#songs so good they got me acting unwise

[tothepointofinsanity]

An ill omen. A body, broken and defaced, lies next to the hole. The golfer doesn't mind blood staining their golfball. — Track 3, Ponderous.

[bomber-grl]

Taking care of you when you’re sick 🤧

Pairing(s): Characters x Gn!sick!Reader (except for Reyna’s)

Character(s): Percy, Annabeth, Grover,Nico, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Jason, Piper, Reyna (platonic)

Me rn:

Percy Jackson

Honestly great at it and it’s honestly not expected but also sort of expected

Hard to explain

But it’s likely that he just brings you back to the apartment he lives in with sally, Paul, and ofc Estelle because even though he sort of doesn’t want to admit it, he needs help

So (imagining you’re super sick) even if you’re a stubborn one, it’s too embarrassing to act up in front of Sally

Someone who is so caring that she makes soup just for you, checks in on you, gives you extra blankets in case, honestly anything really

This transformed more into a Sally taking care of you than Percy but I’m getting there

One day Sally has to go out for an errand and takes Estelle with her, Paul went off to work or something

Leaving you two alone and you basically a burden/j

Also… free to complain all you want

Now if you’re stubborn and make it difficult for him he will fr mock you

Literally why are you being this way when Estelle behaves way better

And she’s a baby

Eventually though, cmon now

Just be willing and maybe he’ll kiss you

As if he isn’t doing so while you doze off on your meds

I’d give him a solid 6/10, not because he’s not my fav character or anything

Of course not

Annabeth Chase

Ideal in theory not in practice

She knows everything there is to know- hell, if she didn’t after years of being a demigod and suffering from injuries then strike me down

Well- no actually I take that back

Annabeth doesn’t actually know a lot aside from when she gets sick

Which happens rarely and goes away as quick as it comes

So now she’s here with you all bundled up-

Also, if you try to be stubborn and act like a big baby, she’s having none of it

You will rest and you will eat to consume your meds

End of story

I don’t make the rules 😭

She will, however, be pleased if you’re happy to comply and get you back to good asap

Although she does bumble a bit at the start- she eventually learns quickly

Which is to be expected

When she first started to struggle with what do to she’s too prideful to ask for help so she settles on asking you how to do well by you

Then she realizes how stupid (or unwise) it was to act that way and decides to just ask any of the Apollo kids she knows won’t tease her

Which is more than half

Only because she knew you’d get worse

I’d give her a solid 7/10

It’s not any longer because she gets to business and gets you healed pretty quick so 🤷

Grover Underwood

I’d say he’s pretty decent at taking care of you too

I mean he probably knows a lot about herbs and stuff that could help you alongside modern medicine that you’re likely taking

Plus when you can’t sleep for whatever reason (*cough*cough* congestion*cough*) he’ll obviously put that humidifier on but also play you a song

Either to help with sleep or just make you feel better

Really depends

Also we all know he’s a saytr

So he’s likely taking care of you despite needing to be elsewhere

And if that duty calls quickly? He feels SO bad 😭 I’m not even exaggerating

He’ll apologize ten times over and try to make up for it

Instead of getting your sleep and rest it just results in you spending that time reassuring Grover

Which, in your opinion, is a time well spent

But not to Grover

Anyways if you’re reluctant to let him take care of you then he’s constantly hassling you to stay resting

Literally got to the point where campers would just see you running by, and see Grover not too behind

Or it’d be you sitting somewhere and Grover trying to convince you why going back would be a good idea

Now, if you’re more than happy to rest and take your medicine?

Absolute angel in Grover’s eyes

Literally makes his life 10000x easier

Him being him, he just ends up helping you heal and recover faster than you normally would’ve otherwise

So honestly? You can try to be stubborn all you want but it’s only going to make you suffer 😭

Not much for him but that’s because besides his nervous energy, he’s probably the best here in terms of actually helping you become unsick

Nico Di Angelo

He’ll try his best to help you out 😭

Which he does a pretty decent job at, all he does is rely on books and what he’s heard from others

So it’s time for Nico to rawdog helping you out because frankly, he’s always been the opposite of a normal person

So, why would he ever get sick?

(Bluds body temperature is probably colder than the Antarctic)

He does the basics like making you drink medicine for your symptoms (e.g. cough, sore throat) and making you soup to the best of his capabilities

If you’re the type of person to be whiny and like to be cared after then he’d sort of tease you for it in his strange little way

Now, if you’re super stubborn and insist on him not helping you-

He takes it personally

Like I’m not even joking

He’ll just side eye you

You’re acting like you weren’t just dying of suffocation before he put the humidifier on a few seconds ago

And he lets that known

So, he asks why you’re being so stubborn and let him spoon feed you‼️

(Only because you ended up being bundled in a blanket burrito and Nico didn’t want to go through putting you in one again afterwards)

Too much hassle

Also applies if you’re being stubborn and he has to forcibly feed you)

He’s honestly getting annoyed at this point so you give him a proposition

You’ll let him take care of you if he gives you cuddles

Now, normally Nico would be so done but he couldn’t resist

So now here you both are underneath the covers

But then Nico ruins it

“Yknow I was gonna cuddle you regardless” (of it you complied or not)

6/10 just for that last comment

(Doing an actual story, will link HERE)

Leo Valdez

Someone please help him

Nah just kidding

Leo is definitely way better with machines than with humans

That’s a fact

But he knew his mom long enough to know the basics of everything

I don’t make the rules, that woman definitely taught him everything there is to know

So here you are on the bed of your room as you hear Leo’s racket going on in the kitchen

Emmie and Jo went out and took a few residents with them, including one of your favorite residents:

Georgina

The ones that stayed behind were either asleep or bundled away under the covers of their beds

(Ignoring those doing chores)

Especially since it was now winter, despite the waystations warmth, a chill seemed to have made it way inside.

Eventually Leo makes his way back up and set down a tray

It had a soup you learned to become familiar with

It was Caldo de Res

So obviously you gobbled that shit up like all the other Mexican foods Leo had made before

Eventually Leo makes you take your medicine because even though he’s all about playing around and stuff, he still likes to care for you

Now, because it’s likely snowing, Leo had to resist and refuse to let you out

You’re already sick, it could get so much worse

But you didn’t listen

Hence you running around like a maniac outside the station yelling as Leo chases you

Afterwards he scolds you but when you point out that fact that he was laughing when he was chasing after you- he shuts up real quick

Leo does realize how boring it probably is for you though so after going back inside he tries to be a source of entertainment for you

He tries to find board games and he luckily does

Which ends with you two moving to the living room (?) or common area

By the time emmie and the other residents return, the tower you built while playing Jenga was sky high and skinny asf

Then Leo crashed it and you both obviously yelled at it

Then Leo got told off for distracting you from resting (although it was done kindly)

Later after dinner, Leo snuck into your room at night and once again began to try to rid you of your boredom

you two began giggling and gossiping in the middle of the night

Then went to bed when someone knocked as kindly asked for you two to quiet down

Leo was embarrassed 💀

Frank Zhang

Surprisingly good at taking care of you

Only saying it’s surprising because I’ve never considered it before

He obviously takes care of your basic needs like meds and just covers you needing anything else like rest or water

If you’re stubborn to actually try to get better- then he’s definitely worried but also confused

Why are you acting this way and also, please just let him help you

Which is honestly sad because even if he’d like to stay by your side for more than a few hours- he really isn’t able to due to praetor duties

I mean it’s a surprise you got a pass on your chores/ duties depending on what your role is

Will definitely feel terrible for having to leave to go do his job but eventually finds someone trusted to look after you

Likely someone indebted to him

(He’d feel a bit sorry for whoever it is if you’re particularly resistful)

Let’s say you actually get sick and there’s no outside forces that can interfere

Frank is a pretty top notch- although a bit anxious - doctor

Likely learned a lot about the healing aspect of Apollo back when being his kid was what Frank wanted most

So he knows a lot from that and is really attentive

After giving you some medicine you had seemingly been knocked out cold so it was natural for Frank to turn down the lights

Before he left the room he decided to give you a kiss on the cheek

You were actually still awake and despite your boyfriends more than accommodating care-

You will be teasing him tomorrow using this instance

Overall I’d give Frank a 9/10

‘He is the worlds most perfect man’

Hazel Levesque

Have you seen her lead the other Roman’s as praetor and even before then ? Yea she’s getting you bundled up and fed

No ifs or buts

This is how she is overall but if you try being stubborn she genuinely doesn’t see why you would be

Like why wouldn’t you want to get better??

Also please don’t sneak out to the weaponry or something because she literally CANT give you special treatment 😭

Despite her seemingly tough demeanor, she really is a fool for you

Not actually- but miss girl is smitten with you

So she sort of takes it easy, occasionally finding her voice and scolding you as lightly as she can

She tries her best to treat you but eventually gets advice and help from others in camp who know more than she does

She ofc knows the basics: consume vitamin c, rest, drink medicine, etc

But she can’t be too sure

I also honestly think she’s way better than Nico, because I didn’t include it but he definitely got some wayward damned spirit to help him out

But not her

Not that that’s bad, but she’s definitely more capable

I do think she bumbled a bit

She had ordered some other campers who specialized in healing to help her out

Before then, she had been taking care of you herself

So when they get there and see her sort of make shift stuff- she’s a bit embarrassed

Yknow, if the blush on her cheeks are anything to go by

Because we’ve already established that she’s better than Nico, I’ll give her a 8/10

Because she’s really good at taking care of you, really caring overall

But 🤷

Jason Grace

Best way to say how he is at taking care of you is mediocre

He isn’t constantly attentive but just the right amount that you feel like it’s enough

Esprit he’s busy with the school he’s attending- then he’ll have to sneak out just to see you and take care of you

If school isn’t in session then he’s more than happy to go over and take care of things for you

Like doing chores, cooking food and actually taking care of you

Doesn’t mind all that much if you try to resist being treated because it’s likely that he’s encountered people who are WAY worse

Ik this is him supposed to be taking care of you but I think it’d be so funny that you’re just constantly in and out of consciousness that you only remember small snippets

In which Jason has to fill in for you and all you remember is Jason in the distance

Pretty out of place but the idea of it is so funny to me 😭

Imagine being so kind and your s/o not remembering any of it

You’d still believe him though, why should you?

Also I said it’s mid but like mid leaning good so I’ll give him a 6/10

Not that he was terrible or anything but just because I feel like it suits him

Idk 😭

Piper Mcclean

THE BEST IM NOT EXAGGERATING

The medicine- eating- cooking part is alright

It isn’t much different from the others averages and not much to take note of in all honesty

But what is really the cherry on top is when after having a mind splitting headache- you’ve finally managed to fall asleep

Being a demigod and all- you immediately hear when Piper enters the room

Each creak the floor board gives continued until Piper has reached the end of the bed

Not that it’s disturbing you in anyway

So there you are snuggled in bed and you feel a weight added next to you where the bed is pushing down

You feel hands massaging your scalp and Piper -knowing how you’ve suffered with head pain- starts to sing for you

It isn’t unknown or unheard of to sing for someone to heal (demigod or non demigod wise)

So when you immediately start to feel better you can feel your would ascending into the heavens

Not actually- because that’d be the opposite affect of the singing but you get what I’m going for

Anyway aside from that she’s really attentive and sweet but I just had that idea come to me strongly idk why

Overall id rate her a 7/10

That’s because her singing is divine but her caring aspect is mediocre

Reyna Ramírez-Arellano x F!Reader (for the first half)

(Ex: realized hunters of Artemis don’t get sick after finishing toa)

Literally legendary at taking care of you

Although she is a bit of a dictator when it comes to you being slippery and running off- it’s still pretty great

She was praetor for how long now? Yea a while so she was bound to have learned some things and after joing the hunters it’s only more reason to

Which if you’re a hunter and sick (only confusing but let’s go with it) you need to get your health back up to be in optimal fighting condition so theres literally no room for being stubborn

You need to get well soon and that’s an order basically

So Reyna will bundle you up, (though seeing as you’re more than happy to be cooperative) its only done to make you warm

(Gn! Reader but still platonic)

Now if this is while Reyna is praetor then she’s still enforced this strict persona

And seeing as she’s here taking care of you-

That’s only more reason to

Unfortunately she won’t really have time (seeing that being praetor is really unsustainable long term with the loss of sleep and sleep schedule changes)

But when she does her presence is soothing and likely the only reason you were able to actually get well pretty fast

I don’t have much besides she knows what she’s doing (likely has gotten stupid colds form stress) and is really serious about it

Would give her a 9.5/10 but I’ll change it to a 10/10 because of how fast you recover

-

A/n: req was originally only asking for Nico but I said why not do the other 9

[girlboybug]

writing request for a smut fic with established relationship with javi x reader? dialogue prompt: javi: “he looked at you funny” reader: “i didn’t know you were the jealous type..”

OOO i like this muahaha >:) i hope you enjoy hehe, thank u for requesting!! <3

art deco

"shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure. baby you're so ghetto, you're lookin' to score."

or the one where jealousy happens to be a good look on javi.

what’s playing 🎧 : art deco by lana del rey

content warnings : SMUT, jealous!javi, blowjobs, face fucking, car sex, semi public sex (?), unprotected sex (extremely unwise w javi idk wtf he got goin on down there), creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, themes of slut shaming, threats of exhibitionism, threats of restraints e.g cuffs, brat tamer!javi (been dying to write that)

trigger warnings : mentions/threats of gun usage, alcohol, both reader and javier are tipsy at best, if there is anything i missed pls lmk!

word count : 4k

a/n : im pulling SO MUCH out my ass w this bc i havent finished narcos and only rlly pay attention when pedro or boyd is on screen and even tho im half mexican my ass cannot speak spanish for the life of me teehee sorry yall

you’re a bad actor. 

you’re also bad at lying and honestly, just generally bad at the things javier happens to be especially good at. 

but that’s okay, javier likes you like that. it’s refreshing, endearing, to be with someone who hasn’t gotten good at lying or pretending to be someone they’re not. and actually, he’s currently watching you fail at that right now. 

you’re at the bar, swirling around your drink that he bought for you, pretending to not notice the way he’s eyeing you from across the club. he thinks it's cute how you keep stealing glances at him, giggling to yourself whenever he catches you.

you two do this little song and dance every now and then, it keeps things exciting and fun, and you never have complaints about it. 

you pretend to be the single, bored girl sitting alone at the bar, and javier just so happens to swoop in, introducing himself as the man who’s been ordering drinks for you all night, ready to charm you into his bed for the night. it’s stupid when you say it out loud, but the way he fucks you when you do this little act makes it seem like the best goddamn idea he’s ever come up with.

it’s harmless fun between a couple, and the tension you two create throughout the night is always a recipe for mind blowing sex. however, it seems things are going a bit off script tonight. 

a man invites himself to the empty barstool beside you that was reserved for javier, but he’s oblivious to the little game you’re playing right now. “hi there,” he says, grinning, and you try your best to hold back a long sigh while you greet him back politely. 

javier’s hand tightens around the beer he’s got, wishing the neck of the bottle belonged to the man staring you down. he decides he’ll keep watch for awhile, he trusts you, and wants to see how this’ll play out, despite his patience already wearing dangerously thin.

“can i buy you another drink?” he asks, motioning towards the dwindling liquid in your glass. its not a difficult question, but the answer isn’t coming to you like it should be. 

you are playing the role of a single woman tonight, and you won’t let anything go further with this guy than receiving a free drink. 

eh. why not? 

“yeah, sure, thank you.” you smile back, and he hurriedly calls over the bartender, asking for two glasses of whatever it is you ordered. javier shifts in his seat, his jaw coming down harder than it was just a moment ago as he watches you share a drink with someone that isn’t him. 

javier follows his wandering eyes, how they trail up and down your figure, making it obvious he’s wondering what you’ve got on underneath.

javier wants to walk up to him to tell him how he knows what you’ve got under that dress, because he picked it out. 

god, this night fuckin’ sucks so far. 

“i noticed you for awhile now, what’re you doin’ here all alone?” he asks, and you get a little nervous with the way he gets closer to you. “i’m just waiting for my boyfriend to show up.” you answer, deciding the single woman role didn’t feel as fun anymore. 

“ahh, i see.” he replies, and you expect him to scoot farther from you, or better yet, leave. but much to your dismay, he stays. 

“it’s just,” he starts, and you glance down at your shoes, saying a silent prayer for him to get on with what he’s got to say before he leaves you alone for good. 

“you’ve been here for awhile now, you sure he’s comin’ honey?” he questions you, faux concern in his voice and you close your eyes for a moment to hide the way they roll at him.

“yeah, i’m sure.” you reply curtly. “how about i keep you some company while you wait for him then, how’s that sound?” he gets closer than you would’ve liked, boldly resting his arm around your shoulders, and yep, that’ll do it. 

javier’s beer clatters down onto his table as he shoots up from his seat, stalking over to you. he’s quick to join you, standing tall behind your seated figure, his strong chest a familiar surface against your back. 

“uh who’re you–” 

“her boyfriend.” he answers, eyes lowered testingly, practically itching for him to give him a reason to swing. “hi baby,” you beam, turning around and craning your neck up to give him a kiss. he leans down, holding your chin while he kisses you. 

with your lips still connected, he stares at the scoffing man that just sits and watches. 

“yeah well i wasn’t the one who kept her waiting all night so why don’t you get lost? we were havin’ a conversation, weren’t we sweetheart?” he looks at you as if you’d actually agree, and you open your mouth to defend javier, but he doesn’t need you to, he’s more than eager to put this guy back in his place. 

he steps away from behind your back, moving right in front of you now, leaning in close to the man. he reaches around to his lower back, sliding his gun to the side of his waist before he’s got it in his clutch, pressing it to the man’s ribs.

“you have 3 seconds to get the fuck out my face before i stop being so polite.” he whispers in his ear, and the man stiffens with immediate fear once he registers what’s being pointed at him. 

he swivels out of the stool, hastily hopping out to make his way out the club all together. javier turns back to you once he’s out of his field of vision, expecting a profuse thank you javi, but he gets quite the opposite. 

“what the hell was that?” you question, sounding angry, and uh oh, you saw that. 

“baby,” he starts off but you just huff, climbing off the stool. “that was way too far,” you point at him and he sighs, holding your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to settle your irritation down. 

“but he was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t see the way he was looking at you–” 

“and what way was he looking at me for you to pull a gun out on him?” you whisper yell and he starts to join you in your frustration. 

“he looked at you…funny, like he was just thinking about fucking you the entire time.” he sounds upset that he even has to explain himself to you about this, and you catch it, deciding to throw it back at him when you turn on your heel to leave. 

he growls with annoyance as he follows you out the club, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn back and look at him.

you exhale sharply, looking up at him, switching your weight onto your left foot. “i knew you could be a little…impulsive sometimes but jesus jav, i didn’t realize you were the jealous type that would do something so…stupid.”

his annoyance is fast to turn into a hard glare, and you see the sudden shift, instantly feeling regretful. he purses his lips to the side, laughing dryly. “stupid huh?” he clicks his tongue and you shake your head, walking closer to him now.

“javi, i’m sorry,” you try to remedy the mess of this situation, but unlucky for you, what little patience he was holding onto is now gone. 

he grabs the hand of yours that’s reaching towards his jaw, he isn’t in the mood for it. he pulls you along by your wrist to the parking lot. 

“yeah, you’re about to be baby,” he mutters, and your heart picks up, your heel clad feet in turn picking up speed to keep up with him. 

he ushers you into his backseat, slamming the door behind you once you’re both in. he tugs you into his lap, your legs on either side of him, your knees making contact with the cold vinyl. his hands find their way to your ass, squeezing it hard.

you gasp a little, arching into his chest. the second you move in closer, his lips are on your’s. it’s not gentle, it’s not slow paced, and it’s not soft, no, that’s for when you’re good. and you’ve been anything but. 

you’re grinding in his lap, his growing bulge feels perfect right up against your dampening panty clad cunt, too perfect that you can’t stop yourself. you’re moaning in his mouth, struggling to keep up the pace and intensity in the way his lips are moving with your’s. 

he tastes like beer and cigarettes, smells like it too, with traces of his cologne that you love. he’s like paradise incarnate and you want to live in him forever. 

when he pulls away you're left panting in his hold, lips parted, brushing against each other, stealing the other person’s breaths. “you know,” he sighs lowly, his words trailing up your spine, leaving shivers in their wake. 

“just because i let you pretend you’re single for the night doesn’t mean you actually are,” he says, and he sounds serious, but there’s something hidden in his air, something challenging, like he wants you to argue just so he can put you right back where you belong. 

you nod heavily like he speaks words of righteousness, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i know javi, i know,” you pepper his face in kisses, but he remains still, outwardly unphased.

“guess you just got too excited at the thought of bein’ a slut huh?” he breathes out flicking a brow at you, keeping you in close when you try to inch away from him at his accusations. 

“i’m not a slut–” he unfolds your offended arms, hands leaving your wrists to hold your thighs that rest on either side of his lap. “no baby it’s alright, s’not a totally bad thing. i like sluts. they let you do whatever you want to ‘em,” he grips your thighs, forcefully sliding you off his lap and letting you land down on your knees before him. you gasp, holding onto his legs for steadiness. 

“and they let you all while tryin’ to convince you they aren’t sluts. isn’t that funny? he chuckles, caressing your cheek, peering down at you while he does so. 

“javi,” you say, you don’t know what to say next, the only certainty that remains is that his name never sounds wrong coming from you. 

“if you wanna be a slut so bad then go ahead, i won’t stop you.” he shrugs, leaning back into the seat, arms stretched out beside him. you swallow away your stuttering, running your hands up and down your thighs. “what do you want me to do?” you ask smally, looking up at him from under your lashes. 

he readjusts, lifting his hips in the air, settling back down closer to you. he tilts his head, eyes flickering from his crotch back to your gaze, “what sluts do best baby.” he says under a gravelly breath. your thighs close just a little tighter at that, feeling eager to oblige to his insinuations. 

you unzip his levi’s, unbuttoning them before you’re pulling him from out his boxers, throat getting tight at the way he pulses in your hands. precum is already beading at his tip, and you lean forward, flicking your tongue over it. he hisses quietly, a hand coming behind your neck. 

your lips envelope the tip, shutting your eyes when you trail down until you can’t take any more of him down your throat. he groans, throwing his head back, bucking his hips into your mouth. you gag around him, hand trembling while you try to jerk off what you can’t fit into your mouth. 

he rolls his head forward, holding you by the back of your head, starting to thrust further in, chuckling to himself at the way you gag. he lets you slide off him, jerking his slick cock off while you catch your breath. 

you’re staring at each other in the thick air, the night breeze sneaking in from the cracked windows, making your nipples perk from behind your lacy bra. 

the moon glimmers through the side window facing javier, and it panels his cheekbone, across his jaw and down his chin, trickling over the curve of his collarbones. 

he looks so beautiful like this, sitting tall in front of you, looking at you like he could tear you apart with one hand, jaw clenching when your thumb slides over the head of his cock. 

the way he’s looking at you elicits a reaction from your body before your mind can reach it. you lean back down, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

you don’t mind the way he keeps your head still, using your mouth the way he likes. 

he fucks your mouth like he wants to prove a point, and at this moment he doesn’t even know what the point is, he hardly even remembers where he’s currently at, the only thing that makes sense is how fucking good you’re taking him down your throat. 

you’re being so good, so perfectly compliant for him, and what’s fueling you is the tingles exploding between your thighs at the way he’s using you. 

the grunting utterances of your name in his spewing breaths adds propellent to the roaring fire building in your lower tummy. 

his groans get a little airier, picking up in quantity, coming out one after the other, fucking your mouth so deep your nose brushes against the brown curls sitting just above his cock. “look at me,” he instructs through gritted teeth, and you listen, blinking away your teary eyes to look up at him. 

he sends one, two, three, hard thrusts into your mouth before he pulls out, resting the tip over your lips. he pants to himself, shutting his eyes closed while you take this time to do the same and catch your own breath. “what’s wrong?” you sound a little rasped, and he can’t fight the smug look on his face at your voice. 

“as much as i’d like to let you continue, i got better things planned baby,” he chuckles breathlessly, pulling you back up into his lap. 

he pushes your dress up, exhaling when he sees how wet you are in the panties he picked out for you. “javi, i didn’t bring any condoms, do you have one?” you press your hands to his chest, momentarily halting him, and he looks at you, scoffing quietly. 

“huh. sluts don’t usually care about that kinda thing.” he rubs the head of his cock over your clothed clit, watching your lowered eyes fully shut, a moan slipping out at his ministrations, proving him right. “s’not gonna fit like this,” your whimper when he moves your panties to the side, flicking himself up and down your folds. “it will baby, i’ll make it fit.” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips.

you rarely ever got on top, he was always very adamant about taking care of you, whether that means you’re on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders or you with your wrists being hoisted by his tight grip while he fucks you senseless.

the constant is, he’s always on top. 

he’s big, no matter the position he’s got you in, it’s always a stretch he has to ease you into. which is why you’re typically reluctant to get on top, but right now he isn’t asking, he’s telling. 

“javi, s’not gonna go in like this,” you whimper nervously, curling into his chest. head on his shoulder. he rolls his eyes, fingers gliding right over your clit to shut you up. and it works, naturally, he chuckles. 

your breath gets faster when he swirls over your clit with his fingers, squirming around in his lap. he holds himself from the base of his cock, circling over your fluttering hole. your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his hair. 

he starts crowning into you, pushing in the fat head of his cock, pausing the breath in the middle of your throat. it rumbles out as a pained moan when he continues pushing in. “god javi,” you whine, legs on either side of him flexing with nerves at the intrusion. 

“doin’ all the work for you baby, jus’ take it for me,” he mutters in your ear, his mustache tickling your jaw while he rubs your clit to ease you into it.

“actin’ like i haven’t fucked this pussy before, know you can handle it, sè una niña grande para mí,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, and you melt, nodding desperately. “i am,” you mumble, bracing yourself for when he bottoms out inside you. he thrusts upward, holding you by the fat your ass, pulling you down onto him. 

the air is knocked out your lungs, and all you can do is hold on to his leather clad shoulders for dear life. your hips start moving in sync, rolling into each other, and you feel insane, it feels so good, you start thinking maybe you’ll do this more often.

the sting from the stretch subsides soon, but the feeling of being full stays, and you keep it, loving how good it feels. the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, bobbing up into your throat and you fall apart, fucking yourself on him, addicted to the way he hits every little spot inside you that you need. 

you’re moaning, panting loudly in his ear, and he eats every single one of them up, gripping your hips when he guides you down onto him. kisses lay wetly across the side of his neck, teeth graze over his ear, praises of how fucking big he is, and how good he feels inside you, relay to him over and over, making his cock twitch when he picks up the pace in his thrusts. 

“you’re so nice while i fuck you baby, maybe this is how i should shut you up more often huh?” he teases, but you don’t care, you’d start arguments with him if it meant he’d always feel this good in you. 

“in so deep,” you whimper more to yourself but he hears you, he hears it all. he hears how fucking soaked you are around him, hears every little breath, every little moan that comes out of you. 

he smacks over your ass, chuckling to himself when you whine and clamp down around him. “maybe i should go find that guy huh?” he leans forward, lips on your shoulder when he ruts up into you deeper, right there to hold you closer when you keen into him at the hard thrust.

“ ‘should find him and fuck you in front of him, show him how its done, what do you think of that baby?” he grunts, hands tightening over your hips. 

you just moan, babbling something incoherent when you grind down onto him, his words acting as a lighter underneath the growing flame while you bounce on him. you squeeze around him, your body unashamed of how much you like the idea of such a dirty act. 

he feels the way you clamp down around him, chuckling breathlessly, his hand traveling behind your neck to force you to look at him. “or maybe it’s you who’d like that,” he taunts, expecting a shy shake of your head, but you just nod, trying to meet his thrusts. "i'll do whatever you want javi," you whimper pathetically, and god, that does something to him. 

"know you will, so sweet baby," he groans, leaning back to watch where you both meet, loving the sight of his cock entering and disappearing into your cunt. 

you tug at the hair from the back of his head, messily kissing all over his jaw and cheek, and he takes it all, adoring how clingy you are with him right now. he pulls the front of your dress down, hooking his fingers under the cups of your bra and groaning to himself when he sees your tits, pretty and pert under the bra, he of course, picked out for you. 

black see-through lace, his favorite. 

"gonna be the death of me, mi vida," he murmurs to himself, latching his hot eager mouth over them. he assaults the soft skin with his tongue, teeth grazing over your sensitive nipples, a smirk forming around the flesh when he teases the ghost of a bite, wanting to laugh when you squirm and arch your back at his actions. 

his fingers find their place back to your clit, rubbing over the nerves like clockwork, syncing the way you bounce on him with harder thrusts, making the pleasure surrounding you inescapable. 

breathing is getting harder, but it feels unimportant, everything does when it comes to javi. in this moment if he told you to stop breathing altogether you honestly just might listen to him. 

but it's so much so soon, and you want to hold onto the moment for as long as you can, enjoy each stroke of his cock deep inside you longer, and if he keeps touching you like this, you know you won't last. you paw at his hand, trying to push the relentless wrist away. "no more javi, m'gonna cum too fast please," you whimper, but he doesn't agree. you're finished when he's finished. 

"do i need to cuff you to the headrest or are you gonna keep those hands to yourself?" he spits, sounding harsh, sounding serious. you whine like a wounded puppy, shaking that empty little head of yours. 

"but javi," he grabs your chin, guiding your gaze downward when he moves his jacket to the side, revealing the cuffs that hang from his belt loops. "think i'm kiddin'? hands to yourself or around me. otherwise you get these. your choice," he's still inside you, and you can't take it, you throw your arms around him, hugging him close while trying to get him to move again. 

"gonna be good, gonna listen, m'sorry, please move javi, please?" 

he senses your desperation, and gives in, continuing his thrusts. you sigh in relief, following the way his hips piston up into you with your own. 

"can i touch you?" you whisper, unsure if you're allowed to, but javier relents, nodding with a kiss to your neck. you slide his jacket off eagerly, quickly unbuttoning his shirt before your hands are running along the warm skin of his shoulders, squeezing them when he thrusts right there. 

your hands drag down his chest, nails lightly digging into his tanned skin when your head falls back, rising and falling up and down on his cock. his mouth is on you again, tongue swirling over the curve of your chest, gripping them roughly in his wide palms. 

he watches you from this view, how you lose yourself when he's got his cock in you, and he thinks maybe he should have encouraged you to ride him earlier. 

he's getting close, watching you has only pulled him closer to the end, his cock twitching the more he imagines how good you'd look dripping in his cum. he imagines your trembling thighs being parted by his hands, your abused hole just leaking and leaking from his cum. 

"m'close, gonna let me finish inside mi vida?" he grunts, and you nod heavily, clamping harder down around him when he asks. "please, please javi," you beg, and who is he to deny you? 

his fingers run around your clit once more, those tight circles from the pads of his fingers bring you right there alongside with him, moaning his name in an incomprehensible voice while his face rests in the crook of your neck, bouncing you on top of him. 

"always wanted to cum in you baby, always wanted to fill you up nice an' good —fuck—, make you fuckin' full of me, just know you'd look so fuckin' good just drippin– shit," you're squeezing him like you never have before, his confessions, the ferver in the way he fucks you is just too much, your body acts before you can even process what’s happening. 

you cum all around his cock, and the pulsing of your walls, the whimpers of his name from your pretty lips is all he needs to join you in your blinding orgasm. he's cumming inside you, grunting your name and how fuckin' good you are for him, his mouth hot on your neck while he fucks you through your shared orgasms. 

he doesn't let up on your clit until the pleasure bleeds into pain, and you can't take it. with heavy breaths you collapse in his arms, panting like you've just ran a marathon, sweaty forehead resting on the cool leather of the seat. 

he gently shifts your hips backward, looking down at his cum that pours out of you. he likes the mess, likes how your cunt looks when he rubs his cum across your throbbing clit, you jump at the stimulation, begging him in a tired voice, no more javi. 

he listens, taking sympathy on your spent body. he puts your panties back over you, tucking himself away before he repositions you so you're properly sitting in his lap, letting your legs stretch across the rest of the backseat. 

"you okay mi bebita?" he murmurs softly, and you hum a sleepy yes, still buzzing from your orgasm. "still mad?" he asks jokingly, pulling a hazy giggle from you.

“i think you just fucked any anger i had left out of me." he laughs proudly at that, rubbing your back. "yeah? maybe that's how we should settle all our fights then." 

[gregoftom]

I love Greg, but if I was Tom I would have teared the bitch to pieces with my teeth if I saw him having a ball of a time with the fascists, after having agreed to go to prison for him. He did the same thing with boar on the floor and the proposal of a business open relationship afterwards. Which in retrospect is very fucking crazy. Dude had to stand in an empty pool and got pissed on, but still didn't talk because of a little 'pls 🥺' only for Greg to break-up and blackmail him. Love them, fr.

JASJAKSJAKJSAS yeah i'll be honest that hurt me too.

it's kind of crazy the way that greg reacted then compared to now and you make a good point - twice tom makes these big proposals of love and twice it's kind of thrown back in his face. this is something he's used to so it makes sense that he goes off and pelts bottles at greg. you can kind of understand tom, LOL.

but he keeps pursuing him! like a lovesick little bitch! it's so..... A. there are probably multiple reasons why greg reacts the way he does to tom at the start; 1. he thinks that's the way this world works having observed the family acting that way [tom even praises him for the blackmail, in the end greg is mostly satisfied with being treated better and respected and being given a sense of belonging. tom knows just how to seduce him right back in] 2. he's not sure, like i was when i first watched boar on the floor, just how long these kinds of gestures could and would last so he doesn't take it quite so seriously hence trying to leave after [also up to that point tom had been uh. pretty mean to him!! and he gravitates towards niceness, it's only then i guess that he managed to pluck up the courage to ask to leave bc tom had this sudden burst of kindness and greg felt like he could leave without getting Killed lol.] 3. he's just being selfish - he takes these gestures and runs with them, esp the getting out of jail free card. he's like, oh thanks! then thoughtlessly celebrates his freedom with a bunch of. dudes. anyway.

BUT THEN LATE S3-4?????!?! WTF HAPPENED HASKJASAS this bitch was like minnesotan dick got me acting unwise. "prove it" shut the hell up slut!!! tom can't even react properly cuz he's like HUH?????? i thought you didn't even like me back!!!!! and it's just so fucking fun bc it pairs up very nicely with how much tom acts like a schoolboy around greg. these mfs be acting like high school idiots and it's so entertaining. it's like i said somewhere else on a post; one of them will take steps forward while the other steps back. the nero sporus scene was greg's "oh!" moment, i think. that was the moment he was like, oh wait, this is for real? bc ever since then he's been glued to tom's side and in the latest s4 episodes been singing his song like hey hi i'm greg of tom, i'm tom's mistress, how is everybody, hi mr president did you know i love that country boy. also i am here. like he mentioned himself second!! not exactly a huge thing like botf, but it's still a gesture! just a shame tom wasn't there to see it; maybe it'll be addressed in some way in the finale or he'll bear witness to greg doing the same thing for him in kind and we'll either get a break up as a response [touche greg] or... not?? which!!!!! A but i'm kind of expecting something within the former range. but i don't think it'll be an easy decision for tom and tbh, i'll take that. it at least means greg is important to him.

something happened between s3 and 4; they became friends, the trust grew, they must have spent a lot of time together. the disgusting brothers [which atp could just be them fucking each other and calling it disgusting bc they're fucking dumb and internally homophobic] bullshit, which sounds like something some idiot frat bros would come up with. "DIGUSTIBUS" GREG U WANNA FUCK THAT SENIOR CITIZEN SO BAD IT MAKES U LOOK STUPID. like. we had tom acting like that, now it's greg's turn. the scales tipped the other way and now tom is like. whadda hell... he likes it for sure we can see it here and there. but he's taking the step back now. i just think that's interesting!

ANYWAY SORRY I MADE THIS INTO A HUGE POST LOL but the point is. i also love them fr and tom should've [redacted] whenever greg was a little unappreciative asshole.

[normcore-tertiary-character]

“Get To Know Me" Tag Game, I was tagged by @luckshiptoshore! I’ve been around on fandom and tumblr for ages but I don’t often get tagged in stuff, thanks, this is fun!

Fave Ships: Currently oscillating between nandermo and blackbonnet with the brainrot but Kirk/Spock is that old comfortable favorite that’s just always somewhere in my head

First Ship: Probably Alana/Prince Jonathan from Song of the Lioness as something I cared about but didn’t do anything outside of reading the story because I was like 8 and it was the 90s. I think the first ship to make me rabid was Raj Koothrappali/Howard Wolowitz from The Big Bang Theory. Found one of my favorite bands because I was so obsessed with a specific music video about those two.

Last Song: Atomic Power by Southern Culture on the Skids. My usual genre is sadgirl garage punk but this song has my brain in an absolute headlock and I 

Currently Reading: Aside from a slew of fanfics that I have on rotation, I literally JUST started The Will to Battle by Ada Palmer. Third book in an extremely weird series, extremely good and also all trigger warnings apply.

Last Movie: Finally saw Knives Out for the first time on the 1st! Waiting for my bone-rattling cough to clear up before going to see Glass Onion in theaters

Currently Watching: Elementary. Before this it was White Collar. Apparently I love having a procedural cop drama on in the background when I do other stuff

Consuming: Office coffee

Currently Working On: As far as fan content, somewhere in my stack of projects is an embroidery of the phrase “Gentleman Pirussy got me acting unwise” but the last 3 projects I actually touched were a crochet cowl, a painting of some leaves, and a crochet sweater for my niece

[forthegothicheroine]

The King in Yellow, 1949

Much of this story is true.  Warnings in the tags.

When I had pneumonia in my early teens, my mother brought home an armful of VHS tapes from the library to alleviate my misery.  Knowing my snobbish preferences, she had grabbed copies of whatever she found in black and white.  I remember something musical that I suspect was Busby Berkeley, I remember Mildred Pierce (a bad choice, as it turned out- the plot includes a young girl dying of pneumonia), and I remember a period piece called The King.  I faded in and out of consciousness while I watched it, but it soothed me while I was awake and filled my fever dreams with sparkling images.  I could never find it at the library again, nor at Hollywood Video or even early Netflix (once my father got the subscription service where you could order practically every DVD.)  It was a bit odd that it seemed to be so obscure, given that it starred old Hollywood legend Ingrid Bergman (and, although I initially forgot it, Marlene Dietrich.)  But even big stars make films that fall by the wayside in public memory, and it seemed that this was one of them.  Google was no help, and at the time that was that.

I didn’t see the film again until I was watching Turner Classic Movies at my grandparents’ house.  I loved watching that channel with them while filling out the crossword puzzle that came in their little TCM catalogue (all of it based on movie trivia, the only kind of crossword puzzle I’ve ever been any good at.)  I recognized a certain scene where Bergman stood on a balcony, looking sadly at the moon.  Her face had an expression of unutterable melancholy, and the crescent moon reflected in each of her eyes, giving the impression of two moons in one sky.  I had very little time to catch up on what I’d missed before we had to go meet my cousins at the local Italian restaurant.  I knew logically that the movie would be long over by the time we returned, but I turned on the channel anyway.  Of course it had moved on to the lesser known Alfred Hitchcock film Stage Fright, but then I heard Marlene Dietrich sing before I could reach the remote to turn the tv off in disappointment.  I knew that I had heard her sing before, and I knew it had been in The King.

Dietrich’s singing often comes across as somewhat campy today, with its Rs pronounced as Ws and it’s up-and-down tone.  Madeline Kahn parodied it brilliantly in Blazing Saddles, such that it was a bit of a disappointment when I finally saw Dietrich’s western Destry Rides Again and found it to be lifeless and inconsistent next to the parody.  Still, we remember her voice for a reason, and when I remembered it that night, I knew that its sardonic loneliness had rung through The King and made me shiver in my dreams.

The TCM schedule didn’t list The King in its time slot, but something else.  If I had taken down the name, maybe it would have helped me find it.  Sometimes the same movie runs under multiple names.

I didn’t see the film all the way through for many years, after I graduated college.  I had found a web page that listed public domain film noir, including one called The Masked Guest.  The website described it as a costume noir, and I curiously clicked on the link.  Once I took in the credits running on the youtube window, my eyes grew wide and I did not move from my place on the bed until the movie had run its course.

The credits did indeed list it as The Masked Guest, but I recognized the strange repeating design on the title cards.  They told me that in addition to starring Dietrich and Bergman, it was directed by Fritz Lang, and a character called The King was credited to “???”  (I hadn’t seen that kind of credit since the first Karloff Frankenstein.)  When the King finally appears on screen, though, it is unmistakably Orson Welles’s voice that booms out from behind his elaborate costume.

Here are the things I understand about The King, or The Masked Guest, or The Man in Yellow, or any other title I’ve found for it on public domain archive searches.  Dietrich and Bergman play princesses named Cassilda and Camilla, respectively.  Though Dietrich’s accent is German and Bergman’s is Swedish, they blend together to give the film the impression of being set somewhere on the map that I can’t quite find.  The scenery and camera angles are very Freudian, with a great deal of archways and pillars.

The first act of The King involves frankly dull romantic plotlines, and the only thing that really saved it was the feeling that the suitors were supposed to be insipid, a suspicion lended credence by the fact that the love interests were listed so low on the credits.  Dietrich is the scandalous sister and Bergman is the responsible one, though each takes on aspects of the other as the film goes on.  Dietrich sings her song at a party, dressed in a fake 17th century gown and leaning against a piano.  Although just a moment ago she had been laughing and joking with her gentleman friends, her song takes an abruptly serious tone (not seductive, not sentimental) as she tells the story of a city lost to time and memory.  Bergman slips away from the party and onto the balcony, where we see that wonderful shot of the moon in her eyes.  Is she mourning?  Is she longing?

Dietrich cuts off the song by abruptly screaming “Not on us, King!  Not on us!”  She flees the party weeping and shaking, and from there on the film goes mad.

Though uncommon, it is not unknown for movies to switch between black and white and color, done most famously in The Wizard of Oz.  The film The King recalls here is the silent Phantom of the Opera, which had a masqued ball scene tinted in shades of red and green that tried to provide a whole spectrum of color.  The effect is even odder in the masqued ball scene in The King- the only color that appears is yellow, highlighting things like candlelight, Dietrich’s hair, a passing gown, a vase of tulips.  It also highlights one particular masked figure, whose expressionless mask was decorated with a black pattern against a sickening yellow canvas- the same pattern I had seen in the opening credits.  The color of his costume causes him to stand out from the crown even when he is far off in the background, just one head among many others.  It must have taken long and painstaking hours of work to color in every frame.

Dietrich still seems broken up days after her song, though Bergman tries to coax her into joining the dance.  Finally, at midnight, Dietrich goes out to face the party, but only to demand that every guest remove their mask.  The yellow man with a voice that once warned America about a Martian invasion tells her that he wears no mask.  Bergman reacts with disbelief, but Dietrich starts laughing like a woman unhinged.  As she laughs, the yellow hue seeps out of the King’s clothing and face- if that really is his face- and begins to color the entire ballroom crowd.  I think that what follows is bloodshed, but if there is any carnage (doubtful under the Production Code censorship), the blood must be tainted yellow and splashed across the camera like daubs of paint.  Dietrich’s laughing face is doubled and tripled on screen until it dissipates, but even when it has faded offscreen, it feels as if her ghost continues to watch the proceedings.  

By the end of the scene (filled with German Expressionist camera angles and mad violin screeching), only Bergman remains alive, cowering behind a grandfather clock.  It does not hide her for long.  The King steps towards her and extends his hand.  Reluctantly, but with a fatalistic expression, Bergman takes his hand.  They walk away together hand in hand.  The screen shifts back into black and white, and then the credits roll before we can get a good look at all the bodies in the scene.  The credits say it was based on a play called The King in Yellow, although Raymond Chandler of all people apparently had a hand in the screenplay.

As I said, that’s what I think I understand.  It’s an oddly experimental art film for the era, and it may be awaiting rediscovery by the film festival crowd.  I feel as if I alone know about it, though that obviously isn’t true.  It is my little secret; I tell myself that my husband doesn’t need me to show it to him, it would be too odd for his taste.  I’ve rewatched it many times, even if it seems like each time I search for it I have to find a different video platform or torrent.  Naturally, no subscription site has it available.  Maybe I am the last person who will ever watch it.  Maybe no one will ever think to look for it again after me, and it will be completely forgotten.

When I was hospitalized, they let me use my laptop at night before I went to sleep (no power cord, though, in case I tried to hang myself.)  I found a youtube link for The Man in Yellow, and I watched it every night.  It wasn’t a soothing sort of movie, but having it in my mind all day and then watching it in the evening allowed me to think as opposed to crying endlessly while the other patients shot me awkward looks.  I clutched the childhood stuffed animals my mother brought me when she visited, and I always held them extra tight when the masquerade scene started.

I watched the movie when I had to move away from my beloved San Francisco.  I watched the movie when I lost the last of my grandparents.  I watched the movie when a doctor unwisely took me off my medication and I couldn’t manage to eat for a month.  I watched the movie when the whole world got sick and we all locked ourselves away from each other.  I don’t mind that I don’t entirely know what it means.  I don’t mind the nightmares.  In the hospital they kept telling us about mindfulness exercises, and maybe the fact that I can focus on every aspect of the film so closely that all else falls away is the reason I keep coming back to it.  I’m being mindful.  I’m not letting any stray thoughts invade my head.  I’m just watching and waiting for the next beat of every scene, leading inexorably to that yellow-stained bloodbath.

Streaming media doesn’t last forever, and each time I find The King, I worry that it will be the last time I ever can find it.  My efforts to download it have so far been unsuccessful, odd considering that it is in the public domain.

When I watch The King, I am once again a child in my bedroom being cared for in the throes of agonizing sickness.  I am once again sitting on the couch with my grandparents in front of the tv, both of them alive and lucid again.  I am once again in the hospital, all alone except for my stuffed animals and the staff trying to keep me alive.  The film reflects in my eyes like the crescent moon in Ingrid Bergman’s gaze.  It sings to me.

I am determined to find a way to obtain The King under any name so that I never have to worry about losing it.  During some of the worst times in my life, it is the only thing that has kept me sane.

[solomonish]

Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

[gerrydelano]

RON!!!!! THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS TOTAL BANGER OF AN INSTALLMENT!!!!!! martin blackwood everyone! at work even though he got fucking shot! “crisis meeting” yeah sums it up quite right. they are arguing 👍 momence 👍 damn medical professionals suck sometimes (me <- already knew this but damn..) ELIAS ISNT THERE…. weird. i bet canon elias fell asleep sitting up at his desk with his eyes open all the time like the freak he was. WEIRD SHIT ALERT.. elias you creep. stop stealing the two finger salute from the bisexuals. he doesn’t deserve it. ohhh the contortionist…. MAN. callum! i feel so bad for him. he’s literally just a kid. oh i hope that worked!! it would suck so bad if it didn’t . oh melanie girl don’t do it don’t talk to elias it never goes well. wasn’t your concern my ass. it was a KID, elias . fuck this guy fr. “i want to touch [the lava lamp]” ME FUCKING TOO. when i was younger i had one in my room and it was literally so tempting. i wanted to touch it sooo bad. fun fact there is this guy named curtis who makes recordings of songs for our choir. as far as i can tell he can hit a high a. it’s impressive. anyways whenever i see curtis i think of him. “That if it’s a monster she’s after, the only one she’s going to find is me.” oh whaddaline. what a line……… i love the fact that the next installment is called be not afraid. that sounds good and normal and totally not bad at all 😀🎉🥳! (loved this!! i’ve been w this fic so long and it just keeps getting better)

LAST CHAPTER LAST CHAPTER!

martin coming to work injured and annoyed more like hi i wish you wouldn't

it Sure Is a crisis meeting! martin here thinking if he Doesn't show up someone's gonna look at him and go "why weren't you at exorcism practice"

martin 🤝 gerry "i hate going to the doctor so much"

oh no, elias is busy outside negotiating with a new colleague :-)

the salute was VERY pointed. that's just for martin, babey! at ease, soldier.

danny has so much unspoken baggage forever but he really does not tell people about the contortionist lightly, nope.

callum is going through hell i can't stand it and neither can anyone else

it did work, yes! and at least basira is a grown ass adult who can withstand this better than he could, and give them time to come up with another solution.

melanie is acting very unwise yep this is NOT going to go well

you think elias cares about children? PAH!

lava lamps are epic and i want one So Bad i have LED lights in the meantime though ^_^

A HIGH A? G-D DAMN CURTIS OKAY

basira's threat was not a threat to daisy's safety but rather her emotional loyalty and it worked because basira is like. the sole person daisy does not want to hunt down like that. whuff!

"be not afraid" is my favorite title and i am going to have a fucking field day with it just you wait

thank you so so much! it's very touching and reassuring to know it can still hold investment after all this time!

[lucky-draws]

aaaa please share more ship songs if you have them! doesnt have to be otasune ofc, any will do!

aaah hello, OK!!! I can share a few, honestly it's mostly a case of me just idly listening to songs by fave bands that I always listen to and suddenly thinking "heehoo what if i applied this to metal gear" LOL

I love Depeche Mode and so much of their stuff fits so well with metal gear, just the dark (and horny) vibes, but in particular I'm gonna mention Judas by them because I think it fits bosselot well. Not in a very healthy way, because the song is all kind of...loving someone religiously to the point of sacrificing your own health and piece of mind in return (possibly) for someone else's love (LOL)...

I won't write an essay but just. lines like "walk on barefoot for me, suffer some misery" and "open yourself for me, risk your health for me/ if you want my love" just. They make me think of older bosselot, from the 80s onwards, when you've got Big Boss descending into this truly awful, manipulative monster of a villain, and Ocelot increasingly choosing to make ridiculous sacrifices for him, i.e. the self hypnosis in '84 and then being possessed by liquid and eventually letting liquid basically take over for mgs4 and only returning to his real self right before he dies, and just in general all the stuff he's been masterminding ultimately for the sake of Big Boss. (And, you know, it's even worse because I don't see Big Boss as reciprocating Ocelot's feelings to the same extent, so it's just like...you've got Ocelot, the worst person ever, acting as a sort of devil's apostle, martyr even, idk man I just love the strange contrast of it all where they're both these dark, dark people in an awful tale but Ocelot can also be seen as this self sacrificing, devotional figure, motivated to do all the horrible stuff he does by a love that may or may not be requited.)

I said I wasn't going to write an essay and then went on a bosselot tangent, my apologies but they really get me acting extremely unwise I'm so sorry xD

I'd also say 'Shake The Disease' by Depeche Mode is vaguely bosselot, kind of from Ocelot's perspective.

I've been meaning to draw something BBKaz related captioned with lines from the song 'Thick As Thieves' by The Jam... honestly the song is more abt childhood friends falling out than. well. war buddies and great life ruining love and betrayals, but the lines 'like a perfect stranger, you came into my life/ then like the perfect lone ranger you rode away, rode away' immediately conjured up BB riding off into the evil sunset on his silly little motorcycle and leaving Kaz behind etc..

Oh, also Halo by Depeche Mode, I think the user jxthics on here did some bosselot art captioned with lyrics from that, and they were extremely right because it's a very bosselot song imo.

Like I said there are a lot of Depeche Mode songs I relate to mgs, so I won't list them all, and apologies if they're not your kind of thing xD

Sometimes it's just one or two lines from songs that make me think of ships, like in 'Is There Something I Should Know' by Duran Duran there's a wonderfully cheesy bit which goes 'don't say you're easy on me, you're about as easy as a nuclear war' and that phrase and the song in general makes me think of MGS3 bosselot idk xD

I guess I'll leave it here for now, thank you for the ask! Have a good day :D

[spookysweet-heart]

Freak Show

Request: No

Parings: Circus!Egos x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Youtube Egos (Mark, Jack, Nate)

Warning: Dream manipulation, Nightmares.

A/N: Here’s Part Two of The Circus of Souls series. Part one can be found here! This is directly after the first one so please read it if you haven’t yet! The lovely aesthetic I’ll be using is by the very talented @huffle-princess​! The songs that I use in this part are FreakShow by The Nearly Deads and Enjoy The Show by NateWantsToBattle. Edited by @semiproeagle23​!

     Immediately after getting home, you tossed the book and tickets on your desk. Sitting on your bed, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. “What the fuck was that…?” 

Deciding not to go through with your original plan, you ended up running home. Glancing at the tickets, you felt off. There was a reason you knew you couldn’t leave just yet. 

Shaking your head, you sighed in frustration. Standing up and running a hand through your hair, you started to head out to the bathroom down the hall to get ready for bed.

Getting back into your room, you threw yourself on your bed and rolled over to pull the covers up so you could get underneath them. After getting comfortable, you looked over at the book one more time. It still didn’t feel right. Turning around, you turned off your bedside lamp, letting sleep take over.

It didn’t take long before you were drifting off. The room fell into a silence that didn’t feel inviting at all, but you brushed it off, thinking it was just your imagination from your interaction with the Ringleader.

Your breathing started to even out when you finally fell asleep, not noticing when the book on your desk opened on its own as a breeze passed through, making the pages turn. The book stopped on the third page with the man who was on a stage surrounded by smoke. The golden light that shined earlier in the day appeared again as purple smoke emerged from the page.

The smoke made its way above you, as if making sure you were asleep. When it was positive that you were, it made its way inside, phasing through your body.

Walking through a dark abandoned building, the only light source that you could see was from the moon shining through the windows. Your bare feet on the cold white tile made a shiver run down your spine.

When you looked around the open space, you noticed shadows on the walls were moving while you walked. It took a second to realize that they were children’s shadows. 

Stopping in the middle of the huge room, you closed your eyes, telling yourself it was just a dream, that nothing could hurt you. “C’mon, it’s just a dream...you can change it. Please change, I don’t want to be here.” 

Feeling a breeze pass by, you opened your eyes, seeing you were still in the building, but the shadows were now surrounding you. Looking at them, you asked, “What do you want? What is this place?” 

You started to hear whispers and giggles of children all around. “Help me…”, “Please save us...”, “Don’t let him trick you…” Taking a step forward, the kids moved, letting you walk away from them. Each step you took became quicker than the last until you started to run away, but the voices and giggles still rang in your ears.

Turning a corner, you saw there was an open room. Peeking inside, you saw there was an almost empty table. Hesitantly stepping inside, you noticed that the voices stopped when your eyes landed on a small toy carousel sitting in the middle of the table. 

Just as you were about to touch it, the tiny lights turned on, making the horses move around as a circus jingle started to play. Standing there, you were too preoccupied to notice a taller shadow move behind you across the hall.

The small breeze that passed by was what caught your attention to turn away. Walking back out into the hallway, you heard faint music coming from the end of it. It sounded just like the one coming from the carousel.

Following the echoing music, you felt uneasy again as you were getting closer. Hearing a crowd of people cheer gave you a little bit of hope that maybe this dream was turning into something good after all. Unfortunately, right as you entered the room, all you saw was a stage at the far end. 

The music got louder as the invisible cheers did. Looking around, you saw purple smoke make its way to the stage. 

As the stage lights came on, the smoke disappeared, leaving a man in a black and purple outfit in its place center stage.

He smiled, hearing the crowd cheer as he raised his mic to his lips. “You wanna take a look inside my head, you wanna analyze the things I’ve said. Well here we go again, I know what you’re gonna find. I know I’ve sought revenge, that I’ve cheated, and I’ve lied.” 

Jumping down, he started to make his way to you, leaving a trail of purple smoke with each step he took. “I’ve been selfish, and unkind, and reckless and unwise. There’s nothing you can say to change me. I need to save myself. But you asked, so here we go.” 

Lifting up his hand, a spotlight shined on him as the rest of the room turned black. “Welcome to the FreakShow, all my friends are here.” Gesturing to the crowd, you looked around seeing the children from before. “Jealousy and love, envy, lust, corruption, fear. Welcome to the headache I wake up with every day.” 

The man grinned as he stood right in front of you. He gently grabbed your chin with his free hand, making you look up at him. “Be careful what you wish for, or you’ll end up just like me…” Purple smoke started to surround you both as he continued to sing. “You’ll end just like me...just like me…” 

Feeling your chest tighten when it got harder to breathe, you started to panic, trying to escape, but you couldn't move a muscle. The man leaned down as he whispered in your ear. “Be careful, (Y/n). You don’t want the fate we suffer everyday…” 

You wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he only placed a hand above your chest. You closed your eyes and the next thing you knew, you were shoved back with a sharp pain hitting your chest.

Feeling as if you were falling, you woke up startled, sitting up in bed. Frantically looking around, you took everything in, realizing you were back in your room. Looking at your desk, you saw the book was still closed, just how you left it. 

Laying back in bed, you turned your head towards your window, seeing it was morning. 

Breathing a bit heavily, you stretched out your arms when you reluctantly got up from your bed. 

Trying to calm yourself down, you placed a hand where his hand was before. Slowing down your breathing, you felt your chest become less heavy by the second.

Picking up your phone, you saw you had a few missed texts from your group chat.

“Do you guys wanna go to the Circus?”

“It’s the opening night, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! I asked my mom if she’d give me a few extra dollars for a ticket.”

“I’m up for it! But I don’t have much money for a ticket.“

“Same here…”

“Sneak in?”

Walking over to your desk, you picked up one of the tickets. “The Circus of Souls….I don’t like this...but there has to be a reason. I know that nightmare wasn’t by chance.” Looking at your phone when it vibrated, you saw it was a new message in the chat.

“Hey, (Y/n)! You’re awake! You wanna go to the Circus?”

You felt a bit nervous when you replied.

“Yeah! And don’t worry about the tickets, guys. I was able to get some for all of us. Free for the whole week.”

“Free?! How’d you get that?!”

“That’s a secret! Meet me by the entrance around 5. Okay?”

Tossing your phone on your bed, you started to get ready for later.

Adjusting the strap on your bookbag, tickets in hand, you looked over at the crowd when you heard someone yell out your name. 

Seeing Stretch wave, you smiled and waved to her, making your way to the group. “Hey!”

“Hey, are those the tickets?” Meer looked over at your hand, seeing four tickets.

“Oh! Yeah! These are it! They’re valid for the whole week!” You gave her a smile and handed each of them a ticket. “Before we go in, can I talk to you guys real quick?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Sam smiled, putting the ticket in her pocket.

“Before we go in there, you have to promise me that you guys won’t break away from the group?”

“Sure, but why?” Stretch raised an eyebrow, looking at you confused.

“Because...uh…” Looking between the three girls, your eyes landed on Meer. “Because Meer’s afraid of crowds remember! It’s better if we all stick together so she feels comfortable right?”

“That would actually help a lot, honestly…” Meer’s cheeks became a light pink, feeling sheepish as she looked around at the group.

“Hey, don’t feel bad, we’re all afraid of something, right?” Sam wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulders. “I mean, you can stay with me when these guys go on the rides that take off the ground. I’m not a fan of heights.”

“Okay...sure thing!” Meer smiled again and followed your lead as the group made its way to the ticket booth.

Showing the man at the booth your tickets, he smiled at you as he took it. “Don’t worry about bringing these back, you can just hand them over. The boss man said you and your friends would be coming tonight.”

“Thanks?” You shrugged your shoulders, acting like you had no idea what he was talking about. “Let’s go!” Smiling and leading the group further into the Circus, you were all immediately hit with the smells of fresh popcorn, cotton candy, and fried dough.

Stretch was the first one to suggest you play some games first before going on any rides. Throughout the night, you all challenged each other to the various games and silly dares you four could do. Time flew by, and you almost forgot the real reason you were here tonight.

“We haven’t gotten on any of the rides…” Stretch pouted, grabbing her bag of popcorn from the lady at the stand.

“I wanted to see the animal tamer! Did you see the tiger she’s working with, holy shit!” Meer almost dropped her bag of popcorn in excitement.

“There’s a Fortune Teller booth I kinda wanted to check out too..”  Sam slightly pouted as she turned to the group, handing you your bag of popcorn.

Taking the bag, you giggled a bit. “Okay, okay, I know you all wanted to do things, but we have all week, right? We still have time to do all of it.” 

Just as Stretch was about to speak up, a loud voice over the speakers ran through the area. “Attention! Attention! The Circus of Souls would like to invite you all to the main tent for a spectacular music performance!” 

The mention of a music performance made your blood run cold as you stood there. There was no way it could be the same man you saw in your dreams, could it?

“(Y/n)? Hey, (Y/n)!” Stretch waved a hand in front of your face, trying to snap you out of it.

You blinked and took a step back. “Whoa, what the fuck, dude?”

“You were spacing out there, dork. We asked you if you wanted to go see the performance?”

“Oh,” Looking at your group, you nodded. “Yeah, sure! It’ll be a fun end to the first night, wouldn’t it?”

Walking into the huge red tent made you feel on edge, to say the least. What made you stop in your tracks was seeing Phantom greeting guests. “Welcome! Oh, well I see you made it  my dear. Come in, come in! You three must be (Y/n)’s friends. Thank you tagging along. Please, take a seat at the front. There’s four spots waiting for you all.”

Nodding, you silently made your way to the front where the empty seats were, ignoring the looks your friends were giving you.

As the four of you sat down, Stretch beat everyone to the point. “What the hell was that, (Y/n)? You made friends with the Ringleader himself?”

“No! We're not friends…I went exploring the tracks yesterday to clear my head and I sorta bumped into him...”

Before any of you could continue the conversation, the lights went out and a single spot light shined center stage. Only this time, there stood a man in red. His tophat was slightly slanting to one side as he leaned the slightest amount of his weight on his cane for a second before lifting it and greeting everyone.

“Hello, boys and girls. Welcome to The Circus of Souls! I hope you all are enjoying our opening night here in your cozy little town. Thank you for being here and trusting us to entertain you for the evening.” 

He glanced over at you before he smiled and continued to address the crowd. “Now, the show you are about to see may be harmful to some since we’ll be using bright lights, flashing lights, and....a bit of disturbing imagery. I know I just greeted you all in, but if there are those of you who are sensitive to these types of things, I suggest you leave the tent immediately for your own safety."

A few groups of people started to leave the tent, only taking a few moments. Making sure everyone was out of harm's way, Phantom grinned as he waved his hand, bowing to the audience. “With that out of the way, I wish you all a fun and safe night here.”

As the spotlight disappeared, the red undertone turned to purple. You felt the same pain in your chest seeing the purple smoke cover the stage. The music started as your eyes scanned the stage before they landed on a familiar silhouette.

A voice over the speakers rang out, startling you. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls! Gather 'Round, Gather 'Round. Sit Back, Relax, and please, stay in your seats.”

You gripped the strap of your book bag, listening and looking right at the silhouette. “Kick your feet up, and grab some popcorn. Oh, and of course! Lest we not forget!” Feeling warmth by the left side of your face, the next phrase made the hair on your neck stand up, hearing it closer than you expected. “Enjoy The Show”

The stage lights came on, making your eyes widen, seeing him standing there center stage like in your nightmare.

“Come One, Come All! And Behold we have a Sight Immeasurable, A Spectacle, Of Innocence and Fright. Oh Maybe 2, 3, 4 or even five long nights. Now you're crawling, ever stalling. With no end in sight. Up all night to see if you can make it. All new friends to see if you can take it! Be still, be quiet. They still know you haven't left yet!”

White and purple lights started to flash throughout the tent. The purple smoke still covered the bottom of the stage. The man soon encouraged the crowd to  come up to the stage while the band continued to play.

“And We'll Pretend. We'll just pretend, pretend that day would never end. I'll make believe that you can see. Everything they did to me. Nowhere to hide and now we're through but if we were just like you. I'll be your friend, I'll be your friend. You can trust me 'till the end.”

Stretch pulled you and the others to the front of the stage, grinning in excitement as everyone started to make their way too.

He smiled down at everyone as he waved to the crowd, making his way across the stage to see everyone else. “There's something bad inside me, I'm broken beyond fixing. Save me! I know that we've all been here. It only hurts a second, there's nothing to fear!”

Making his way further from the crowd, the purple smoke covered the audience so they weren't able to see the stage.

“I have you hidden way too well. It's time to let you out, put on a mask to hide yourself. That made you one of us now!”

The smoke subsided in a flash of white light. Looking back up, you noticed he had purple streaks running down his cheeks now. “And we'll pretend, we'll Just pretend. Pretend that day would never end. I'll make believe that you can see everything they did to me. Nowhere to hide, and now we're through. But if we were just like you. I'll be your friend, I'll be your friend. You can trust me 'till the end.”

He reached out his free hand to you, pulling you up on stage with him. You looked down at your friends, and they were only cheering, seeing you up on stage. The man got your attention by grabbing your chin like he'd done before. Looking into his eyes, you saw they were black with swirls of bright purple.

“We need you, so we can escape. If they find you, it'll be too late, We need you, so we can escape.” Glancing around, you saw the children you saw in your nightmare. They were pale and thin, as if they were ghosts. “If they find you, it'll be too late.”  Turning you around so you were facing the crowd, he wrapped his free arm around your waist, holding you against his chest and swaying with you, singing out to the crowd. You looked around and saw the children come closer.

“And we'll pretend, we'll just pretend, pretend that day would never end. I'll make believe that you can see everything they did to me. Nowhere to hide and now we're through. But if we were just like you.” The man let you go when one of the kids almost touched you. Helping you down, he smiled as he let go of your hand. He looked at you through the end of the song. Your friends took notice, only smiling for now. “I'll be your friend, I'll be your friend. You can trust me 'till the end. Now we're afraid, we're all afraid. Afraid that it might be too late! They never learn to wait their turn. Now we get to watch them burn.”

The lights started to slowly fade. The smoke disappeared from the crowd and slowly rose around the band. “Nowhere to hide and now we're through. But if we were just like you, I'll be your friend, I'll be your friend. You can trust me 'till the end….Trust me till the end!” The last thing you saw were his eyes shining bright purple before the smoke covered them.

The lights went out for a second and when they came back on, the stage was empty, save for the Ringleader again. “Well, wasn’t that entertaining! What did you all think?”

The crowd cheered enthusiastically, making the small orb on his cane light up. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed the little show our incredible singer, Natemare, performed. He’s known to have a flair for the dramatics, if you couldn’t tell already.” The crowd roared in laughter. 

In a matter of seconds, the laughs turned to clapping and cheers when Natemare walked out, standing next to Phantom. He had a grin on his face he bowed, soaking in all the enthusiasm. “Thank you! Though, I couldn’t have done it without the brave soul that let me bring them up here with me.” He looked down at you, smiling, and gave you a wink. 

“I’ll be here all week, so if you’d like to see another performance, my time stamps should be on display just outside this tent.”

Phantom wrapped an arm around Natemare’s shoulders, waving to the crowd. “Goodnight everyone! Thank you for making our opening night one we won’t forget! Be safe traveling home, now!”

As the crowds filed out of the Circus, Meer grabbed your arm. You looked around, seeing them all looking at you and giggling. 

“What is it?” Taking your arm back, you turned around and faced them.

“Oh, c’mon, (Y/n), you don’t have to hide it.”

“Hide what?”

“You have to tell us! Was he as cute up close?” Sam squealed in excitement, remembering the scene.

“I bet he was! Please tell us!” Stretch grinned, grabbing your hand.

“More like he was terrifying…”

“Huh?” All three girls look at you confused.

“I….I had a nightmare last night and he was in it. I don’t know how to explain this, but I feel like there’s a reason we happened to see him perform today and the fact he picked me out of everyone?”

“Uh oh, I think (Y/n) has a crush on him. Aww, that's so cute! He’s like your dream boy or something.” Sam giggled as she poked your cheek.

You moved her hand away and pouted at the three of them.”It’s not like that at all! Guys, please listen to me, there's something going on here. Didn’t you see those kids up there?!”

“Yeah, but the Ringleader said there would be disturbing imagery, they were probably holograms or something.” Meer adjusted her bag a bit.

“...I know they weren’t holograms. I know I’m sounding crazy right now, but can you three just listen to what I have to say first and then you can say whatever the hell you want after?”

The three girls looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. “Alright, we’ll listen.”

“Thank you. Can we meet up at the park by my house tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, not too early though.” Meer looked around when she noticed everyone was staring at her. “What? I don’t like waking up super early…”

“Yeah, sure, we’ll meet around eleven. Does that work for everyone?”

Nodding in agreement, the four of you headed home. After a long, and sort of fun night, you just wanted to go to sleep.

Dropping your bag by your bed, you immediately fell onto your bed, not caring about changing or properly laying on your bed. Almost instantly falling asleep, the purple smoke emerged from your bag as Natemare took form. He looked at you for a moment before using his smoke to get you under your blankets without waking you. “I’ll give you a break tonight. You need it, kid…”

Tag List:

@lady-bee-fechin​

@smolwash​

@stretchy-longstocking​

@wildspeciallavender​

@freckled-words​

@nerdqueenkat​

@kateneedscoffee​

@nekosounds​

@justwritingscibbles​

[onf-headcanons]

YEAR END SPECIAL

(Sharing my notes that I will always refer when I write)

A/n: sorry this is not headcanon, it more like my own notes while trying to making my headcanons to be as close to their personalities shown as possible. Anyways I am open for discussion due to i am a baby fuse. And sorry if the text looks like I wrote it when I am drunk

HYOJIN

• Has temper outburst but does not mean he is a violence person. I mean this boy defo got a temper if and unless you triggered him. His temper also act as a drive and motivation for him to strive. So its not necessary a bad trait.

• Also I am not sugarcoating. I personally do think depend on situation it would be bad. But he is doing a good job controlling until now

• I think he is a more preserved person when comes to expressing affection through actions, but when it comes to verbal expressing, he is capable when he is comfortable

• Idk I think he is the type that in the inside, he differentiates types of love and relationship very well.

• I would prefer that his emotion outflow is through his actions and speech. He is a straightforward type.

• Also being perfectionist (due to his virgo moon) does not make him a super nitpicker. To emphasise this for his nagging maybe not the best way. Values effort alot, most likely because he benefited from it (cannot sing high note but he practised until he could), it became his philosophy and it immersed in the team as well. Quantity + Quality of Practise = Aiming for the Best (aka work hard)

• Possessive yes but not aggressive possessive. More like once he is used to something he will attach to it.

• Dom, yes. But not the forceful type. Also depend on horoscopes, his trait does suggest he will be dominant but he is not the "I am a guy so you listen to me" type

• Defo has his own demons or should I say rebellious against norms (his tattoos are the perfect hint imo)

CHANGYOON

• Stuttering for words does not mean he is stupid

• Also him being clumsy does not mean he is stupid too

• INFP actually is more than just being introverted and timid to interact, trust me.

• The moment he says he is an INFP and then I saw video of him showing ONF merch designs. I go aha that makes sense

• Diff pal have different way to express themselves. And diff ppl have diff best way to express themselves

• I would say its a bit of tsundere factor mixed cos like how he and Hyojin greets each other is not like hey how are you doing today, they just straight up asking each other have you eaten?

• He would choose his words wisely, but then buffering because his brain could not catch up with the nuance he wanted to express with

• Not the cold sharp tongue, he just state facts. He wanted to be precise as possible

• Not the messy clumsy type imo. I guess he will be trying to keep everything on track and under control (aka not to lose his cool) but end up getting swipe away but the mood.

SEUNGJOON

• Love to tease/prank does not make him a bully

• Not gonna glorify the term of he bully because he love you. No, he sure has his own proper way to express love and affection

• Refer to how he clings to Yuto who is his literally favourite child

• Having the devilish look does not mean he is a yandere in real life. Its just his face. But using it as a hint of his facial/body language is good idea.

• Make use of the gap of him being fond and him being serious to show its more than just surface level

• But then that devilish look like he is planning a evil plan trope should not be overused

• Bit be a tad of needy when it comes to affection and praises. Not really that he is narcissistic, because I did find he will complement the other party back. So I think he values give and take a lot

• Dom? Might be but I think is a softie warm boi inside

• Along with Hyojin, the hidden brain of the team. (Even though chaotic, these two actually are responsible of pulling the team into directions and also just watch their mafia game then you will know)

• OK even though I am more of a Hyojin bias, but I feel Seungjoon is the ace. But, I do feel he prefer to let others shine

• The type where if he admires someone he goes all in (example: Hui from PTG)

• Same as Jaeyoung, personality makes him a nice team player. Link to above to the the give and take matter. Another factor because he is also sensitive, but he can let rational to hold him back from going into the abyss of emotion pool.

JAEYOUNG

• Definitely not a himbo.

• His image/impression will let ppl very easily to categorise him without delving deeper so have to be careful.

• Sorry I will "cancel " any one that thinks he is a himbo

• Staying at overseas before does give him some insights and I think it shapes his way of interacting with people as well

• Even if he fits the big guy but also being the heart trope, it is unwise to just chain tropes dryly in him

• Its complicated imo? Like we just categorise him as the buff princess guy (gorilla and princess) just because he has the sensitive personality and coincidentally he is built than others. Outlook does not define all of him

• Reaction is not his everything. That is a hint of him actually is an expressive person. You can refer to the vlive where he talks about donating blood

• Again diff ppl have diff type of way to express themselves.

• A guy with manners yes but over perfectly gentleman who only do the giving is a no

• Writing him as a "receiving " side of all tantrums just made him into a mere sandbag. Its a no.

• This guy, is sensitive I can tell u

• He is a soft big sensitive guy

• Dom? Nah, soft dom. I don't think he is aware of it though. I think shyness will overpower

MINKYUN

• being an airhead does not mean he is stupid

• If he is he won't be writing songs and even work with Monotree.

• I am not saying he has mental issues like had weak Iq or something I am just saying diff ppl diff character diff way to react towards happenings

• And diff ppl view diff priorities as well

• I think he does not shy off expressing his love and affection towards people he likes and admires

• Like if he is really stupid, he won't ace on tricking his members during Ondaejeon sessions. Lol I am still traumatised that he is the one who slept at Hyojin's bed and poor Seungjoon gotten mistaken for being the culprit

•

YUTO

• Being quiet does not mean he is isolated. Look he can tease Seungjoon (either alone or with Hyojin joined as his comrade, refer to the vlive where prior RTK final Seungjoon asking Yuto about first impression and the recent vlive where Yuto and Hyojin just disturbs Seungjoon by playing the broadcast in front of Seungjoon), he can “aegyo” towards Jaeyoung by playfully bumping his chair towards the older person the BTS of NEW WORLD/RTK finals, there is a lot of hints that he is very comfortable with his hyungs and they dote him like their own little brother.

• I MEAN HAVE EVEN SEEN HOW ACTIVE HE IS THESE DAYS?????

• I AM SORRY TO THINK YOU ARE THE NORMAL ONE COMPARED TO YOUR HYUNGS BASED ON RTK

• But then I do think there is a lot he need to catch up on

• Maybe it's just recently he let himself go and allowed himself to be comfortable. ( kinda like Minghao)

• Once comfortable he starts to express himself and with his recent activeness, he found out what to define himself easier

• So again being quiet does not mean don't have a character. It might surprise you that this type of people sometimes come out as the type that values communication the most. Link to above, should he does not have that, I don't think his hyungs will just listen blankly. He sure has something his hyungs trust and willing to listen him to.

• Has his fair share of being observant. If not he won't be coaching/giving heads up to his hyungs during rtk stage dance practices

• Still have room for growth even though already do well.

• I also think he has a perfect sense of direction too.

ONF

• If they don't have a common goal or insight, I don't think they can even come to together. They trust each other and acknowledge each other. (Honestly they are very very different ppl)

• They truly live up to Changyoon's tattoo, work hard play hard.

[hieronymuscrow]

Hey Billy, where you going with that song in your hand?

To my ears it is clear that Niela Miller's song, Baby, Please Don't Go To Town, provides the original foundation of Hey Joe, what became Jimi Hendrix's début release. She taught it to her then boyfriend Billy Roberts. Billy changed the lyrics and claimed the song as his own, along with the publishing writes. And so Niela was shunted aside while the boys pocketed the cash. There has been a lot said about the origin of Hey Joe, but in the main it all revolves around the capitalist logic of who got paid. For a while Billy was parted from the spoils too, but such are the ways of the music business.

While Niela may well have deserved her share of the money, a far greater disservice was the silencing of her voice: she had something to say of far greater artistic worth than what replaced it. If the purpose of art is to render the human condition intelligible, then the removal of Niela's voice, a female voice elucidating a female perspective, was a great disservice to those who would seek to understand our world. What replaced it certainly holds a mirror up to our culture, but perhaps not in the way intended by its author.

Hey Joe has become probably the best known example of a genre of folk song known as the murder ballad. These songs are narrative accounts of murders. They would fulfil the role of informing people about events in bygone times, acting as cautionary tales. Woman are the subject matter of much of these traditional folk tales, often portrayed as patriarchal stereotypes: good girls waiting for their true love, or bad girls acting as a corrupting influence. The murder ballad would often see the good girl getting murdered for making unwise choices, perhaps by a jealous rival, or a poor choice of suitor; or the bad girl getting her just desert?

Hey Joe tells the tale of Joe murdering his woman because "she ran off with another man". What is striking about it is the matter-of-factness of the violence, there is no questioning of the legitimacy of killing someone just because they have decided to leave with another. Again we see the capitalist ideals of ownership and economic freedom, only this time taken to their logical extreme: the ownership and dominion over a human being. Through out the song there is no inquiry into motive or expressions of remorse, it is totally bereft of emotion: Joe murders his woman then scarpers to Mexico, seemingly incensed that he cannot be "free" due to the authorities wanting to get a hold of him. It's a terribly disturbing aspect of our culture, that a problem of the magnitude of violence directed at woman, can be treated in such a blasé manner. Hey Joe is basically a paean to toxic masculinity. So what about Baby, Please Don't Go To Town?

Niela's song also address infidelity. It takes on the form of a boyfriend interrogating his girlfriend, asking her about where she is going. In the opening verse the woman is quite open, even brazen, about going to a bar where she will get drunk and flirt with the men there. By verse two she is spelling it out, she is going stay with those "young Men... all to-night till tomorrow noon". But she also addresses motive: "tell ’em how my Man, he really puts me down". The song explores the idea that by crushing her confidence the Man has been the author of his own problems: she is seeking to boost her spirits making her amenable to the attention of others. The final verse addresses how this can make her vulnerable to the mores of male aggression: "one of those Boys is gonna do you in", the boyfriend warns, and he won't be around to protect her. We see the irony that women need men to protect them, from men. Billy Robert's compounds this irony by turning it into a song about the woman being murdered, ostensibly for what happened at the bar, by the man who suggested she needs protecting! This notion of woman having to be careful when going about their business is a prominent aspect of patriarchal control. The fostering of fear in woman makes them dependent, less capable of living their lives as they see fit.

As an artistic statement Niela Miller's song has a grater depth, and a more subtle exploration of human relationships. It doesn't fit into to clearly defined patriarchal sterotypes that have been used to define and limit female expression.

[galadrieljones]

That he may hold me by the hand - Chapter 14

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes and Situations, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 14: My love.

It took a moment, in the saloon, like the clenching of a fist. The pianist switched songs, to something slower and darker. Albert shook Dutch's hand.

“I assume that, based on your acute sense of surprise, you have heard of me," said Dutch.

“Yes, I know who you are,” said Albert.

Dutch studied his knuckles. “I am surprised to find you alone,” he said, “without Arthur.”     

Albert placed his hands in his pockets under the table. He raised his chin but continued to look down at the filigree of the place mat beneath his newspaper. “He’s not here,” he said. “He was out, on a job. He hasn’t yet returned.”

“That’s right,” said Dutch, nodding, admiring the end of his cigar. The smoke filled the air between them. “The Rhodes bounty. How did it go?”

Albert didn’t answer. He just stared, waiting.

“I asked you a question, Mr. Mason.”

“Yes, I am aware,” said Albert.

"I just thought that, given the opportunity, I should meet you,” said Dutch. “I wanted to meet the man who has…somehow convinced my partner to leave his life, everyone and everything he knows, behind. Many have tried in the past, and failed. It is truly magnificent.”

“For what it’s worth,” said Albert, “I gave him every out. He did not take much convincing.”

This struck a nerve. Dutch’s eyes got dark. “How much has he told you?” he said. “About me?”

“Some,” said Albert. “Mostly good things.”

This seemed to confuse him. “Good things?”

“Yes,” said Albert. “He told me how you saved his life in Jackson when he was a teenager, how you helped him and gave him a second chance. He told me you were like a father to him for a long time. He told me that he thought you had lost your purpose in recent years, something that worries him, but that he relates to. He told me that you would be okay, as long as you have your partner, Hosea, by your side. He also told me that you would try to find us, and that you would succeed if we were not careful. I have to ask, how long have you been keeping tabs?”

Dutch was leaning now, way over the table, his face at less than a foot of distance. He looked intrigued. His voice was quiet. “I have not been keeping tabs on you,” he said.

“How did you know I would be here.”

“I didn’t,” said Dutch. “I followed John, out of Rhodes. He led me here. He is not as smart as Arthur. Never was. I know that Arthur is at Shady Belle. Or, that is where I assume he has gone, to see Mary Beth, or to pick up his belongings.”

Albert blinked rapidly. He tried to calculate the best way to proceed. “If you knew Arthur was at Shady Belle, and you wanted to see Arthur, you should have gone to Shady Belle. As it stands, you followed John.”

“As it stands.”

”Your use of subterfuge is advanced, Dutch,” said Albert, “but I’m well-versed in the verbal acrobatics of sociopaths. I come from money.”

Dutch took a deep breath and smiled. "Pretty goddam bold, Mr. Mason."

“I’ll pay you off,” Albert continued, adjusting his sleeves. “Arthur wouldn’t like it, but if that’s why you’re here, for my money, just say so. I have little use for it. Perhaps I should have just started there.”

“I know all about your money,” said Dutch. “I know all about you, now that I’ve met you. You need not say anymore. I would wager you are from the eastern coast. Philadelphia, or New York.”

“That’s correct.”

“Modest wealth,” continued Dutch. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling, holding his cigar in the air. “You’re not a Rockafeller, but it’s always been silver spoons in your mouth, hasn’t it now?”

“More or less,” said Albert.

“I don’t want your money, son. The only thing I want,” said Dutch, running a hand over his hair, “is to understand what you want with Arthur.”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean, he’s an outlaw.” He placed his hands back on the table, forcefully. It shook beneath the impact. “He’s got a price on his head in two states, Mr. Mason. The federal government is willing to pay for his apprehension, dead or alive. He’s dangerous. Isn’t that what your people would think?”

“I’m not sure,” said Albert. “Most of my people are unaware that men like Arthur even exist.”

“How did you become aware of men like Arthur?”

“I met him, randomly, one day in West Elizabeth. He helped me on a project for many months. You can see the fruits of our labor in the St. Denis Art Gallery, if you are so inclined.”

“I understand that,” said Dutch. “The two of you became friends?”

“That’s right.”

Dutch studied him. “You must be pretty close, if he’s leaving the gang for you. Getting on a train with you, going west.”

“We are very close friends,” said Albert.

“The kind of friends who…see the night through with one another? Who welcome the morning light from the comfort of one another’s arms?”

It was a strange way of putting things, almost pretty, thought Albert. He knew enough about Dutch not to lie. “Yes,” he said. “In a most poetic sense, yes. That is true.”

“Arthur’s done well for himself then.”

”Whatever you say.”

”Why so coy, Mr. Mason.”

“Because I don’t trust you,” said Albert.

“Smart man. I can understand what Arthur sees in you. You're more assertive than you look."

“You don’t have to act this way," said Albert. "You can just approach men, normally, and have conversations, even awkward ones, without attempting to intimidate, or manipulate them into saying something unwise, which you’ll then use against them later.”

“Excuse me?”

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking?” said Albert. He folded his hands on the table. “You may talk with an affect that rings of the prairie, but your methods of persuasion remind me of the eastern coast.”

“I’m from Philadelphia,” said Dutch, squaring up with him unexpectedly.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” said Dutch, almost like he was proving a point. “A lucrative dairy farm, outside the city line. My mother came from some money, but not like yours. My father was in the Army of the Potomac. He fought and died in Gettysburg when I was a boy. After I came of age, I left that place. I have never returned.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” said Albert.

"Thank you.”

“My father is also dead, though he died on no such heroic terms. Still, he was a good man.” He wiped his forehead again with his handkerchief. Then he tucked it neatly into his pocket. “I just want you to know that this is not about you, Dutch.”

“What is not about me.”

“Arthur leaving. I think you care about Arthur, and that is ultimately why you are here. You need to make sure, on no uncertain terms, that he is not making the mistake that you are sure he must be making. But please realize that he is not trying to hurt you, and I am not trying to hurt him.” Albert looked away. He was not ashamed, but he didn’t know how to say it, what he needed to say. He was never lost for words. He told the truth.

“You love him,” said Dutch.

Albert took a deep breath. He said nothing.

“As do I.”

"Fine,” said Albert. “But you should know that he came to me, after he was tortured by one of your enemies. He was injured and alone, and he needed to be cared for. Why is that? You’re supposed to be his family, aren’t you?”

“We cared for him,” said Dutch. “His life was saved. I cared.”

“You may think that,” said Albert. “And I know there are people in your gang who care deeply for Arthur. I’ve met them, but in my detailed observation, and based on the information I’ve been given and have gleaned for myself, those people are not you.”

“Do not presume to know anything about me, boy,” said Dutch, growing cold with suspicion. He brought his face in so close now, Albert could smell his cologne. It was expensive. This surprised Albert, though it made sense, now that he knew more about him. “Do not presume to know anything about me, or my relationship to Arthur."

"I apologize."

"I’ve known Arthur for twenty-two years," Dutch went on. "How long have you known him, Mr. Mason? Five months? Maybe six? You are but an infant in the grand, roaming scheme of our lewd and licentious lives. You abide your privileges, your tasteful living of the upper crust, achievement without struggle. You lust freely in and out of the filth that lurks beneath your immaculacy, for kicks, taking what you desire, and leaving the rest to decay.” He scooped his hand through the air between them, abruptly, snatching an imaginary prize. Then, he proceeded to point. “Arthur is not your pet, or your project. He has struggled his whole life simply to survive, dear boy, and I have been there, every step of the way since he was barely more than a child. Do not tell me whether or not I care.”

“With respect to my relationship with Arthur, I have undertaken no such actions, and certainly never for kicks."

“Arthur will say anything to defy me," said Dutch, ignoring him. "He is full of drama for this life, and he always has been, even as he has managed to excel. You know so little.”

Albert cleared his throat. He realized it was a mistake, as it sounded like he was trying to interrupt, but he didn't care. “I saw what happened to him,” he said. “A close-range gunshot wound in his shoulder. He had to remove the bullet and cauterize the wound himself, which left so much scar tissue, it still hurts him sometimes. He had so many broken ribs, it took him weeks to be able to ride a horse again without significant pain. Did you know that?"

Dutch said nothing.

“I am not trying to—he is not a project,” said Albert, trying to understand Dutch's point of view, even as the night was getting long, and he was angry. “I can see how you might think that, but that is not what this is. And I may not be familiar with your way of life, but I know enough. Prove as you may that I was not a part of Arthur’s tragic teenage landscape, or that I am a product of privileged, societal hubris—a fact of which I’ll not argue, mind you—I know Arthur very well, as a man. He tried to hide it from me, what happened to him, as he hides so much. It took him a long time to open up, and he is still opening up. More every day. All of this is to say that Arthur is anything but dramatic. He never complains, nor does he exaggerate his ills. You claim to know him so well, and yet, it seems that every time you try to describe him, you are simply describing yourself.”

Dutch was staring now, his mouth hanging open, as if he aimed to catch flies. He looked nonplussed, having been done an egregious wrong. “What did you say?”

“I took care of him,” said Albert, “when he came to me that night. I will continue to take care of him, always. I will do it because I love him. But more than anything, at the end of the day, I just want him to be safe, unhurt, and while I believe that you may, in your way, love him, too, Dutch, I am not sure that you can say the same of the latter.”

Dutch changed then. He became dreamy and disconnected. You could hear the sounds of the piano and the dancing girls, almost distant. “You are right,” said Dutch.

It was a strange thing.

“What?”

Then, Albert watched as Dutch was dragged from the booth and tossed, violently, unsuspecting, to the flat of his back on the floor. Albert stood as soon as it happened. It was Arthur. He must have snuck in, snuck past them both, somehow, without being seen.

“What are you doing?” Arthur said to Dutch, shaking his head, with his hand on his gun. He didn't address Albert yet, not at first. He seemed too incredulous. “Dutch, what are you doing?”

Dutch looked up at him. Seemingly confused as to how he had gotten there, he held his hands up, in surrender. “We was just. Talking.”

“Just talking?” said Arthur. He glanced at Albert now, assessed his physical person, then back to Dutch. He seemed profoundly disappointed, verging on a kind of concentrated, past-protocol anger that Albert had not really witnessed before. “What else would you be doing?”

“You think I’d hurt your gentleman friend here?”

“Maybe,” said Arthur. “You’ve hurt a lot of other innocent people in these final months of our reign together. Why the hell are you here, Dutch?"

Dutch hauled himself off the floor, proceeded to dust off his pants in a gentlemanly fashion. He looked at Albert, and then he looked at Arthur. He said, "I came to see you."

Arthur took a deep, harsh breath in through his nose. He closed his eyes momentarily, as if gathering his will power. “Did you follow John?” he said.

Dutch sighed. “You know he can’t cover a trail to save his life.”

“Well I guess I shall keep holding out hope then.”

"Hosea told me you was leaving," said Dutch. He put his hat back on his head, still visibly shaken from having been tossed to the floor. "He let slip that he had seen you at a photography exhibit in St. Denis. All I had to do was ride into town, walk by the art gallery, and I had a name. The bartender pointed out Albert to me. With very little convincing, might I add. I believe he's inebriated. You ought to beat the breath from his lungs."

“I ain't gonna do that," said Arthur. "I ain't like you."

“I came to beg you stay, son,” said Dutch. "That's all."

“Why?" said Arthur. "Why on earth would you beg me to stay? You ain't shown me nothing but contempt since we fled Blackwater. You don't trust me, Dutch, and I don't trust you. Not no more. So just be rid of me. Let me go."

"How can I do that?"

"You just do it," said Arthur. "That's all. But I'll tell you what you don't do. You don't come here and threaten him. You threaten him again, that’ll mark the end of my composure, and there ain’t gonna be no glory in it for you, Dutch. No glory. Do you understand?”

“I did not. Threaten him.”

“You was raising your voice to him,” said Arthur. “You put your face pretty goddam close to his face. What am I supposed to think? Where I come from, that’s a fighting distance.”

“Where you come from?” said Dutch. He looked around, as if being met with an audience. The saloon did not notice them anymore, not really. There had been some attention paid, initially, when Arthur had put him to the floor, but that sort of thing was part and parcel in the saloon after midnight, even in St. Denis. “It seems to me you have forgotten where you come from, Arthur. Leaving, going back west, without us? Without me? We was partners. Partners. For twenty-two years. How can you do that, to us? How can you forget, after all we been through.”

“I ain’t forgotten.”

“All this…struggle. We was a family.”

“I will never forget,” Arthur corrected him. “Don’t you make that misunderstanding. I will always be grateful for what you gave to me. I’m just gonna make the most of it now. That’s all this is. It ain’t about you, Dutch. It’s about me this time. Me. That’s why I was leaving without saying goodbye. I knew you would not understand. I had hoped that Hosea would be able to convince you to see reason, but I can see now, with you here, trying god knows what with the person I love—that was foolish.”

“Arthur, please.”

Arthur turned toward Albert, ignoring Dutch, and his pleadings. He was looking at the floor, striving for calm. Albert could see it in his eyes, in his fists, clenched tightly by his sides, one of them lingering very close to the volcanic in his belt. In a plea to bring him back to stasis, Albert clasped his hand to Arthur's shoulder and shook him, just a little. Arthur looked right at him then, and Albert said, "It's okay, dear friend."

"You don't know him."

"I know," said Albert. "I know."

Dutch had backed away, a couple steps. He still had his hands up.

"You gotta go, Dutch," said Arthur, wincing like he was in pain. "I am finished. Tonight, more than ever."

"Arthur—"

"If you follow us," said Arthur, "or try to find us, at any point in the future, I swear to the holy that I will not hesitate to end your life. Now, go."

Dutch looked upon him as if teetering on the edge of a high cliff. Albert did not know what was going to happen. He did not know. But even as the room was still filled with voices and bravado, nobody cared. Nobody looked to see. The bartender had put on the gramophone while the pianist smoked a cigarette and laughed with a women in a smoky corner. The gramophone was playing something obscenely French. Josie, the saloon girl, came back around again, looking for orders. She stopped just before the stand-off, uneasy. She had long, dark hair that fell in a soft braid over her shoulder. She was very young and beautiful, probably only nineteen or twenty years old. She looked at Albert. She said, "Is everything okay?"

Albert nodded. She looked at Arthur. "Hey, Mr. Morgan," she said. "You look like you need a drink. Whiskey? You want water?"

Arthur realized then that he had become more familial with the saloon girls of St. Denis than he had with anyone from his former life. It snapped the moment in half, like a bone. He said, "Yes, ma'am."

"I'll be back." She touched his wrist, didn't go yet. She glanced to Dutch, but she sensed something now and stayed quiet. She didn't yield to him, like she had before.

Dutch cracked his knuckles, looked at her, sadly, his eyes as shell casings. He looked at Arthur, too. "I have lost you," he said, almost like he was talking to himself.

Nobody said anything else after that. Or maybe somebody was talking, but it was all static. Dutch reached into his pocket. He tossed a handful of coins onto the table. He staggered to the bar, where he stood for a moment, alone, with his head down, leaning on the counter. Arthur looked at Albert for just a moment, and when he looked back, Dutch was gone.

"Albert," said Arthur.

"Everything's fine," said Albert, after a moment. "He surprised the hell out of me, got in my face a little bit, but he tried nothing."

Arthur was silent, filled with regret for having separated from John, for having left the opportunity open at all. He wished away the fears that overtook him that night. "Okay," he said.

"Who was that man?" said Josie. "He looked so familiar. I think I seen him in the paper."

Arthur thanked her, and he tipped her generously, even as he cancelled his whiskey order.

The altercation had been bitter and upsetting. He and Albert went upstairs to where they could finally be alone. Arthur sat down on the purple sofa in the light of the Chinese lanterns, looking up at them, like they were gods. They knew all. They had seen all.

"You're sure you're okay," said Arthur.

"I'm sure," said Albert. "Did you find Mary Beth? Back at Shady Belle?"

"I did," said Arthur, holding his hat in his hands. "She is set to go."

"Where will she go?"

"North," said Arthur. "She wants to go to Wisconsin. Supposed to be nice up there, real free. I told her to write me when she was safe."

"Good," said Albert. "That's very good."

"Al, I'm so sorry," said Arthur. "I should've come back. I shouldn't've gone to Shady Belle without telling you first."

"I wish you would have," said Albert. "But it's all right, I understand. I wasn't afraid of Dutch. Not really. I see how he could be extremely dangerous, but tonight he seemed...disorganized. Unhinged. I almost felt sorry for him. I was more worried he had done something to you, to be honest, and that that's why he was here."

Arthur smiled with a slight abandon, put his hand on Albert's knee. "You've come a long way, Mr. Mason."

"Have I?"

"First time I met you, you nearly fainted at the sight of a coyote," said Arthur. "I have saved you from alligators, O'Driscolls, wolves, ledges. Tonight, you looked the goddam devil in the eye. You weren't even scared. You sure you still need me around?"

Albert kissed him, softly. He lit a cigarette, his eyes tired, glazed. "You know that I love you," he said.

"Of course."

"You know that I love you," said Albert. "That I know your past, and that I accept it. That I'm not afraid of it, nor do I want to change who you are. You know that my only motive for being with you is just this, love."

"Where's all this coming from?" said Arthur. He held his arm along the back of the sofa.

"Nowhere," said Albert, happy. "I just wanted to make sure you knew. And of course I need you. I may have faced Dutch like a man, but I couldn't take him, not in a million years. Don't be silly."

Arthur laughed, kissed him in the dim light. It was very late. "You have eased my strife, Mr. Mason. We can talk more about it in the morning."

"Do you believe he'll stay away?" said Albert.

"I do. For now."

"All right."

It would be their last night in St. Denis.

[thiswasinevitableid]

#3 with Sternclay? If you could, from Stern’s perspective? He’s one of my favorite characters and I love how you write him :)

Thanks, I love writing from his perspective! Prompt 3 was “Song” and went with SFW

Joseph Stern has more house than he knows what to do with. His father has given him this building on the coast of Virginia, no doubt in hopes of hiding his eccentric--and only remaining--son from polite society. 

But the house may as well be a cave, a country full of strangers, a vast and cold space that Stern has no idea how to fill beyond the ghosts of the past it already contains. He has no lovers, no children, and the servants, used to his father’s temperament rather than his, give him a wide berth. And so he fills it with his books, his research into the strange and unusual, politely eats the meals the elderly cook prepares even though his eyesight seems to have given him the habit of mistaking one spice for another.

He’s also taken to having a nightly constitutional along the beach. It’s stormy and grey more often than not, but it suits his mood. Usually he’s perfectly alone. But tonight he must not be, because on the wind, he hears someone singing.

While the raging seas did roar

And the stormy winds they did blow,

And we jolly sailor boys was up, up aloft

And the landlubbers lying down below, below, below,

And the landlubbers lying down below.

It’s a rich baritone, longing and sad, and Stern wanders the beach up and down twice before he gives up on finding the singer. He resigns himself to it being a one time occurrence. 

But the next night, the voice finds him again. 

As we lay musing on our bed,

So early morn at ease,

We thought upon those lodging beds

Poor sailors have at sea.

This time he follows it through the second chorus of the song. And there, in the fading grey light of evening, a man is perched on an outcropping of rocks. He has shaggy hair, and even in the poor light Stern catches sight of copper within it. His beard is messy, and he’s bare-chested, a baffling choice in this weather. 

As Stern makes his way across a nearby patch of rising tide, he loses his balance and splashes onto his knees. 

By the time he looks up, the song is over and the man is gone, though he sees no sign of him upon the beach.

The third night, Stern is ready. He finds the outcropping, hiding himself down out of view of all but one side of the shore and sea. 

Just as he’s starting to shiver and curse his poor judgement, a low, sweet humming begins. It’s the same melody, and he wants to dive into the voice, let it drown him if need be. The man hums a good portion of the song before his voice carries across the windy shore. 

I'm sorry for my mother dear,

I'm lost in the salt, salt sea.

For last night, last night, the moon shone bright,

And you know that she had sons five,

Tonight she may look in the salt, salt waves

And find but one alive, alive,

And find but one alive.

The singing ceases, and in it’s place he hears a sigh. Cautiously, he sits so that the man can see him.

“That was wonderful.”

The man starts, turns to leave and Stern, in a moment of unusual impulsiveness, grabs his arm, “Wait, please, I just wanted...to..say…” He stares at the silver and blue tail that starts at the mans waist. 

“Please let go.” The man says with the air of someone trying very hard to mask their panic with calm. 

Stern drops his arm at once. 

“I, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’ve heard you singing the last few nights and I wanted to see who you were, I meant to show myself right away but I got caught up in the song.”

Brown eyes narrow, “Is that all you want?”

“Yes. I’ll admit I also have a multitude of questions based on this new development.” He gestures to the tail, “but-” 

A wave crests, drenching them both.

“Damn it.” He shivers. 

The merman chuckles, “yeah, that’s why all sensible humans stay off these rocks.”

“I’m plenty sensible.” Stern mutters, shivers again. The merman seems to reach for a coat that isn’t there, then sets his hands on the stones. 

“Come back at midday tomorrow if you really do want to talk.”

“Should I bring anything? Something for your trouble.?”

Calloused fingers drum on the rocks, “Cake? Or even just bread?”

“I can manage that.” He holds out his hand and the merman shakes it, then dives into the rolling sea without another word. 

-------------------------------------

“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude but where the hell did you get this bread?” The merman, who introduced himself as Barclay when they met at the edge of the waves, looks down at the chunk of bread skeptically. 

“My cook made it. I, um, am trying my hand at it as well. For perhaps obvious reasons.”

“I could teach you. Or at least tell you what to do so you could write it down.”

“How on--are there ovens underwater?”

“No” Barclay tosses the remaining bread to a waiting gull, “I remember from, well, from before.”

“You became merman rather than being born one?” He wants to press further, but the sorrow darting across Barclay’s face suggests that is unwise. 

“The ship I was one went down. I...well, I tried to save people. According to one of the few other mers I know, if someone dies at sea while trying to do a selfless act, sometimes that’s enough for them to turn into mer. Not really clear on the mechanics beyond that.”

“Incredible.”

“Glad you think so.” Barclay’s expression is turning glum, and so Stern tries a different line of conversation. 

“Are sea monsters real?”

Barclay chuckles, “Gonna ask about those instead of sunken wrecks laden with gold?”

“Those are far less interesting.”

“Kraken is real, sort of. There are some very large squid down there. Fish bigger than you can imagine, sharks too.”

“Say more.” Stern offers him the flash of tea he brought and Barclay eagerly accepts it.

“Well, some of them are harmless--are you writing this down?”

“Just for my own records. Please, keep going.”

And so pass their first few meetings, Stern electing to bring Barclay food from town after the first time, reveling in his delight at the meals. They eat and talk, Barclay eventually comfortable enough with Stern to come fully ashore. On warmer, sunny days they even lay side by side on their backs, and sometimes Barclay’s tail will brush or tap Sterns leg.

He doesn’t mind at all. 

One day, after Barclay bemoans his inability to trim his beard to his liking (“water and sharp metal aren’t friends), Stern comes down to the water with his razor, soap, hand mirror, and brush, swearing that if he can successful keep himself clean shaven in the terrible mirrors in the house, he can trim Barclay’s beard without disaster. And so Barclay lays, tail in the surf and head in Sterns lap, as the man meticulously sets about his task. 

When he’s done, Barclay sits up and looks into the hand mirror.

“That’s much better. You got some clever hands there, Joseph.” He grins and Stern tries to distract himself from the double meaning by brushing stray sand from his beard. 

This backfires harder than a mis-built canon. Barclay rests his hand atop Sterns own, rubbing his cheek against his palm with a sigh.

“You take such good care of me, Joseph. God, if I weren’t as I am, I’d take such good care of you right back.” His free hand traces the line of Stern’s cheekbone, dips down to caress his jaw. 

“You, you’ve been wonderful as well, I’ve learned so much, and it’s so nice to pass the time with you, even if you cannot follow me home or takeover the kitchen.”

“I could be even better to you, if you’d let me.”

“I will let you do whatever you want.” Stern shuts his eyes to better feel the touch of Barclay’s hands, “I will follow you like a beacon.”

The hands leave his skin. When he opens his eyes to search for the reason, Barclay’s tanned face has gone pale. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no it’s, I, just, you reminded me of something.” He pulls away from Stern, turning to face the sea. Stern doesn’t follow, although he aches to.

“Would you feel better if I left?” He asks softly. 

Barclay shakes his head, “No, but I’ll feel better, in a way, if I say this. I told you I was in a shipwreck. That much is true. I told you I was a cook before, that was true as well. But what I didn’t tell you was that I was a cook one town over, for a family who was, well, they had more than enough money but that didn’t stop them from wanting more. So once a month, at the new moon, they’d go to the cliffs by the rockiest, most dangerous part of the coastline and hold up lanterns.”

“They were wreckers.” 

A solemn nod, “When the ship was sunk, they’d go down the next morning and plunder the wreck. I never helped them, but I knew what they were doing long before I tried to stop it. Then one night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rowed out to the target, tried to tell them not to go towards those lights.  They wouldn’t listen, held me prisoner thinking it was a trap. When she went down, just as the water covered my head, my legs twisted and changes into a tail and I could breathe beneath the waves. Making me the only man to make it off the Golden Willow alive.”

Stern gasps, covers his mouth in shock.

“The Golden Willow was the ship my brother was on when he died. A merchant, traveling with his stock.”

“I’m sorry.” Barclay’s eyes are wet, and Sterns turn that way as well as the mer dives into the sea, shame etched in his face. 

-------------------------------------------

Call for boats, call for boats, my fair Plymouth boys,

Do you hear how the trumpets sound?

For the want of a long-boat in the ocean we're lost

And most of our merry men drowned.

“I don’t blame you, you know?” Stern stands in the sand, several books clutched to his chest.

Barclay doesn’t reply, but does turn to look at him. 

“And, if I’m right, you think your being a merman is as much a curse for your inaction as it is a blessing for your attempt to save the ship and her men.”

A nod, accompanied by Barclay wiping a palm beneath his eye, “God, I miss so much. I, I’m glad I’m not dead, but I miss my kitchen, I miss the markets on summer mornings, food that isn’t fish.” He flicks his tail in frustration, “I miss sleeping in featherbed, not that I ever really got to being a cook and all, I miss my friends, my little sister, everyone.” 

As he speaks, Stern hurries up the rocks to join him, guides him into his arms. He doesn’t cry, but he breathes heavily, holds tightly to the front of Stern’s coat. 

“I looked through my library, did hours of research,” he inclines his head towards the books, “I found a few supposed means of transforming a merman into a human. I have no idea what is myth or anecdote and what, if anything, will work. But if you want to be human again, I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” Barclay whispers, and Stern continues holding him, face stinging with salt spray, and stroking the planes of his tail soothingly until the other man is ready to let go. 

Over the next several weeks, they try every potion, prayer, and process Stern was able to find, all to no avail. They’re sitting, dejected, side by side on the sand, when Stern spots one recommendation he dismissed as the stuff of fairy-tales.

“I have something to try. Um, please close your eyes, because I have a feeling I’m about to look very silly.”

Barclay obliges. Stern cups his cheeks, kisses him soundly, certain this will be the only time he gets to do so, no matter how much he longs to do it each day. 

Barclay chuckles, eyes still shut, “Was that really a suggestion, or just an excuse to-”

Then he groans, head falling forward to rest on Stern’s shoulder, his whole body convulsing. Stern watches in awe as his tail slowly shimmers and dissolves, leaving feet and legs in it’s place. 

“Really? Really? That was the solution?” Stern giggles, “of all the nonsense I read, I didn’t think ‘kiss of a lover true’ was worth a second look.”

“Kiss of what now?” Barclay shakes his head to clear it with a woozy, yet knowing, smile. 

“I, um, I-” Stern blushes, both from his admission and from spying that Barclay is now completely naked. 

“Joseph” Barclay kisses his cheek and he melts into the sand, “you think that after all that talk of wanting to treat you well, I wouldn’t want you kissing me?”

“I didn’t want to presume.”

“You can presume whatever you want. Fuck, Joseph, I’m in love with you and you just gave me the one thing I thought I’d lost, you could ask anything and I’ll give it.” 

“In that case, would you come home with me? Though we may want to get you some clothes first.”

“What? Not enjoying the view?” He rolls onto his back, and Stern gets a full glimpse of just how good a view it is before shielding his eyes.

“I didn’t say that.” He smiles, laughs when Barclays beard tickles his throat and his teeth nip his ear, “but I think it would be enjoyed even more in my nice, feather bed. Don’t you?”

[aethelar]

So, uh, a while back you wrote a thing for Magizoologist!Graves and Head of Magical Security!Newt. I found the Newt piece, but did you ever write the one for Graves?

Nonnie, I did not. Very remiss of me. We shall rectify; in part one, we had Newt Scamander, Head of Security at MACUSA - now let’s bring on part two and introduce Percival Graves the Magizoologist.

How, you might ask.

Percival Graves of the boss-man suits, the judging eyebrows that judge without shame, the complete lack of chill and the vocabulary that is primarily swear words - that’s the Graves we’re going with, and we’re asking him to abandon his promising career as an auror in favour of playing Mummy to a host of, of assorted highly illegal most likely viciously poisonous things.

Graves does not have the background that would suit a magizoologist. His entire resume can be summed up by: grew up with two dogs, once managed to redirect a sparrow outside after it had got stuck in the office.

So. How does he become a magizoologist?

By accident.

Newt joins MACUSA in the early days of 1919 and, although he doesn’t cross paths with Graves, his mere presence has an impact. Newt takes the spot on the Criminal Investigations team that Graves was angling for but that’s fine, that’s ok. At least two of the of the other teams are interested in the promising new recruit and have offered jobs to the latest heir of the Graves’ vaunted line.

Three teams, if you count the Traffic team, but Graves does not count the Traffic team, so. Two other teams. Special Ops try and tempt him with a frankly ridiculous wage packet to join their diplomatic missions, and let’s face it, Graves is tempted. International diplomacy is what makes and shapes the world, and America might be newer on the scene than some of the other magical nations but the Graves name will still carry some weight. He could do a lot of good. He could also royally fuck up and cause the next world war, because maybe his however-many generations back ancestor was good with words but Graves himself finds punching things a much better solution. With that in mind, he ends up in the Defence and Response Corps and, blunt and straightforward as DaRC are, he thrives.

Maybe in another world he’d learn how to talk the talk to back up his walking the walk and be part of the ICW, but in this world his job consists of identifying threat, taking threat down with extreme prejudice and/or explosions, and shielding the fuck out of whatever target he was sent in to protect. Nothing gets passed his shields. They’re multi-layered frequency-shifted beauties and they earn him the nickname Gravestone for how immovable he becomes once he plants himself, and in four years of working with DaRC he never once loses a target. Not once.

In his fifth year, his target is a short, scrappy woman beset by a pack of Black Dogs. The malevolent ghosts come out at night, baying their omens of death and plaguing the people of the town - three children have already vanished, stolen, most likely, by the evil creatures. The woman is running her magic dry trying to keep them away, and though she’s reluctant to call in DaRC she fears she has no choice if she wants to survive.

That’s how she puts it, at least. Graves turns up, and something sits wrong with him, but - well, he’s not with Criminal Investigations. He’s with Defence. He digs in, builds his shields, and waits for nightfall. The sun sinks, the temperature drops, and he turns his lumos down low to preserve his night vision. The thermos of coffee in his pack has a careful combination of warming charms and space-distortion, and it holds enough to keep him going for several nights in a row, but - if the dragon-fire flares do their job - he’ll only need it for one. He waits. Occasionally the woman peers suspiciously from her window or opens the door to check on him under the thin guise of offering him tea. Once she starts singing loudly, off-key, to a song she doesn’t know the words to. There’s a thump, a hissed shut up, one more line of the song and then silence.

Roughly twenty minutes after midnight, the Black Dogs arrive. The pack is a dozen strong, maybe more, and under the grey moonlight they look pallid and sickly. Their fur is tattered, their eyes glowing baleful red; one of them has bleeding stumps in place of its ears, another flickers between ghost and corporeal, a third has too much skin for its bones and the folds make it misshapen and grotesque. Graves raises his wand and lets one hand hover over his flares, but though they circle him, they don’t attack.

Inside the house, a soft whimper. A hissed reprimand. A slap, and a stifled gasp of pain.

The Black Dogs hover just out of reach, their crouched forms as tall as Graves at the shoulder, their pupil-less stares heavy and expectant. They’re all here. All within reach, and he isn’t going to get a better shot. If he were doing his job, he’d burn the pack now and be done with it.

“Miss Glover,” he says into the charmed pin on the collar of his coat. “Remind me again why the dogs are targeting you?”

Her voice crackles back, high and angry. “They’re evil! Dark creatures, foul children-snatchers - they don’t need a reason!”

He hums, considering. They still haven’t attacked. “Some people say they protect children,” he says lightly. “Watch over them in the night, warn them away from danger. Guide them home when they get lost.”

There is a pause. The dogs are so still they barely move. Graves keeps his grip light on his wand and doesn’t breathe.

The spell she fires at his back is not unexpected and he twists easily to dodge it. The child standing behind her, eyes blank as he holds a jagged knife to his own throat, that Graves’ hadn’t predicted. He curses himself and stops his own spell before he fires it.

“I’ll kill him,” Glover says. “You think - you even think of firing, and I’ll tell him to do it.”

“The Imperius curse is illegal,” Graves grits out. “Under section 7 part C - “

She spits a hex at him and he dodges again, not daring to risk using his wand to deflect. “Go fuck yourself,” she snarls. “The law doesn’t protect no-majs, does it? I’ve done nothing wrong.” Graves’ mind races because that, that really doesn’t sound right, but he doesn’t know for sure, in this universe he hasn’t studied the laws enough to know, and if she’s right - if she’s right then legally, there’s not a damn thing he can do to her. MACUSA protects magicals. If the children aren’t magical he can’t act to protect them. That sounds bullshit, but the law says is a solid block he’s coming up against, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

She gestures impatiently at the silent, watchful dogs. “Well?” she prompts. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Graves hesitates, but eventually lifts his wand slowly, hands outstretched to show her what he’s doing. “I need my spells,” he says cautiously, carefully not looking at the child-hostage in the doorway. Glover waves a negligent hand at him and he grits his teeth, thinks fuck it and resettles his wand in his grip, raises his magic in preparation for the spell -

and brings his shields crashing down.

The Black Dogs move as one. Graves dives for the kid, grabbing the blade and ripping it away. Behind him, Glover shrieks, firing one, two, three spells at the pack, but outside the protection of her house and wards she’s no match for them. She doesn’t fire a fourth spell.

When it’s done, the dogs paw at the doorstep, whining and plaintive until Graves goes in. He finds the other two children in the upstairs bathroom, huddled behind the shower curtain and armed with a half-empty bottle of shampoo. They cry when they see him, and cling to him, the girl in stoical silence, the boy asking again and again to go home. Graves carries them both downstairs to where the other boy is waiting, shell-shocked, on the front step, and when they won’t let go of him he carries them to their respective homes.

The dogs follow him every step. The no-majs don’t see them, of course, which is probably for the best - at least four of the dogs stayed with the kids, two with the first boy and one each with the children from the bathroom, circling the house like particularly ominous guard dogs. Graves doesn’t know what Glover wanted with the kids, what she used them for - he probably should have obliviated them just in case, but it’s unwise to obliviate wizards soon after traumatic experiences and he sees no reason why it would be different for no-majs.

When he gets back to the house he’s down to three dogs following him, and the witch - her corpse? - is gone. He pointedly doesn’t acknowledge his shadows, just checks the perimeter, shuts the front door, and apparates out.

He has the following morning off (he always does after working nights) and he uses it to pull the auror-issue law books from underneath the wonky table they’re propping up. By midday, he’s discovered that Glover was right; the law sees nothing wrong with kidnapping no-maj children and keeping them trapped in your upstairs bathroom. By two in the afternoon, he’s tracked down the precedence and the sub-clauses that make it legal to use the imperious curse on no-majs, so long as the statute of secrecy is upheld. By four, he’s several hours late for work, and is eighty percent certain that he could be prosecuted for murder and the use of dark creatures as a lethal weapon. DaRC will have to send out a second team, a full hit team to cleanse the area of the Black Dogs, Graves’ career is in ruins - if not his life, if Glover has enough family to push for his prosecution, and this whole being an auror to protect people schtick is sounding far more naive than it did this time yesterday.

By six, he’s packed what he wants from his cramped auror flat; by eight, he’s left his badge on the table and psyched himself up to walk out the door.

There are three dogs waiting for him when he steps out onto the street, each one as tall as he is with glowing, pupil-less eyes. The no-majs walk through them as though they aren’t even there.

“What, am I a kidnapped child now?” Graves jokes, but even to his own ears it falls flat. His entire life is  packed into a worn leather backpack and a standard-issue field belt with three night’s supply of hot coffee in one of the many enlarged pouches. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what he’s doing, and he’s pretty sure he’s majorly fucked up. More than fucked up. He’s a murderer on the run in league with demonic ghost dogs. Fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The largest of the three dogs, thin and bony with a whip-like tail, turns to walk down the street. The other two follow, one on either side of Graves, their bodies surprisingly warm as they press him along. Graves only goes because he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. Because, right at that moment, he’s a little bit scared and a little bit disbelieving and a whole lot lost.

And, you know, Black Dogs are good at leading lost souls home.

(the first place they lead him is a construction site with a snallygaster chained behind the piles of steel girders, and Graves isn’t sure how the snallygaster ended up following him after he freed it but it did)

(the second place is a garden beset by knarls, and they move into one of the pouches on the utility belt which Graves really wishes they hadn’t done, but they’re there now and they don’t seem to be moving out)

(the third place is the sea, no creatures, no-one to save, just the empty beach and the open sea and Graves sits curled against the dog he’s called Sadie with the dog he’s called Spot sprawled over his feet while Snally the snallygaster plays with the waves and Knarls Ay Cee and Dee start digging in the sand. He lifts up Knarl Bee from where she’s curled, prickly side out, in his lap and it’s been a month, now, since the dogs led him away from New York.

“I,” he tells her, “am clearly insane.” She waves tiny clawed feet at him and wriggles her quills into all the sensitive parts of his palm. He nods in agreement. “That too, but mostly insane.”

Bee sneezes, and that settles it. If she’s staying, then the pouch is clearly an insufficient home for her - today a cold, who knows what she could catch tomorrow? Graves has spent most nights so far sleeping under his jacket with a shielding charm pulled over him, what kind of home life is this for a growing Knarl? He might not have Newt’s flare for fitting pocket dimensions into a suitcase but what he does have is a great deal of experience expanding his coffee thermos to unreasonable sizes and a handy field belt with a handily unspecified number of pouches on it. They’re meant for ammunition and flares and the odd potions vial, but they’ll do well enough. By the time the sun rises and his dogs fade into ghost-fog for the day he’s made enough space on his belt to carry half the population of Manhattan around with him, Snally has haughtily demanded trees in his pouch, and Bee has progressed to nesting in his hair and sticking quills in his ear whenever he moves his head too vigorously.

Graves might not know enough about magical creatures to know if this normal behaviour but it makes her happy, so why not.

He should probably learn about magical creatures though. Seeing as, you know, he appears to be collecting them.

Maybe.)

[kiruuuuu]

Bandit/Jäger oneshot in which they’re on holiday, and maybe, just maybe, Bandit is up to something. Includes Sledge/Maestro, Smoke/Mute, Blitz/Rook and my recruits!! (Rating T/M, chaos, shenanigans + fluff, ~9.3k words) -  written for @grasshopper643​! This was an absolute blast, thank you so so much for commissioning me, and also for including the recruits 💖💖

.

Bandit awakens to birdsong, crickets chirping up a storm, bright sunlight falling into the comfy room smelling of old wood, and another body draped over his. Mind blissfully blank, he takes advantage of the marvellous situation he finds himself in: a deep breath fills his lungs with warm, fragrant summer air, and when he tilts his head to feel the soothing rays on his cheeks, he just happens to snuggle closer to the man atop him. Hands wander over exposed skin, travel down the dip of the lower waist, climb the gentle rise a bit further down, fingertips digging into inviting flesh.

Jäger stirs, not much, just enough so Bandit knows he’s awake, and wraps even tighter around him with a contented sigh. Normally, an embrace this snug would feel suffocating, and normally, the start of a new day would be met with unwilling groans and mutual shoving, but they’re on holiday. Bandit’s mind is at peace here, aided by the floral scent of all the flowers thriving not only outside the small house but scattered inside, too, inhabiting vases everywhere and mixing with the building’s own organic smell. Jäger’s personal one is merely the cherry on top.

Lazily, Bandit mouths at his lover’s shoulder while continuing the really quite lovely groping, massaging plump cheeks in preparation of early morning sex, something for which they rarely have the time. But they’re on holiday. They can do what they want. If he was any more awake, he might endeavour to take Jäger apart with his tongue until his moans turn into these hoarse pleas which never fail to drive Bandit insane, yet he’s afraid they’ll have to make do with languid humping amid deep kisses – travelling to their destination yesterday was surprisingly exhausting and they needed the sleep.

Nibbling at Jäger’s nape of the neck earns him his first moan for the day, so he uses more teeth, continues down that vein and grins to himself when Jäger stretches into his ministrations, sees a shadow move by the window and looks up, over Jäger’s shoulder, to -

- to be faced with five pairs of eyes. Very wide, and very curious.

His gaze must’ve turned murderous as all five idiots drop out of view immediately and, from the quiet sounds of it, scramble to get away. Vague regret befalls Bandit not for the first time: this half-baked plan might come to bite him in the arse eventually.

Oblivious to this distraction, Jäger curls into him and captures his lips in a sloppy kiss, and just for a moment, Bandit considers not getting up at all. Give ‘em a show, who cares – part of him wants to show off his boyfriend with his long limbs, the adorable little smiles, confident movements so unusual for him. And Jesus fucking Christ, not even twenty-four hours in Italy, and he’s already let its sappy atmosphere seep into his thoughts.

“Off”, he orders and slaps Jäger’s backside hard enough to leave a bright red mark. With a dissatisfied grumble, Jäger obliges and rolls off him, but not without reaching between Bandit’s legs and hell, he really doesn’t make anything easy, does he? There’s a brief scuffle accompanied by sleepy giggling on Jäger’s part and vanishing resistance on Bandit’s, and when he ends up pinning the other man down by the wrists, he still hasn’t won. Because Jäger beams up at him so unguardedly that it feels like a stab to the heart. He’s just, he’s just so -

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots movement once more and that’s it.

“I’ll be right back”, he promises and, despite being incredibly pissed, briefly sucks on Jäger’s neck for good measure just so his smile doesn’t fade before untangling their limbs and getting up. On the way out, he pulls on a t-shirt and underwear since he doesn’t feel like digging through their luggage for his sweatpants, takes one set of keys and leaves the house to face his delegation of idiots.

The five recruits have piled up outside the door, the majority visibly uncomfortable.

“Sorry for interrupting, chief”, the Irish lad, Shay, brightly addresses him and gets shushed by the others immediately before continuing much more quietly: “We just wanted to report back.”

“Did anything happen?”, Bandit asks and looks to the only competent one of the bunch, the Russian lurking in the back, always seeming uninterested yet no doubt watching like a hawk out of the corner of his eyes. Bandit probably likes Ivan Ivanovic the most as he has him largely figured out – he’s familiar with the cool façade of nonchalance hiding a sharp mind, while he never has any clue what’s going on in Shay’s, Jojo’s or Gian’s heads. Nor is he particularly curious. And Valenti reminds him too much of Blitz sometimes: an overachiever, someone who fancies himself a leader.

“They had romantic breakfast, so Gian called cops on them”, Ivan Ivanovic replies levelly.

Bandit waits a second to see if they’re joking, but Shay merely nods encouragingly and since he can’t lie for shit, they must be serious. He massages his temples and, to buy time in order to process this revelation, barks at Valenti and Jojo: “If either of you glances at my cock one more time, I’m going to shove it up your ass.”

Both gazes snap up in instant terror and both faces flush a satisfying crimson. Well. He could’ve phrased this better.

“To be quite frank, we were in a state of non-negligible panic”, Gian points out calmly. “An interruption seemed the necessary course of action, yet revealing our presence unwise, so I acted swiftly.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway”, Jojo cuts in, sensing Bandit’s disbelief, “they turned out to know some of Maestro’s relatives, we think, so they had a pleasant chat and left and were none the wiser.”

“So let me get this straight – you made a false emergency call and are patting yourselves on the back now?”

Valenti opens his mouth to protest yet realises much too late that this is exactly what happened. His sheepish expression soothes some of Bandit’s anger, though it does nothing to improve the situation. “You did say we could use whatever means necessary”, Shay chimes in good-naturedly and Bandit belatedly understands how in the world these five usually land in these kinds of situations.

“Not only did you fucking violate the law, but you also ogled my boyfriend in order to tell me that ultimately nothing happened?”

They exchange uncertain glances until Valenti of all people attempts to appease him: “Well, we figured -”

“Fuck off. Don’t talk to me again unless it’s urgent, and if you miss me so much that you can’t bear living without me yelling at you, text me. Got it?” His razor sharp tone has them all nod and flee into different directions, leaving him to consider just aborting the entire mission.

But no. He has to get revenge.

The infuriating incompetence at least does have a positive side effect – he’s not only awake but also riled up enough to tongue punch Jäger into never-never land, and when he returns to a long body prettily stretched out on the bed, one hand wrapped around a very interested member, he only needs to grit out a turn around to spark a smile full of anticipation.

He still closes the curtains for good measure.

.

When it comes down to it, it’s Jäger’s fault. He fed Bandit genuine laughs, secretive grins and all the attention he could ever ask for whenever he let the other German in on a joke, and over time Bandit got used to it: shenanigans mean admiration, a few stolen kisses here and there, a re-telling both excited and exaggerated, and even pride. Jäger used to be proud of his innovations, all the creative ways in which he terrorised those around him. Therefore, when Bandit changes all of Blitz’ personalised ring tones to – as he finds – fitting alternatives and merely garners a crushing, accusing look together with a devastating sigh, his world view crumbles.

Admittedly, it did take Blitz an entire weekend to set up the system Bandit single-handed destroyed during two afternoons. Admittedly, most of the song choices were in poor taste and some of them genuinely offensive, but that doesn’t make them any less funny, does it? And admittedly, maybe, just maybe choosing Weird Al’s ‘Fat’ for Rook when the Frenchie only recently voiced wanting to lose a few pounds was a tad misguided. Especially when Blitz hadn’t noticed Bandit’s stunt and asked Rook to call him to locate his misplaced phone.

Well. Alright. Maybe he did deserve the tired look Jäger gave him.

But after that? No matter how hard he tried to impress him, how much of a menace he was, he never managed to regain Jäger’s favour. Instead, he got a talk.

Please stop, was the baseline. Don’t play pranks anymore. Focus on other, more constructive activities. Stop wasting all these resources on messing with people.

And so Bandit stopped. Not because Jäger told him, obviously, but without his partner in crime it just wasn’t fun anymore. It took most of his self-discipline not to tamper with Rook’s new shoes – heelies, of all things, it would’ve been child’s play to make him eat shit – and leave Mute’s new jammer prototype alone, despite him forgetting to lock it away one day. God, it could’ve been glorious. Bandit could’ve strapped it onto Diana and declare her a denial of service dog.

But no, he didn’t even want to mess around anymore anyway, and if he stretched towards Jäger’s resulting affection like a sunflower, it merely was a pleasant side effect. If only the others didn’t notice.

Smoke was the first. Out of boredom, he taped the kitchen door shut and texted Bandit about Monika having baked fresh brownies, then recorded him enthusiastically giving himself a black eye, and Bandit couldn’t retaliate. Because that night was going to be the fourth night in a row on which Jäger would pet his hair until he’s asleep which he’d never really done before, and Bandit wasn’t going to let anything get in the way.

Then Mute hacked his phone and literally every link led to fucking Rick Astley and every time Bandit typed ‘I’, his keyboard replaced it with the entire lyrics to the song, and Bandit still couldn’t take revenge because Jäger was in the middle of watching a series together with Bandit despite not being super into it, and he didn’t want to finish it alone.

And when a handful of others got wind of being immune to his wrath, it turned into hell. People openly approached him to criticise the way he led his team during a training exercise, and sure, he did a shite job due to acute laziness, but who does that? Others let him know they appreciated all the extra care he put in during their most recent mission and fucking Christ, if they don’t even stop shy of compliments, he might as well quit because what’s even left of him in that case? Horrifying.

Obviously, he keeps track of every misdeed. Just in case Jäger gets deployed for a few weeks, allowing him to punish all the wrongdoers. Even if he has the feeling he’d be too distracted to really make it count in that case.

But Sledge puts the cherry on top. One day, he pulls Bandit aside and says a few things which are inexcusable. Unforgivable. And thus, Bandit hatches a plan.

.

They have breakfast in a small café together with Smoke and Mute, both of whom immediately expressed the wish to tag along when Bandit mentioned his plans to go on a short holiday to the beautiful Western coast of Italy and who is he to turn down their company (especially when they potentially distract Jäger, allowing him some breathing room)? The Brits share the vacation house next to theirs and Bandit just hopes they didn’t notice the early morning commotion, but then again it seems as if Mute ensured they haven’t noticed much since their arrival.

“I’m going to eat fucking ten of these overpriced cardboard pastries”, he announces mid-chew and chases down the second half of Smoke’s cornetto with a sip of Jäger’s coffee before anyone can stop him.

“Babe”, Smoke tries to gently reason with him and earns a wild glare.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, not my fault they fold up the footpaths at night, I’m starving.” He gestures to the vaguely horrified-looking waiter to bring more sustenance and finishes Jäger’s latte in one go.

“If I’d stayed up all bloody night high on energy drinks I’d be starving too”, Smoke mutters with a helpless shake of the head which alright, that explains both Mute’s manic restlessness as well as the bags under Smoke’s eyes.

“Are you sure you should be getting more caffeine?”, Bandit wants to know dubiously and realises too late that the young lad’s gaze is worryingly unfocused.

“Huh?”, he makes and it’s obvious he hasn’t been following anyone’s conversation but his own so far. “Bloody hell, if this horrifically sweet stuff is all they eat for breakfast it’s no wonder Seamus is getting fat. I’ll ask whether they have bacon. They must have bacon. Right? Everyone has bacon. Or sausages at least. Fucking cold cuts, anything. Maybe there’s a salt shortage going on in Italy, though the people definitely had more than enough. Bacon.”

The other three stare after him as he makes a beeline towards the poor guy stuck serving them. “I would be salty, too, if some asshole insisted on New York style pizza being better than the original”, Smoke points out drily.

“Is he gonna be alright?” So far, Bandit has witnessed Mute on caffeine overdose (result: the attention span of a squirrel), sleep deprivation (result: endless ideas better suited for a mad scientist, particularly terrifying coming from someone who can actually implement most of them), and excessive hunger (result: an exceedingly sharp tongue plus an infinite supply of irritation), yet never all three together. He has to admit, it’s a sight to behold.

Smoke shrugs. “The crash is gonna be hilarious, no lie. He did tell me he hates energy drinks but didn’t specify why. Had I known, I would’ve put up more of a fight.”

Just as Mute returns triumphantly with an entire plate of fried eggs probably meant for all of them despite him making no move to share, Bandit notices that Jäger has been unusually quiet ever since they’ve left the house – and it’s even odder that he’s just watching Bandit with a small smile. Does he… does he know about his plan? Is he suspecting something? “What?”, Bandit asks defensively.

The smile widens. Uh oh. “Nothing. I’m just happy we’re here.”

Abort mission, abort mission. “Yeah, me too, and isn’t it a shame Elias and Julien have to rot at base without -”

“I was really surprised when you made the suggestion to come here, I would never have expected anything like this from you.”

“Well, we’re here now and we should make a list of everything that’s bad so we can annoy Maestro when we’re -”

“But it’s wonderful. The house is pretty, the beach is gorgeous and the town picturesque. It’s really romantic and I like it here. A lot.”

Bandit just laughs nervously. His face is on fire and he has to get out of this as soon as possible. Maybe he should split up the dumb recruits and have two of them watch him so he can give them a secret signal whenever a situation like this happens because holy shit, this is -

“Even so, you could’ve chosen any place and it would’ve been great, just because you’d be there. Thank you, Dom.”

He’s scarlet. Across the table, Mute is still stuck in the motion of salting his eggs while gaping at the two of them, unaware he’s created a veritable heap crowning one of the yolks by now. Jäger continues to smile at him and there’s no way he can bear another second of this. “I have to take a piss”, he declares loudly before fleeing to the men’s where he sits down on the lid, trying to will away the blood from his cheeks. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all.

To distract himself from the odd sensation in his stomach, he checks his phone and finds a message from Valenti: two lovebirds heading to the water, unsure how to interfere.

Alright. At least he can do something on this front. Once he’s cooled off a little, he returns to Mute nearly dunking half an egg into Smoke’s glass and Jäger observing them with a shit eating grin. “We should go to the beach afterwards”, he suggests and tries his best not to react to the hand straying to his thigh as soon as he’s sat down.

.

It wasn’t pickpocketing per se. Not really, because the odd object was half sticking out of Sledge’s trousers anyway, screaming to be taken. A rectangular box, while not too bulky, definitely not made for being carried around in front pockets for an entire day, and so Bandit merely… relieved the Scotsman of this burden. After all, he might’ve lost it otherwise and who knows how valuable it is. Better keep it safe for him than fill him with panic when he can’t find it and has to retrace his steps.

Bandit can’t deny it came at a pretty fucking opportune time seeing as he’d been obsessing about vengeance for Sledge’s uncalled-for insults, and so he nicked the velvety item without thinking and, as he hopes, without anyone noticing. For once, having to sit next to Sledge during meetings paid off. He’s patient for the rest of the day, carries his prize around without taking a proper look in case anyone catches him, yet when he opens it at home, he blanches.

Oh the possibilities.

For a few seconds, his mind is filled with delicious scenarios, one better than the other: replace the ring with one from a bubblegum dispenser. Replace it with bees. Add a noisemaker which produces a fart sound whenever the box is opened. Superglue it so it can’t be taken out. The more he thinks, the more absurd his ideas become: have it reduced in size. Engrave it with a random name. Coat it in a substance which dyes skin for weeks.

It’s a really tasteful ring. If he’s honest, it’s gorgeous. At the same time, he knows Maestro will flip the fuck out no matter what it looks like because it’s the act that counts, the intention.

Not only that, but Sledge is certain to inspect the entire box with extreme prejudice once he gets it back, and if he identifies any tampering, Bandit is dead meat.

“You dropped this yesterday”, he says the day after and hands the box back.

Sledge, as expected, examines it thoroughly before nodding – he doesn’t even hide it and alright, that’s fair. Given Bandit’s history of messing with him, he wouldn’t even bat an eye at Sledge sending it in to some lab. “Thanks”, he replies, and Bandit isn’t even offended at the astonishment in his voice. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Relationships really do turn most people into utter fools if Sledge deems it a fruitful idea to ask Bandit for his opinion. Fortunately, he’s very different. He’d never change himself just because of Jäger or fall into the trap of hopeless, helpless infatuation. He’s always in control. “It’d be way too small for me”, he shoots back, unimpressed, “but hey, you measured it, so I’m sure Maestro will love his new cock ring.”

The genuine laugh he gets in return tells him that Sledge really has it bad. “I’m planning to propose to him on our trip to Italy next month”, he foolishly divulges and Bandit’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh?”, he prompts politely. “Tell me more.”

.

If looks could kill, Bandit would’ve dropped dead the instant Sledge catches sight of him. He would’ve spontaneously combusted and his ashes been blown away by the wind, because the Scotsman must know instantly that he’s up to something, judging by how the sun itself darkens along with his mood. He’s stretched out on a towel on the beautiful fine-grained white sand, shielded from the harsh sunlight by a large parasol and ready to wring Bandit’s neck.

“What? How?”, Mute is still going on, not having recovered from this remarkable coincidence. “It’s impossible that we end up in the same vacation spot by pure chance!”

“Yes”, Sledge grits out. “Impossible.”

“Adriano recommended this place to us”, Smoke jumps in and Bandit owes him so many drinks, “and I thought you were gonna visit his family?” Some of Sledge’s suspicion fades, even if Jäger throws Bandit a curious glance. He still needs to be careful, so he keeps quiet.

“This… isn’t a set-up? You’re not up to anything?”, Sledge wants to know accusingly and Bandit just snorts.

“Of course not, as if I didn’t have anything better to do in my free time. Are you getting paranoid?”

Sledge looks like he has a few choice words to say, but when Maestro joins them, his attention snaps to him like metal to a magnet – not like Bandit could blame him, not with the Italian’s tan skin glistening all over and his dangerously short swimming trunks clinging to his body. Bandit takes note of this: should he ever need to divert the Scot’s attention, he merely needs to dump some water over his boyfriend.

“Amici miei! What a wonderful surprise, how great to see you!”, Maestro greets them warmly and smooches their cheeks, in the process getting all of them wet, and then turns to where Mute is chasing seagulls while screeching along with them. “What, uh, what happened with my cucciolo?”

“He’ll tire himself out”, Smoke assures him with a sigh.

“How do you like it here? I will show you everything! Isn’t it such a fortunate coincidence, cioccolatino?”

“Marvellous”, says Sledge.

“We can spend all our time together and I will teach you the most important phrases!”

And while the Scotsman looks like he bit into a lemon, Mute rushes over to detail all the sand castles he’ll build.

.

No more than five minutes later, the youngest Brit is already conked out and snoring softly on the very towel Sledge had occupied previously, and when he seems to be wholly unperturbed by the others talking around him, they set up their own beach equipment and share their experiences and impressions of Maestro’s home country. He seems genuinely delighted over their presence, unlike Sledge, and generously shares anecdotes about this particular holiday favourite. Normally, Bandit would rather chew off his own leg than allow the Italian to chew off his ear, but Jäger’s holding his hand and so he really has no other choice. Besides, his lover seems stoked over the opportunity to ask about everything local and his enthusiasm is contagious. At least a little bit.

Eventually, the group breaks up a little, with Sledge announcing his intention to go for a walk along the beach with Maestro, and Jäger urging Bandit to go swimming as well. He shoots Ivan Ivanovic a message about keeping an eye on the unlikely couple and interrupting them should the atmosphere become a little too amorous, and notices a text from Rook: the Frenchman seems to be making the most out of being stuck in Hereford and challenges the holidaymakers in a group chat to snap the best ‘out of context’ selfie they can. Attached is a peace-signing Rook in the foreground, with a half-naked Buck getting his chest hair shaved behind him, looking not at all amused with a doubled-over Valkyrie.

Half a minute later, Blitz contributes by sending a photo of him giving a cheery thumbs-up, while Rook in the background is apparently getting yelled at by a half-shaven Buck. Days since the last superglue accident: 0, Blitz adds.

Bandit, despite being highly entertained, silently vows to upstage him, upstage all of them really, even if he hasn’t figured out how yet.

“At least he’s prepared if he wants to compete with Meghan in the pool again”, Jäger comments good-naturedly, following the chat on his own phone. He turns around to photograph himself grinning while also capturing Smoke drawing a dick on his boyfriend’s unconscious body with sun cream. “You guys are cute”, he adds inexplicably.

Smoke takes one look at the drooling man haphazardly flung onto the fabric, shirt riding up enough to expose a canvas for him to abuse, and nods. “I’ve never loved another human being more”, he responds gravely and adds a few cum spurts shooting from the tip.

“Give the balls some hair too”, Jäger suggests sweetly before dragging Bandit off towards the splashing waves.

The hot sand burns their soles, so they awkwardly skip towards the sea, tackling each other once they’re largely submerged and nearly lose the beach ball they brought. Bandit supposes it’s a bad time to mention how he never really liked going on holiday, figures it’s usually more effort than it’s worth, and hanging around at the beach all day not having anything to do seems like a massive waste of time – but since his presence here has purpose and the cogs in his head never stop turning, it’s actually not that bad. He keeps one eye on the couple strolling along the beautiful shore, almost far enough away that he can’t see them anymore, and focuses the rest of his attention on Jäger.

Because dear God.

He belatedly understands Sledge’s distraction upon seeing his boyfriend emerge from the sea, cheeks rosy, rivulets running down exposed skin, playful smile plastered on his face and -

- and there’s an entire pack of dogs swarming Sledge and Maestro in the distance.

Bandit stares because what else is there to do? It looks as if all stray dogs from the region had assembled to circle the two, jump up and apparently try to slobber all over them, and while his brain is still trying to process the view, he gets thwacked in the head full force by the beach ball, losing his footing in the process.

He’s still coughing up salt water as Jäger drags him towards the sand, unsuccessfully trying to stifle his laughter and apologising simultaneously. He should be more upset, seeing as not only did the recruits choose one of the flashiest ways of bothering Sledge again, but also he’s got a headache now and his lungs are burning, he will probably end up with a nasty sunburn on his scalp as he refuses to wear any kind of hat, keeps stepping on sharp seashells, hates the way sun lotion feels on his skin and despises the taste of tangy water – but when they trip and fall, and his field of vision is filled with nothing but Jäger, and his lover smiles and quietly asks whether he needs CPR, and when there’s warm lips on his own cool ones, none of it really seems that dramatic.

.

Mute is awake and has aged by ten years as they return, but at least he seems to have mellowed out considerably – even though he doesn’t look at all amused with the jellyfish Smoke keeps lining up next to their shadowy spot. “Can someone tell him that sleeping for sixteen hours is a worthwhile activity?”, Mute sighs, massaging his temples.

“If I hadn’t sent you out to get some food, you wouldn’t have let me sleep last night either, babe. Stay up till evening and reset your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll reset your fucking schedule if you don’t stop with these stupid gelatine blobs. We’re not taking one home and that’s final.”

“Glad to see everyone else also enjoying their holiday!”, Jäger pipes up cheerfully while towelling himself dry. “But what happened to you two?”

Sledge, sipping what looks suspiciously like coffee instead of his usual tea, glances down at his scratched up legs, at Maestro’s paw print covered loafers as well as the general dirt smeared over them, and replies flatly: “We’ve gone to the dogs.”

“This has been a really odd trip so far”, Maestro adds, “the first evening we couldn’t turn off any of the lights in our house though they switched off by themselves some time during the night. Just this morning, we were approached by policemen about allegedly causing a disturbance even though I’m fairly sure we had the curtains closed the entire time -”

“He’s referring to the fact that he likes to sleep naked”, Sledge hastens to explain due to several pairs of eyebrows shooting up at this comment.

“Then someone threw a few Playboy magazines through the letter slot, and just now we became an irresistible attraction for the local wildlife.”

“It’s almost as if someone was up to something.”

And while the others continue discussing these odd and unfortunate turns of events, Bandit pretends he missed Sledge’s meaningful comment.

“I think I’ve got sunburn on my hands”, Smoke mutters to himself as Jäger and Maestro encourage each other to come up with the most complicated conspiracy theory which would explain all that’s happened to the happy couple, with Sledge merely shaking his head. “They’re pretty red.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your collection”, Mute prompts tiredly and indicates the shrivelling, dead creatures by Smoke’s feet.

“You see, most of them are just see-through slime, but this one is real pretty. Looks like an omelette almost, don’t you think, babe?”

Mute blinks slowly. “Go and buy some vinegar with Adriano, will you? Doesn’t matter what kind, and don’t ask.”

The suggestion makes most of them spring into action as Jäger was considering heading out for lunch anyway, yet he lingers when everyone but Mute and Bandit trail after a happily bubbling Maestro. “Don’t you think it’s weird that all these things happen to the two of them?”, he asks and it takes all of Bandit’s willpower and focus not to smirk. “You’re not up to anything, are you?”

“Of course not”, he promises as sincerely as decades of professional lying allow it, and sends his boyfriend off with a kiss to his nose.

Once he’s out of earshot, Mute mumbles: “You’re absolutely up to something, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am”, he scoffs and blames it on the energy drinks that it took Mute this long to realise.

“It’s a fucking fried egg jellyfish”, Mute explains without being prompted. “Nothing serious, but the bloody idiot is probably gonna feel it for a few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“And have him start early with asking me to piss on his hands? No thank you.”

.

~*~

.

“To be fair”, Valenti, the little fucker, tries to justify himself, “you didn’t say not to use perfume bombs.”

The effects of just 24 hours of Italian air are noticeable on the five recruits: Valenti has gotten even cockier than usual and revels in the warm weather, Shay has turned a lovely shade of lobster red, Jojo has bought a new wardrobe and, remarkably, looks just as fashionable as Maestro, Gian is distracted by everything and anything around him, visibly enjoying himself and writing novellas into his notebook, and even Ivan Ivanovic is smiling. If only Bandit himself felt the soothing touch of the country, he probably wouldn’t be this close to shaking some sense into the confident tiny Frenchman.

“You’re extremely lucky Seamus isn’t into crossdressing or any of that shite, because his soon-to-be fiancé smelling of several whorehouses at once caters pretty well to these fantasies and would’ve set him off, and then you’d have to keep two randy lovebirds apart and not just two sappy ones.”

“How do you know that’d happen?”, Jojo chimes up curiously.

The five of them are eating ice cream while sitting on the stone balustrade separating the promenade from the beach below and Bandit develops the sudden urge to toss the other German off it. “Look”, he starts and immediately gets interrupted by Shay smushing his face into his chocolate ice and Gian starting to giggle uncontrollably.

“The hell are you doing?”, Valenti wants to know, aghast, and rolls his eyes at Ivan’s reply: “I told him milk good for sunburn. Takes off heat.”

“I do feel much better already!”

Jojo grabs the cone out of the Irishman’s hand and sticks it against Shay’s forehead. “Shame you’re not called Shaun because now you’d be a uni-shaun.” Without any hesitation, he leans in and starts licking the ice cream off of Shay’s cheek, causing him to squeal and wield his damaged cone like a weapon and mere seconds later, they’re having a lightsaber fight in the middle of the fortunately empty street, with Valenti acting as referee.

Bandit’s earlier headache is starting to come back, and this time he’s sure it’s not related to heat stroke.

“Like children”, Ivan comments. He’s still got that smile on his face.

“Regardless of how we might achieve the goal you set for us”, Gian addresses Bandit, “our reward remains unclaimed. You’re confident you can procure it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you what you want, provided you guys keep your end of the -” And then he’s cut off by a screaming Shay colliding with him full force, sending him stumbling and dangerously close to the low banister but not yet over – though when he tries to turn and yell, Jojo joins the dogpile and sends them flying.

.

Jäger looks fucking gorgeous when Bandit returns to their cottage, shorts and boots really hitting the spot and if he complains about having forgotten lighter shoes one more time, Bandit is going to show him just what he thinks of his outfit by having him keep it on as he blows both him and his mind. Thoughts like this one have become second nature and he’s still not entirely sure how.

“Don’t touch me, I need a shower”, he warns his lover before he can wrap around Bandit the way he usually does, no matter how long he’s been gone, “I’ve got sand everywhere, even up my arse crack.”

“What did you do?”

“Slipped and fell on the beach. And other people might’ve also slipped and fallen on me.”

“Odd. Seamus had ice cream tossed at him from inside a bush.”

“Huh. Did he find out by whom?”

“It was a thorn bush, so he stayed away from it.” Yikes. Bandit feels like his conscience shouldn’t be as clear as it is, but on the other hand he’s largely paying for their trip. So if he gets free entertainment out of it, he’s not going to complain. “Look, Elias and Julien sent another selfie.”

On screen, the happy couple is smooching in front of Echo sleeping on one of the workshop tables, with a variety of objects stacked on top of him in an impressive display of balancing skills. Next to him, Dokkaebi is showcasing a veritably demonic grin, much to Hibana’s concern. “Cute”, Bandit comments sarcastically yet it seems Jäger takes him at face value.

“Right? I still don’t understand why you kept gagging next to them when they were freshly together. They’re so good for each other.”

And he’s never understood how Jäger can support kitsch on four legs this openly. “This might come as a shock to you, but I’m not really the romantic type.”

The knowing smirk following his statement is what drives him away, ears burning, and it’s still adorning soft lips when Jäger joins him in the shower a few minutes later.

.

~*~

.

“Mutiny”, Bandit repeats after a grave-looking Jojo. “Are you taking the fucking piss?”

“We’ve spent almost three days of constant surveillance, spontaneous action, consistent communication as well as doing a remarkably good job, if I may say so”, Valenti jumps in, eager to support his mate, “and you’ve not met your end of the deal.”

They’re huddled behind the very stone balustrade which has painted Bandit’s back a hideous shade of yellowish-green due to an acute case of getting bodychecked over it, and he’s beginning to feel like a repeat performance is preferable over dealing with these numbskulls. “My end of the deal?”, he parrots in disbelief. “I’ve paid for your fucking vacation, you ungrateful little shits, and all you’ve done is ruin their holiday.”

“I wouldn’t go that far -”

“Well I fucking would. You nearly gave Seamus food poisoning, caused him to fall into the sea, harassed him with prank calls which weren’t even remotely funny -”

“Billy’s roadkill diner – you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em”, Shay interjects cheerily, earning a snort and an addition from Jojo: “You frag ‘em, we bag ‘em!”

“- and you even egged Maestro’s favourite shirt.”

“That was little funny”, Ivan Ivanovic butts in, and alright, the string of expletives exploding out of the hot-blooded Italian was admittedly hilarious, especially when even Sledge seemed genuinely scandalised over some of them.

Still, he’s understood by now that engaging any of the clowns leads to madness, so he simply keeps talking. “Besides, what the fuck do you want me to do about a Scot who flat out refuses to take off his shirt at the beach? I can hardly go and undress him, can I?”

“You could show creativity, like we have. Aren’t you supposed to be resourceful?”

If this had come from anyone but the Russian, Bandit might’ve slapped some sense into them, yet this gives him pause. “I mean – I tried, but he wouldn’t budge. Why is this so fucking important to you anyway, are you that bloody horny?”

Jojo looks ready to hold an entire speech as to why it’s crucial for mankind’s survival that they witness the buff Scotsman shed his shirt, but fortunately it’s Gian who speaks up instead: “I cannot help but feel your heart is not in this endeavour.” How fucking dare he. “You informed us of your wish to exert revenge, yet your glee has been muted, your undertakings half-hearted and your satisfaction with our actions astonishingly low.”

Bullshit. Bandit enjoyed watching the one guy suffer who usually throws wrenches into his plans, who reprimands him constantly and sabotages his pranks – it was extremely satisfying, he enjoyed it so much that he’d say it was the best part of his holiday so far.

…he would say that, wouldn’t he? And simultaneously know he’d be wrong.

Because his focus really wasn’t on Sledge, and with passed time it’s gotten harder and harder for Bandit to remind himself of why Sledge’s words stung so much. Why what he said sent Bandit into a white hot fit of rage.

Five pairs of eyes are staring at him expectantly. They might’ve gone about it arseways, but they did indeed accomplish what he asked of them, to the best of their capabilities. They even managed not to get caught, and while there’s no doubt someone is up to something, no one has been able to prove it was Bandit, even if Sledge, Smoke and Mute continuously side-eye him.

Maybe he should call the whole thing off after all and enjoy what’s left of his holiday.

“Give me a minute”, he asks and thankfully, all of them nod. When it comes down to it, they’ve proven reliable in the way a thunderstorm is – no way of telling when the next lightning strikes, but thunder always follows. Besides, now that they’ve overcome their terror of speaking with him, their natural banter reminds him of the familial atmosphere of his own team. Fuck. He’s starting not to mind them, even if they look like vaguely reverent meerkats staring up at him for any kind of signal as he paces back and forth next to them.

This is when he spots Sledge and Maestro, a short distance away from where Jäger, Smoke and Mute are building a proper sand fort: they’re holding hands, facing each other and seem to be deeply moved and fucking shite, it’s the perfect atmosphere with the gentle sea retreating in low tide behind them, the sun sliding lower and lower and flooding the beach in a warm, orange light. Sledge is gonna go down on one knee any second now and Bandit has no way of stopping them.

Shay must’ve noticed the horror in his expression as he peeks over the banister and immediately rips open Valenti’s backpack. “Code red”, he announces more professionally than he’s ever sounded in his entire career, stands up and -

And lobs a water balloon at the two lovebirds. A water balloon which bursts upon impact with Sledge’s broad chest, no doubt interrupting their little moment. A water balloon filled with neon yellow paint.

There’s a second of perfect silence.

Then Shay throws a second one.

In an impressive demonstration of his skills, Sledge catches it without it detonating in his hands and hurls it back full force, a detail the other four recruits quite obviously missed as they rise to get a better look, and when the second paint bomb explodes on the balustrade in front of them, literally all five end up coated in hot pink, with Bandit only suffering a light dose.

Well. That could’ve gone better. For another brief moment, the spattered recruits, Bandit, and the eye-wateringly yellow couple stare at each other.

“You fuckers”, Maestro then screams, and Sledge yells: “Dom, you little prick!” And the recruits and Bandit exchange a single glance before individually coming to the conclusion that an escape is in order. Especially when the two star-crossed lovers start running.

Shay shrieks like a little girl, Ivan takes a brief moment to wipe some of the paint off Valenti’s eyes with the inside of his shirt, and Jojo is already halfway down the street. Bandit is in great company. Gian nearly gets run over by a scooter and apologises in fluid Italian, Bandit slides over the hood of an expensive-looking car and leaves behind frankly hideous pink streaks, and Ivan seems to consider scaling the nearest building while Valenti is still coughing up paint. Shay trips and gets dragged along by Gian, and together the six of them scramble their way through the picturesque seaside town, garnering more than a few odd looks from the locals.

“Whose fucking idea was this?!”, Bandit wants to know and struggles to make it up the steep stairs to another busy road, though he does appreciate Ivan lending him a hand eventually.

“I didn’t think he’d catch it”, Valenti admits between breaths.

“He played fucking rugby, you moron!”

“May I suggest postponing this argument and instead focusing on the task at hand?”

“This colour actually suits you, Jojo, did you know?”

“Let us make left here, come on.”

“Jesus fucking Christ”, Bandit mumbles to himself though he can’t curse away the rush of endorphins in his system – he’s started to become complacent, and though Jäger will no doubt be disappointed in him, he’s missed this, the chaos, the knowledge of doing something forbidden, the guilty laughter bursting out of them now and then as they weave their way through alleys and between cars. He wastes no thought on what’s going to happen once they’ve successfully evaded their pursuers, right now he’s preoccupied with feeling the wind in his hair, jumping obstacles, running with the pack, rushing around corners and -

And apparently colliding with what feels like a brick wall. Something that doesn’t look like one though. Because it’s neon yellow.

“I will fucking castrate you and shove your own balls so far up your ass you’ll be able to taste them”, Maestro growls while Sledge causes another pile-up next to him by letting the recruits bounce off him easily.

It seems like this is it.

“How on earth are you so fast?”, Shay wants to know with wide eyes as the five of them take turns shoving each other to the front to face the Scotsman glaring daggers.

“Shouldn’t have let the one guy among you with no sense of direction lead”, Sledge explains. All eyes slide over to Jojo whose face starts matching the paint he’s covered in.

“Who’s the ringleader here?”, Maestro demands to know. All eyes slide back over to Bandit.

“It was a group effort?”, he tries.

“Will you let us live if we tell you?” Hell, he really should’ve gotten rid of this French gremlin sooner. A single nod from Sledge, and now five fingers are pointing at Bandit.

“Look”, he begins and gets interrupted by being slammed into the wall next to him, and it’ll be a miracle if the furious Italian lets him get away with mere bruises, though fortunately a hand on Maestro’s arm stops him.

“Adrianito. Let him go.” Sledge’s intervention is welcome yet Bandit’s relief short-lived when the two of them part to reveal the rest of their group: Mute and Smoke who are only missing popcorn, judging by the unadulterated amusement in their expressions – and Jäger.

A very unimpressed-looking Jäger. This is worse than a few bruises. He pushes to the front, brow raised and demeanour so calm it instils paralysing fear. For the first time ever since they came here, there’s not even a hint of a smile on his lips and it does unpleasant things to Bandit’s insides. He wasn’t meant to prank anyone, let alone follow Sledge and Maestro like this just to terrorise them. Whatever will come out of his lover’s mouth next is sure to be devastating.

“What were you doing?”, Jäger asks quietly. So far, so good. Around them, everyone seems to be holding their breath.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Seeing as Bandit won’t be able to interfere anymore after this, he could mention his plan off-handedly, complete his revenge by spoiling the surprise waiting in Sledge’s pocket. He can see it in Sledge’s eyes that he knows it too: a few words, and he’d be forced to show the ring, do it all on Bandit’s terms. He holds power over the Scot he never thought possible, and even if he doesn’t ruin his proposal right now, he could use it as an excellent source of blackmail later. The idea of Sledge having to do whatever he wants is more than enticing. “Annoying the hell out of him”, he replies, buying himself time. Sledge’s hazel eyes are boring into his.

Jäger just shakes his head a little. “And, what, were you planning on following them to his parent’s place too?”

Maestro senses his hesitation and though he hasn’t overcome his animosity, he doesn’t leave Bandit in the dark: “My mamma invited us for a family reunion. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and spending the rest of the week with my family.”

Oh. He didn’t know this, their plans must’ve changed since he talked to Sledge about their vacation. It’d be lovely. He pictures it, Sledge kneeling down, surrounded by Maestro’s relatives, all of them freaking out and cooing over them. It sounds heart-warming. And he could destroy it with a single sentence. If he doesn’t do it now, the two will be gone tomorrow and he’ll have missed his chance.

“Well”, he says. Jäger looks ready to cross his arms. “I hope you two have a great time.”

And Sledge gets it. His smile speaks volumes, he relaxes and even graces Bandit with a slight nod. Despite how much they clash the rest of the time, Bandit doesn’t want to do this to him, not like this. There are other methods he can employ without messing with Sledge’s love life and potentially ruin what could’ve been a wonderful memory.

Even so, he’s not out of the shite yet, there are still five recruits looking like they’re going to be gutted any second now, a seething Italian just waiting for his signal to rip them apart, and Jäger. So far, he’s not done one of his sighs. There is hope.

“Why did you do all this?”, he wants to know and Bandit realises something belatedly: namely just how truly fucked he is. Conveniently forgetting about this little detail, he pushed it to the back of his mind, merely holding on to his rage about Sledge’s words yet ignoring their content. His gaze snaps to Sledge and oh boy, how the tables have turned.

.

You’ve been behaving well recently, Sledge said to him that fateful day Bandit swore revenge at all costs. It’s Marius’ influence, isn’t it?

Bandit grumbled a little, waved him off, tried to change the topic but Sledge wasn’t having any of it: Have you told him you love him?

And fucking Christ, how presumptuous could any one person be? Not only wasn’t it his business, but also was he plain wrong. One fact Bandit had accepted long ago was that he cared about no one but himself. His life was littered with selfish decisions, no matter how much he tried to care, tried to hold on. Ultimately, the only one he ever protected was himself. He said something along those lines, unusually earnest with his nemesis, and felt more than just irritation rise in him when he received the response: Stop running from him and ask him to move in with you.

Preposterous. Frankly insulting. And Bandit silently vowed to have Sledge’s head for this.

.

“Oh well, who cares, just yell at me and let’s move on, alright?”, he hastens to change the topic and doesn’t miss Sledge’s grin amid everyone’s bewilderment.

Jäger doesn’t seem happy with this answer. “What do you mean? You can’t tell me there was no reason for you to pull this shite.”

“He pissed me off, I wanted revenge, here we are, now let’s stop dwelling on the past and -”

“What did you do?”, his boyfriend turns to the Scotsman in question, fuelling Bandit’s panic.

“Don’t ask him, he probably doesn’t even -”

“Be quiet. If you won’t give me an answer, Dom, let him.”

This is bad. Bandit’s and Sledge’s eyes meet and he’s well aware to be completely at his mercy – and he doesn’t harbour much hope, not after the past three days of constant torment, not after he very nearly spoiled their holiday. The recruits are holding their breath, neither of them fully aware of what’s going on but Bandit knows they treat the members of Rainbow like celebrities, so it must be exciting for them to witness drama like this up close. Smoke and Mute are following the conversation silently, gazes darting back and forth like in a tennis match, and Bandit wouldn’t be surprised if they’d placed bets on the outcome. Maestro has postponed his fury, though he’s clearly waiting for his time to lay into pretty much anyone involved.

Sledge seems to have made a decision and there’s no way in hell he’s not disclosing Bandit’s innermost thoughts to the world. He simply has to take this opportunity to humiliate him, uncover the secret he carries in his heart, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. He fixes Bandit with a level stare and says: “I insulted his bike.”

A beat.

Oh, thinks Bandit.

“You did what?!” And suddenly, Jäger’s composure has vanished. “How dare you! It’s a piece of art!”

Like a real trooper, Sledge keeps it up. “I called it a death trap waiting to happen and the decals juvenile.”

“Luce dei miei occhi, you can’t be serious!” Unbelievably, even Maestro looks offended. “It has fire, spirit, passion – that motorcycle has a soul, who are you to call it names!”

“I bet you’ve never even ridden it, it sounds like a large cat purring”, Smoke chimes in as well now, and all of a sudden, nearly everyone is directing their ire at Sledge who admittedly takes it like a champ. It’s a miracle. And Bandit instantly forgives him everything he’s ever done, from uncovering his candy related Ponzi scheme which not only involved Rainbow’s recruits but even spread to the SAS ones, to winning against him in hand to hand literally every time. He can’t believe it, merely gapes at the outrage directed at Sledge of all people and vows to try and never cross the Scot again.

Even so, there’s something he still has to do. “We need to talk”, he quietly informs the very upset Jäger and gently drags him a few steps away from the loudly arguing group, ignoring Mute’s encouraging about time! and Smoke’s meaningful wink. For some reason it seems that pretty much all people present know more about Bandit’s emotions than he does, and though he should find this fact concerning, his mind is currently trying to wrap around what he’s about to say. It’s been a while since this particular phrase has left his mouth, indubitably much too long. He doesn’t use it nearly enough and is painfully aware, so now’s his chance.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jäger simply blinks at him. “What for?”

Now it’s Bandit’s turn to be gobsmacked. “Wha – for doing all this behind your back. For not listening to you. For almost ruining this holiday.”

His lover softens and shakes his head with a smile. “Dom. I knew you were up to something. I may be horribly in love, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.” Bandit almost chokes on nothing. He what. “It was never about the stupid pranks, it was about them getting so elaborate that we spent less and less time together. I’m fine with you doing whatever as long as you pay enough attention to me. Which you have in the past days. I’m really happy with this vacation – and besides, you’re adorable when you’re shifty.”

Closing his mouth seems impossible at this point. “You – I’m -”

“We’re staying here for the rest of the week, right? So let’s make the most of it.”

The friendly, unguarded smile is killing him. Killing him. How can Jäger say – how can he stand there and just – it’s impossible, and his face is on fire yet again, and maybe, just maybe Sledge was spot on with what he said. He should stop running. For now, he merely nods, disarmed, and avoids Jäger’s much too intense gaze. There’s so much he still has to tell him, but it can wait. He doesn’t think there’ll be a shortage of romantic moments any time soon.

Looking towards the others, there’s at least one battle he can win. Maestro has switched to yelling at the poor recruits and doesn’t seem to notice anything else, so Bandit calls: “Seamus! Could you take your shirt off for me?”

.

The selfie Bandit posts in the group a minute later has him and Jäger in the foreground, lips touching and both ears crimson, but the background is pandemonium. A neon yellow Maestro is giving the splattered recruits a well-deserved bollocking, though neither of the five seems to be listening – instead, they’re staring over Maestro’s shoulder, eyes wide and transfixed on a shirtless Sledge who seems ready to humour anyone (probably courtesy of the fact that Bandit will leave him alone from now on) and is flexing for their benefit as well as showing off suspicious scratch marks and bruises all over his chiselled torso. Next to him, Mute has donned Sledge’s paint-soaked shirt and dragged his fingers through the viscous liquid to write TWAT on the bandages around Smoke’s hands, both of them beaming into the camera while making obscene gestures.

Blitz’ reply summarises the scene quite aptly: wtf, he writes and adds a row of appropriately dumbstruck emoji. Are those our recruits??

You guys are cute, is Rook’s contribution and for once, Bandit wholeheartedly agrees. And while he holds on to Jäger’s slim form, ignoring the chaos next to them and grinning at his lover’s suggestion of involving him in future plans so they can kill two birds with one stone, he decides to let the recruits enjoy the rest of their holiday unbothered.

After all, everyone deserves a bit of peace and quiet now and then. And it just so happens that he’s currently embracing his own.