. How he is confused when you show up at the dorm and brush off Kalim's friendly advances because you came specifically for Jamil. How you invite him to be on the other social side that he's always served- "Jamil, you haven't eaten yet, come join us!", "Jamil, you keep doing homework, I can go get that for Kalim", "Leave it for someone else to clean up, we weren't the ones responsible in the first place."

How those sitting with Kalim don't even register that he's in the room, but when it's you, your whole face lights up when you spot him. How you can't look away from his face until you've given him a smile that's brimming with your love for him. And how foreign this feels to Jamil, but maybe he doesn't hate it.

(Aka how I hadn't fully understood how Jamil felt because I acknowledged him as an individual from the start and didn't think properly about how he's typically seen as just an object in the Al-Asim household)

anon.............anon you should open a writing blog. like. i am at a loss. because you put into words the inexplicable sadness that i feel about jamil... this is so perfect that i don't think i'll be able to add much onto it, but i'll try anyway. maybe we'll take jamil's perspective, since you wrote so in depth about the prefect's perspective....

of course, your existence kind of greatly irritated jamil—at first. especially after you ruined his perfect plan to take over scarabia....but that doesn't matter now. now, he's perplexed.

he thought that you would avoid him like the plague, especially after all that he subjected you to during winter break. but instead, he started noticing you. it did help that you had a literal flaming cat next to you at all times, but he started seeing you a whole lot more.

and he felt like you were seeing him.

usually, he would wait on the side in busy hallways as kalim chattered happily with his classmates, waiting to deliver him to his next class. but he found that he was the one being sought out by you. which was weird, everyone had always wanted to talk to kalim, not him. but there you were, asking him mundane questions like how did he make that potion so easily? (practice, he answered.) what did he have for lunch? (kalim's favorite shawarmas. no, he didn't have extras.)

and he wouldn't be lying if he wasn't waiting for a certain question. one where you would ask him for a favor of some sort, and where he would have to don a mask and agree to whatever they wanted but... that question never came. he heard grim hollering for you, and just like that you were gone. huh. now that was new.

jamil noticed it happening more and more as time went by, especially as your visits to the scarabia dorm increased. at first he thought you visited solely for the food. which would mean more work for him. but he found that you weren't with kalim most of the time. rather you were rejecting kalim's proposals for holding feasts quite effectively.

instead you came to him, sometimes for a quick chat, sometimes you'd ask if he needed help. (he would always say no, the response trained into him for years upon years) but you would insist anyway, and he always found a small smile on his face whenever he was faced with your antics. (of course, he tried hard to make sure to hide those smiles behind a carefully placed hand)

jamil didn't really know when "resenting you" became "tolerating you" and he was even more clueless on how that feeling had evolved into "being fond of you".

maybe it was the time where you pushed him right past a messy-looking scarabia lounge, claiming that it wasn't his mess to clean up. or maybe it was one of the times where he was about to bunk basketball practice because kalim had called, and you said you could could meet kalim on his behalf. or maybe the time you pulled him into the school kitchens to show off lopsided-looking vada pavs that you made from one of the cookbooks he lent you.

maybe it was all the little things.

but around you, he didn't feel like "jamil viper, firstborn of the viper family" or "jamil viper, attendant to kalim al asim". no, he felt like "just jamil viper".

and maybe that's why jamil doesn't stop it when he felt that fondness turning into something brighter and more explosive. maybe that was why he started going to you— sitting next to you in your shared classes, bringing you snacks he made during lunch, or even visiting ramshackle. he found that he couldn't get enough of spending time with you. and jamil found that he didn't hate that.

(though jamil never said it outloud, you could see it in the way his eyes sparkled when he was with you, as cliche as it sounded. though his expressions remained schooled, there was something there that told you that jamil viper really, truly cared about you.)

n e ways, that's it for me. i hope you enjoyed reading my addition anon,,,,even though idk if you'll even see this since it's been so long. but i thoroughly enjoyed that sudden jamil brainrot ^^

[doggone-devil]

How (Not) to Summon a Demon: Chapter 10 (The End)

Here it is, my dear readers, the final chapter! The end to our story and with that, a big announcement! I am now writing a sequel! This book is now a series. How (Not) to Lose Your Soul will continue where we left off here, with the first chapter being released March 10th, 2024. I do hope you've all enjoyed this one and I hope its ending was well worth the wait. I look forward to seeing you all in the next one, my dear readers. <3 Pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of death, mental breakdowns, loss, and use of profanity

It's instant, happening as fast as the bullet that pierced the air.

One second, he's looking at you as you look up at him, his heart thumping against his chest. He feels peace, something he hadn't in a very long time, and then it's gone.

He shouts your name, hearing Veronica scream but his focus is on you as you fall. He quickly grabs you, easing you to the ground gently. He calls your name again. "Stay with me!" You try to reach out for him but your hand falls. He looks down and his eyes widen. Blood. Your blood. So much of it spilling out from the wound in your chest. Your shirt is stained red. His heart stops, eyes watering. His smile hurts and he curses the way it stays on his face. He doesn't want to smile. Not now.

"You can't leave me," Alastor whispers, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. He feels hands start to pull him away, growling and snarling at them. Police are pushing him back as medics begin to touch you.

"Stay away from her!" he shouts at them. He has to protect you. He has to.

"Al, it's ok! They're going to help her!" Veronica says, stepping into view. Alastor glances at her then back to you. The police release him and he falls to the ground on his knees. He watches as they lift you up on a stretcher, carrying your limp body to the ambulance.

It's so sudden when it happens. He can feel it, like a string being cut. You're gone.

Green swirls around him, the light blinding and he fights against it.

"No! I have to stay, I have to be here with her! I can't leave!" he screams against the light, clawing at it to stay where he is. His hands pass through the asphalt, his body becoming transparent. "No!"

The scenery before him melts into one he's so familiar to, and yet unknown. The hard ground of the parking lot turns to plush carpet of the hotel lobby as Alastor is dropped back into Hell. The contract had been terminated, nullified by your death.

You were dead.

"Alastor!" Charlie runs over to where Alastor stays kneeled, his arms hanging limp, eyes wide as he stares numbly at the floor. "Alastor?" He looks up at her, the tears falling through. She gasps, "What happened?"

The smile that plagues him quivers as he speaks.

"I lost her." Charlie looks confused, placing her hand on Alastor's shoulder. "Lost who, Al?" The others are coming around now yet giving him space, their faces all carrying the same look of disbelief as they watch Alastor come undone.

His shadows start to dance around him, growling and hissing as they rise. His hands claw at his face. Charlie pulls back in fear, Vaggie coming to guide her further away. The shadows continue to swirl around him, giggling and laughing like children. Their hands clasp together, capturing Alastor inside the circle as green symbols appear. Green stitches thread through his lips and his clothes. He slams his fists to the ground, a painful howl releasing from him as his shadows scream. They break the circle and run rampant through the hotel, shaking the walls and rattling the furniture.

He rips at the carpet, anger and hurt burning through his chest as he whimpers. "I lost her."

--

Six days.

You had been in the hospital for six days when news of your ex's arrest made it to you. Veronica, your loyal friend, had made sure the police knew what happened, telling them about your history with John as she showed them the video from your phone. That, plus the fact that he shot you, landed him in prison for life. He was gone for good and yet you couldn't feel happy about it.

When you asked Veronica about Alastor, she had frowned, grabbing  your hands gently. She explained how she tried to give him a ride to the hospital where they were taking you, but when she turned to tell him, he was gone. She had looked all around the parking lot, but nothing. Your heart dropped and you cried.

Deep down, you knew what had happened. The contract you formed with him when you did the summoning would only end when you either made your wish or if your life somehow ended before then. The doctors were able to resuscitate you, but you were dead for over a minute. You knew that's when it happened, the thread holding you and Alastor together had broke.

Another five days and the hospital cleared you to go home. The bullet had pierced your lung and you had lost an alarming amount of blood. Luckily, they were able to save you, a miracle they said. You didn't feel like it was a miracle.

Veronica helped you home, the apartment feeling cold and lonely. You glance at Alastor's room, expecting to see him there, smiling up at you and welcoming you home. The room is empty, cold. You feel the urge to cry returning.

"I'm gonna grab you some water, ok?" Veronica says, helping you to sit on the couch. You sit there numbly as she power walks to the kitchen, staring at nothing until she returns. She calls your name but you don't listen. Sighing, she sets the glass down on the coffee table. "Girlie, talk to me, please," she asks, grabbing your hands in hers. The tears begin to flow slowly.

"He's gone," you whisper.

"Well, yeah. Bastard's gonna rot in jail now." You shake your head.

"He's gone," you say again.

"Oh, you mean," she stops, not wanting to say his name in fear of you crying harder. "I'm sure he'll come back." You want to believe her, but you know he's gone. He was in Hell while you were stuck on Earth. The pain in your heart tumbles forth and you shake your head again, closing your eyes tight. You sob harder, wincing when your body shakes, pain throbbing in your chest. The wound was healed enough to no longer be fatal, but the remnants left behind still hurt.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," you whisper through the tears.

"You make it sound like you won't ever see him again," Veronica jokes, but her smile fades when you don't laugh. "Oh honey. You love him, don't you?"

"Yes," you admit, your hands gripping your chest. You love him. You love him so much and you didn't even get to tell him, the chance ripped away from you. Veronica grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug. She rubs your back in an attempt to calm you.

"It's gonna be ok," she says. "If I know anything, it's that he loves you back so I'm sure he'll come waltzing through that door any day now."

"He won't," you sigh, wiping some of the tears away.

"Well not with that attitude. You gotta have some hope, right? Do you have his number? We could call him!" Veronica pulls out her phone. You stop her.

"It won't work."

"And why not?" she questions. You feel strange for what you're about to say, like you're betraying him in some way, yet you decide she needs to know.

"He's not here."

"Yeah, I got that Sherlock," she states, rolling her eyes. You shake your head.

"I meant he's not here on Earth." She looks at you like you've lost your head.

"Ok, gonna need you to start making sense here, girlie."

"Remember the book?" you ask. She nods. "Remember when I said I tried it out, too, when you went to get pizza?" She nods again and you sigh. "It worked."

"Wait, so," she sits further onto the couch, turning towards you, "are you saying that Alastor isn't here because he's the demon you summoned from the book?"

"Yep," you say with a pop.  "Sounds insane when you say it."

"That's cause it is!" She stares at you in disbelief. "I mean, come on! The man might've been a bit weird, but, a demon?"

"A demon," you repeat, ignoring the look she gives you. You decide to give her the whole story.  "He appeared in my room that following morning, talking about Hell and how he was contracted to make a wish with me for my soul." You smile fondly as you tell her about the deal you two made, how he'd live with you until you could make a wish. You even told her how you tried to make a wish for her but it was against the rules.

"You know this sounds bat shit crazy, right?" Veronica asks.

"Crazy or not, he was real. He was real and now he's … gone," you choke on the last word, folding in on yourself. Veronica frowns, crossing her arms.

"Well, you summoned him once, right? Do it again."

You look up at her. "What?"

"If you really did summon him, just do it again. We still have the book don't we?" You jerk upright, gasping in pain. "Easy!"

"The book," you say through the pain. "Where is it?"

"It's," Veronica trails off, looking around. You look, too, unable to spot it. You can't remember where you had put it, either, after that night. "Well, shit."

"We have to find it." You stand up, swaying slightly before moving forward. "Check the cushions. Under the table. It's got to be here."

"Alright, alright. Calm down, we'll find it." Veronica helps you look. It's not anywhere in the living room, nor in the kitchen or on the dining table. Did Alastor move it? God, you hope not. You'd never find it then. "Check your bedroom!" Veronica suggests.

"Good idea." You walk to your bedroom, throwing open the door. Your check under your covers, in your nightstand, your closet. You even force yourself to bend over to check under the bed, ignoring Veronica's protests. It's not there.

The book is gone.

"Fuck!" you shout, kicking your bed frame. You hiss at the pain in your toe.

"Don't hurt yourself more," Veronica warns, coming to help you. "Books don't just get up and walk away. We'll find it."

"Veronica, if I -," tears spill once again. "I have to see him again."

"Good lord, leave it to you to fall in love with a demon," Veronica huffs. "But I ain't one to not help my best friend after she's finally found someone. Not after all these years of me desperately trying. We'll get your man-demon-whatever, don't you worry." You manage to smile, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, girlie." Veronica returns the hug, gentle as to not irritate your chest. You pull back, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You felt a surge of determination, of renewed hope. You were going to find that book, you were going to summon Alastor again, and you were going to tell him how you feel. Then, you would make your wish and neither Hell nor Heaven could stop you.

A knock at the front door startles you and Veronica, the two of your sharing a puzzled look. You weren't expecting company and neither was she.

"Stay here," Veronica mumbles, grabbing pepper spray from her pocket as she leaves to go see who it is. You wait patiently, worried, until she reappears.

"Who was it?" you ask.

"It's for you," she responds blankly, her eyes glazed over. You stand, walking to her.

"Veronica?" You wave your hand in front of her face, but she doesn't respond. You look past her and see a tall woman standing in your apartment. You quickly step around Veronica, shielding her. "What have you done?"

"What needs to be done," the woman speaks, her voice cold. It unnerves you.

"Who are you?"

"We both know you know the answer to that, my child," the woman says. You look at her more closely. Her eyes are angled, like an owl, her hair feathered out and down her back, pure white. It reminds you of feathers.

"You're an angel."

"Correct." She steps closer, her hands outstretched. "You have committed the ultimate sin, little one. I'm here to warn you. Turn back now, forget what has happened, and all shall be forgiven."

"What?" Forget what has happened? Forget… "No." You glare at her, fists clenched.

"No?" Her stone blue eyes narrow at you. "You would defy the word of Heaven?"

"I would defy the word of God himself if it meant I could stay with him," you state, teeth bared at her.

"Watch your tongue, little one. I can not save you from the fires if you so willingly go towards them," she warns. You bark out a laugh.

"If the fires are what I must walk through to return to him, I would gladly do so any day. Not you, nor any one else, is going to stop me."

"How sad." She drops her arms, her form shifting from human to something otherworldly. Her lips sharpen into a beak, her lashes growing out past her face. Multiple wings sprout from her back. "I ask once more, my child. Would you deny the gates of heaven, eternal peace, for a demon?" She sneers the word, as if it burns her tongue just to speak it.

"Yes," you answer. There is no hesitation, no doubt in your mind as you confirm your resolve. This is what you want.

"Very well, then." Her wings stretch out wide, flapping once. "Let's see if you can find your filthy demon again." In a flash of light, she's gone, silver glitter falling where she once stood. You hear Veronica groan behind you.

"The fuck just happened?"

You walk over to the front door, picking up a single feather. You twirl it in your hand, looking at Veronica with fire in your eyes. If Heaven was so adamant to stop you, taking away your only connection to him, then you'd go find another way. If you couldn't have his book, then you'd find another. You'd use every book depicting summoning you could get your hands on, calling forth any and every demon that would answer, until you found him. No matter the cost.

"Grab your hiking gear," you say, crushing the feather in your palm.

"What, why?" Veronica looks at you, confused. You smile, letting the crumpled feather fall to the floor.

"We're going hunting."

Until we meet again, my dear readers!

taglist: @i-like-potatoes12533, @girl-nahh-two, @mcntsee, @projectdreamwalker, @sassmasterxx, @alsemain, @yunimimii, @noraunor, @justneo11, @dragonlover123a, @falsemain, @ephemeralxv, @theshello, @wonderlandangelsposts, @weirdflower2024, @yourworstgf, @youroneandonlysimp, @alastorstandard, @florelll

Masterlist ... Ao3

[spacexseven]

i need to write more for oda actually.

cw: yandere character, stalking, implied breaking in

oda doesn't know when he fell for you.

he doesn't know when the slight curiosity he felt about you turned into a deeper fascination, or when his envy for your seemingly ordinary life turned into an uncontrollable yearning to be part of that life, or when he stopped just watching you from across the street and instead became your shadow, watching you enter your workplace after your lunch break with a peculiar sensation eating away at him.

but these days, he finds himself dreaming a lot.

he dreams about walking beside you to a shared home, sitting across you as you eat the sandwich you always have for lunch, he dreams about holding your hand in his—are your fingers cold, from all the time spent indoors working? will you grab onto his in an attempt to dispel the cold sensation in your fingertips—and he dreams about you telling him that you missed his warmth, that you missed him. he dreams about showing you his manuscript, and you going on about all the things you liked in it. he dreams about waking up beside you, he dreams about you meeting his kids, and—

he dreams about a life he can't have with you.

sometimes, he does wonder—aren't you lonely? you go back to your apartment after a day of work you clearly don't enjoy, eating the same meals over and over all alone, and putting up a smiling façade so you don't have to explain your worries to anyone every day. doesn't it get tiring? don't you wish you had someone to see you for who you are, and run a hand through your hair when things get unbearably hard? oda doesn't think of himself as a very expressive, or affectionate person, but something inside of him wants, so terribly, desperately wants, to be that person for you.

there are times that he almost wants to walk up to you and start a conversation; when he finds you playing with the strays that sleep outside the store, or the time you bump into him and apologize before disappearing back into the crowd, when he finds you staring across the port, lost in your own thoughts. maybe if he had the courage to, he could slot himself into your life all those times, and made a place for him there. he'd have waited for you to crawl into his arms, and he'd have been happy.

but instead, he settles for hoping and dreaming. now there's an extra unused toothbrush next to his, and the brand of soap you like to use in his bathroom. he even gets his hands on the shampoo you like and the creams you use and arranges it all the way you do, except he also makes room for his things. he buys a larger blanket and more pillows and begins planting the evidence of your existence. it doesn't exactly help, because now he wants more. but oda doesn't mind. he's spent his whole life wanting, and a little more won't hurt him.

but one day, when you walk out of the bakery with your sandwich in its usual paper bag, oda thinks he'll walk up to you. one day, eventually. until then, he can go on pretending, and dreaming.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 3

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, SMUT, oral, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 3! This part was a lot to write and I felt it to be a bit of a challenge to show the tension and magnetism between these two. I hope you enjoy all this and can't wait to show you what happens next. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

Arriving to work the next day, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach form. Yet again, you didn’t know what would be in store for you. Would he fire you? Would you get another obscenely weird letter of praise? You had no idea but you had to show up and find out. 

Three o clock arrived and there was no phone call, just the buzzing sound of the lights above you. You tapped your leg nervously, wanting to see him but unsure what to say. He might not have seen you after all, maybe it was just you being paranoid and he wasn’t upset at all. 

Six o clock came and still no phone call. In fact, there wouldn’t be a phone call for an entire week. You were incredibly frustrated that he has you on call like this. You expected him to have more manners than this rather than keeping you waiting at his beck and call. But Tanya's voice rings in your head and it reminds you that he's "particular." Just another word for him acting like an asshole.

Looking at the clock, it was almost seven and your blood boiled. The least he could do was tell you he didn’t need you to clean today and you could go home and rest. But instead, you’re stuck here in this cold, poorly lit locker room in the basement of the Hilton.

The shrill cry of the phone makes you make a frustrated groan. You quickly pick up the receiver and raise it to your ear and don’t say a word.

“Mr. Presley will-,” you hang up harshly and head to the elevator.

You had rehearsed the things you wanted to say to him, really give him a piece of your mind. How he can’t treat you like this and you’re not some servant to him. You work for The Hilton, not for him solely, and he needs to be reminded of that. 

You rush past the men in the hallway and don’t care about the judgmental stares they give you as you head to the suite’s double doors. You open the door abruptly and slam it behind you making the walls shake. Your eyes search for Elvis in the living room and don’t see him anywhere. Not only that, the room is in spotless condition as you left it last, leaving you bewildered that you got a call in the first place. You creep your way further into the room and you get that familiar chill down your spine. Your body freezes and your eyes dart to the dark figure coming out of the bedroom.

The shadow in the corner of the room makes it’s way into the light to reveal Elvis standing in a silk black shirt and black slacks, anger radiating off of him and hitting you in waves.

“Do not slam my door,” he bellows.

You scoff at him and cross your arms on your chest, “You can’t possibly think I’d be happy waiting for a week not hearing a word from you. Then you call me up here thinking I could get the normal cleaning done! A normal person would call at the beginning of the shift that they don’t need me so I can go about my day,” you snarl.

“So you can go do what? Go home to a fiancé that doesn’t care if you exist?” He snaps back. You stare wide-eyed in shock and disbelief at the pure hate that he spits at you

“What the hell is your problem?! I have been nothing but kind and gracious to you despite your god-awful raging mood swings,” you retort. His jaw clenches, slowly walking towards you. The closer he gets, the clearer you could see his eyes, engulfed with pent-up anger. They were a much darker blue than the icy blue you saw a few days ago and you can’t figure out if it was your imagination or the lighting, but the way he’s looking at you now is dangerous.

“You’re my problem, honey,” he scoffs, “You don’t listen. You were told up front, I am the only one who tells you if I need your services, and yet you come barging in here tonight like you own the place. I didn’t need you tonight, but you hung up on one of my men and couldn’t even listen to the complete instruction,” he scowls. His eyes burn into yours as he inches closer to you.

“And possibly even worse, you went into my bedroom the other night when I specifically told you not to under any circumstances,” He growls, pointing his finger at you, getting closer than he normally gets.

“Well, I wasn’t in your bedroom so I don’t see what the issue is,” you say defiantly, watching as the disbelief washes over his face. You straighten out your posture, showing him that you’re not going stand here and take his harsh words like a scared child.

“And if you were so concerned about me finding out what you do in your bedroom, you might need to gain the ability to actually close your door and turn your porn off until I leave the penthouse,” you sneer. He quickly rushes to you, taking your face in his hand, making you look up straight into his fiery eyes.

“You have no idea what I can do to you,” he seethes. Your breathing begins to become labored and his close proximity makes it feel suffocating. You peel his cold hands off your face and throw it down at his side. 

“I’m not afraid of what some recluse with money can do to me. It was only a matter of time before you would fire me,” you say fuming. 

“Mhmm…but you’re right, maybe I should fire you. Or, maybe I should make you work for me forever, keep you all to myself,” he says darkly. Your heart thumps in your ears and you look at him wide-eyed as the mood in the room drastically shifts.

“Y-y-you couldn’t pay me enough so don’t even try,” your voice waiver the closer he gets to you.

“Maybe you’re right… maybe there isn’t a number that could make you happy, you’re just going to be as miserable as me,” he scoffs. 

“No one can be as miserable as you, I can guarantee that,” you scowl. 

He takes another step forward and you retract back, needing to keep space between you two. He smirks when he sees your reaction to him, taking one more step closer. 

“I make you nervous, don’t I?” He quips slyly. 

A lump in your throat forms and you don’t realize you’ve retreated so far in the room and are at the piano now. You bump the keys of the piano with your backside and jump at the sound. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say nervously.

“I see it in your eyes, the way your body fights to get away from me, but you can’t. You want to be here. To be close to me,” he reveals.

“Elvis, I- I’m engaged you can’t try to win your way with me like any other woman,”

“I don’t think you care about that right now. I know a troubled and unhappy soul when I see one honey. I’m just trying to figure you out. What you… need,” he emphasizes. 

“Who says I’m not already happy?” You question. Another smirk forms on his face, making you weaker by the second.

“Based on how your cheeks are flushed and your eyes pleading for me to give you attention, I’d say you need something more. Something more from me.”

You bite your lower lip, knowing everything he is saying is the truth. The longer you stare and be in his presence, the more your body craved being around him. Not only that but this carnal desire to let him have his way with you ignited a fire inside you you didn’t know existed. You look down at the carpet, mapping out the way you’re going to try to get out of here. He places his hand on the bottom of your chin, making you look up into his eyes as they consume you whole.

“Do I make you nervous, yes or no,” he spat. 

You nod your head in his hand, unable to keep your breathing steady as his eyes bore into your searching for answers. He pushes his body into yours, his erection starting to form and pushing into your tummy. You let out a slow breath, trying to fight how good his body feels on yours. The battle is lost almost immediately as you find your hands wrapped around his torso, needing him even closer, scratching your nails down his back. 

“Are you happy?” He questions. 

“I’m not happy,” you whisper. He lets a slow exhale, his body melting into yours. 

“Then stop fighting me so much and let me give you what you need,” He groans into your ear, pushing his hips into you more. You hold back the moan you want to give him, unable to denounce that this is exactly what you wanted from him. 

“I was born to please honey. It's what I do best. I get on that stage, I please the audience with my voice every night. I always make sure those around me get what they need too. Whether that’s money, food, clothes, you name it. And that applies to you too,” he pauses and takes his hand off of you. You take a sharp inhale as you feel your core throb for the first time in his presence. “So, what do you need?’ He asks patiently, smirking down at you.

“I need you to show me what you do best,” you say slyly, succumbing to him. He grins and in a flash, his lips are on yours. His lips feel better than you could have ever dreamed of. They’re soft and pillowy, kissing you with a newfound urgency you had never had before. The way he groans when he kisses you more passionately has you rolling your eyes back; like he’s been dying to do this and has mapped it all out. 

His hands are around your hips, squeezing them tightly, making you push your body into him more. His hands roam your body freely, putting them everywhere, touching certain areas longer than others then moving on to touch somewhere else. He finds the curve of your ass and squeezes it firmly, making you break the kiss and look up at him gasping.

 The way his skin felt on your body was beyond a craving; it was a need. This was exactly what you needed. All this weird pent-up energy between you two was bound to make the dam break and the only cure was having him this way. With your bodies clutching for each other, moaning and gasping for more as your apparent arousals made your thoughts go hazy.  Your hand trails down to the front of his body, grazing down his til you hit his hard bulge. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock, getting to feel how long his length really is and you look up at him. 

He has the most devious grin on his face as you keep rubbing him over his pants. You let out a breathy sigh, realizing you can’t wait any longer. 

“Mmm, Elvis,” you say low. 

“I know honey,” he grumbles, his finger hooking onto the inside of your shirt as he pops off every button. Your skirt has the same treatment as you feel the zipper slide down and it slipping off your hips. His hand finds your hair and swiftly pulls the elastic that was holding your hair back, letting it fall in effortless waves.

Before you have any chance to react to what he’s doing to your clothes, he picks you up and sits you down firmly on top of the piano. Your head spins at the way he’s touching you, being more exposed just being in your bra and panties. It's all so much better than you anticipated and it feels like his hands are burning on your skin. He grunts inwardly and rubs his hands along the inner parts of your thighs, spreading them open. His thumbs play dangerously close to the sensitive flesh that reaches your core and you can’t help but spread your legs wider for him to touch those places. Elvis stands in between your legs and brushes your hair behind your ear. His fingers unclasp your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders. Cupping your breasts in his hands, he gives them the lightest touch, rubbing your nipples in slow circles with his thumbs making you fall apart instantly for him. 

He leans you back on the piano and lifts your legs up, letting them dangle on his shoulders. Your heart pounded away as Elvis inched closer to your dripping heat. You look at him in between your legs, looking absolutely ravenous. He glides his thumb up on your covered folds and instantly brought a shock to your entire body. Your panties were soaked through already, and he smiles when he makes this discovery. He keeps rubbing your sensitive bud, watching your face as it drowns in pleasure. 

The friction he’s giving you is exactly what you wanted and it feels like heaven. He knows the exact amount of pressure to put on it to make you want more from him. Your blazing heat and his cold fingers provide such an interesting sensation that you’ve never experienced and it drives you insane. 

Elvis can’t keep his eyes off of you, wanting to make you feel better than you ever have before. He hooks his fingers in the elastic waistband and you move your hips up to help him get them off of you. He hums softly,  amused at your eagerness. He lightly glides his hands over your entire body, leaving you with chills. He can’t help but smirk when he notices how your body reacts to him. How your nipples hardened by his cool touch and how your chest heaves waiting for him to give you more. 

He crouches down slightly, placing his two fingers on your lower lips, spreading them apart, showcasing the wet mess he has created and spilling out of you.

“Fuck this kitty looks so perfect,” he moans breathlessly, looking at you with need. He rubs his thumb on your sensitive bud, making you let out an obscenely loud moan, having not been touched like this by a man in ages. He knows just the right pressure to give you, enough to work you up. He stops and looks up at you, grinning like a little devil.

 “This is one of the things I do best honey,” he groans deeply before he leans down and you feel his tongue on you. He starts to lap his tongue into your folds, swirling it and putting the perfect amount of pressure on your clit. You gasp, so unaccustomed to all of this, it feels almost overwhelming.

“Oh shittt,” you groan the more he uses his tongue. He has a tight grip on your thighs, keeping you still as you try to squirm on top of the piano. He is also groaning the more he licks at your wetness, driving you to the edge by the sounds he’s making. You lift your head up to watch him with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed as he looks positively ravenous as he eats you, sucking and lapping all the wetness from you. His groans sound animalistic, like he’s been so deprived for your pussy and he finally gets what he’s wanted the most. 

Suddenly, you feel his tongue slip into your entrance and you both make the most salacious moan together. He eats you like he’s trying to get all the sweet cream from the bottom of the cone, not letting a drop get unlicked. 

He sucks on your clit before taking his lips off of you, “Goddamn baby, tasting so fucking good. I've never had someone taste so sweet. Just like honey,” he murmurs drunkenly and goes back to licking your weeping folds. One hand is on your thigh, holding your leg up in the air and the other is grasping onto the edge of the piano, hunched over in stature as he is so laser-focused on you. 

You hadn’t experienced this very often and it was definitely never like this. This was beyond pleasurable, it was euphoric with the way he made you want to get the very edge and come apart with his mouth on you.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily into his face, needing more from that mouth of his.

You feel his lips form into a mischievous smile as you continue to do this, guiding his tongue where you want it most.

“That’s right baby, I make you feel so good hmm,” he whispers. The sound of his voice makes your walls flutter and you can’t last much longer. Your breathing begins to shake, not used to so many sensations that he is giving you right now. He plunges his tongue deep inside you and you practically see stars behind your closed eyes. He keeps this same pace, moving his tongue in and out of you as you reach for his hair. You tangle your fingers in the soft black tresses and continue to rock into his face, feeling the warmth of your orgasm rush all over your body. You moan loudly as his tongue continues to fuck you and your squeezing walls. 

Your body tingles all over and feel more pleased than you have in ages. You never particularly liked oral because you had a harder time finishing, but tonight, that was the complete opposite problem. 

If that’s what he can do with his mouth… what can he do with the rest of his body…

He takes his mouth off of you, your slick covering his lips and chin, his eyes looking positively drunk on you. Standing up, his chest heaves when he looks at you, contemplating what he’s going to do next to you. His long index finger glides through your sensitive folds, making you hiss at the added pressure. 

His other hand traces your jaw and his thumb rubs along your lips, humming to himself as you lick the pad of it. He groans at your little insinuation and moves his hand down to your neck putting the most delicious amount of pressure there. 

Suddenly, you feel his finger enter your weeping core and you gasp and groan at the intrusion. Your walls hug his digit snugly and he too lets out a pent-up moan as he moves it in and out of you slowly. 

“Fucking hell honey, when was the last time a man fucked you right,” he coos. 

Your mind races and your body aches with desire, needing him to take care of every last want and need you crave. 

“I-I-I don’t remember,” you manage to mumble, feeling his long finger get deeper inside you. Your jaw drops as he continues to feel your slick walls, letting out a loud moan. 

He enters another long finger inside you and you cry out his name, so completely enamored with the feelings that are being brought into your body. Your walls flutter and you sit up on your elbows watching what he’s doing to you. He curls his fingers inside you, hitting a soft spongy spot you didn’t know existed before. He keeps curling and pushing there, making you moan louder for him. 

His mouth is back on your clit, suckling it eagerly. You can’t hold back anymore and feel your walls squeeze around his fingers. Your head falls back, begging for him to give you more. The rippling wave of pleasure hits you like a train and won’t stop as long as he has his mouth on your aching bud. You try to push his head away from your over-sensitive core but he doesn’t let you move it. Sitting there shaking with pleasure, he stills your legs and looks at you deviously. 

“I’m gonna show you how a man should fuck you, honey,” he growls, his eyes continuing to look dangerous and yet so attractive. He pulls his fingers out of you and picks you up off the piano, pulling you into the next room. 

His bedroom is dark, with black furnishings taking up most of the space and a large king-sized bed in the middle across from the tv stand. A picture of an angel in stained glass sits on his nightstand, backlit with a candle to shine on the depiction of the biblical figure. 

Elvis pulls back the sheets and places you in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t get on it with you right away, instead, he just stares hungrily at you, working the buttons of his shirt to reveal his body to you. Your eyes wander down to his pants and see his straining erection and he notices you staring. 

“Need something, sweetheart?” He teases. 

You nod your head at him, “Mhmm, I do” you beckon, trying to reach for his hand to pull him in. He doesn’t move though, and takes his hand away from you.

“Tell me what you need,” he prods. 

“I need your cock,” you pant. 

He slowly drags his pants off his hips, his erection slapping his lower stomach as it springs free. You lay there unable to function. Seeing it up close makes you feel an undeniable need to have him fill you with all of that. Your heart races out of your chest as he still doesn’t make a move yet. 

He wraps his hand around his length, slowly pulling back his foreskin to better showcase his red leaking tip. He looks down at you slyly, watching how you bite your lip and scoot closer to him on the edge of the bed. 

“Did you like it?,” he cocks his head at you waiting for your response.

You look at him puzzled, “Did I like what?” You ask unsure. 

“The other day, did you like watching me get off?” He says darkly.  You hold your breath, confirming your big fear that he did indeed see you watching him through the crack of the door. You know there’s no point in lying, he saw you and there’s no other excuse. 

“Yes,” you squeak out embarrassed. A sly grin washes over his face and his hand continues to rub his length. 

“Then say it,” he commands, his voice deep and gruff. Your stomach drops when you hear his tone and what he is expectantly waiting to hear from you. You don’t have to ask what he wants and you take a deep breath before speaking. 

“I liked watching you get off,” you say in a breathy moan. He bites the bottom of his lip and nods his head at you. 

“I know honey, I know you did. I liked how you watched me. Now it’s time to give you what you want,” he groans, getting on the bed in between your legs and spreading them open. The coolness of his hands pressing into your soft thighs makes you shiver with anticipation. He guides the tip of his cock in between your folds, covering it with your slick and you groan. 

He lines himself up to your entrance and pushes a few inches in swiftly. You gasp at the initial penetration, he feels so much bigger than you anticipated and you haven’t had sex in so long that your body needs a second to acclimate. Your hands reach for his arms and grab onto him tight and groan. 

He also lets out a loud moan as he moves in and out of you slowly, his eyes closed shut and his mouth dropped open in pleasure. 

“Fuuckkk honey. Squeezing me so damn tight. You feel perfect,” He groans through his teeth, pushing more of his cock inside of you. 

Your fingers dig into his flesh, leaving little red marks on his biceps. There’s a searing pleasurable pain that resides within you as you try to take him. He watches how you writhed on the bed, gasping for air as all of this is overwhelming. 

“Ahh, oh my god Elvis,” You moan as you toss your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear him hum in delight as he watches every single reaction come out of you. How you inadvertently moan for more when he pulls his length out of you and how your face looks when he plunges the rest of it in you. 

“Oh my god,” you both moan out. 

“Elvis, holy shit…” you managed to get out as he starts to snap his hips faster into you. 

“What honey, you not used to get fucked like this hmm?” He teases. 

You shake your head fervently, looking down as his length goes in and out of you. 

“No, feels so good though,” you whimper. He pushes your legs up more and has both of his hands on your knees and he grinds his hips into you, watching you from above. God those hips were talented in more ways than one, the way he was barely moving them but was hitting the most perfect spot inside you had you dying. 

The coil in your belly tightens by the second and has you crying for release. Almost reading your thoughts, he stops and pulls out of you. You plead for him, wanting nothing more than for him to make you cum. His eyes are still very dark, lust taking them over as he watches you plead for more of him. 

“Elvisss please oh god,” you cry, pulling at his arms to get him on you again.

“You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you want baby,” he commands. 

You let out a frustrated moan, looking into his eyes, “Keep fucking me, your cock feels so good,” you beg unashamedly. 

He grins at you and quickly puts your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself up again and plunges into you fast and fervently, making you see stars already. Elvis stretches his arm over you, holding onto the bed frame for leverage as he pounds into you. The moans and cries are coming out of you like water. He was right, you’ve never had a man fuck you like this and you enjoyed it more than you probably should. 

When it came to sex, Daniel didn’t think about your needs, he did the same thing every time if you two ever did have any.  This wasn’t the case at all with Elvis. He was on a mission for you you to feel the maximum amount of pleasure and cum first. 

He looks so powerful and addicted to you, as he keeps fucking you. Your hips move with him, matching his rhythm and feeling that familiar feeling in your core. His other hand is back on your neck, wrapping it firmly there making your eyes roll back. You groan loudly, not able to take much more at the pace he’s set. 

“Elvis I’m gonna cum oh god,” you cry. 

He groans with you and you feel his thumb trace the side of your neck, rubbing there back and forth cussing under his breath. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck honey,” he moans as he leans down and nips hard at the crook of your neck. 

You cry out for him, feeling beyond overwhelmed. The way his teeth felt on your neck was a feeling you could only describe as perilous. You didn’t want him to stop necessarily but it made you nervous with how intensely he was focused there. He keeps nipping that spot over and over then at it licking ravenously. You feel his body convulse on top of you, his breathing ragged as he nuzzles his nose next to your ear. 

“Cum for me, now,” he demands gruffly, his hips snapping into you like an animal. 

You obey without hesitation and feel your walls squeeze his length, making you both cuss. His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, not moving it as you ride out your orgasm. 

Your fingers scratch at his back, holding onto him for dear life as you try to regain your normal breathing. He quickly pulls out of you and keeps his head down, his chest heaving like you've never seen, and grabs his length in his hand, growling in frustration. 

“Turn around, now,” he grunts. Your brain scrambled to listen to him, his tone making you jump out of your skin. You quickly get on all fours and wait there for his next instructions. His hand grasps at your hip and you feel his hot seed land on your ass. His moans are gruff and you hear his breathing scattered, frantic almost. The sounds of his moans made you melt and you wanted to look at his face to see what he looked like coming. You bet he looked even more attractive somehow. But you decided to listen to him and let him finish the way he wanted to. You felt his seed drip down your ass and onto the backof your thighs, making you completely wet with both of your arousal.

His hands squeeze your hips and he turns you around again, laying on your back looking up at him. He looks delightfully fucked out of his mind and looks down upon you like prey. You both don’t say anything right away, trying to regain your normal breathing and not pass out from this beautiful man on top of you. 

“Did you like that?” He asks softly. 

“Y-yes. I really did. Didn’t know it could be that, intense,” you admit. He chuckles to himself, his blue eyes still dark with lust as he looks at you. 

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he says smugly as he leans down to kiss your forehead. 

He carefully gets off of you and goes to the bathroom to get a towel. He has you turn around for him again, he wipes your backside clean and he sits on the edge of the bed staring at you. You didn’t know what else to say or do, so many emotions were running through your head, and couldn’t make any sense of them. 

Why did your body like him this much? It was more intense than you could have possibly imagined. You wanted to believe it was because you had been so deprived of another human’s touch but it wasn’t convincing enough. You just cheated on your fiancé, it should be making you sick with what you just begged Elvis to do to you but instead, you’re already thinking if this could possibly happen again. 

No stop it. It’s not going to happen again. You promise. 

You need to break this deafening silence and look at him smirking. 

“I hope you don’t expect me to change the sheets next,” you say smartly. He shakes his head at you and laughs. Another thing that is beautiful about him; his laugh. That contagious sound makes you smile without you even trying.

“No honey I won’t make you do that. We might just make another mess in them,” He says deviously. 

“Elvis, I umm, I really enjoyed all of that but this can’t happen again,” you say weakly. 

“Mhmm, whatever you want honey. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be,” he discloses, getting up and heading for the bathroom. “Leave whenever you want, I have to get ready for my show,” He says gently. 

You look at the clock and it’s already eight, his show starts in half an hour. Looks like he might be going on a little late. 

You go back into the living room area where you see your discarded uniform. You slip your skirt back on and button up your shirt. And throw your ruined panties and bra in your cart and make your way out. You couldn’t make eye contact with the men there in the hall, almost guaranteeing that they heard everything that was going on in there. The elevator doors open and you get in and take the long ride down to the basement. 

Your head felt like it was in a cloud, blurry with so many thoughts and feelings you couldn’t escape. Grabbing your panties out from your cart, you make your way to your locker to grab your purse and go home. You keep a small mirror on the locker’s door and you take a look at your reflection. Your hair looked like it went through a tornado and your mascara was smudged underneath your eyes. 

Nice you look completely normal.

Then your eyes stare in disbelief at what you see next. On the side of your neck, a large purple bruise has surfaced, pulsating and burning. You delicately touch it with your fingers and wince, feeling your pulse underneath it throb. He was nipping there harder than you thought based on how big and purple the bruise is, he did some damage. 

Tilting your head further and inspecting for any more signs of how you committed adultery, you see your carotid artery running down your neck and through the bruise Elvis left behind. 

You take deep breaths and try to find a bandage that will cover this up properly. You have no idea what excuse you are going to try to give when people ask what happened but you’ll figure it out later. Right now, you need to cover it up and get out of here. 

Rushing over to the first aid kit, you find a band-aid that covers the bruise and you carefully placed it on. Closing your locker and grabbing your purse, you run to your car and lock the door, catching your breath and calming yourself down before you drive home. 

This can’t happen again. 

There’s already too much evidence he left behind. 

You can’t have him. 

He’s too tempting. 

Do your job and get out. 

But something in you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple. 

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86

[doki-doki-imagines]

hello, are you okay? well, I want to solicit an scenario of Bi-Han biker. Btw, I love how you write

"I would have never thought you'd own a motorbike." "Why? We are isolated, but not monks." Bi-Han snaps back. You look at him, he is wearing a black leather jacket, you noticed previously how in the back a tiger is embroidered, golden accents making it shine under the moonlight. The pants are black and baggy, but they get tighter towards the ankles to make sure no air could come up. Deep night blue stripes on the sides, matching the colour of his usual uniform. "Well, I suppose you should thank Sektor for his amazing work ." "Yes, he took care both of the motorbike and the clothes. Take this-" A soft and small package is thrown at you, becoming a puff of smoke the second it lands in your hands. When finally you are able to see what is happening, you notice how your clothes changed. A tight silver suit perfectly suits your body, almost like the latex suit that you are used to see in mecha animes. You get a quilted jacket of the same blue of the stripes of Bi Han pants, bigger than your size, but you can already feel how warm it is. Your mind can't help but wander as you look down at the jacket; it is so big that you are sure it would fit Bi-Han way better than you…

When you look up, Bi-Han is standing in front of his motorbike, the moonlight creating beautiful shadows and lights on his body, some stray hair escape his bun and frame his face, that right now isn't looking at you, his arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Is everything fine?"

"Yeah, just…Sektor is an idiot. C'mon, pass me one of the helmets behind you."

"Okay…catch!" You throw his one towards him, a bit too high, but it's not a problem for Bi-Han catching it with one hand, you can see his muscles bulging under the leather jacket, a real sight.

"Get behind me. There is a place I want to show you." You nod, following his order.

Bi-Han doesn't go slow, fast speed the second you are both ready. After all, it would be a lie to say he didn't go fast on purpose, every movement planned to feel your arms tight on his waist, your head on his shoulder, chest against his back. He'd stay like that forever, with the stars light on you, two heart with the same beat in the hidden street of the Arctika forest.

And your grip gets even tighter when Bi-Han goes full speed on the hairpin bends, a smile plastered on his face at your every twitch.

"Aren't you going too fast?" You almost squeak out, getting impossibly close to him.

"Trust me." Bi-Han smirks enjoying each second of this.

The ride doesn't take much more time, his motorbike stopping in a clearing between the mountains. You both stand up now, Bi-Han already missing your warmth.

"Wow-" It's the only thing you can say. The landscape is breathtaking. Sky and mountains blending, stars shining bright and some snow is covering the grass.

But the real surprise is the tablecloth on the ground, with already lit candles and a thermal bag in which you guessed warm food is waiting both of you.

"Bi-Han, this is wonderful."

"I hoped you would have liked this." He says, removing his helmet and sitting on the cloth, patting his hand where he wants you to sit, exactly next to him. His eyes stuck on yours, still half hidden by the helmet that you soon put on the ground, wanting to see his charming face as clearly as possible.

Your heart bursts with joy, Bi-Han always so cold and rude thought of a nice date for you two. His arm goes around your shoulder while you eat, admiring the view in front of you; not the landscape, but a happy Bi-Han squeezing you as close as possible to him.

Under the shining stars, you hope you'll see this side of him more often.

[tyresw]

Okay so here is what I'm thinking for Wind and Truth. The stormfather will allow himself to become a blade for Dalinar, which will kill him and the storm along with him We know the death of the Stormfather was a concern raised in Lasting Integrity so it seems this would be an expected result. And once this is done, it would provide a capstone for The Stormfather's arc of learning to change and be something other than himself when he is bonded with Dalinar.

The as the storm die, we see a brilliant flash of light, rays seeming to reach in every direction as it is peered up at from the top of Urithiru. The largest piece of Honor's shard is now in the world waiting to take shape or find a bearer. Dalinar and Odium's fight continues as the night is plunged into darkness as the stormlight of the splintered shard retreats.

For this next part I am going to reference a few death rattles that I will paste here:

(A)Light grows so distant. The storm never stops. I am broken, and all around me have died. I weep for the end of all things. He has won. Oh, he has beaten us.

(B) The darkness becomes a palace. Let it rule! Let it rule!

(C) The day was ours, but they took it. Stormfather! You cannot have it. The day is ours. They come, rasping, and the lights fail. Oh, Stormfather!

(D) So the night will reign, for the choice of honor is life...

(E) I'm cold. Mother, I'm cold. Mother? Why can I still hear the rain? Will it stop?

(F) He must pick it up, the fallen title! The tower, the crown, and the spear! 

(G)The death is my life, the strength becomes my weakness, the journey has ended.

(H) Three of sixteen ruled, but now the Broken One reigns

So in killing the stormfather, Dalinar may be playing out (G) by sacrificing the stormfather before he swears himself over to Odium after having lost the contest. This may keep that power of Honor away from Odium for a time, making it so it can't immediately be shattered beyond repair. It already alludes to the fact that the contest of champions will end in a loss in (C).

The death rattles in (A) (B) (C) and (D) all reference darkness and light going into/the storms dying. It seems clear to me this is connected to the fate of the stormfather. Additionally, the death rattles in (A) and (E) tell us that after the light fades, the storm remains, now mundane and cruel in its mundanity. This poises the Radiants at a new low, without a way to Invest and retaliate as Odium is poised to claim his victory and turn Dalinar into a Cognitive Shadow.

Now the scene continues with Dalinar finally losing and going over to pledge himself to Odium. Kaladin cannot stand by and watch this happen and speaks the 5th ideal, trying to draw enough power in a world now devoid of stormlight to protect the one lighteye who showed him honor. I imagine he either engages with Odium's champion or Dalinar himself and as his huge influx of stormlight runs low, Navani is watching and uses Adhesion to bind Kaladin with the one source of light still visible, the splinter released by the death of the stormfather. In this moment, in the liminal moment created by speaking the 5th ideal, Kaladin take the windspren rushing through the air around him and reforges them along with the stormfathers splinter into Honor. He is now bound to this power and becomes the vessel of Honor. This may reflect death rattle (F) where the fallen title is that of Honor and the three nouns reference those present in this moment, the tower (Navani), the crown (Dalinar), and the spear (Kaladin). I know that this death rattle is commonly expected to refer to Renarin assuming the mantle of his father but it the inclusion of spear in that list is super conspicuous and wouldn't make sense without Kaladin in the context. While it isn't necessarily super pertinant, the way characters here are described through symbolic description feel very reminiscent of the Sleepless who writes the info provided on the back of the books, perhaps implying the perspective of that death rattle comes from a Sleepless observing a very important moment.

Unsure what comes after all this by I was just stoked to think through this theory

[venusvity]

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     PRE-RELEASE SINGLE - DRAMA!

DRAMA is one of two pre-release singles for VENUS' fourth full studio album. DRAMA will be promoted for TWO WEEKS until the next single is released.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     MUSIC VIDEO AESTHETICS.

The DRAMA music video received 45 MILLION VIEWS in 24 hours and would remain number one on the Youtube trending page for 6 days. The video follows the girls through a technicolored cyberspace as they fight against a virus only known as "DRAMA" which is depicted as a dark and rapid-moving shadow.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     DRAMA LINE DISTRIBUTION.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … BAEBI = 28.20 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … BLISS = 19.26 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  …  CHLOE = 49.15 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … SENA = 17.29 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … JIAH = 38.12 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     PROMOTIONAL HIGHLIGHTS.

The girls were promoting DRAMA consistently for two weeks. For a solid two weeks, the girls were at music shows or other schedules promoting their upcoming album, which they revealed the name of at the end of their promotional period for DRAMA.

The album is called "VENUS VICTRIX" and will have 11 tracks. The creative direction for the album will be handled by long-time VENUS creative director Adrian Reyes. This differs from their last comeback, Burn The Witch, which was fully controlled by Venus themselves. While on Knowing Brothers, Chloe admits the girls experienced a lot of stress from handling all aspects of the album. "It was too much. We would be up until 5 AM almost every night trying to get everything to work, and we agreed that for this album, we want more rest!" which earned laughs from the hosts and from fans alike.

During an episode of "Visting Venus," they had Adrian come on to explain the lore of the album to them in a classroom-like setting with the girls at desks and him at a chalkboard, pointing with a stick and aggressively writing with a red piece of chalk.

"It's basically, like, Venus' Victory. The girls are trapped in a harsh cyber world but manage to break out and transform the landscape into something habitable," Adrian would explain, drawing a loosely thrown-together professor-esque outfit and round specs. Klara, drawing a school uniform and thick-rimmed classes, would raise her hand. "And how will we break out from this world?" "Easy," Adrian starts, pulling down a projector screen that has three big words on it in comic sans font, "Dance, music, and friendship."

The video was a massive hit with fans and had them on the edge of their seats waiting for the album's release.

Though they gave it their all at every performance, it was clear the girls were tired and being overworked. In most vlogs, you'd often see members sleeping on one another during their breaks at music shows or expressing how sore they were from all the performing they were doing. The Venus members, with the exception of Klara, would assure fans they were fine and liked working especially. Klara, however, would go on to post a singular mirror selfie of herself at 3 AM on her Instagram story with the caption, "just got back. can't wait for my powernap before i have to go back lol" but the story was quickly deleted and followed by a video of the maknae laughing and apologizing.

"That was meant for my close friend. My bad, my bad! Stop worrying. I'm just complaining! I swear to God if y'all mass email Flowerbank I'll have a tantrum. Don't worry about me!"

While this moment went viral on stan Twitter, constellations couldn't help but to worry for the girls. However, their worries were seemingly quelled once they got another stage of DRAMA to entertain them.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     LOOK BOOK.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … LEFT 2 RIGHT: BLISS, BAEBI, CHLOE, SENA, AND JIAH

The girls wore wigs during their promotions, concealing their actual hair colors. While sometimes the wigs looked natural, especially Sena and Jiah's, there were times when the wigs looked straight from Party City. Due to their status in the industry, people called this style choice "camp" and praised them for it.

YOU CAN GET YOUR DRAMA PHOTOCARDS HERE!

[barnesafterglow]

irresistible 

summary: you and matt can't stand each other. that doesn't mean you can keep your hands to yourself

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: lawyer!reader, hate sex but also is it really, light bondage, fingering, this fic was written at my job

a/n: here's my next prompt!! i keep writing everything else because i'm stuck on the one i'm most excited about and i need to distract myself. i haven't written a lot of matt so make sure to reblog and comment so i know you enjoyed it!

you can join my kinktober taglist or follow @theafterglowlibrary to stay updated on when i post 🤍

kinktober masterlist ─ main masterlist

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Foggy said as soon as you stepped into the office.

“Lovely to see you too, Franklin,” was your response as you breezed by him, knowing exactly where you were going.

“Matt is -”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off as you walked into Matt’s office, calmly closing the door behind you.

You heard the crash of something and had to assume he had done something unsightly to the coffee cup that had previously been in his hand, and it pulled a small smile at you - you could get under his skin like no other, and it was a point of pride for you.

Matt was on the phone when he heard you enter, stopping his pacing momentarily before continuing, completely ignoring your existence.

That was fine; you never expected it to be easy.

You waited patiently for Matt to finish his phone call, leaning with your back against the door. Hearing a creak on the other side, you kicked the sturdy wood with the back of your heel, and there was a muffled curse you knew was Foggy, because he had been trying to eavesdrop before there was even anything to eavesdrop on.

Finally, Matt hung up the phone and turned to face you, leaning forward on his desk with his hands. You took him in - the strong forearms where his sleeves were rolled up, the dip of his collarbone where his tie had been long discarded, the shadow of stubble along his jaw that you knew meant he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. Had probably been too busy running in the circles you created. You also saw the way his jaw clenched just from being in your presence.

It was glorious.

You got under Matt’s skin even worse than Foggy’s and it always worked out for you.

“Matthew,” you said cheerfully, and his jaw clenched even tighter.

The way he said your name through gritted teeth made you smile bright and you knew he could sense it.

“What do you want this time?”

“Aw, Matty, I can’t come visit an old friend?”

“We’re not friends.” There was that tick in his jaw again.

“So rude. Of course we’re friends.” You stepped forwards until the front of your thighs met the edge of his desk, leaning forward on your hands to match his stance. “You sure love to treat me like a friend, isn’t that right?”

“Why are you here?” He let out a deep breath, clear annoyance creeping across his features.

“You know exactly why I’m here.” Your hand slid forward until it touched his.

“I know.” He sighed. “Do you want to argue or are we going to get on with it?”

“Oh, Matty. We’re lawyers, of course we’re going to argue first.”

He removed the red tinted glasses from his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

And so started the typical back and forth that always came with you visiting. You were a sell out, blah blah blah. Matt was an idiot, blah blah blah. You were scalping their clients by offering them a better deal and Matt and Foggy were sick of it. The argument rarely ever changed.

“Dear God,” Matt said, and for a second you thought he might actually be praying. Until you swore he looked you right in the eye. “I fucking hate you.”

And there it was - the pinnacle of every argument you had ever had since law school.

“I know.” You smiled again, taking slow steps around Matt’s desk until you pressed your body between it and his hard chest. “Show me how much you hate me.”

Like always, there was a brief moment of hesitation. Like always, he smashed his lips to yours in a flurry of anger, and it tasted oh so sweet.

Before you knew what was happening - even when you should expect it, Matt always managed to surprise you - he had you turned around and pressed a firm hand between your shoulder blades to keep you flat against his desk.

Once he was sure you would stay in place, his hands wandered down to toy with the hem of your skirt. When he pushed it up above the swell of your ass, he was met with the sight of a pretty little garter belt holding your stockings up. And no underwear.

“Do you always come here with the intention of me fucking you senseless?”

You looked back over your shoulder, pushing your ass back against him just enough to draw out a low moan. “Of course I do.”

The smirk on his face made you clench your thighs together, and he flared his nostrils as if he could smell your arousal.

Sure enough, when he slid his fingers through your folds, they came back wet with your slick, and he sucked them clean.

He leaned down, hands caging your body as he whispered in your ear, “Tastes as good as I wish you would be.”

That made you scoff. “Oh please. I’m only as good as you want me to be.” You stood, your back pressing against his chest. “Which isn’t good at all.”

It was like the words snapped the last tether of restraint he had, because he shoved you back down on the desk, one hand pinning you again while the other worked on undoing his belt. He barely had them off - just enough to free his cock and give anyone who happened to look up at his window a great view of his ass - before he buried himself in you.

You gasped at the sensation. No matter how many times you had him, no matter how wet you were, no matter if he had worked you open up or not, it was always a struggle to adjust to the size of him.

He gave you no time to settle, thrusting into you hard and fast. His hand left your back and you whined at the chill that came from him taking his heat away. Your eyes were closed, taking in the pleasure of him filling you, now unmoving, when he grasped your hands behind your back, wrapping something silky around them.

His tie. He was tying his hands behind your back with his necktie, and you were so shocked and turned on that you let him without any protest. That must have to come as a surprise to him.

“You’re not even gonna run your mouth? I’m shocked.” He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his thrusts picking up again and wiping any snide remark from your brain.

He tugged on the tie - tied much more tightly than you expected - until you stood with your back to his chest again, his hips never faltering. His left hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, while his right worked on unbuttoning your shirt.

Once your shirt was untucked and free, he pushed down the cups of your lacy bra, exposing your tits to him. With one hand still firmly on your throat, he used the other to pinch and pull at your nipples, seeing what sounds he could draw from you.

The answer was a symphony of moans and whimpers and pleading that you would never admit to.

Your hand fell back, resting on his shoulder, and he turned his head to press kisses wherever he could reach - your temple, your jaw, your neck, until finally you turned your head and captured his lips with your own.

His mouth still moving against yours, he trailed his hand down your body until he was feeling the place where his body met yours, circling your clit before experimentally slipping a finger in alongside his cock.

The moan that left you was otherworldly. The burning stretch was the best thing you had ever felt, and when a second finger joined, you came, clenching around the intrusion.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, his mouth still close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your face. He removed his fingers, sliding them into your mouth, just a tad down your throat, and you moaned again around them.

With no warning, he pushed you down onto the desk again, pounding into you until his thrusts turned sloppy and he spilled inside of you.

With gentle fingers, he removed the restraint from your wrists and then collapsed with his arms on either side of you, his body weight resting against your back.

You stayed like that for several minutes, catching your breath and just relishing in each other for that moment.

Finally, he pulled out of you, reaching into a drawer in his desk to pull tissues out to clean himself up. Usually, he handed you some as well and let you do the job, but this time he dropped to his knees, wiping the mix of your releases like he had done it a thousand times over. When he was done, he stood again and pulled your skirt down, smoothing it out.

You turned around, studying him for a moment. He didn’t look any different - same sex hair and swollen lips and dark eyes that you always thought saw more than he let on. But something was different. Something you weren’t sure you wanted to know at the moment.

But you couldn’t let an instance like that go, not completely, and after you buttoned your shirt and tucked it again, you slid his glasses back onto his face and gave him a gentle kiss.

“Bye, Matty.”

You didn’t look back at him, instead straightening your hair as best you could and stepping out of his office.

kinktober taglist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@treatbuckywkisses @sgt-barnesveins @bucky-barmes @opheliastark @sweetascanbee @writing-for-marvel @christywantspizza @hi-sarahh @highlyintelligentblonde @jjbunny14 @buckysfavoritereader 

[vllergy]

literally the first snz thing i've ever written please go ahead and eviscerate me but the brainrot was real and i needed an exorcism literally no plot, just snz. have some allergic!wolfwood and some kink!vash who is absolutely losing his mind in the seat next to him (dedicated to all the greats that came before me, i would tag u but i dont know you and dont want to be weird?!? apologies for showing up out of nowhere but i want to be friends with all of you out there who are writing incredible shit please and thank you)

It's still light enough that the interior of the jeep is bathed in blue velvet and Vash can see every detail of Wolfwood sitting next to him in perfect clarity. But just dark enough that he can watch him from the cover of the soft shadows afforded to him by the arch of the window he's pressed up against without anyone knowing. Vash rolls the side of his head a little farther against the glass just to discourage even the slightest suspicion that he's spying on the other man. Somehow, the glass is still warm even though the inside of the vehicle has cooled down considerably. On any other night, Vash might have chased after the sensation to stave off the chill that inevitably seeps in. Tonight, however, it only serves to make the blood rising to his cheeks feel like a fever. Pinpricks of heat needle at his flesh, stinging him as the blush burns hotter, brighter. He can feel the color red on his skin. He's lucky it's dark, because he's sure his face is as red as his jacket. 

Vash inhales a steadying breath and wrenches his eyes away from Wolfwood's profile in an effort to level himself out. Of course, just as he does so, the other man sniffles for what must be the hundredth time in that soft--admittedly unobtrusive--way that sets Vash's blood on fire. He's been doing it for the better part of an hour, and Vash feels like he's losing his mind. 

The race clearly lost, the flush on his cheeks radiates down the lower half of his face and throat. It spreads through his chest like a wildfire and suddenly the interior of the jeep feels stifling, like he can't catch his breath.

Still, ever a glutton for punishment, Vash can't help but look back over at Wolfwood. He's rewarded--or damned--with the sight of the other man pushing a knuckle against his nostril and rubbing harshly. It'd be obvious to anyone at this point, but it's been obvious to Vash for some time that something is bothering him. 

To be fair, there is something kind of acrid on the air that Vash can't quite place. The farther they drive, the more the sand has a sour edge to it, and the air has the consistency of syrup at the back of his throat. But he's always been more attuned to things like that. He can smell the threat of a storm waiting in a shift of a breeze, or a town full of decay from the way the sand smells even miles out. He's used to being alone in clocking those kinds of changes.

Neither Roberto or Meryl have commented on the change in atmosphere, but even if Wolfwood's not aware of it, it doesn't seem to agree with him. There's a strong part of Vash that's sympathetic. There's a pang in his chest that he always seems to get whenever Wolfwood is anything less than indomitable. Vash gets the urge to protect him, to care for him, to make his life easier somehow, despite any vitriol that might get thrown in his face (and usually does) for trying. 

But over the last hour, that sympathy has been well and truly worn out by something stronger. Hungrier. Something that would be a lot easier to get ahold of if he were not sitting with his knee brushing up against the other man's in close quarters with him while he sniffs away in maddening little bursts.

As Vash continues to watch, Wolfwood stretches his face and curls his upper lip over his teeth in an effort to do...something. Vash isn't sure what. That expression is nothing if not terribly itchy and doesn't look like it provides much relief.  Wolfwood seems less miserable as than he does terribly inconvenienced by the whole thing. He tried smoking a cigarette earlier but abandoned it early, seemingly not able to divide his attention between that and holding whatever this is at bay. 

Whatever this is. 

Vash shudders, despite the heat blooming in his chest. Part of him desperately hopes that whatever irritation Wolfwood's experiencing will keep him sniffly and annoyed for the rest of the journey, and nothing more. He'll be miserable, sure, but the alternative would be torture for Vash. And while the blonde is usually a man more than willing to fall on anyone else's sword for any reason and cut his teeth on the blade of mercy, this is one instance he'll gladly let Wolfwood shoulder the suffering. 

Then again--that other part of him is silently hoping against all hope that it might happen. It. He can't even think the word to himself, too afraid of what it might unravel in him. He's had yet to see it actually happen. Could it really be now? While they're sitting this close together? While it's this quiet? Vash's throat goes dry at the thought.

He gives a perfunctory glance toward the front windshield just for good measure and then lazily goes back to gazing at Wolfwood. 

Oh--

Vash almost misses it, it's so fast. There's a brief snarl of an expression and Wolfwood brings his closed fist underneath his nose. There's no audible inhalation of breath. No sound at all, actually. Just a quick dip of his head, and the briefest shudder of his body that just barely brushes his knee against Vash's. 

And then it's over. Wolfwood goes right back to staring out the window as if nothing had occurred, his eyes clear, expression steady. Doesn't even need a clearing sniff to punctuate it.

Vash, for his part, suddenly can't remember how to function. He ripped his gaze away so fast from the display that he's pretty sure his eyes are still spinning. The sand dunes in the distance blur as his gaze unfocuses and he begins to replay each motion over and over again from what little he can remember.

It was so fast, too fast. He should have been paying better attention. He'd missed seeing the way the sneeze must have crept up on Wolfwood, and the moment he must have decided it was happening whether he liked it or not.

Still, all things considered, Vash can't complain about what he did see. The slight cant of Wolfwood's dark brows, the way his nostrils had flared right above his fist, the slight shudder that made the silver cross necklace hanging across his chest wink at Vash in the moonlight. 

Vash bites his lip and lets his head tilt back. A deep, cleansing breath chases out the last bit of heat in his lungs.

There. That's the end of it. Wolfwood's concquered whatever it was that was bothering him, and Vash has seen what he wanted to. And he's still somehow in control of himself, by some miracle. All's well that ends well. Hengives a private little smile to the roof of the vehicle and flexes his hands on his thighs, thoroughly satisfied. 

Then, Wolfwood sniffs. 

Incredulous, Vash opens his eyes and carefully slides them over to the seat next to him. Where sure enough, Wolfwood is once again rubbing at his nose with a knuckle, this time with a bit more urgency. Vash picks up his head and stares with abandon, transfixed.

This time, he gets to see the entire thing. From the way Wolfwood's eyes start to slit closed, each long lash like a swipe of ink collecting in on themselves, to the way his mouth parts and reveals the white flash of a canine. There is a slight sound of breath this time, but soft enough that Vash is sure he's the only one who hears it. 

"Hh!"

Then, in the same manner as before, Wolfwood finally succumbs, placing his fist underneath his nose and dipping into a perfectly silent stifle. 

Between the haze of arousal, Vash has time to think it's a strange habit, especially for someone like Wolfwood. He's never known the man to do anything with much politeness, or chagrin for that matter. Had he been asked to predict his caliber of sneeze, he would have guessed it would have been a ground-shattering kind of ordeal that would have even woken the likes of Roberto. These tightly constrained sneezes seem oddly antithetical to who Wolfwood is as a person. 

Roberto is asleep, but Vash is certain Wolfwood isn't doing this for his benefit. So, then, why?

He doesn't have time to hypothesize further. Before Vash has time to pretend to look away again to keep his cover, Wolfwood stifles a third sneeze into his fist, just as silent as the first two. Wolfwood's body reacts a little more this time, the shudder more pronounced, and his knee hitting Vash's with a bit more strength. Though it could be blamed on the rattle of the ride, Vash knows better. He feels the point of contact like a gunshot. 

Now, he's presented with a strange problem. It's customary to bless someone in this situation, but it's clear Wolfwood is trying to keep everyone in this vehicle from knowing he's sneezing. And Vash's rapt attention notwithstanding, he's doing a pretty good job of it. 

Vash realizes he can't say anything without giving himself away--and even if he could, he gets the sense Wolfwood isn't someone who takes kindly to having his weaknesses highlighted. Someone who puts this much effort into concealing their sneezing probably doesn't want attention drawn to them, right?

Still, Vash is a creature of habit, even while he's trying desperately to get his blood to flow anywhere other than below his waist. So a moment later, Wolfwood gears up for another sneeze and realizes a simple clenched fist isn't going to cut it. He switches tactics and quickly pinches his nose shut with his thumb and forefinger, causing the sound to break through his teeth.

"Hngt-SST!" 

And Vash can't help himself. 

"Bless you," he whispers.

As expected, Wolfwood answers him with an all too familiar glare. His eyes shine like coins in the dark and Vash quickly palms the back of his neck, holding up his other hand in a show of surrender. It's a wordless apology, just as is Wolfwood's wordless Shut it, Needle-noggin.

The dark haired man goes back to staring out the window, only now with a scowl. He rubs the palm of his hand at the tip of his nose, crushing it into what he probably hopes is submission. The look on his face seems to say No more, not a single fucking one. And now Vash feels guilty. He didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. It really was just instinct. And maybe partly that strange, weird pulling feeling in his chest that makes him want to close the last inch of distance between them and rub Wolfwood's back until he feels better. 

Vash vows not to look anymore. He presses his cheek against the window and concentrates as hard as he can at the scenery outside. Things are blissfully quiet for a few moments. Vash allows himself to be lulled by the rocking of the rough terrain beneath the wheels and feels a bead of sweat drip down his spine.

Then, Wolfwood sniffles. 

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Vash's first instinct is that the other man is in some kind of emotional distress. Alarmed, he looks over immediately, despite just vowing not to. Wolfwood has his face turned away from him and angled down--Vash realizes he's using the collar of his shirt to rub at his nose. 

He's rubbing so hard, he looks like he's trying to start a fire. Vash desperately wants to take his hands and stop him before he hurts himself. He knows he should look away. Give him some privacy. But as soon as Wolfwood's breath starts to hitch, he's unable to do anything else but watch.

The rigorous rubbing comes to a halt and Wolfwood lifts his face just slightly from his collar. His breath snags, a quick staccato of whispered gasps. "Hh--hh..HHh!"

He curls in on himself, shoulders caving as he presses the grey fabric of his collar up over his nose and mouth and executes a near perfect stifle into it. Vash thinks that might be it, but another assaults him without giving him a breath in between. There's volume to it, but not much.

"Hngt-mpff!" 

He lifts his head blearily and Vash can see his expression in the reflection of the window. Brow downturned, eyes fluttering--suddenly something shifts and his mouth stretches back into a fuller, deeper gasp. Vash sees his teeth bared for a moment and his chest swelling against the opened panel of his suit.

Oh, this is--

"H'EHTschuh!" 

It's not terribly loud, and it's slightly contained by the fabric of his collar, but it's a proper sneeze this time. Wolfwood's whole body bends with the force of it. 

"Bless you!" Meryl chimes from the front seat. 

Vash winces, but figures it has to be fair game now. Wolfwood raises his opposite hand while the other still has his collar tented over his nose in a brief show of thanks. He sniffs noisily and then with a few testing sniffles, finally lowers his collar. Vash notices there's a damp spot amidst the dark grey fabric. He crosses his legs quickly.

Wolfwood settles back into his seat properly and swipes his wrist under his nose. Vash would have thought his mood might have soured further now that the jig is up, but if anything, he seems more relaxed now. His legs splay out, his thigh coming to rest against Vash's and their shoulders brushing. Wolfwood clears his throat once and huffs. 

Vash doesn't quite trust himself to speak but figures not saying anything is weirder. 

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Wolfwood cuts him a sidelong glance. There's no venom in it, nor suspicion, thankfully. There's a hazy look to him as if that last sneeze sent his head spinning. The thought is endearing as it is arousing. 

"M'good," is all the man offers in reply. 

He tips his head back, dark strands of hair sliding against each other like silk. Vash watches his bare chest rise and fall as he raises his hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"You got any tissues up there?" he calls loud enough to be heard over the growl of the engine. 

Meryl's eyes flicker back to him in the rearview mirror. 

"There's some wadded up napkins."

"Hand 'em oh-h--"

Wolfwood's hand leaves his nose to hover, palm open, a few inches from his face. Vash thought he might just sneeze from there, but it's clearly turning into a bigger production. As his breath stutters, Wolfwood lifts his head from where it was tilted back and sits up fully. One hand becomes two as he steeples long fingers in front of his nose and mouth and his expression crumples. He whips forward into the space between his knees with a loud, throat scraping--"H’AEHHSSSZC’huu!"

Vash actually flinches. Now that sounds more like Wolfwood. Seems like all bets are off now. And just as Vash predicted,  the sound wakes Roberto from his sleep with a jolt. 

"Bless you," Meryl sighs.

Vash immediately puts a hand on Wolfwood's back where he's still hunched over, folded into his hands.

"Wow," he says, both in sympathy and in reverence.

Meryl reaches back with the napkins and Vash takes them from her. But before he can give them to Wolfwood, he feels the man's ribcage expanding underneath his palm. He doesn't even resurface, sneezing into his hands again from between his knees.

"DZZISSHh’huu!"

"That you sneezin' back there, undertaker?" Roberto grumbles.

Wolfwood grunts in response and finally lifts his head with a snuffle. Vash finds one of his hands and presses the napkins there. Wolfwood takes them without protest and immediately crushes them to his nose as he sits back up. 

Vash thinks to remove his other hand from his back but he doesn't, and for his part, Wolfwood doesn't shirk his touch. If anything, he leans into the hand along his spine, leans into Vash. The scent of his skin invades Vash's senses. Somehow, he still manages to smell nice after being in the burning heat all day. 

He's polite enough to turn his head as he starts to blow his nose. The action must vibrate an already miserably tickly sinuses, because mid-way through he can't help but sneeze helplessly into the fistful of napkins. 

"H'AEHchhff!"

His body wrenches with it, the muscles of his back tensing under Vash's side. Vash feels like he's going cross-eyed. As much as he likes the closeness, it's about to become a problem very soon if this doesn't let up. He shifts in his seat and tries to angle his hips away from the other man as much as he can.

"Bless you," he manages.

Meryl looks amused, "What's gotten into you, Wolfwood?"

"You telling me you guys don't fucking smell that?" Wolfwood bites back, his voice slightly muffled from the napkins as he continues to wipe at his nose. 

"Smell what?" Roberto asks. 

"I do," Vash says, eager for at least a slight segue in the conversation, "There's something in the air for sure. I've been noticing it for a while."

Meryl tilts her head, "I guess it does smell a little funny."

"Whatever it is, it's driving me fucking crazy."

Vash swallows. Someone else is piloting his mouth when he says, "You must be really sensitive."

Wolfwood lowers the napkins and shrugs noncommittally. He dabs at his nose, which is most assuredly turning the shade of a ripe peach, with the sodden napkins. Vash's heart gives a little pang. Suddenly, he remembers he has napkins too. He can't even remember the place they last stopped for food, his memory before this ride is all white noise at this point, but he knows he grabbed some.

"Here, Wolfwood," he says, digging into his coat and procuring some neatly folded napkins.

Wolfwood gives him a smirk that unfurls something in his chest. "You holdin' out on me this whole time, Blondie?"

"I just remembered I had them," he answers truthfully, "Sorry, I would have--" He trails off as he watches Wolfwood's expression quiver. There isn't time for a napkin exchange, Wolfwood is already wrenching away from him and this time opting to sneeze directly at the floor. 

"h'YIISHZSHh’huu!"

"Can you sneeze any quieter?" Meryl complains. 

Yes, he can, Vash thinks as his brain knits itself back together. He hands over the clean napkins as Wolfwood blindly reaches for them. He gets ahold of them, but doesn't even attempt to get them to his face in time to catch the second sneeze that barrels out of him. He shakes his head like a dog and whips towards the floor again--"H’AEEHHSSEZCh'yue!"

It's even louder than the first, and Vash wonders if that was just to spite Meryl.

"Bless you," Vash murmurs.

"Thagks," Wolfwood says as he straightens up and finally puts the new napkins to good use. He blows his nose almost comically, as if he's trying to make as much noise as possible. But given the way it sounds, Vash thinks that at least isn't for show. He's just genuinely trying to clear whatever's bothering him out of his sinuses. 

When he's finally done, Wolfwood wads up the napkins in his fist, gives a dry, irritated sniff and touches lightly at his septum with the tip of his ring finger. 

"Feel better?" Vash dares ask. 

"Yeah," Wolfwood gives an experimental sniff, "Think it's gone now."

Vash is equal parts relieved and disappointed. He smiles in the former and nods. 

"Good. Hopefully we'll be out of this area soon," he says encouragingly.

Wolfwood nod and turns a languid glance out the window. Vash studies his expression, holding his breath in fear of another telltale sign of a tickle. But nothing happens. Wolfwood's face stays serene. If not for the hue of his nostrils, one might not think anything had occurred at all. 

Vash allows himself to let down his guard. He rests his head against the window once more and actually closes his eyes. Blood is beginning to redistribute. His heart rate is going down. The pleasant coolness of the inside of the vehicle is doing wonders for him and he's grateful for the little seam open on the window letting in some of the air. It plays with his eyelashes and the tips of his hair as he lets the new quiet soothe him. 

Fifteen minutes later, Vash is on the edge of sleep, just about to plunge through when he hears Wolfwood sniff.