#when i first drew it i rushed out something not really expecting to make anything more than a few doodles

[thedrotter]

i can't believe its already july what do you mean half of the year is already over... you're saying ive spent nearly 7 months constantly drawing re:kinder— it has felt like 3 months?!

genuinely stunned it seriously has felt like 3 months to me... I was just so redoing some turnarounds i did for yuu very early on and was thinking. "wao ive really gotten more of a grip at drawing him in these last 3 months!!!" only to check the date of those early drawings of him I made to see the month DECEMBER 2023. HUH???

[hazelfoureyes]

The Big Part

Alastor x Virgin FemReader smut

(part 2)

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader smut, Alastor dislikes getting naked, virginity does not rock, possessive Alastor, head pats, reader is an adult she’s just a nervous idiot bad at words

Horny little deer cult: @frompeach , @chirimeimei , @poppingaround , @polytheatrix , @itsmskeisha , @stygianoir , @celestial-vomit , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @amurtan

minors dni, this isn’t educational in the slightest and is just straight smut

It made sense, at the time. You didn’t want a relationship and you didn’t want to meet a stranger you couldn’t trust, that left very few people to ask. Husk would say no, and probably stop serving you drinks. Angel would most likely agree, but you were a little intimidated by his experience. That left Alastor. While you hadn’t spent much time together, your interactions were always cordial. And plus, this was hell. Isn’t this kind of situation a sinners dream come true?

For most, maybe. But you didn’t know Alastor. Not yet, not really. Everything he did had some ulterior motive. Perhaps nothing he had ever done was simply selfless. If Alastor wasn’t gaining something, Alastor wasn’t interested.

You caught him in the hallway one evening after redemption-oriented activities, deciding to get the moment over with as quickly as possible.

“It’s a favor, little… odd. But you’re the only person I have to ask.” Your eyes darted around his face, down the hall, up the walls, anywhere really but his eyes.

“I’m all ears!” Alastor tapped the microphone to the ground with a satisfying ‘thud’.

Oh— you had rehearsed this but you hadn’t prepared to be staring at that large, toothy grin. It wasn’t unsettling, it was just distracting. Would he be smiling the entire time he… ya know.

“I am,” you steepled your hands, pointing them at him, “a virgin.” You paused, hoping maybe he’d just infer the rest and you could stop talking.

His face was motionless save his eyelids rising up.

“And I don’t want to be. Anymore.” Your lips pursed together. C’mon, Alastor. Figure it out.

Alastor nodded.

You dragged your fingers down your face, “Would you help me with that?”

His head cocked to the side like a golden retriever being handed a book on ancient Egypt. Very nice offer but what exactly do I do with it?

“Help how, precisely?” He finally spoke, tone unchanged from any normal topic of discussion. Alastor watched your face scrunch up, mouth moving around words you abandoned half way through. You weren’t saying anything, just making panicked sounds. “I find annunciation most helpful when wanting to be understood, dear.”

You wanted to somersault out the nearest window. “Alastor will you take my virginity?”

“Take it where?”

You groaned, he laughed, “Just kidding, my dear! All in good fun. So, to be clear, you would like your first sexual experience to be with me?” He pointed the microphone from you to him.

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

His smile seemed to strain. Staring down at you, he tried to understand what your motivation was for this. But as he looked into your big, concerningly innocent eyes, he realized there was none. You really, simply, want him to be the first.

Ooh, as he thought it, he felt his pulse quicken in his lap. The first. A spot no one else could take. For the rest of your afterlife, he would always be the one who was first in you. A delicious thought. He could work with that.

“Are you free now?” He leaned down to your level.

“Oh. I wasn’t-,”

“Expecting immediacy? Perfect, the element of surprise has never failed me before.” His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you in to his chest, there was a rush of cold air over your skin before you felt yourself falling back.

It was soft, the room was dark, save for a small floor lamp in the corner. Your room, you realized.

“I didn’t know you knew my room number.”

“It’s my job to know everything about the hotel.” He said, tossing your shoes behind him. Was this happening now? Right now?

“I can do it, it’s, it’s fine.” You sat up and began undoing your pants. Alastor just standing there, watching. Smiling. Fuck, was it going to be this awkward the entire time? Should you say something? Touch him? You were lifting the hem of your shirt when you realized he was still fully dressed. “Are you going to take off your clothes?”

“Why would I do that?” Head lolled to the side.

You stopped mid-way through unhooking your bra, “Alastor you do know I was asking you to fuck me, right?”

He nodded. Maybe this was a mistake.

After taking off your bra, and finally your panties, you crawled to the top of your bed and drew your knees to your chest. Your feet hid your sex from view. Heart racing, but it wasn’t excitement, as you had anticipated. It was nerves. Would it hurt? Would you make a stupid face? What if he didn’t like the sounds you made? What if you regretted it after?

Alastor got on the bed on his knees, undoing his belt buckle but not his pants. The way he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat. You suddenly remembered he was called the ‘cannibal deer’ as you saw something akin to hunger in his eyes.

“What experience do you have?” His voice was suddenly low, deeper than before. This wasn’t the pun loving radio man you saw prodding the staff.

“I dated. Before. Kissing, um, I don’t know the bases. Groping?” You grimaced, it sounded so formal.

“Have you ever,” he began to slink toward you on his hands and knees, red eyes glowing in the dim light of your room, “been entered?”

Your cheeks burned, your head suddenly swayed as if it was half full of water and someone tipped you over. “Just myself, my,” you lifted your hand.

“Show me.”

All the air left the room, sucked out of your lungs and into his grin.

Uncrossing your feet, you tried to open your thighs without seperating your knees. It didn’t work, but you still managed to get a hand between your legs and to your entrance. You could have cried, you were soaking wet to an embarrassing degree. Your eyes return to Alastor, his gaze never leaving you. Even as you slipped a finger, then two, into yourself. You thought for sure he would want to watch your hands playing with your wet pussy but no, his eyes stayed on your face. Somehow, that was worse.

A shaky sigh escaped, your eyes closing as you tried to focus on relaxing around your digits.

Your head smacked against the headboard when you felt a third finger enter. Not yours. Your eyes flew back open to see him now directly in front of you.

“Two won’t do, dear.” He spun his finger around, pulling slightly at the thin skin of your entrance. “Unless you’d prefer this to hurt?”

You shook your head no, still stinging from the impact you had made. “May I?” His hand took your wrist and removing your fingers. Swiping your wetness from your ass to your clit, he coated his claw-like digits and pushed three back in. They were longer than yours, sharper. You could feel he moved gently, in and out. Your head was heavy, breath short and fast.

He laughed, bringing your consciousness fully back into the room, “Already wanting to change your mind?”

You shook your head side to side, still too embarrassed to speak, and took a grounding breath to help your body accept his fingers. He took his time, sliding in and out of you. His fingers picking up the slick and letting it lubricate your lips. It was so slow, the only pleasure for you was knowing it wasn’t your hand doing it.

But then his stretching of your hole stopped, and he grabbed both of your knees from underneath and pulled you down toward him. Now on your back, legs up and in his hands, you heard his belt slide through the loopholes, his zipper drop. You wanted to look, but you also absolutely did not want to look.

Your knees came together when you felt something hot and round at your entrance. “Ah-ah,” He opened them immediately. He reached for one of your hands, and brought it down to his cock. It was so hard under your fingers, but gave a little when you squeezed. It made him hiss.

“You tell me when to stop, little doe.” He pressed into your opening, pulled back. Pressed in, just barely making it past your lips, pulled back. He kept this pressing and pulling, head making slightly more leeway every time. Your fingers were holding right behind the tip.

“How about this, dear. I’ll just get the head in for now. Manageable!”

“Just— just get the big part in first?” You asked, the pressure at your entrance building with every shallow thrust.

He laughed, nodding as he held both of your knees further apart. When he attempted to get past the curve of his cock’s head, your hands flew down to press against his thigh, pushing back with the intrusion. Alastor stilled, sighed, and pressed his head fully in with a determined thrust. Instinctively, your feet came to his chest and tried to push away from him. It felt like you were being torn down the middle, your body forced apart at your most sensitive junction. He held you still now by the ankles, legs splayed in the air.

It burned where your walls were pushed aside. Stinging where the skin tore slightly just beneath your hole, unable to stretch.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He set your ankles down. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he settled on his legs, looking down at where he was connected to you. Your pink little pussy looking positively overwhelmed by his cock. No one has ever been here before, and he could feel it. Your walls were pressing so hard against him his shaft was slightly curved from the force pushing his head out. You still had so much to take, there was so much more of you for him to explore. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racking against your sternum.

Hand reaching down again, you let your fingers count little paces from his core to yours. You knew the hardest part was over, but that didn’t bring much comfort as you felt how far you still had to go.

Alastor let his eyes wander away from your not-so-virgin cunt to your face. Your expression was twisted, not pained but clearly uncomfortable.

“How does it feel?” He asked, gesturing to your lap with a nod of his head.

“Full, so full.”

His cackle disheartened you, “Darling I am no where done filling you up.”

You clenched when he said it, earning a small groan from him. You were already too tight, when you spasmed on him it was nearly painful. There was more to do yet, more of you to claim as his. Just the tip of his cock was simply not enough.

His hips started moving again, the folds of his head pulling at the skin of your entrance but not actually crossing the barrier. He was gently rocking, barely making friction between you two. Your hand clawed at his knee, breath hitching. You let an airy moan slip, his head no longer an intrusion but something hot and melty barely rubbing your walls. It started to feel almost good.

Alastor’s cock was throbbing, his shaft touch-starved and desperate for the heat of your cunt. Your face was relaxing now, eyes blinking around new sensations. He wanted to see you experience more, more firsts and frighteningly foreign pleasures. He wanted to see you scared of how good he could make you feel. Alastor wanted you to never feel whole again without him buried balls deep in you.

“Can you take more?” His voice was like gravel, a radio static crackling in.

You met his eyes, glowing still in the dim light, wide and nearly frenzied in their dilation. His smile was practically beaming down at you.

“I don’t know.” You were scared to move forward, even though you wanted more.

“I don’t like liars.” A pop of electricity arcing at the end of his words. You pulled a pillow over your face, trying to hide from the reaction you knew he’d have as his voice made you tighten around him. “Your body says otherwise,” he hissed.

You wanted to say ‘yes’, if this could feel good then how great would all of him feel? But you were scared to vocalize it. Scared to make it start. Alastor lifted the pillow, “I need to see you, dear.” He set it beside his leg, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Brow furrowed, you shook your head. His grin widened to his ears as his hands slid down your thighs to your hips and he sank his cock to the hilt.

The element of surprise definitely made the nerves of saying ‘yes’ dissipate, but you were now choking on your breath, hands gripping at the blankets beneath you. Was this normal? Was he too far inside you? You felt nauseous, your guts prodded by Alastor’s member.

“How does it feel now?” He watched your eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer. You felt sure there was no way his head could leave you ever again. It was so snuggly fit in you, you feared you’d be pulled inside out. “Words, dear.”

You sat up on your elbows, sweating from the nerves of it all. “Like there’s a big stick stuck in me.”

“Accurate!” He laughed, and began pulling out. You whined, head dropping back. Almost taking himself out completely, he paused before thrusting back in. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, you could feel him with such detail. Every inch of him leaving impressions behind. Alastor could feel it too, how your soft warmth moved out of his way with every push. How pliable your womb was to his intrusions.

More. You could take more, he was positive of it.

Slowly, your moans began to get louder as the pressure faded into pleasure. Every time he bottomed out, you jumped. Every time he pulled out, you wanted to chase after him with your hips.

Watching your face soften, eyes now watery, Alastor was sure you were relaxed enough. He grabbed the pillow beside him, lifting your ass and sliding it under the small of your back. You didn’t ask, just waited to see what the point was. Dissatisfied, he grabbed another and added it under you.

Your hips were up, ass hanging over the ledge the pillows made, back bent upward. When he began to thrust again, you whinced feeling a new part of you widen for him. “Can you see me?” You looked at him when he said it, but he grabbed your hand and placed it beneath your belly button. When he pushed back in, you could feel his cock beneath your hand. Moving it, you watched your stomach bulge slightly when he was completely sheathed in you.

“Oh fuck-,” your head fell back into the bed, it was too much to feel let alone to watch, “Too deep.”

He hummed an acknowledgement, picking up his pace. “Let me see how you cum.”

Your face was hot, reluctantly bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing.

No, this wasn’t a mistake at all. If anything you regretted not asking sooner.

His thrusts now brought lightning to your core, your finger quickening in speed with the realization of just how good he could feel.

Studying your face still, he adjusted his angle until he saw the muscles in your neck tighten. He knew he found your g-spot, your moans dipping into cries.

“I can’t—,” You couldn’t get over the hump, knowing he was watching you, waiting for you.

“You can”, the lights flickered, his eyes now black with small red pupils illuminating your naked body, “and you will, my dear.” One of his hands stopped pressing finger sized bruises into your hips to instead push your own finger aside. The wide pad of his thumb took over and began thrumming you fast and hard.

That familiar build up of pleasure was stronger than you’d ever felt it, and when it finally snapped your muscles from your thighs to your toes cramped. How long had you been tensing?

You practically sobbed into the crook of your arm, Alastor’s hips slowing but still carrying you through your orgasm. They moved slower and slower, until stopping entirely. His head popped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. Cold.

Eyes wet and blurry, you looked up at him, “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“If we do everything now, what ‘first’ will we have for tomorrow night? And the night after that?” He smiled, member already hidden away and pants buttoned. Your thighs twitched. “Same time tomorrow, little doe?”

You covered your face with both hands, and nodded.

His big hand came to your head and patted you gently, “Good girl.”

I hope you liked it 🥺 I don’t feel as confident about this one. Fun fact, my first time involved bondage. Very on brand, huh? 💖

༻Masterlist༺

Gonna start calling his dick ‘the element of surprise’. You look tired today! What happened? Oh the element of surprise kept me up all night.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Antler Play (Demon Alastor x Doe Reader)

Did you miss me?

CW: Lightly used incorrect deer facts, ruts and seasons, insertion of an item 100% not safe or intended for insertion, light fem receiving oral, female masterbation Rating: Adult Requested by: Anon Summary: Alastor, having just rode out his rut alone is faced with the startling realization that you, a fellow deer demon in the hotel, have not just come into season but your first season since your death. Alastor is left unable to mate you due to the poor timing but finds other ways to see to your needs and trick your body into thinking the deed has been done.

ps- please don't put antlers in your whooha.

Alastor was less than pleased to have a doe join the hotel residence. He found you to be a distraction, ever so alluring and tempting him away from his tasks. That didn’t stop the two of you from bonding, however, over the shared difficultness of being deer in hell. 

Time passed and bonds deepened, though only in the privacy of your rooms. Alastor’s hesitance to have another deer in his territory shifted into acceptance and then something darker, more protective as seasons changed. Though he hadn’t expected someone who had just landed in hell to have anything in common with him, he was horrified by the tales of your father and soothed by those of your mother. 

You bonded in the stories of mistakes made, sins committed and, while you were so much more innocent and sweet than he was, you had that darkness in your heart that he knew well. Blood-stained hands touched another set in passing, neither really speaking of the trust building between you.

Alastor had early on intended to send you away when your season drew close and yet he failed to do so. Week after week, he put it off, not so much as even mentioning it to you until he was in no condition to be anywhere near you. His rut had hit him like a train, leaving him no choice but to isolate himself to keep you safe from him. The last thing he needed was to force himself, driven by biology, onto you. Worse yet, he knew if you scented him too much, you would be rushed into your own season. 

If he tried to say he didn’t know why he had let your first season sneak up on you, it would be a lie. He failed to warn you for fear that you would seclude yourself from him. It was the same reason he had failed to send you away as well- Alastor had grown attached to you. It was one thing when he was isolating himself from you but the idea of you doing the same to him caused a deep ache in his chest. 

There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would risk some other buck finding you in season and take you as his. That was a privilege Alastor intended to claim for himself. 

And he would, at the right time. 

He had put off having that conversation with you until it was too late; he realized as the floral scent of your season filtered through his door, announcing your presence before you knocked. 

Alastor had been beyond thankful that he had just finished his own long month of rut when he opened the door to your wide, teary eyes. Tall ears laid flat, twitching as a single tear ran down your cheek.

Rather than asking what was wrong, Alastor only stepped aside, motioning for you to enter his room. Timid steps, one right after the other, carried you and the heavy scent of you into his domain. The rich musk of a buck clung to the air, mixing with your scent to make an intoxicating promise of what could have been if he hadn’t been a coward. 

“Why have you been avoiding everyone this month?” you asked, voice thick with tears as you turned to face him. “Why have you been avoiding me? Is-” you wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, “Is there something wrong with me?” 

“No, ma chérie, I’ve had my own reasons for secluding myself away for the month. It has nothing to do with you.” 

“Why do I feel like there is something wrong with me?” Another tear ran down your cheek. “Why do I feel like I’m going mad? Am I going mad? Is that why you- you’ve been-” 

“I should have given you warning,” Alastor said, finally braving stepping closer to you. Warm knuckles ran down your cheek, smearing the trail your tear had left on the soft skin. “This is your first year. I should not have expected you to know.” 

“Know what?” You whimpered, leaning into his touch. 

“You’re going into season.” Alastor said simply. 

“I don’t understand what that means?” Your ears flicked forward in a flair of frustration that quickly burned out as they sagged lower. 

“It means that your body is going to crave a mate, seeking breeding.” He watched as understanding washed over your face, your eyes running over his lean frame, traveling up to his antlers, still wide, heavy and thick. “Bucks in rut or close enough to it will be drawn to you, and many won’t care if you’re deep enough into your season to be willing.” 

“I don’t… You’re a buck, Alastor?” You wanted to step back, wanted to put distance between yourself and him. You couldn’t make your feet work. It felt like they had taken root in his floors as your heart flip-flopped in your chest. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I just finished my rut a few days ago. You’re safe with me.” 

“Am I?” you asked, struggling to breathe through the thick scent of buck. Realization of what you were smelling and why it made you feel flushed stole your breath. 

“I won’t let another buck come take you.” Alastor said, reaching out and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you to his side, leaned down and took a deep inhale of the scent coming off you in waves. 

“Alastor?” your voice trembled as fire slowly spread through you. Now that you knew what that fire was, you understood that seeking Alastor out was a mistake in itself. “What’s going to happen to me?” 

“I’ll stay with you,” he said, ear flicking atop his head as he led you deeper into his room. “If you’d like, that is. Or I can wait outside. You can stay in here through it. The scent of me will help keep others away.” 

You sat on the bed, soft blankets bunching under your hands as sweat ran down your back. Alastor’s scent surrounded you, rich, musky and driving you mad. There was an ache in your core that you hadn’t been able to banish with your hands alone. 

Hours ago, you had lost your battle with your dignity. You had been determined not to do something as scandalous as pleasuring yourself in Alastor’s room, let alone on his bed and yet you had, again and again, never finding relief from it. 

In the distance, an elk demon bugled, sending a wave of fear through you. You were a deer, not an elk, but how much did that matter in hell? In the living world, you knew the two animals could cross, though not commonly. Would the scent of your season draw him to you? 

“You’re alright, he won’t come for you.” Alastor said through the door, “I’ve brought you some fruit. The sugar will help keep your energy up. Are you decent?”

“Decent enough,” you answered, tugging the skirt of your nightgown lower. It had been just over a week that you were holed up in Alastor’s bedroom and your season had only just gotten worse.

Alastor stepped inside the dim room, closing the door behind him. Long legs easily carried him across the room, to where you sat sweaty on his bed. Even outside of his own rut, the season having passed him for the year; he felt a stirring of desire for you. 

This year, he could not take you the way you deserved, but he would ensure you remained unclaimed for the year. You would be his prize next year. Next year, he wouldn’t make the mistake of putting distance between you happen again. 

He would ensure your bodies were close enough for your pheromones to align your seasonal cycles. Next year, he would be at a point where he could satisfy your seasonal needs. 

“Alastor?” you asked as his eyes seemed to burn holes into your flesh.

He moved with a shake of his head, coming to sit next to you on the bed after setting the plate on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m burning up,” you whispered, face flushed from both the fever and the desire that you couldn’t rid yourself of. “It’s too much, Alastor. I can’t do this. I can’t survive this.” 

Tears ran freely down your face as you crawled over to him. Trembling fingers reached for his thigh as he looked at you. You wanted nothing more than to strip off your nightgown and spread your legs for the most powerful buck in the area. 

“Cher,” Alastor said, ear twitching as he looked down at you with regret. “I can’t, not right n-” 

There was a shift atop his head as the large heavy antler dislodged, broken free by the simple pressure of a swat from his ear. He’d been expecting it to happen any day now, knowing well what was coming when they never totally shrank back down to the small prongs after he ended his rut. 

“What?” you pulled your hand away as the antler fell between you, leaving Alastor looking decidedly lopsided. 

“It’s normal,” Alastor said, watching as you picked up the thick antler, examining it before setting it aside. “Happens every year.” 

“Will the other one fall off too?” You rose on your knees, crawling closer to the one antlered buck. 

Alastor watched you, eyes running over your face. Sweat trickled down your neck, drawing his eyes lower and lower. The nightgown you wore was loose enough that he could clearly see down, to see the way your breasts hung from your chest, moving with you as you crawled closer. 

Again, he cursed himself for the distance he had kept, knowing that he could have brought you comfort if he could only perform. 

“I’m going mad, Alastor.” You whispered, fingers reaching out for him. “I need… I need something. Nothing seems to be enough. I don’t understand.”

“Your body won’t be satisfied without the touch of another.” Alastor said simply, “You’ve got no choice but to wait it out. It’ll begin to ease in a few more days or so.” 

You swallowed thickly, shifting your weight as you rubbed your thighs together. “Can you?” 

“Excuse me?” Alastor asked, leaning away from you a fraction. 

“Can you touch me?” You asked again, tears slipping from your eyes. “You said it won’t help without another and… I trust you, Alastor.” 

“I can’t,” Alastor started, only to have your pleading cut him off.

“I want you inside of me,” you whispered, hand landing on his chest as you drew closer and closer. “It’ll help to have a buck inside me, I know it.” 

“I can’t,” Alastor said, taking your hand in his before his eyes flicked toward the discarded antler. “But lay back, perhaps we can come to a compromise.” 

You wanted him inside you and Alastor thought he had the means to simulate that feeling well enough for your season. What you needed was something physical. A shadow imitation wouldn’t trick your season into thinking you’d been taken, no matter how corporal he could make his shadows. They were not him and he was what you needed. 

“You’ll do it?” you asked, voice trembling as Alastor reached out, resting a large hand on your shoulder to guide you back. “You’ll do me?” 

“In a matter of sorts,” Alastor said, as he positioned you on your back, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He nudged your knees apart, allowing him to slot himself between them as he sat on the floor. “If you’ll let me, I can try to take care of you this season.” 

“You have been,” you whimpered, timidly allowing your legs to spread farther apart as Alastor’s large hands ran over your thighs. “I keep needing more. I’m sorry.” 

Alastor shushed you with soothing caresses up your thighs, pushing your nightgown higher and higher until he exposed your glistening sex. Fingers ran over the damp curls as he spread you wider, slick coating every part of you, smearing onto your thighs. Though he willed it, his cock remained still in his trousers. Oh well, he would just have to make do. 

“Please,” you whimpered on the bed as his fingers caressed your slit, smearing slick and coating his claws.

Your back arched, delicious pleasure running down your spine as his claw tipped finger worked into your tight opening. Muscles fluttered and clenched around him as he worked his way inside you. As he worked, he kept his eyes on your core, watching how you shifted and rocked, always seeking more.

“More.” Your sighs nearly stole away your request as he worked his finger in and out of your slick opening. “Please.”

Alastor soothed you as he whispered praise, telling you how good you were doing for him as he worked a second finger into you, then a third. Your body struggled to stretch, wanting to cling to him as he worked you open. Red eyes watched as your chest heaved, breasts rising and falling with every gasping breath. 

Your back arched as he worked his three fingers into you again and again, wet squelching sounds filling his room. Sweet pleas for more flooded Alastor’s ears as he ran his thumb over your clit.

“More,” you panted, pebbled nipples standing out against the silken fabric of your nightgown. “I need more of you.” 

Alastor shifted, grabbing the discarded antler and eyeing it. The base was heavy and long, thick enough around it rivaled his cock… well, almost. He ran his fingers over the rough surface, examining the crown he had worn for most of the year, looking for anything that would catch or rip you.

“I have an idea,” Alastor said, bringing the antler closer to your core. 

You sobbed when his fingers left you, long threads of slick reaching between his hand and your weeping cunt. Alastor used it to coat the base, lubricating it generously as he listened to your pleas to be filled and sobs over the uncomfortable emptiness. 

“Please, I need you,” you cried out, shamelessly spreading your legs wide. Your core, sopping wet and on full display, had slick running down the curve of your ass. “I’m going to go insane,” you realized. “It’s going to drive me insane if I can’t have you inside me.”

Alastor shushed you, running the cool hard surface of his antler through your puffy folds, letting the ridges drag over your clit as your hips thrust into the air. The base caught on your opening, looser now that he’d worked his fingers into you. 

The blunt end where it had spent much of the year rooted in his skull wasn’t shaped the best for penetration. Carefully, he worked the edge of the flat surface into your opening, rotating and working it inside you as you gasped. 

“Alastor?” Your voice was unsteady as the thick steam of the antler pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. 

“How’s that feel?” Alastor asked, backing the antler out of your core a few inches before slowly pushing it deeper inside.

“F-full,” you stuttered out, breath coming in rapid pants as he worked the antler deeper and deeper, rough edge dragging against your sensitive walls. “So full.” 

“Good,” Alastor purred, pushing and pushing as the antler slid deeper, tines branching out and spreading your opening wider as he watched slick run from your hole. “A part of me is inside you. Do you feel it?”

“Y-yes,” your voice trembled as he backed the antler out slowly, just to work it back into your loosening walls. “You’re inside of me, so deep.” 

“Does that feel better?” He asked, thrusting the antler into you with a little more speed and force. “Does that soothe you?” 

“Fuck,” you screwed your eyes closed, struggling to remember how to breathe as Alastor’s hard thick length into you again and again. Pleasure fogged your mind as you whimpered at each thrust. “So good.” 

“You have to answer me Cher,” Alastor warned. “I need to know if it’s helping.” 

“Yes,” your back arched as he filled you again and again. “Fuck yes. Yes.” 

Lips kissed your thigh, soft lingering touches that ended with a string as he nipped at your skin, tasting you as he fucked into you. Before his eyes, your back arched and head lulled to the side. 

“Oh, you’re beautiful like this,” Alastor whispered as he shifted, trailing stinging kisses up your thighs. 

You moaned, the sound thick and unreserved as his nipping mouth came closer and closer to your core. How he could be fucking you, be inside you while kissing your leg, you didn’t know. The fog of your season had fully blanketed your brain. No longer were you sure how or with what Alastor was fucking you, just that he was. All you knew was a part of him was inside you. 

Faster. Harder. He fucked you with the antler without hesitation, eyes scanning over your body as he did, checking for any sign of distress. Sweat shone on your skin, reflecting the soft lights in the room. Your hair was messed, framing your face. 

The sound of your cunt squelching with every hard thrust of the antler, blunt end surely bullying your cervix filled his ears. His doe was pleased, and that stroked his pride. His doe. 

Yes, you were his doe. He was making you his. 

“Close,” you gasped as he tilted the antler down, changing the angle to allow him room to wrap his lips over your clit. 

Red eyes flicked up the length of your torso, taking in the way your stomach bulged just slightly with each powerful thrust into you. He watched as he ran his tongue over the sensitive nub of nerves heading your slit. The taste of you drew a deep moan from his chest as you thrashed on the bed, body pulling tight quickly. 

He was the first to taste you since your death. There would be no others to drink from your nectar. Alastor knew well his kind did not have the drive to mate for life, but that didn’t matter to him. He was a possessive man. Once he was inside you, none would follow. 

The flat of his tongue ran over your clit before shifting to a point, swirling around it as you gasped. He repeated the movements again and again as you moaned, hips rutting into him. You were close. He could feel each fluttering twitch of the strong muscles of your core as he drove you closer and closer to your edge. 

You came with a shriek, muscles tensing and letting go in a chaotic rhythm. Under the ministrations of his tongue, he could feel the shockwaves run through your cunt. Even your clit was twitching as he sucked hard at it. 

Reaching down, you grabbed a handful of his ear, tugging as you tried to get a break from the sensations. It was pointless. He continued as he was, licking, sucking and thrusting his hard length into you. 

It was a battle. Your body wanted nothing more than to suck the antler deeper, trying to milk it of seed it couldn’t give you. Alastor mimicked the way his hips would piston as he sought his own releases during his rut. 

Fast, wild, violent thrusts deep into your cunt, again and again. He pushed you from your first orgasm into your second as his pace stuttered. There were a few last thrusts as he worked his antler as deep as possible, mimicking the way he would seat himself inside you next year to deposit his seed. 

Would it be enough to calm your season and let you find peace? It was your first season and your body didn’t know better, yet. Could biology be so easily tricked? For your sanity, he hoped so. 

Soft sobs filled his ears as your hand fell away. The heat that had been radiating from your body cooled. Shivers racked through your frame. 

“Better?” Alastor asked, wiggling the antler inside you but keeping it seated in place while he stood. 

“Much.” You had an arm thrown over your eyes, too afraid to look at the man that you shamelessly begged to fuck you.

The bed shifted as Alastor climbed up next to you, gathering you into his arms and nestling you against his chest. As he did so, he was mindful to keep your legs splayed to accommodate the tines still extending from your cunt. 

Long arms reached down, softly wiggling and thrusting the antler still lodged inside you. 

“What happened?” You asked sleepily, finally having a mind clear enough to realize it wasn’t Alastor’s cock inside you. 

“First season,” he shrugged as he softly twitched the hard shaft inside you again. “Looks like your body isn’t sure how it works yet, and accepted my antler as a substitute.” 

“You…” 

“Fucked you with my antler,” Alastor said simply, “Yes.” 

“You’re still fucking me with it,” you realized as Alastor lazily pushed it back inside you, refusing to let it slip from your twitching opening. Each shift he made in the antler’s position, each twitch and thrust, had you gasping and arching your back. 

Alastor watched every reaction, taking in the way your pebbled nipples stood out against the silky nightgown. One strap hung off your shoulder, so close to exposing one of your breasts. 

“I am,” he smiled widely. “I’m replicating how a buck would stay seated within you after. It’ll keep you from seeking to be mated again.” 

“Thank you, Alastor,” you whispered, head turned into his neck. You were nothing to Alastor, and you had to keep reminding yourself that as you resisted the urge to lean forward, bringing your lips to his neck. “For helping me.” 

“Next year, I’ll be able to better help you,” Alastor promised. 

“What do you mean?” Your eyes grew heavy as you listened to the steady beat of Alastor’s heart, only twitching wider every time he softly moved the antler buried in your cunt. 

“Next year it’ll be my cock you ride your season out on. I’ll be prepared next year.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[sanakiras]

DISTRACTION

PAIRING — xu minghao x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.5k

SYNOPSIS — you can’t help staring at your best friends’s hands. when he pushes you to tell him why, things in your relationship take a turn.

TAGS — minghao in a suit, explicit sexual content, pure self-indulgence, porn with no plot, fem!reader

NOTE — there’s something sooo attractive about a man having long fingers. also i just have a crush on the8. no i will not elaborate. might delete this later bc i don’t like it. oh well. enjoy :o

lately, whenever being around your best friend, you’ve been... distracted.

for some reason, you’ve always liked it when men have long fingers. obviously the best known reason for that is a lewd one, but for you, it’s more than that. long fingers are hypnotizing to you.

of course it was minghao’s face that drew you in first. plump lips, eyes that could both kill and make you melt under their gaze, a strong jaw, dark hair often slicked back with a pair of sunglasses sitting on top.

then you noticed his figure. minghao is tall — long legs, long arms, long torso. what intrigued you about him was the control he has over it, alongside his flexibility. his movement is always swift, sharp and coordinated. not one to stumble over his own feet.

he became a close friend to you in no-time. within the first months of meeting him, you developed an admiration towards him, and that continued to grow into a crush you feel nothing if not insecure about.

because despite knowing him well, he’s far from an open book.

he’s not once given you the idea that he likes you the same way you like him, and now that he’s become such a good friend of yours, the last thing you’d want is to lose the friendship you’ve built with him.

so you keep it to yourself.

or, well, you try.

his current outfit makes that ridiculously hard. you’ve never seen him in a suit before.

while you weren’t all that excited for the black-tie event hosted by your faculty, just the sight of him has changed your mood like a whole day’s worth of caffeine.

and when he walks over to you, all you can do is admire him. the fabric suits his body like a glove, with several silver rings adorning his fingers and his frequently worn small hoop earrings to match them. the beautifully subtle black eye pencil brings out the colors of his eyes and styled hair.

“you look like a dream,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth when he steps before you, the tone of his voice as gentle as the smile he gives you.

heat rushes to your cheeks. “so do you. never expected to see you in a suit, but you clean up nice.”

he chuckles at your sarcasm. “thank you.”

as he tells you about — whatever it is, you honestly hardly remember a thing of the conversation — you suddenly come to the deafening conclusion that you’re nowhere near as subtle with your glances as you thought you were, which certainly bursts your bubble a bit.

“you keep doing that.” he muses, tilting his head as he looks at you with curiosity.

“what?”

“staring at my hands.”

“i’m not—i don’t stare.”

“what else would you call it? constant-looking?”

“hilarious. really.”

when you don’t say anything else, he purses his lips, hoping to get a little more out of you. you’ve got to give him credits for his determination. “so, what’s so interesting about my hands?”

with a simple shrug of your shoulders, you pretend to be casual, like he didn’t catch you staring at him. “they’re not interesting, just… nice.”

“nice?”

“can’t we just drop this? and by ‘we’ i mean you.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “we’re friends. you can tell me, i won’t judge.”

“you? not judging anyone? that’d be almost suspicious.”

the retort makes him smile to the point it hurts his jaw. “i won’t judge you.”

a sigh rolls past your lips. “it’s no big deal, i just… like it when people have nice hands.”

“and why’s that?”

“does everything you like need to have a reason?”

"no, i guess not."

a playfulness that stirs doubt in you flashes behind his eyes, and you’re forced to put a halt to the conversation when one of your fellow faculty members walks up to the two of you with a glass of champagne, which you could not be happier with.

all you can do is hope minghao won’t bring up the topic again, the redness in your cheeks betraying you.

unfortunately, he does eventually bring it up again, once he’s gotten you home.

what his exact words were is difficult to remember, but now that he’s pushed you back onto your bed, you can’t find it in you to give a damn.

your brain feels foggy and a thin layer of sweat begins to form on your neck while he uses his hands to unbutton the white dress shirt, his impatience getting the best of him for once.

even though you’re busy pulling your top off, it’s hard to divert your gaze from his hands and chest, which brings him to tilt his head at you. “you’re staring again.”

“if you don’t want me to stare, don’t give me a reason to.”

“oh, so this whole thing is really just my fault?” he taunts, getting so annoyed with the damn buttons on his shirt not working with him that he leaves the bottom half like it already was, only the upper half of his chest peeking through.

once he lays his eyes on your half-naked form, you spot a growing desperation and impatience in his features, which is rare on him.

much to your surprise, he’s eager and quick, refusing to waste a single second. his hands have already pulled you towards him by your thighs before you can even comprehend it.

the thin silver necklace touches your warm skin when he leans down to kiss you, the last thing you’d imagined you’d be doing tonight — and it’s better than you anticipated.

he pries your legs open with a nudge of his knee, and just when you want to look down to his hand on your skin, he pushes two fingers into you, curling it upwards.

your hands immediately fly to his upper arms in response to the sudden intrusion, but it only makes you crave more.

his lips latch onto your cheeks, jaw and neck, placing wet kisses everywhere he can reach while his long fingers move in and out of you.

“just two and you’re already so tight — you can take another one, though, can’t you?”

how sweet of him to pose it as a question, an offer.

you both know damn well he’s gonna keep going either way.

minghao doesn’t know what it is about you that just utterly sets him off. it might be your constant pessimism, your snarky delivery of sarcastic little comments, the way you needlessly tease him all the time — or maybe it’s that whenever he sees you, he wants nothing more for you to get the fuck on top of him, moaning his name.

who knows.

“why don’t you just try me?” you ask rhetorically, accidentally clenching around his digits when he moves them again.

minghao chuckles, baffled that you’ve still got such an attitude, even when you’re at his mercy. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, though. “right. maybe i should just do that.”

a third finger prodding into your hole makes you whine the loudest you have so far. he smirks a little when noticing the way you’re fighting so hard to maintain your composure, and the noise of your squelching wetness begins to become embarrassingly loud.

but it isn’t enough for him.

usually, it’s not at all like him to be insatiable or greedy. but all he can think of right now is that he wants more — to be closer with you, deeper.

he feels his own lust in every motion, every thrust of his fingers, every twitch of his cock. it makes him wonder if he’s ever wanted something, no, someone this badly.

his next move goes unnoticed by you since you’ve got your eyes closed and head back, but then you feel it, and it’s like you snap awake, an electric jolt making you jerk forward.

when you look down, he eagerly runs his tongue up and down your pussy, fingers remaining buried inside you.

“oh my god—” you stutter out, hand clutching onto the pillow but quickly moving down to grab his hair.

lost in your own pleasure, you push his head down, the lower half of his face coated in your arousal — fuck, he wants to do this for hours.

he proceeds to curl his fingers again, and he must’ve hit a good spot, because your legs are beginning to tremble, moans shorter and higher-pitched. “fuck, hao, it’s too much, i’m too close—”

“are you?” he rhetorically asks, pushing his digits as deep as possible, sucking on your clit, hollowing his cheeks. even when you try to close your legs, he firmly keeps them open.

your hips buck into his face when you cum, knees shaking, and he presses his thumb on your pussy, which makes your eyes roll back.

propping yourself up on your elbows, you suddenly feel his fingers slowly sliding out of you, and just that feeling alone already turns you on again. he sits across from you, still between your legs, and his fingers are completely coated in the sticky wetness that’s still dripping down your cunt.

he pushes them in his mouth, licking them clean, some of your arousal remaining on his lips.

“please say you’ll let me do that again.”

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[qingxin-dream]

Scara relaxing on the couch with you<3 if u do NSFW having him cockwarm you so he can relax

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

summary | today was one of those days where nothing could go right. well, maybe, it’s been like that for awhile. and you know damn well that your loving husband was not about to watch you fall into despair. (art credits: unknown)

warnings | not proofread, reader has a mental breakdown, comfort, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, cockwarming, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, slightly possessive/dominant, marking, breeding kink, creampie

genre | modern au, comfort, smut

word count | 3k

pairing | husband! scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sky had been overcast all day, only putting a damper on your mood. Work has somehow become extra stressful lately with more and more responsibilities piling up. You felt the crushing weight on your shoulders with each passing hour and you couldn’t wait for the clock to hit 5pm.

The last place you wanted to be was at work, away from home, and without your husband, Scaramouche. Even then, your relationship was getting to a point where it was nothing more than bitter roommates. He had missions to complete while you were obligated to work every day. Someone had to be the breadwinner, after all.

Sweet freedom washes over your exhausted body when it’s finally time to go home. You rush outside only to find that the clouds had turned a nasty gray color and wet droplets of rain dotted your suit jacket.

Great, you forgot an umbrella.

The rain was really picking up now, your clothes soaked and your hair flattening into drenched clumps. Running through the downpour, you had to make it another block to your car until you got stopped at an intersection—narrowly avoiding the wave of water a speeding car almost splashed onto you.

Once you practically leaped into your car for safety, the sense of stillness that suddenly permeated the air brought you back down to earth. You were more than overworked. You were burned out, with hot tears freely streaming down your face in a choked sob. Gripping the steering wheel, you slumped your forehead onto your knuckles, shoulders shaking as you cried out all the pressure you had bottled up inside. The rain beat against the windshield, drowning out your agony.

Once you managed to compose yourself with a few sad sniffles here and there, you turned the key in the ignition. Tonight you decided to forget about everything. No stress. No work. Not even a single load of laundry. You couldn’t muster the strength for anything other than some sort of self-care or self-indulgence.

When you walked through the door with an expression bordering on despair, Scaramouche knew you had a rough day. He frowned to himself. Frankly, the distance between you two was a sore spot for him as of late and he was expecting you to lock yourself in the bedroom.

At first, he had been stubborn about the tangible separation pushing you further and further away from him. Foolishly, Scaramouche had tried to drown himself in his busy work and missions, simply trying to ignore it. But after a while, he realized that this damned feeling of alienation and being constantly on edge like some old married couple was ridiculous.

That’s not who he married or the life he signed up for, and Scaramouche found himself determined to finally act like you both loved each other for once.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you from the couch. Looking down at his casual sweatpants and shirt, you wished you could’ve stripped down and lazed around on the couch this afternoon. Sleep was something you desperately needed. He offers a small olive branch with his softened tone of voice. “Why don’t you get changed and come sit with me? I missed you.”

You drew in a hesitant breath. Perhaps it was your way of attempting to decompress before answering your husband or you were unsure of his intentions. The couch was definitely calling to you, and the prospect of your lover’s comforting arms enveloping you was even more tempting. In a haste, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag, nodding with a bit of a pitiful pout on your lips as you went into the bedroom.

Scaramouche perked up slightly upon hearing your return, making room for you on the couch so that he could spoon you just right. As you sat down, his hand immediately went to your hip and he found himself gravitating toward the comforting crevice of your neck. Your skin was colder than he expected from the rain but he was more than willing to share his warmth with you, his fingers venturing up the contour of your waist under your baggy shirt.

“There’s goosebumps on your skin,” he noted with an obvious smile in his voice. “Why don’t you take this off and let me warm you up, hm?”

You gaze at him over your shoulder, catching the subtle seductive intonation of his offer. Despite his pads of his fingers gently caressing and massaging your hip in encouragement, you weren’t entirely sure if you had it in you for too much physical affection. Most of all, you just felt tired.

Yet, Scaramouche always got his way. Maybe it was how the words rolled off his tongue that sparked your imagination in the back of your mind, or that mischievous gleam of excitement in his violet eyes. He had no problem catering to your needs, helping you slowly lift that baggy shirt over your shoulders and tossing it aside. He quickly did the same.

Suddenly, he ensnared you in his arms, burying his nose in your neck and sighing. The feeling of your back pressed against his bare, muscular chest was like a balm soothing his soul. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, surprised by his enthusiasm, and pull a heavy blanket over you both.

“Better get rid of these too,” Scaramouche suggested softly into the shell of your ear, tugging at the elastic waistband of your shorts. He generously nuzzled your neck, peppering a few kisses across your sensitive skin to distract you as he easily slipped you out of your bottoms.

Your whimpers were buried in your throat. You purposely tried to stifle it, but the little shiver of your neck and body against his ministrations couldn’t hide your true feelings forever. The slow drag of his hand up your plush thighs, over the round of your hip, and dangerously close to your breasts was merely a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Scara… please,” you murmur, sounding more like a faint plea for peace and relaxation. “My feet hurt so much. I don’t think I can move anymore, let alone do—”

“Shhh, love, you really think I’m going to make you do anything?” he asks rhetorically, the timbre of his sweet words deepening to a level bordering on husky. His hand travels back down the curves of your body with silent reverence, hoping to ease your worries. “I don’t think you realize how hard you’ve been working until it breaks you.”

With a click of his tongue, your husband continues to let his hand journey over every inch of your lovely form. Your breasts, your stomach, your pelvis, hips, thighs… If he was being honest, Scaramouche would never have thought he’d discover someone as perfectly imperfect as you. To not remind you of how much he secretly worships your whole being would be a grave sin in his eyes.

“I feel like I never see you anymore. We never talk anymore,” he mumbles into your shoulder blade, taking his time to kiss and nibble as much of your upper back as he could. You involuntarily arched your back, the sensation of his mouth along your spine sending pulses of electric desire through you. His voice shifts into a possessive growl. “And I miss my wife.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you weep dryly, rolling your head back to relax on him fully. Your thoughts instantly short-circuited at the revelation of his thick bulge pressing into the plush of your ass, tactically held in place by his fingertips digging into your love handle. You were so ready to just melt into him completely, to give in and let him take care of you.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” he quickly interjected to correct you. You could feel the smirk spreading on his face as he leans into you as much as possible. The back of his hand ghosts your inner thigh, nudging it to the side. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

You were hanging on every syllable that left his lips in a hushed whisper. A featherlight touch grazed near your outer labia, enough to capture your attention like a moth to a flame. That was all it took for him to push your mind over the edge. It was pathetic, really, how you were desperately trying to mentally fill in the blanks and imagine the pleasure of his slender fingers massaging your needy clit.

Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. He loved getting a rise out of you. Admiring the subtle contortion of your features in pleasure may be his favorite pastime. Tickling the insides of your thighs and skirting skillfully around the one place you wanted him most, he scoffed in amusement every time you sighed softly in frustration.

“I thought you were going to be nice,” you groaned impatiently, beginning to lazily roll your hips in rhythm with the intermittent brush of his fingers just shy of your cunt.

“I am,” he snickered into your collarbone, his hot breath pouring down your chest and thrilling your skin. “You can’t lie to me. I know you like when I tease you until you’re begging for me to stuff you to the brim.”

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you managed to defiantly buck your hips forward and finally feel the tantalizing glide of his index and middle fingers between your slick folds. The sweet victory ripped a lewd moan of your lover’s name from your pretty throat. To say you were utterly addicted to the sound of him parting the lips of your glistening pussy might be an understatement.

“Tsk, tsk, good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what you humans say?” Scaramouche mocks you lightheartedly, though his fingers don’t leave your clit. Rather, he circles the sensitive nub at a tantalizingly slow pace to earn another cock-twitching moan from your angelic mouth. “I could touch you like this all night… unless you’d rather serve your punishment on my cock instead?”

You were too preoccupied with the intoxicating pleasure concentrated on your aching clit, eyelashes resting on your cheeks and jaw slightly agape. Scaramouche chuckled deeply into your ear with satisfaction, returning his lips to your neck but this time with a little more force. His teeth sunk into you, intent on leaving a good bruise.

It would be a clear reminder in the morning of who you belong to.

He sucked a little harder, causing you to yelp in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. His words were muffled against your skin with a gentle scolding. “I asked you a question.”

“C-cock, please,” you nearly choke, starting to grind sloppily onto his hand for some sense of relief. His other arm underneath you tightened, essentially pinning you to the heat radiating from his body from behind.

“Whose cock?” Scaramouche grumbled jealously at your vague plea. He needed to know that you didn’t just want anyone’s cock to fill up your drenched, gummy hole. The intensity of his violet irises demanded an answer, glued to your blissed out and desperate expression. His fingers were hastily stimulating your clit as he intently watched you parse love and lust on the brink of an orgasm.

“Y-your cock! Please! I need it so bad,” you cried out loudly, the threat of tears lingering behind your eyes. He abruptly slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, and then shoved his hot, veiny cock pulsating with desire across your soaking wet entrance.

Scaramouche couldn’t stop the salacious groans under his breath, wanting you to hear all the ways you make him unravel. He was eager to drag the mushroomed, pink tip of his cock over your clit over and over, occasionally teasing your hole with the pressure of his length trying to nestle itself within you. But he never pushed it all in. Instead, he continued to gather your essence on his cock—the mere thought of cumming in your rosy folds like this and fucking it messily drove him wild.

“Don’t tell me… hnnnghh… that this is all you want, (Y/N),” he grunted with honeyed pleasure, grinding at a little faster rhythm. You were already nearing your climax again, whispering prayers and praises under your breath for Scaramouche to plunge into you and fuck you senseless.

His hand was still tightly covering your mouth, so you simply shake your head and moan breathily to ask for more.

“Mm, good girl,” he mumbles intimately, kissing your ear and nuzzling you affectionately again. “I know my baby is tired and needy, so I’ll let you be my little cocksleeve tonight, okay?”

You nod and hum against his hand enthusiastically.

He takes the opportunity to shower you with a few more kisses, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance once more. Your walls were already squeezing eagerly on the small inch of his tip inside you and he didn’t dare delay any longer. Scaramouche grabs you by the hip and buries the entirety of his thick cock in your slick tightness, his eyebrows crinkling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him like a vice.

“F-fuck!” Scaramouche curses sharply, bottoming out completely in your aroused cunt. “So good. S-so fucking good, yeah…”

“A-ah, yes! Mm…” you sighed raggedly with ecstasy, pure pleasure and relief washing over you. His huge cock was stretching you perfectly, the lips of your pussy sucking him in at every possible chance. Despite your exhaustion, your husband had wound you up so much that you begged for tiniest semblance of a thrust into your sopping hole. “Oh my god, p-please, fuck me.”

Without warning, you decided to selfishly fuck yourself on his throbbing cock, but Scaramouche instantly snatched your throat. He held you tightly against his pecs and craned your neck with a forceful grip so that you were facing the ceiling, your oxygen partially cut off. The submissive position had your spongy walls dilating in excitement.

“No, no, wait,” he chastised you, his voice cracking slightly at the end as he struggled to adjust to your greedy cunt. “N-Need I remind you, love? Good things come to those who wait; and if you’re lucky, I’ll cum in you.”

He couldn’t believe your pussy was still quaking around his girth, releasing your neck as you nodded obediently. Once he pulled you into him tightly with his strong arms around your stomach, Scaramouche nudged your legs closed so that you could completely envelope his cock. It was incredibly hot every time he shifted to get more comfortable and your walls only swallowed him further. His breathing calmed slightly, wanting to relax with you for the rest of the night deep within your cunt.

“I-It feels too good, Scara,” you whined, cuddling into the pillow on the couch and clutching the warm blanket to your chest.

For the love of Celestia, your body was so exhausted from work but at the same time you wished you had the strength to fuck him like crazy. You made a mental note to wake him up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your folds lubricating his hardened cock, sinking completely onto his impressive length when his pretty indigo eyes sleepily opened for the first time. You’d make sure to hush him and keep his sleeping mask on snugly, fucking him to your heart’s content.

But for now, your husband returned to worshipping the expanse of your soft curves, coaxing you to relax despite the occasional twitch of his cock inside you. Scaramouche’s voice was smooth as silk when he whispered into the crook of your neck, “See? That wasn’t so bad now. Why don’t you turn on your show and I’ll keep this pretty pussy of yours company for as long as you need, hm?”

You both melted into each other’s embrace, connected in every way imaginable for the first time in a long time. The sensation of your lover’s cock nestling into your folds slowly nudged your sweet spot, drawing breathy moans out of you. He thrusted slowly but deeply, marveling at the lust clouding your eyes pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Though Scaramouche was enraptured by the heavenly sound of your pussy slurping his cock, the need burning in his core was beginning to overtake him. “Mm, turn around for me, babe.”

He was gentle and attentive to you as he helped you face him, holding you firmly against his chest and quickly ensuring his cock didn’t leave your cunt for too long. As he stuffed you full, his mouth captured yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your hair, keeping your lips planted on his as you lazily swirled your tongue on his own and moaned his name.

“Nnghh, can’t take it anymore,” Scaramouche growled hungrily into your mouth, lifting your leg slightly to support you so he could delve his cock deeper. His tone trailed off in a quiet beg, “Lemme breed you, (Y/N). Please…”

“Mhmm,” you agreed without hesitation, cupping your lover’s cheek and kissing him with growing reckless abandon.

He was unequivocally smitten by your ardent claim to his lips, groaning lewdly into the kiss as he began to fuck your desperately pulsating pussy. His grip on you tightened, focusing solely on ravaging your walls until you were on the verge of screaming his praise.

“Hah, that’s it. Goddamn it, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he takes your lower lip between his teeth roughly, plunging ruthlessly and chasing his impending orgasm. “You can take it, you can take it, yeah… you better fucking cum all over me or else, I swear…”

You reeled him in with a firm tug of his dark purple locks, nearly crying in pleasure onto his tongue intermingling with yours. Moaning and whimpering like a whore, you clutched onto your lover like your life depended on it. “O-Oh my god, Scara, shit, I’m cumming! I’m… mmph, f-fucking c-cumming…!”

Scaramouche pounded his cock into your sopping release, a guttural groan escaping him as he generously coated your spasming walls with loads of his hot seed. He kept himself buried in your cum-laden folds, your erotic juices mixing around the base of his cock while he kissed you softly.

“God… you have no idea how much I missed you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (8/16)

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Mulder said, double parked in front of Scully’s building with the flashers thrown on. “We try to get in with Skinner, maybe. See what he does and doesn’t remember. But first I’m going to have Danny pull up phone records. Prove that the Sheriff called me yesterday morning, and that I called Skinner. Then we plead our case and explain that this is absolutely an X-File. If we’re lucky, we’re back in Adrian County by this time tomorrow.”

Scully roved her eyes over Mulder’s earnest expression, lingering on his eyes, almond-shaped and dusky in the dashboard light. The cap of his hair was only inches from the felt of the car’s ceiling. Sometimes she forgot how tall he was. 

“I agree that it’s an X-File, Mulder,” she said. “But what would we even do if we got back to Adrian County? How do you intend to explain all of this to Skinner? To the Sheriff? We don’t have a suspect. We barely have a crime. What are we going to do, get down there and ask them to put out an APB on redcaps and a powrie?” 

“For one thing, I don’t think the fae we’re dealing with here are nymphs and sprites. I think they’re people-shaped.”

Scully sighed. “I’m not sure that’ll sound any better to Skinner. Even assuming we can prove to him all the things that have happened, that will—if you’ll pardon the expression—sound completely insane.”

A car on the corner turned and headlights panned across Mulder’s face, tracing a shadow of his jaw. He was beautiful. And tragic. And she loved him in a way that shook her to her marrow. 

“At this point, I don’t really think he expects anything less,” he said with no small amount of diffidence. 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” she said. She wasn’t even sure what kind of hurt she meant; humiliation, rejection, or god forbid, something worse. She would do, she had to admit to herself, a ridiculous number of things to help him avoid that. “Mulder, I know I can be…the way I am.” She struggled to put words to the raw emotion he conjured in her, both good and bad. “But I would do almost anything to protect you,” she admitted in a rush. 

Her pulse picked up a little while the hazard lights ticked a steady rhythm. 

“Feels like a root beer moment,” Mulder said, giving her a half-hopeful, half-sad smile. 

An understatement, she thought, picturing a younger them sitting in the dark in front of Tooms’ apartment. God, would they ever figure out how to get out of their own way?

“I meant what I said then,” she said seriously. “And I mean it now.”

For him she wielded a scalpel and sliced herself deep. For him she bled. Would bleed. He made her desperate, and in her desperation she had stood up to bosses, to brothers, to Congress. He made her weak, but her weakness made her strong. Love by any other name was his. 

“Scully—” he started, but she whipped off her seatbelt and was half across the console, his cheek in her hand, her lips pressing desperately into his. He melted into her touch, his own hands tangling in her hair, straining against the seatbelt he was wearing to get closer to her. She kissed him soundly. She kissed him hard. She kissed him until the roar of blood in her ears was louder than the voices of fear and apprehension in her head.

When she pulled back, he looked dazed, spellbound, his lower lip glistening with the ichorous slip of her kiss. 

“I’ll see you in the office,” she said, and she was out of the car and into the cool damp of the night before he could muster a response.

***

Mulder thrashed to awakening, his sheets wrapped around his lower legs, pulling him, pinning him down. He drew in a gasping breath, trying to make sense of being in his own room, in his own bed. His dream had been terrible and dark, the only thing he could remember about it was that Scully had been taken away from him, and he’d been held down by a searing hot pain pressing into his chest. He brought his hand to the skin there, and it was hot to the touch. 

He leaned over and switched on his bedside lamp, blinking against the sudden light for a peek at his alarm clock. 3:33am. 

Far too early to head into the office, even for him. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, though he was tired. He flopped back down onto the bed and reached for the pillow on the other side, hugging it to himself and huffing the scent of Scully’s hair that still lingered on the pillowcase. 

If he was going to be awake, he may as well put the time to use. Mentally, he put each piece of evidence, occurrence and person onto an inner-mind index card and shuffled the deck. When he laid out the cards, it put forth a confusing picture. Daly Carmichael had disappeared 26 years ago and returned, not altogether too far from where he’d gone missing, in almost the same state in which he’d left. Until Scully had pulled the leaf with the seven-pointed star etched into it out of his mouth, which Mulder had to consider might be coincidental. 

The star represented the Seelie Court of the Fae, if Mulder’s instincts were correct. The most perplexing parts of the case so far were the fact that Daly Carmichael hadn’t aged (and then had, rapidly), and the fact that no one seemed to remember it other than Mulder, Scully and the diener in the Adrian County morgue. The strange coins spoke to him, as did the now-missing ingot of iron. The fairy hollows or groves he and Scully had found, the missing time. If the leaf had been imbued with magic of some kind, that could explain either the lack of aging or the later aging itself, and perhaps why the only people to have come into contact with the leaf were the ones that seemed to remember it. Maybe it explained the other things that had happened as well—the missing evidence, appearance and disappearance of the groves.

And then Mulder remembered that the diener, Aeon, hadn’t actually seen the leaf. Scully had pulled it out of Carmichael’s mouth, and Mulder had bagged it and was still in possession of it. Other than pointing them in the direction of the lab, the grumpy little man hadn’t had anything to do with it. Unless he’d encountered it when prepping the body.

Mulder would have to ask tomorrow. In the meantime, he continued to shuffle and reshuffle the mental cards in his head over and over, each time coming up with an incomplete picture and no real concrete investigative path forward.

He sighed, hugging the pillow closer to his chest and taking another look at the clock. 

3:41am. 

***

Mulder was at his desk by 7:00, and Scully was sitting in front of her laptop in the annex by 8:00. She had bags under her eyes and had mentioned not sleeping terribly well. 

“Do you know,” Mulder said, after she’d taken the last sip of her coffee, “if by chance your diener came into contact with the leaf that was in Daly Carmichael’s mouth?” 

Scully looked pensive for a moment. “I suppose there’s a chance,” she said. “He just emailed me a digital copy of the dental records. I could ask him.”

“Would you?” Mulder said.

Only a few minutes passed before Scully looked up once again from her computer. “He says no.”

Mulder leaned back in his office chair, the base of it giving a complaintive creak. 

“What’s his last name?” 

“Whose?”

“Your diener.”

“Greene,” Scully answered after a quick glance at her screen. “Aeon Greene.”

“What do you know about him?”

Scully looked at Mulder blankly for a moment. “That his name is Aeon Greene and he’s an autopsy technician in the Adrian County morgue. Why?”

Mulder absorbed the tiny amount of incredulity he detected in her tone. “Because other than you and me, he’s the only person that doesn’t seem to be affected by the memory magic or whatever the hell it is that seems to be impacting literally every other single person involved with this investigation.”

“Memory magic?” 

“Mass amnesia. I don’t know. Whatever you want to call it.”

Scully rubbed her hands over her eyes. “You want to have Danny look into him?”

“Danny’s busy tracking down phone logs. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Scully said, standing up wearily. “Do that. I told Violent Crimes I’d look at something for them. I’ve got to go up to the third floor. You want to meet in the lobby later and go out to lunch?”

Mulder’s mood, momentarily lowered by Scully’s announcement that she wouldn’t be around the rest of the morning, instantly lifted. He smiled. 

“It’s a date.”

She returned his smile and turned back to him when she was in the doorway. 

“Mulder?”

He looked up. 

“You still carrying that leaf around?” she asked. 

Mulder reached into his pocket and held it up in two fingers. “Not really sure what else to do with it. Chain of custody and all that.”

“Well, leave it here when we go out to lunch. Lock it in your desk drawer or something.” 

“Why?”

“Because if that thing is the mechanism of this amnesia ‘magic,’” she used finger quotes, “I’m kind of hoping that by the time we get back, we’ll have forgotten everything, too.”

***

With no hit on the NCIC, Mulder logged into the Virginia state database and ran a quick search on Aeon Greene. And came up with nothing. No driver’s license, no address, no voter registration or tax information. He tried various spellings of both first and last name and put them through the systems for Maryland and the District of Columbia, then threw in West Virginia as well. Nothing. 

By the time noon rolled around, he was frustrated, hungry, and had a splitting headache. 

Scully met him in the lobby looking equally worse for wear.

“You okay?” Mulder asked, holding open the door on the other side of Security, and momentarily forgetting all about his wasted morning. 

“The ViCAP case,” Scully said, ducking out under his arm. “It was a case with kids. They could have warned me.”

“They didn’t?” he asked, incredulous. 

“No. And the next time they want me for something, they can go through Skinner first.”

Mulder made it his mission to improve her mood and actually had her laughing by the time they walked back into their basement office. Scully hung up her coat with a smile and settled into the chair she’d vacated earlier. 

“How’d your morning go?” she asked. 

Mulder could feel his headache returning. 

“A total bust,” he said. 

“Danny didn’t have anything?” 

“I haven’t heard back yet,” Mulder explained. “What I meant was, there’s no record of Aeon Greene. Not in NCIC, not in the state systems of Virginia, Maryland or West Virginia, nor for DC.”

Scully looked at her computer screen. Right there in her inbox sat this morning’s two messages from the Adrian County morgue assistant. 

“How?” she said. “He’s a county employee.” 

“Well, he’s not in the system.” 

“Did you spell it right? ‘Aeon’ is a weird name.” 

“I spelled it right. I spelled it wrong. I spelled it every which way but loose.” 

Scully brought up her own screen, curious. Her own NCIC search came up negative, but that would only list if Aeon had ever been arrested for or part of some kind of crime. Then she pulled up the database for the State of Virginia. 

Aeon came up right away. 

“Here he is,” she said. 

Mulder looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I ran a search,” she said. “He’s right here.” 

Mulder popped up out of his chair like he’d sat on something sharp and marched over to where she sat, peering intently over her shoulder. 

She pointed to the entry for Aeon Greene on the screen. 

“That wasn’t there,” he said, staring at it intently. 

“Are you sure you didn’t—” 

“Scully.” The way he said her name was low, almost dangerous, and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She felt suddenly discomposed. 

“Well,” she said, swallowing. “It’s here, now.” She clicked on it and scrolled through what data had been collected on the man. “Nothing jumps out.” 

Mulder sighed, the warm fug of his breath playing over the activated skin on her neck. She could feel a blush of something creep up her cheeks. 

Mulder straightened and made his way back over to this desk. “Good to know I wasted my morning.” 

Scully turned to him with an eye to making him feel better. The light on his desk phone was blinking. She pointed to it. 

“Looks like you have a message,” she said. “Danny, maybe?” 

“Let’s see,” he said, and dialed in, letting it play on speaker. 

“You have two new messages,” said the tinny recorded voice. Then, “Hey Mulder, it’s Danny. Listen, I got the phone records you were looking for from two days ago. No incoming or outgoing calls from your cell phone that morning. Nothing to or from the Assistant Director’s phone. Nothing from Adrian County to your line, Agent Scully’s line, or through the switchboard. About all I could find was five calls from Agent Scully’s cell phone to your cell phone yesterday afternoon. I know that’s not the information you were looking to get. Sorry, pal. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

Mulder connected eyes with his partner over the desk. The second message started autoplaying: a voice he didn’t recognize. 

“Hello? This is Candy Winnecott calling from the Jordan Lake Motor Lodge? I got this number from our registration, and I wanted to let you know that y’all left some kind of wire or cable here sitting on top of the bed you didn’t use in unit 6. If it’s government property I don’t want to get in trouble. You can call us right here at the front desk and we’ll arrange to get it to you. 540-555-0218.”

Mulder was just remembering Scully throwing her phone’s charging cord onto her bed when there was a light knock on their office door. 

They looked up to find Arlene standing there with a sheepish look on her face, holding a short stack of file folders. 

“Agents?” she said, her cheeks pinkening. “Sorry to interrupt. The Assistant Director needs your signatures on these reports. I would have interofficed them, but it needs to be done today.” 

Mulder watched as a look of barely controlled panic crossed his partner’s face. Had Arlene heard the part about “the bed you didn’t use?” 

Making a conscious effort not to share any kind of look with Scully that Arlene might pick up on, he turned breezily towards the assistant. 

“Sure,” he said, waving her in and pressing the button to hang up the phone’s speaker function. “We can do that right now.”

[frickingnerd]

love at first fight

pairing: urbosa x gn!reader

summary: you propose a duel to the queen of gerudo – and if you win, you get to marry her!

a/n: the title of the oneshot was just a typo at first, but i figured this really fits and went with it haha

“you have no chance with urbosa! she's the queen of the gerudo and completely out of your league! you better forget about her!”

you've been told countless times that you had no chance with urbosa. everyone you knew had advised you to find someone else. but you knew what you wanted! and you wanted urbosa.

“you're saying you have a proposal for me?”

you had managed to make it all the way into gerudo town and be allowed an audience with her. perhaps that was due to the two of you having crossed paths in hyrule castle before and being acquainted with each other already. or perhaps urbosa had simply taken pity of you, after hearing the rumors.

“a proposal, a bet, a duel… call it what you may!”

you smiled confidently, as urbosa's subordinates whispered something. they didn't seem too impressed by you, but that didn't bother you.

“tell me more about it then! i can hardly agree to anything i know nothing about”

“it's simple, really” you grinned. “we duel! if you win, i'll never enter gerudo town again”

“and if i lose?”

“you'll become my bride!”

the whispers got louder. urbosa sat quietly on her throne, as the people around her lost it. they looked at you, disgusted at the mere suggestion. to even assume that urbosa would lose against you! and to even suggest that she'd become your bride!

“i accept.”

urbosa rose from her throne. the room went quiet. nobody dared to speak, when the queen did.

“but don't expect me to go easy on you”

“i wouldn't dream of it, your highness~!”

urbosa reached out her hand, one of her subordinates quickly bringing her her blade. as soon as she had her hands on it, the fight had begun and urbosa rushed forward.

you drew your blade, dodging her first attack. she had a lot of distance to close at first, so it was too obvious what her first move would be. but the next few wouldn't be as easy.

your blades crossed, again and again. the two of you seemed to be in perfect sync. it looked almost like a dance, with how swiftly you moved. the scenery around you seemed to fade away, as all you could focus on was each other.

and then finally, after what felt like an eternity of passionately dancing with one another, one of you was cornered.

“you're a good fighter…”

urbosa was out of breath, but clearly enjoying herself. she hasn't fought like this in ages!

“but you're still no match for me”

urbosa's blade had been resting against your neck, but now she pulled away and took a step back. you were out of breath too and despite losing, you were still smiling.

“this was fun…”

you slid your blade back in its sheath, watching as urbosa sat back down on her throne. you remained in your position for a moment, watching her in awe, before straightening your clothes and stepping in front of the throne again.

“it's a shame we won't get to duel like this again… now that i'm banished from gerudo town”

urbosa huffed amused.

“as the victor, shouldn't i get to choose what my reward is? i fear this one won't do…”

“oh? then do tell, your highness… what do you wish for?”

you, as well as everyone else in the room, seemed eager to hear what it would be.

“you'll never get good enough to win a fight against me, if you don't practice. i'll make you my personal guard, so you'll have plenty more chances to spar with me and improve”

“and what about our little bet, your highness?”

urbosa leaned back on her throne and smiled.

“if you manage to win a battle against me, i'll allow you to take me as your bride.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Lockers

Media - House Of The Dragon AU Alternate - Modern HighSchool Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Seara Targaryen (Dark Hair like Jace and Luke) Rating - 15 + Word Count - 3862

Oscar stood sorting stuff from his locker, making sure he had everything he'd need for the weekend and doing his best not to forget anything. He sighed running a hand though his curls as he tossed his books into his backpack.

When a little tap on his open locker door makes him jump a little so he peeks around,

Seara stood by his locker wearing her usual outfit of a pair of black sheer tights, some ankle boots, a plaid skirt and a off the shoulder blouse with a wool cardigan over it. Her dark curls in a bun and her glasses on her nose. Seara was a part of the whole targaryen family, and Oscar had a huge crush on her,

"Hi Oscar," she smiled,

Oscar has to keep himself from falling over as he sees her. He blinked, dumbfounded that she had even taken notice of him and making him very confused that she was talking to him! "H-hi" Oscar stutters as he looks up and down,

she softly giggled, "Hi," she smiled back, "you're not in a rush, are you? I wanted a word."

"Oh, no," Oscar quickly shakes his head as he closes his locker. He's still trying to understand why she was talking to him. He'd never even really seen her speak before and now she was speaking to him. What'd he do to gain her attention? "No, I have nothing planned. Wh-what'd you wanna talk about?"

"You're in the chess club right?" She asked

Oscar nods as he closes the locker and picks up his backpack slinging it over his shoulder "Yeah, I, umm, yeah I am"

"I was wondering if maybe I could come with you to practice some time next week. I like playing at home but it's not the same as actually playing against people"

"Oh," Oscar was taken off guard by her request. It wasn't something he'd expected her to ask him. He was surprised she even knew there was a chess club. But he's sure as hell not gonna say no. "Are you sure?"

"I won't if you don't want me to-"

"N-no, no! You can come, it's fine. I just didn't think you'd be… interested in chess" He says the word 'chess' as if it were something taboo.

she smiled "Of course I do. What's not to like? So you don't mind I come?"

He shakes his head "Not at all. The other guys might be a bit… Weird, about you being there, though"

"that's okay, people are weird about everything I do." She laughed "but I'll have you to keep me safe so I'm sure it'll be fine"

His heart fluttered ever so slightly upon her saying that. She had so much confidence in him. He didn't deserve her trust, but he'd gladly accept it "Of course. You'd be, like, my top priority"

she smiled and opened up her little notebook grabbing her pen and quickly writing something. She ripped the page out and folded it over handing him the paper "Here. I'll see you Monday okay." She smiled

"Y-yeah, I'll see you Monday"

she happily waved and headed off down the halls to head home.

Oscar stood rather floored for a moment before I folded the paper to find her phone number and a cute little heart. He stared down at the paper in his hand and smiled. A gorgeous and sweet girl had given him her phone number and even drew a little heart to top it all off. There was no way he wasn't going to use it.

On Monday, Oscar was giddy and bubbly having been texting back and forth with Seara all weekend. He rushed to her locker and happily waited there for her.

Seara soon arrived at her locker in her tights, boots and little jumper dress with a belt around her waist. She smiled as she saw him "Aww hey little fish." She cooed using a nickname she'd jokingly started calling him over text,

Oscar smiled when he saw her, watching as her hair bounced with each step she took "Hey, little dragon" He smirked, using the nickname he'd jokingly started using for her as well

she smiled and unlocked her locker sorting her books "Where are you first period?"

"Science with Mr Manderly" He sighs dramatically at the mention of the class

she chuckled "see you poor thing, he never lets you guys do anything fun." She said, "maybe you should transfer to Mr Dayne with me we do practical stuff almost once a week."

He laughs and rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically "Maybe I should. My class is so boring I feel like I'm gonna end up sleeping through one of his lessons one day"

"awww well you can always text me I'll keep you awake I promise." She smiled "or have I kept you up enough this weekend?'

"You definitely have." He chuckles and smiles at her, sliding his hands into his pockets "You keep me up all night with your texts it's almost unfair, you know"

"I can't help it your so fun" she giggled closing her locker

Oscar stood up straight off the wall as she closed her locker "I think you're a lot more fun. You're like… the only person I know that can make having random debates at 1am fun"

"you need to go to your locker too or are you good?"

"I'm alright, I already got my books and everything"

"okay. Is it too much to ask to walk to class with you?" She smiled clutching her notebook to her chest as usual

His heart flutters slightly as she asks and he almost immediately starts nodding as he smiles at her "Absolutely not. Of course you can" He says as if it were the most normal thing in the world for them to walk together like this

she smiled and happily stood beside him so they could walk together but after only a few steps she wrapped an arm around his

His heart fluttered again, feeling her arm around his as they walked together. All this time he hoped that they would get closer like this, not believing it was ever a possibility, and now here he was, walking to class with his crush, linking her arm with his. as they walked dodging everyone in the corridors slowly their linked arms soon slid down to simply intertwine their hands. Oscar felt like he was on a cloud, her hand in his felt so smooth and warm. It was a small thing, holding hands as they walked, but it was more than he could have ever even dreamed of They soon arrived at the science rooms and Oscar felt reluctant to let her hand go. He didn't want to let go of her hand but he knew he had to at least temporarily so they could get to their own classes

"Guess this is it" He says, not knowing what else to say in the moment

"I'll see you as soon as class ends." She chuckled "And we can sit together in maths is you want too?"

He smiles, immediately agreeing to sit with her "Are you kidding, after that? I'd be an idiot to say no" He says, chuckling with her before pausing for a moment "See you soon then"

she smiled "See you soon little fish" she cooed pressing a little kiss to his temple before she went to her own classroom,

He went bright red as soon as she pressed the kiss to his temple. He watched on as she walked to class, standing there dumbfounded for a few moments, before snapping out of his daze and hurrying into the science classroom. He sat down with a wide and stupidly dorky smile. But he couldn't help it the feeling of her kiss lingering in his mind.

The science class that day dragged on and on and on, Oscar was bored out of his mind the whole time and all he could think of was seeing her again. The thought of her kiss and the way she held his hand and how she had so much faith in him. All these thoughts racing through his mind, occupying him for the entire class. Eventually the class ended and oscar had never left a room as fast. He was excited to see her again, and he had maths next so he'd have the whole period with her. he bolted out his classroom and waited outside hers watching the students filed out until he spotted her.

At the sight of her, he practically melted but did a damn fine job of keeping his cool as he waved her over. He smiled as she walked out of the classroom, and as soon as she was standing with him he couldn't resist reaching out for her hand again

“There’s my little dragon,”

"hi little fish" she cooed taking his hand happily having put her books in her bag, she gave his temple another small kiss before she spoke "how was class?"

If he hadn't already gone red from her cooing him he definitely did as soon as that second kiss was placed on his temple "Boring. The class was boring, I had a lot better things on my mind" He smiled, walking towards the maths room with her, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of her hand

"oh like what?" She asked squeezing his hand

"Oh, nothing big, just you, y'know, walking with me and holding my hand and, uhh, kissing me" He blushed harder and chuckled as he looked down at her, enjoying the feeling of her hand in his

she giggled a little and squeezed his hand again rubbing her thumb on his hand as well. Before she brought her other hand to hold his arm so she cuddled his arm as they walked to the maths room. Quickly taking the two empty seats at the back of the room on a shared table do they could sit together.

Oscar sat a good bit closer to her than usual, their bodies almost touching as they sat next to each other. They were still holding hands, both a bit reluctant to let each other go it seemed. He turned slightly so he was facing her when they sat down, making sure to look at her rather than actually do the work that was being set

she giggled a little seeing him pay far more attention to her then his work "come on scribble scribble" she told him tapping his worksheet with her pen

He chuckled as she tapped his sheet, looking at the work he was supposed to be doing and then back to her "But I'd much rather be looking at you than some numbers and letters" He said dramatically, making her giggle again as he gently squeezed her hand again

she chuckled and rubbed her thumb on his hand "if you do all your work you'll get a kiss at break time"

That was all the motivation he needed, he instantly got to work writing as best as he could. He didn't even care if the work was correct so long as at the end of it he got that kiss she promised him!

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Oscar had finally finished his work. He'd rushed it and didn't bother checking if he'd done it correctly, he didn't care, all he cared about was the kiss she'd promised him. He turned and looked at her, pushing the work away as he smirked at her "Done. Now, I believe you promised me something?"

she giggled "Egar?"

He blushed a bit as she giggled "Come on, you promised me a kiss if I did my work, please little dragon"

"yes at break. As soon as the bell rings you get your kiss I promise."

He groaned and slumped forward on the desk "I don't know why you have to torture me like this, you know I want it right now" He pouted and looked up at her with his best puppy dog face

"I know, my poor pouty little fishy" she cooed pinching his cheek "it's only twenty minutes I'm sure you can handle it"

He leaned into her hand as she pinched his cheek, pouting even more "But, but, I want the kiss now. Why do I have to wait twenty minutes" He tried to make his voice as whiny as he possibly could, trying to persuade her to just give him the kiss there and then

"because we'll get yelled at if we're kissing in class." She reminds him "Here will this ride you over my little fish?" She cooed moving their joined hands and letting him rest his hand on her thigh, her hand sitting on top of his.

He didn't protest against her answer, it was fair enough, it wasn't worth getting yelled at if they were caught, but he didn't mind when she moved their hands and let him move his hand over her soft thigh "Mmm… yeah, yeah that'll work for now" He smiled as he gave her thigh a gentle squeeze He felt satisfied with that for now, as he sat with his hand on her thigh rubbing gently. He couldn't help but glance down at his hand rubbing her thigh every now and then. He would watch as she worked, and occasionally move his hand gently up and down her thigh, just enjoying the feeling of having his hand on her. 20 minutes had to be the longest 20 minutes he's ever endured and all he wanted was that kiss now

as soon as the bell rang for a break she packed her things up and offered her hand

He instantly took her hand when she offered it and pushed his chair back, standing up with her "Finally." He sighs, following her hand and allowing her to lead them wherever she wanted. As they left the room he tugged on her hand, holding it a little tighter as he stepped closer to her "Are we going somewhere quieter or am I getting that promised kiss in the hallway?"

"Whatever you want oscar." She laughed as they walked

"Hmmm… something quieter I think" He says, letting her lead the way to wherever she had in mind, he was perfectly content with going wherever she wanted, as long as he got that kiss at the end of it. He followed her through the crowded hallway and eventually out onto the yard for Thier thirty minute break. they found themselves a spot sitting on the raised wall looking out across the field. she softly squeezed his hand and cuddled his arm as they sat together. He smiled as she leaned into him, wrapping his arm around her with his hand resting on her hip. They sat together peacefully, the yard slowly clearing out around them as everyone went to break up into their groups of friends. it was just the two of them, sitting together, with nobody else around

Oscar could still hardly resist his urges, his hand on her hip slid around her back and settled on her thigh, gently rubbing the soft skin there. he wanted that kiss she promised him, he'd been waiting long enough already. He pulled her a little closer to him, his heartrate increasing in anticipation of the promised kiss "Seara?" He mumbled her name quietly, getting her attention

"humm? Yes oscar?" She asked, "What is it little fish?"

His heart fluttered as she called him that, but he shook it off and looked at her "I was just wondering…" He licked his lips and paused for a moment "When do I get that kiss you promised me?"

she giggled slightly and leaned her head on his shoulder looking up at him "Whenever you like."

His heart almost gave out as she laid her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with those soft, pretty blue eyes. He smiled, enjoying the way she looked at him and the closeness they had right now. She said he could have that kiss whenever he liked. "I want it… right now" He practically whispered, looking down at her

"then you can have it now." She nodded

Any ounce of patience he had in him left as soon as she agreed. He pulled her a little closer to him as he turned his body to face her, bringing his free hand up to softly hold her face as he leaned in to close the gap between their lips. As their lips finally connected, he felt like sparks were flying off in his mind, fireworks were going off in his heart. As he held her face in his hand and his other hand held onto her waist, his mind went fuzzy and he closed his eyes as he gently moved his lips against hers

she happily kissed back nuzzling into his arms

He let out a soft hum, almost a groan, as she nuzzled into his arms. His heart was beating like never before and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his lap and hold her to him. He continued to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers and moving them slowly

slowly she pulled back with a smile and nuzzled into his chest

He smiled at the feel of her nuzzling into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, gently holding her to his chest as he exhaled deeply, feeling the excitement and happiness from that single kiss. He looked down at her, gently rubbing her back "That… was amazing…"

"mhm" she nodded

"Can we do it again or was that a one time thing?" He teased, holding her close to his chest. he didn't want her to pull away, he wanted her right where she was.

"as much as you like."

His heart fluttered as she said that, he was tempted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless but he didn't want to test his luck and push things too far. The thought of being able to kiss her as much as he wanted still filled him with excitement though "Yeah? You sure about that?"

"I'm sure." She nodded nuzzling closer

Oscar was giddy at the idea of kissing her as much as he wants and in a sudden spur of confidence he blurted out "You wanna come over tonight?"

"Humm?" She asked unsure she heard him right

The words tumbled out before he could fully think them through. At the moment it seemed like the best idea ever, an evening alone with her "Yeah, I mean… if you want to" He said a bit nervously, he didn't want her to think he was being too forward or push her if she didn't actually want to

"id like that." She nodded "we can get some snacks on the way and cuddle up to the TV"

He smiled at the thought, imagining the two of them curled up together, her laying on his chest, them cuddling on the bed, a movie playing. It all seemed so perfect, and it excited him to no end "Yeah, that sounds great… I'd love that" He looked down at her, his hand gently rubbing her back, imagining the evening that awaited them. He could hardly wait until they were alone together, getting the chance to be close to her… he already knew they were going to end up cuddling and spending the evening in each other's arms his mind began imagining her on his bed. laid cuddling with him between his sheets and he was so giddy he almost began jumping up and down

"…oscar?"

He snapped back to reality after a few moments, having gotten lost in his little fantasies in his mind, but was still smiling. He looked down at her after she spoke, his cheeks reddening a little "yeah… yeah, sorry little dragon I kinda zoned out there"

she chuckled a little and gave him a little kiss "Can I ask… It's probably too forward to ask but… What… Is this?"

The feeling of her lips on his pulled him back to reality a little more, bringing him back from his little fantasies of him and her in his bed. The question caught him off guard, he hadn't thought about it until now. Is this just a regular thing? are they dating now? friends with benefits? he wasn't sure. He took a few moments to think before he spoke "Uhhh… well, to be honest, I'm not quite sure… what do you think it is?"

"well I don't know that's why I asked…" She blushed "I know what I'd … Like it to be. But I don't want to push you or make you uncomfortable or anything."

His heart fluttered at the sight of her blushing, and at the mention of what she wanted it to be, and he wanted to know what it was, what she wanted this to be. "No, no, you're not uncomfortable or anything, don't worry. You can say…" He encouraged her to speak, he was curious to know what she wanted, and he didn't want to say anything first. He was afraid of being rejected

she blushed hard and squeezed his hand in her grip before she kissed his hand and drew a little heart with her fingers "I'd like us to be… Real. A proper couple. Committed and cuddly." She giggled "A boyfriend and girlfriend… Maybe?" She looked up at him with wide eyes worried he'd turn her down

He smiled as she drew the heart on his hand, it was so freaking cute. Then what she said went through his mind it was like music to his ears, it gave him butterflies in his tummy the way she said it, and seeing how she looked up at him, worried he might turn her down "You… you want us to be together? a couple… boyfriend and girlfriend…?" He asked, just wanted to confirm he'd heard her correctly, he was ecstatic to hear her say that

she innocently nodded,

His heart skipped a beat in response, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, she wanted a real relationship with him. A proper boyfriend girlfriend relationship. "R-really?" he asked, not quite believing it "You… you want that? with me? For real?"

she happily smiled pressing a kiss to his lips and nuzzled her head into his chest to cuddle

The kiss reassured him that it was true and he sighed deeply as she cuddled into his chest. A smile plastered on his face as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, leaning his head down so he could rest his chin on top of her head

He mumbled into her hair "this is… perfect" He tightened his hold on her slightly as he nuzzled his face in her hair, taking a deep breath in. he could faintly smell a fruity scent, perfume or her hairspray or something, and he was in love with it. It was so soft and it filled his nose and his mind, he just held her close and revelled in the feeling of having her close His mind was racing, he still couldn't believe the fact that she genuinely wanted a real relationship with him, she wanted to be his girlfriend. It was incredible to him, he still had doubts in his mind as to why she'd choose him. He knew he wasn't the most handsome or the hottest guy in the school, but she still chose him, for whatever reason. He buried his face further into her hair, enjoying her sweet smell and the softness of her hair against his cheeks.

[cosmic-spider]

Off the planet

Hi and welcome this was based off on a story I found on AO3 that I really liked. But it was discontinued so the first chapter is based a bit of the story I read.

═════════⊹⊱❖⊰⊹═════════

Everyone, please remember-" your professor, Mr Altalune, kept talking about this assignment about bringing something from your families history, something inspiring they worked on.

But of course, you didn't really care. You just wanted to leave this damn class already.

Which luckily for you, you we're going to pretty soon due to the fact that it was almost time to leave. But, even when you supposedly didn't care, your mind wandered off thinking about the subject.

"(..What could I even bring?)" you looked down at your notebook which had nothing on it besides a few doodles that you subconsciously drew, little stars, spirals, really anything random.

You zoned out a bit, just staring at your notebook and it's doodles, everything else around you seemed twice as loud. You could hear the sound of light air coming from the ventilation system, the clicking of mechanical pencils and pens, and the soft whispering of people talking.

"Hey, do you know about that rumor? About..what was their name.." The two girls behind you were talking about you as the girl speaking just said your name, another rumour about you that people were whispering about already. You guys were in college, why we're people still gossiping like they were in high school?

"No- I didn't! I need to send that to the group chat." you probably would've turned around to the two girls and tell them that you could hear them but, you didn't wanna talk.

So, you just let them continue with their conversation as they giggled to each other while gossiping like high schoolers.

RING,RING,RING

Finally, the day was finally almost over. You'd have tomorrow off from college but, would have work as well.

But, at least you would get to sleep in. You started packing up your stuff into your bag, still thinking about what to bring for this assignment.

As you heard the girls go over to their friends and whisper to each other, probably telling them all about the rumor they heard about you.

Even if you wanted to yell at them, you couldn't and just, focused on leaving the class while you finally finished packing up everything and putting it into your bag before you left the place.

You made it off college perimeters and made your way to the sidewalk to go straight home to your apartment. As you stopped yourself in the middle of the sidewalk as you finally thought of what to bring for that assignment. You grinned a bit to yourself while rushing off, not a moment to waste.

Okay, maybe walking was a bad idea, maybe you should've brought your car that day. But hey, I guess that's your fault for not bringing your car to school in the first place.

Since it wasn't too long of a walk to make it to campus and back to your dorm and, the weather was supposed to be perfect today. Turns out, it wasn't. It had started raining pretty heavy but, it was worth it. Looking up with the side of your hand pressing against it, you finally saw it.

Your family mansion

You quickly glanced around for a moment to make sure nobody was looking before walking towards the front door of the mansion.

Just in case since you didn't feel like talking to someone nor explaining why you were going into this abandoned, old mansion in the first place.

You gently put your hand onto the door handle, twisting it which made you surprised that the door wasn't locked but you weren't complaining.

You hesitated for a moment before you walked into the mansion, unsure of what to expect but looking inside, it just seemed like any normal house that was abandoned for years.

Cracks, indents, mold, and vines everywhere, the whole 'horror movie house' kinda look. You started walking around as the floorboards creaked under every step you took which, made you slightly nervous everytime.

As you finally started looking around a bit more you found a folded piece of paper on the ground which was...ripped. You stared at it for a good moment before hesitantly picking it up.

Finally getting a good look at it, you finally noticed that it was actually a flyer. Looking at it, it seemed like a advertisement for some sort of museum? The biggest line read:

'Copper 9' wasn't that a planet and, wasn't it destroyed?? Nonetheless, you continued to look through it and noticed at the bottom it said 'supported by the founder of Jcjenson'

..the founder of Jcjenson..you swore that you've heard that before. Your uncle mentioned something about that before, didn't he?? Maybe he worked there..

And that's when you got the best idea

"(If I go to that museum, I'll surely be able to find some stuff my uncle made!)" you smirked to yourself a bit, and well, yes you could've found something in that house but.

It was really starting to creep you out at the moment so, as you finally decided to leave you kept the flyer in your pocket for later, still remembering the rain.

Maybe you should've at least brought an umbrella instead of your car, or maybe you should've chosen somebody else in your family for this damn assignment but now, it's too late. Finally noticing this...big white building

'Yes!!! Yesyesyes!' you smiled, rushing yourself towards the building but stopped for a moment

'..its run down...?' you took out the flyer from your pocket and looked everywhere and when you finally turned the flyer around, you noticed the date.

"GODDAMNIT!" you yelled out in agitation, who else wouldn't be pissed? You got yourself drenched for nothing practically...or, did you?

Huffing, you looked up at the building again, noticing the front door. As you looked a bit closer, you noticed the door war slightly open. You smirked to yourself

'Maybe this wasn't for nothing after all..' you put the flyer away which was now also soaking wet as you ran towards the door.

You quickly checked your surroundings and after making sure nobody was around you entered the building, only leaving the door open a crack as you finally started slowly walking around the run down museum.

Despite the fact that the museum was run down, it still had everything in it, blueprints, weapons, everything. But, there was only one thing that was very disturbing about this place, the powered off robots.

Yes, they were powered off but there was just something...wrong with it, as you looked around you found...a spaceship? You looked down at the small stand that had practically a whole essay about what this spaceship was

"(..I'm not reading all of that.)" you looked at the near end part which read:

'it will not be able to start without keys says the creator,’

you didn't read the rest of that and just thought.

"(Keys, I gotta find the keys)" you started looking around for the keys for that damn spaceship, while also looking at everything else that was pretty interesting to you and while looking, you paused at the front of a door with a sign at the top that read;

'bosses office' your lips curled into a smirk subconsciously, thinking of a great idea

"(One peek wouldn't hurt..)"you creaked open the door only your head popping out of the side, you finally opened the door all of the way before entering and started look around before you found a bunch of papers on a desk in the room. You picked one up

"(..eh, they won't know)" and started to read it

'Copper 9 has finally been inhabited by the Dissasembly drones J, V and N. They will make sure all of the faulty worker drones will be parished I'm sure of it, you have nothing to worry about at the moment besides...what was their name again? [Name], yes, [Name]. I'm sure my brother will be happy for you to be there when they are born, you have nothing else to worry about."

why were they talking about you? Who's serial designation J, V and N? What are worker drones? You shook your head

"(I'm...taking this with me)" you put the paper into your other pocket before deciding to look around again for the keys for that spaceship.

Looking at the rest of those papers probably would've took too much time anyways...as you were about to leave the room you nearly tripped on something in the middle of the room, causing you to yelp as you looked down, it was a small wooden box with indents of flowers such as roses and lilies.

You slowed picked it up and looked at it a bit closer, it didn't have a lock on it neither was it really, protected. It was pretty damaged but, that didn't matter at the moment as you shook the box you heard something inside which you thought were the keys for the spaceship it was just, a dagger

"(Well, at least I can protect myself now)" you thought, smiling a bit as you left the room with your new dagger in hand.

You were exhausted, but you continued looking everywhere for those damn keys and couldn't find them but, perhaps it would be your lucky day because as you finally made your way back to the spaceship.

You decided to at least check the inside of it to see if it had anything for this stupid project of yours and as you entering you immediately felt slightly...uneasy but, that didn't stop you.

You started looking around in the small space that actually wasn't too bad for a spaceship. Considering this has been in a run down museum for who knows how long, you finally noticed that the keys were already in the ignition which honestly.

Made you a little bit pissed at yourself but also a little bit more nervous. As you went near it you noticed a small note on the chair near the spaceship controls, and as you picked up you didn't notice that you had flipped a switch which caused the spaceship door to close

"Wha?.." you immediately looked up at the screens of the spaceship and it all showed

PREPARING FOR TAKEOFF IN:

50 SECONDS

"Wait- NO!" you immediately started panicking you started looking over all of the controls and the room. Immediately grabbed your phone out of your pocket with the dagger and immediately tried to contact anyone you could.

PREPARING FOR TAKEOFF IN:

45 SECONDS

You dropped your phone onto the floor of the spaceship because of how shaky your hands were at the moment.

"Dammit!" you exclaimed subconsciously before you bent down and grabbed your phone. Once again and started trying to call the person again as you watched the timer.

"I'm sorry, but-" you hanged up as it went straight to voicemail. You immediately tried again and again and again but even then it went straight to voicemail. You then tried to start texting them in hopes they would answer as you felt panic overtake you

PREPARING FOR TAKEOFF IN:

26 SECONDS

you tried calling every number you knew, even the police but, they all went to voicemail even after trying what seemed like million of tries afterwards.

"How does the police station phone go to voicemail?!" You yelled, you felt so powerless as you looked back up at the screens.

PREPARING FOR TAKEOFF IN:

13 SECONDS

You felt your knees go weak as you fell backwards as your back slid against the wall of the spaceship still looking at the screens.

Your knees were wobbling as you thought of all of the horrible things that could possibly happen. You could be stuck in space, or maybe even worse than that. You felt warm tear stream down your face as a voice started to say the final countdown

5

.

.

.

.

.

4

.

.

.

.

.

 .

.

.

3

.

.

.

.

.

.

2

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

1

Off the spaceship went with you, you screamed as your head hit the wall, incredibly hard, making you drop your phone and fall into the ground and the last thing you saw before passing out were the screens showing only one thing

Destination : Copper 9

[mythicalninjas]

Hi hi! Can I ask for a Leonardo headcanons with a male (or gn if you don’t write for male readers) reader who is a punk in a band? He catches a glimpse of Leonardo watching from the rooftop, and instead of freaking out, reader says something along the lines of "this next song is for a very special guest" and winks at him?

(IF U WANT u can also include the other turtles as separate hcs in this scenario, but I mainly want Leo lol) thank you!

I loved it! 😍 I choose to make only for Leo this time. I couldn't find a properly song to add here, I'm sorry T_T

Rate/warnings: SFW

Leonardo wasn’t one to spend time at crowded places, especially not ones as lively and chaotic as a punk show. But something about you performing—your confidence, your passion—drew him in. He’d been keeping tabs on you, silently admiring from afar, but tonight, he couldn’t resist watching your show from the shadows of a nearby rooftop.

He crouched low on the edge of the building, the hum of the crowd and the pounding rhythm of your music washing over him. At first, he told himself it was just reconnaissance—making sure the area was safe. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

The moment you caught a glimpse of him, his heart skipped a beat. He immediately considered slipping back into the shadows, but before he could move, you grabbed the microphone and smirked. "This next song is for a very special guest!" you said, your eyes locking with his. And then—you winked.

If Leo had been wearing his mask differently, the blush creeping up his cheeks would’ve been impossible to miss. He froze, caught between pride and sheer panic. Did you know he’d been watching? How long had you noticed?

The song started, and though the music was loud, Leo couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. Still, as the lyrics unfolded, he realized the song wasn’t mocking or dismissive. It was a message of encouragement, something raw and rebellious yet oddly inspiring—like you were telling him to stop hiding, to embrace himself.

By the time the song ended, he was no longer embarrassed. He stood a little straighter on the rooftop, his lips tugging into a faint smile. He didn’t know much about punk music, but tonight, it felt like it had been written just for him.

After the show, Leo stuck around, debating whether or not to approach you. He wasn’t used to being the one under the spotlight—he preferred watching from the sidelines, protecting others. But tonight, you’d flipped the script, and now he was the one being seen.

When you finally stepped outside the venue, he couldn’t avoid you anymore. You spotted him right away, standing near the rooftop edge. Instead of looking surprised or nervous, you just grinned, hands casually stuffed in your jacket pockets. "Hey, rooftop guy!” you teased, strolling toward him like you’d known he was there all along. “Did you like the song?”

He tried to play it cool, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was... different. But good. Really good.” His voice came out a little softer than he intended.

You leaned against the wall, watching him with an amused glint in your eyes. “Different, huh? That’s not a bad thing, right?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, not at all. It was... powerful. Inspiring, even.” He glanced down, his thumbs brushing against the edges of his katanas. “Thanks for... dedicating it. I wasn’t expecting that.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Couldn’t let you just lurk up there without giving you a proper shoutout. You seemed like you needed it.”

That hit Leo more deeply than he expected. How had you noticed? Most people didn’t see through his calm, disciplined exterior, but somehow you’d picked up on the weight he carried.

He found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders easing as you continued chatting. By the end of the conversation, you’d managed to coax a rare, genuine laugh out of him.

Before you left, you clapped him lightly on the arm. “You should come to the next show, you know. And maybe stick around a little longer this time.”

As you walked away, Leo stayed rooted in place, watching until you disappeared down the street. For the first time in a long while, he felt like someone truly saw him—not as the leader of the team, not as a ninja or a mutant, but as Leo.

That night, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head: the wink, the song, the way you looked so completely unbothered by his presence. And for once, instead of overthinking, he just smiled, letting the warmth of the memory settle in his chest.

[hazyshadeofwintyr]

Dreamling Week Day I: Meowpheus

I am so normal about Dreamling, I can't even begin to explain just how normal I am! Truly! So normal!! The thought of them doesn't send me into a fluffy fluff spiral or anything!!! I promise I'm normal about them!!! Why are you walking away??? Wait—

Anyway, happy Dreamling Week one and all! :3 I don't think I'll write something for every day of it, but here's my first contribution. Expect it up on AO3 at... some point? Enjoy some tooth-rottingly fluffy gay shenanigans. Fuck segues, you don't need segues when you have the Dreaming.

WC: 1,479

----

He was just on the edge of sleep, thoughts drifting off somewhere far away from him. They swayed as a sea, cycling like the tide, the steady in- and out-rush of water and sand. Hob could nearly hear it, if he just listened a little closer— 

A weight leapt onto Hob's bed, waking him from his half-doze. He blinked blearily through the darkness, registering a shape that looked an awful lot like a housecat, only fuck-off huge. A pair of onyx eyes that sparkled through the dim room met his, glowing with distant starlight—the sort that had become nigh-invisible in modern London, so not a reflection or trick of the light—which tickled something at the back of his mind. "Dream?" he mumbled. 

The cat settled beside him, just within his reach. It tilted its head at him. Good evening, Hob Gadling. 

"What're you doing here?" 

Do I need a particular reason to visit a friend? Dream teased, cocking his head. 

"No, it's just—" Hob yawned, cutting himself off. "I'm not used to seeing you without a reason, is all." 

Dream stretched, a low purr rumbling through the bed. Am I bothering you? 

"Not at all." Hob extended a hand, fingers brushing against night-dark fur so soft and feather-fine he could barely feel it. Dream didn't move, so he dug a little deeper, scratching the top of Dream's head. The same bone-deep purr rattled up his arm as Dream leaned into Hob's touch. He was significantly more accepting of touch as a cat than as a... whatever he called that almost-human shape that had graced most of their visits. "I'm not going to make for very good conversation tonight, I'm afraid." 

Then it is fortuitous I did not come for conversation, hm? Dream flicked an ear in a half-joking gesture. Sleep, Hob Gadling. Rest well in my presence.

Hob was, belatedly, glad that Dream had appeared to him in this form—the thought of his hands bruising that marble flesh made his head do all sorts of things he couldn't process. The cat was different—there was no temptation to lose himself in stormy eyes or to kiss the delicate skin in the hollow of Dream's throat. He had spent centuries without even the least sign of reciprocation, but the more frequent visits of the previous six months left him starving in an entirely different way than usual. No, he decided, brushing a knuckle against the warm skin at the base of Dream's ear, the cat was a distraction most welcome. 

He fell asleep with surprising ease for sharing a bed with a large, unfamiliar cat who just-so-happened to be his oldest friend (were he more awake as the words passed his thoughts, he'd chuckle with only the slightest bit of mirth). The deep, soothing purring of cat-Dream didn't hurt, either. It invited sleep, drew it in as though putting him on a sea with his blankets as a wave. Hob wasn't really sure if it was part-and-parcel of Dream's whole thing or not, but the question died like a candle as he faded into unconsciousness. 

They were strolling through an indistinct blur of a park, the sun bright but not burning, each of them holding a cone of soft-serve ice cream. "You must truly wish to see me, Hob Gadling," Dream commented in a voice that had a quality not unlike gravity. His appearance also seemed much more—vibrant or saturated would be the wrong word for how little colour there was about him, but the whites seemed truer, the blacks more absolute. Yet he still blended beautifully with the gentle greens and blues of their surroundings. 

Hob was more awake then he had any right to be, but his mind remained a little sluggish still. At least he could tell he was dreaming. "Is— is this because you were with me?" 

Dream shook his head, the slightest hint of what might be a smile teasing his lips. "No. And I am still with you, in the Waking world. You are the one who called me here." 

"I'm... sorry?" Hob tried, unsure of what one should say in such a circumstance. He wondered if anyone else had ever been in his place before—then dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, a painful pang of jealousy in his heart. His relationship with Dream was still too fragile, still too brittle to test its boundaries. Hob could wait, if he truly had to, for Dream to show some sign of reciprocation; he could also survive millennia on the hope alone. God only knew he'd survived the last few hundred years with little more than hope, at least partially for his strange—and, until recently, nameless—friend. 

Either Hob was showing more than he intended of his feelings, or Dream is just in his head, because those starry eyes softened. "You have no reason to apologise. It is a pleasure to spend time with you." 

"Well, at least the weather is lovely today."  

Dream glanced up at the sky. "Yes, it is," he agreed. 

Hob noticed that his ice cream had yet to melt and tasted it. Tension he hadn't realised he'd been holding disappeared. It tasted like vanilla ice cream, yes, and good vanilla ice cream at that—but beyond that, it tasted of all the times he'd shared dessert with a lover, every hot summer day spent holding hands with somebody he'd loved, every stroll in the park talking about everything and nothing. He closed his eyes and let the flavour wash over him. When he opened them, he found himself sitting opposite Dream at a terraced café, no longer holding ice cream. Instead, his hand rested on the table. 

And Dream's hand rested on his. 

Dream himself remained as impassive as ever. "I find that the weather is fair when I visit you," he mused, lashes beating in slow motion. They were a butterfly's wings, snowflakes falling, a rainbow materialising through scattered droplets of water. 

True romantic that he was, Hob couldn't shake the jolt of joy in his stomach when Dream continued to allow their skin to touch. He wondered how long it'd been since any mortal had been allowed to touch his (his? since when had Dream ever been his?) Dream Lord. "It's been good to see you more frequently, too. And to finally know your name, after all this time." 

"I have come to realise that you deserve a great many things you may never receive," Dream said, "and I feel it is my responsibility to give you whichever of those are in my power." He fell silent for a moment before moving his hand to entwine his fingers with Hob's. Another small smile graced his lips. 

"Is this one of them?" Hob asked, swallowing. 

"Yes and no. You have been an invaluable companion for many years, despite my distance and reluctance to admit it. In this sense, I am merely returning the favour." Dream tilted his head, much as he had as a cat, an unfamiliar sparkle in his eyes. "While I have never paid particular attention to your dreams, I have always been aware of them." 

"Oh," said Hob, the statement sinking in, "oh." His face flushed and, if this were a conversation with anyone else, he would've pulled his hand away to cover his face. Dream's touch simply felt too rare to forego, too precious to lose. "I'm, um. I don't— don't know what to say. Please forgive me for seeing you in that light?" In his defence, Hob hadn't known who or what Dream even was for the first six hundred years, had no idea that his Stranger would be privy to those fantasies. 

Dream—laughed. He actually laughed, the bastard. His laugh was, at most, a dry chuckle, but it was worlds more expressive than Hob ever expected to hear from him. "Hob Gadling," he said, half-smiling, eyes full of care and mirth and secrets and stars, "I am the King of Dreams. Were I displeased, or uncomfortable, with your fantasies of me, they would be well within my ability to stop." 

"You don't mind dreams where I—?" Shag you silly, Hob finished in his thoughts, far too embarrassed to speak those words out loud. 

"You were right, one hundred and thirty-three years ago. I was lonely, and I was too proud to admit it—which, I have come to realise, is exactly why I was so lonely. Only recently have I become aware of my own such... personal flaws." 

"So you'd forgive my being so forward as to..." There was no longer a table between them, only a step that Hob closed with relish. They were so close their chests nearly touched, a breath—though, Hob noticed, Dream didn't breathe—between them. He remained hesitant as he put a hand to Dream's waist. With a smooth, too-fluid motion, Dream did the rest and gardens bloomed glorious behind Hob's eyes.

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @e-klair

Who You Are:

E.K. || They/them

I'm from Germany and I study English and French translation - I plan on being able to make a living of translating books one day. I've been writing since I was 10 years old, and even though I love all other kinds of creative work too (I sometimes draw and am the singer of a rock band) it's the one thing in life I just NEED in order to be happy.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Adventure, comedy, fanfic, fantasy, mystery, paranormal, romance, and sci-fi. Young and new adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Fantasy! Exploring new worlds and concepts, and at the same time being able to transfer the lessons learned there to real life is just… Idk, it really makes me emotional :')

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Crime fiction. It's just a really specific genre following really specific rules, and I don't think I'd be able to follow all of them and have fun at the same time.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

Honestly, at the moment it's just me, and sometimes my friends. I feel like my stories are very close to my experiences in life, so I wouldn't expect anyone to get or like them.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

One specific thing I always come back to is a conflict between two groups that need to overcome their prejudice. In one of my stories it's a straight up war, in the other one it's a family feud. In general, acceptance of the other (in whichever form) is a really strong theme in all of my works.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

Are toxic relationships a trope? I don't think they're a healthy thing to romantisize, especially in YA fiction. They can be written well if not romantisized, though, and that's cool!

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I'm currently working on a fantasy duology called "Dawn". I've been working on it for 10 years now, but with a major break in between taking 8 years (!).

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

Mostly a mix of A) internal and external struggles and the need to put them on paper in as many metaphors as possible B) the sheer joy of having written something that wasn't there before. Creating something out of thin air is just wild!!

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

14 years now. I first started writing down my dreams as a kid, and over time those dreams developed into really long stories until I one day decided to finally write a "proper book".

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

Music! Everything I write is in some way inspired by the music I listen to, especially my current project - some characters or scenes only developed the way they did because of a certain song or album. (It also goes both ways cause my stories sometimes find their way into my own songs, help)

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

My current project, Dawn! It's just amazing to be able to return to writing something I loved so much as a teenager, and on top of that add everything I learned about writing in the meantime. I never would have thought that I could find so much potential in something I wrote when I was 13 and use it to make something even better.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

Not yet. I would love to publish a book one day, but I don't want to rush it.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

The best thing is to just be able to have a copy of it on your shelf and give it to your friends. I think I would be a bit scared of offering it to a publisher and having other people make decisions about it that differ greatly from my own ideas.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

HAVING WRITTEN and being happy about it is so good! Not having written? Or worse: Having written and being unhappy about it? Hell.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

I usually do some soft plotting beforehand, but once I dive into writing I tend to follow my instincts. I work with Scrivener, which really helps me to keep an eye on the bigger picture. Otherwise I would easily lose track of where I'm headed or where I left off. I am also very motivated by word counts - keeping a goal is essential if I want to finish a project. Also: I really love writing on the train. It's amazing.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

All of my active years combined: About 2. I think the writerblr community is a very positive, interesting one and I just love keeping in touch with other people and their amazing ideas. Every one has their own style and flavour, it's like a candystore full of stories and nice people.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@concerningwolves is an amazing author and their work is full of rich worldbuilding and fascinating characters. When Dealing With Wolves is definitely worth a read. @siarven is not only an amazingly nice and energetic person but also a fantastic artist! I love their drawings so much.

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

The positivity! There's also a lot of information available with so many people sharing their experiences. It's great.

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

Ummm. I actually don't know. It's sometimes hard getting in touch with people or finding blogs to follow. It's also really hard to talk about and share work that's written in another language than English, but that's how it is on most platforms.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

Insert "idk i just got here" meme :D Honestly, I think a lot has changed since I first joined in 2018. I'm just trying to get back into the groove and then we'll see.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Same answer as above. :)

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

God I love tag games. They're so much fun!

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

On instagram

Questions For Fun:

If your main character(s) was a flower, which flower would they be? Why?

Funnily, the full name of the MC of Dawn is Khorin'do, which means 'glowing leaf'. Glowing leaf is a tree of which the leaves turn almost see-through before autumn, which makes them look a bit like bug wings. Hence, this tree is not only how Khorin got her name, but in fact all of her kind - they are fairy-like creatures called Khorwes. So as you can imagine, her name is pretty much as common there as Steve or Mary are here.

If your writing were a color, what color would it be and why?

A friend of mine once described my writing as rainbow-coloured because it can get very intense, chaotic, and naive. Honestly, I think that's pretty accurate.

Is there a song that has had the most impact on your work? An album? A music artist? Why do you think they had such an influence on you?

For Dawn specifically, there have been many, many musical influences. In its early stages (around 2012), the themes of war and injustice were inspired by bands like Rise Against or Thirty Seconds to Mars (especially their album This is War, which umm… turns out to glorify war a lot? This is actually the opposite of what I wanted). Nowadays I tend to draw inspiration from instrumental vibes more than the lyrics. If it sounds epic, melancholic and slightly futuristic, it works. This is the case with Arcane Roots' album Melancholia Hymns. It helped me come up with a lot of internal conflicts for the characters and even inspired the new main antagonist as a whole. I think music has a big influence on me because it stimulates the visual part of my brain that loves daydreaming and indulging in fantastic scenarios, which is mostly what writing really is for me.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 30

AO3

What does a bedroom say about a person?

Jon makes a phone call.

“So, what do we know?”

Jon sat upright in bed and typed into the old laptop. It didn’t have a built-in microphone, or not a working one, so he’d been making do with a word processor. Still, old habits left him chewing on the inside of his cheek and muttering to himself.

“The lighthouse seems to be a central structure to whatever power, or powers, exist in the vicinity. Several groups are invested in this power including Peter Lukas and his family, possibly Simon Fairchild as well?”

“Separately, this area has also been inhabited by at least one selkie, which I’m certain Elias knew about and sent me here to investigate. His sending me here could have been a ploy to root through my belongings, but it’s not likely to be the only reason. In the middle is Martin Blackwood, both the target of this power and the son of a selkie. No abilities, human in all respects. And these things are… related. Somehow.”

He rubbed his eyes. Not his most confident assertion. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted those two ideas to be connected.

He coughed. “The lighthouse causes vertigo in some individuals with no clear reason as to who. Martin is a long-term employee, no surprise he feels it, but why was Tim affected while Sasha and I were fine?” Jon tapped the empty space below the keyboard. “And now I’ve been targeted without stepping foot in the lighthouse for weeks. Residual effects from Martin’s time in the building? Or the radius is much larger than I’d feared and has the ability to… focus on someone.”

The house didn’t offer an explanation. It creaked in the cold and allowed his voice to travel but otherwise remained empty of answers. Martin’s room especially was…

It wasn’t much. It was the bedroom of an adult that once belonged to a child: a small space, some leftover posters of movies he’d never seen, a bed that technically did its job but hadn’t been intended for a man of Martin’s size or age. It certainly wasn’t meant for two full grown adults. The bedside table lamp was decent and warm-toned but clearly as old as the wood furniture.

Maybe he’d expected more than two small shelves of books. More knick-knacks, or something.  

And the dust itched at his nose a little. The whole house had a layer of it on just about everything. Not something he would normally notice, but the days had been long and his eyes needed to look at something that wasn’t a dim laptop screen. 

He cleared his throat and drew his eyes back to the word processor. “But why did Peter allow us inside? He was never pleased about us being there, so it had to be a favor or some joint scheme. And Simon, why does he involve himself in this? If it was about the sketchbook his part would be finished, but clearly he knows something. To drag Martin to his home-”

He sighed. If he’d learnt anything from the past week it was to stop prattling on about questions he couldn’t answer with the information at his disposal. He placed the laptop to his left and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cold wood sending a small shock through his feet. 

Across the room the squat bookshelves called to his curiosity. Out of the whole house it was the only shelf he’d seen that wasn’t for banal home decor or unused cutlery, and clearly it was to Martin’s taste only. What did the man like to read in his spare time? For all the intense rush of feeling and time spent together, reading hadn’t come up all that much. Jon had had enough silence in the last few weeks. To sit alone with a book when he finally had another person around to talk to seemed a waste.

Not that they couldn’t read together. Jon liked to read aloud. It certainly made his job less mind-numbing to fill the silence with his voice.

He let himself drift over to the bookshelf and squat down onto the balls of his feet, scanning the lowermost shelf first. Mostly thin, worn paperbacks, some notebooks that had been shoved unceremoniously onto one side and stuck out well past the published material, and required reading from school that Martin never tossed. Expected but not particularly exciting. It could be the sign of someone who didn’t read much, but libraries were a possibility. Audiobooks? E-books? How much did a bookshelf really-

Oh. Hm.

On the second shelf up, taking up a decent amount of space, was more than one collection of poetry. Keats, a bit of Coleridge, and presumably more modern writers he’d never heard of, these worn and well-loved volumes stood in stark contrast to the pristine and dusty copy of Hamlet nearby. 

Jon rolled his eyes. He hadn’t pegged Martin as a poetry-type, certainly not a capital-R Romantic. Obviously it wasn’t a deal-breaker, but he hoped Martin wasn’t the type to try and convince him of poetry as a medium. He’d had enough of trying to understand it at university, being dragged along to one subpar slam poetry night that left him with such terrible secondhand embarrassment that Georgie forced him back outside where the poets couldn’t hear his complaints. Not his most shining moment, but if poets could express themselves out loud for all to hear then so could he. 

His gaze flicked back over the notebooks, spiral bindings bent and squashed from being stuffed into bags over the years. Best not to ask. He’d ruined too many conversations with his strong opinions on the subject and he had no interest in making that much of an ass of himself about Martin’s hobbies while staying in his home, his bed, for free. Sure, he hadn’t given Georgie and her girlfriend that courtesy, but they knew him too well for him to bother.

He also wouldn’t be able to lie about looking. 

The rest of the house, well, he’d already done a bit of snooping around in his paranoia-fueled first days. Based on what he knew, the empty feeling wasn’t unusual. Perhaps he’d hoped for Martin’s room to be different, illuminating even, but it was more of the same.

The room wasn’t entirely bereft of personality outside of the bookshelf. No figurines or such like, though Jon didn’t know why he’d expected them, but on the nightstand there were scattered unsent postcards of cozy outdoor scenes pinned down by a mostly picked clean subscription box of forest-themed stationary. A cardboard coaster printed with a cartoonish shop logo sat with indentation lines across its surface indicating a good amount of use.

Not a lot to leave behind. Even Jon had some photos in his flat, the kind his friends with a fixation on physical media would sometimes give him back in his university days. One of his grandmother. None from the last few years.

Jon stood next to the nightstand for a minute, eyes resting unfocused on the coaster.

The mattress accepted his return with a thump. There was actual research to complete that didn’t involve meditating on personal decor. He couldn’t get distracted like this, no matter how tired he was of talking in circles. It would certainly be easier if it wasn’t him alone doing the talking, but Martin was gone for so much of the day and by the time he returned at night neither was particularly enthused about discussing the dire nature of their circumstances. And as self-sufficient as he tried to be, his own voice wasn’t enough.

Throwing his phone into the ocean hadn’t been his smartest move.

He didn’t have Sasha or Tim’s numbers memorized. Not a huge problem since Martin had Tim in his contacts, but he would’ve expected more from himself for the sake of practicality. He’d been on enough solo trips to know that his mobile phone couldn’t always be relied upon. Still he’d never put their numbers to memory. In an emergency he would’ve called the Institute and had Rosie at the front desk transfer him to the Archives. Professional and just distant enough for comfort.

Not very comforting from a secluded room on the coast with nothing but a landline and Martin’s number written on a scrap of paper. For emergencies. Tedium and cabin fever didn’t count. 

There was so much to explain, more than he’d ever intended to tell them. His assistants were damned good at their jobs, but what did that mean for secrecy? Weren’t they all at the Institute in the interest of uncovering the strange?

But something in his gut had trusted them enough to have Georgie deliver a message to them. They already knew he was somewhere else. And they weren’t- it wasn’t- hadn’t they done enough together to earn the benefit of the doubt? They weren’t some unapproachable, unknowable entity that would crash him against the rocks. 

He gagged on the bile pushing up his throat. No, they were just Tim and Sasha, reliable and ultimately… he couldn’t say they were his friends, but they’d signed up for weirdness and he needed help. Too much rode on their success for him to be overcautious.

He wouldn’t let that spotlight in the sky chase him into a hole. 

--

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good idea,” Martin said. 

Jon stared down at the mobile in his hands, open text message blank and waiting. Something like panic tugged at the back of his mind.

“Do you need me to-”

“No- no, I can do this.” Jon’s face twitched and he looked up at Martin. “I won’t tell them everything.”

Martin nodded encouragingly.

“They need to know I’m here, that we need to combine what we’ve learned and expedite the investigation as much as we can. As for why I’m here, I’m not sure how much they’ll need? I could pin it on Elias being involved with whatever is going on but it wouldn’t explain why I left so suddenly-”

With some visible hesitation Martin reached out and squeezed Jon’s shoulder. Without much hesitation at all Jon collapsed against his side. For a split second he felt Martin tense at the contact, but an arm looped comfortingly around his shoulder to dismiss any worry about overstepping. To say things between them had ‘worked out’ wasn’t the right phrasing. Still, he wasn’t unhappy with the physical space he occupied in that moment. Perhaps there was more benefit to impulsive decision making that people gave it credit for.

He stared at the phone for a moment and then pressed the call button in the corner, holding the mobile out between them. From beside him Martin raised his eyebrows in question but said nothing.

After two rings Jon heard Tim on the other side, talking as if carrying something unwieldy. “Hey, was gonna text you but things have gotten really backed up-”

“Hello, Tim. It’s Jon. I hope things aren’t too disordered with my being gone,” Jon said, wincing.

“J-” A large thump came from the speaker, followed by cursing. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I-”

“I guess I know the answer to that, Martin,” Tim hissed, papers rustling in the background. “Unless you broke into his house and stole his phone, which I’m not above assuming.” 

Martin grimaced and leaned in close to the mobile. “No, no, I’m here. Sorry, Tim.”

“Unbelievable. How long has he been there?” He seemed to be walking at a brisk pace.

Jon sighed. “About a week. Before then- listen, we need to talk to you and Sasha while you’re not in the Institute. Things have… escalated.”

“So no word for weeks, we’re buried in paperwork by Elias who is acting weirder by the day, and you just-”

“Tim, please,” Martin interjected, his plea failing to break through the exhausted expression on his face. “We want to give you and Sasha an explanation. If now’s not a good time-”

“Oh, now is a perfect time-” The sound of a door opening. 

From some distance away, he heard Sasha begin, “Hey, did you find-”

Sasha grunted in surprise, and Jon and Martin sat there as Tim made various comments about workplace boundaries and the importance of breaks in a strained tone. Eventually they both stopped talking altogether.

Martin put his hand between himself and the mobile and whispered, “I thought we were going to text first?”

“I was going to lose my nerve,” Jon replied weakly. “And no amount of pre-planning would stop them from being angry if that’s how they feel.”

“Correct,” Tim muttered, then went silent again.

This time Jon set the mobile to mute, wondering if Tim would do the same. “They should be able to find a safe place to talk nearby.”

“Tim seems really angry.”

“As expected. I’m sure Sasha is as well, for different reasons.” Jon stared at the mobile, his leg shaking. “They’ll listen, though. I’m sure they’re as curious as they are livid.”

“Prerequisite for the job?” Martin asked, hugging Jon a little more tightly.

“If you’re looking for a new position I wouldn’t recommend it, even if you have great potential in the field of sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

Martin grimaced. “I’ll make sure to put that on my resume for when I’m back to working the till.” 

“No doubt I’ll be somewhere similar,” Jon muttered, slouching further into Martin’s side. It was good, though, to hear Martin speak of the future, if with very little excitement.

There was a clicking sound from the mobile and a rush of wind. Above the din, Tim said, “We’re headed to a nearby park.”

Sasha added, “This had better be interesting for all we’ve been waiting. What’s going on?”

“Can you even hear-”

“We have headphones. Start talking, bossman,” Tim said. 

“Fine, as long as you’re not in the Institute,” Jon grumbled. “I’ll explain more about my absence later-”

Sasha scoffed. “I’d rather we not skip over that part-”

“-but last night Martin and I both experienced malicious, supernatural incidents. A dense fog that messes with your perceptions, keeping you in place or maybe keeping you away from something? I was hoping to get your insight on this along with an update on your own investigations. Frankly I have no resources beyond searching the internet which nowadays is as useful as yelling at people on the street.” 

There was a brief pause. Then Sasha spoke. “Martin, what you experienced, was it like when Simon grabbed you?” 

Jon glanced at Martin, who shook his head and said, “No, no, it was nothing like it. It sort of… I lost track of time? It felt like I was lost in thought, but Jon had to shake me out of it. Before that I sat outside for hours.”

“During a cold rain, mind you,” Jon said. “Mine was closer to the experience with Simon, I think. I was fully aware of myself, but I’d become completely lost with no direction. I think it was trying to keep me from the town as a whole, since I’d been investigating something on the outskirts.”

Sasha continued. “If we’re working on the assumption that these two events are connected, then it sounds like you both were caught in a barrier of some kind. Like anything inside stays in and anything outside stays out? Unless you think it’s more targeted.”

Jon paused, the creeping gaze of the lighthouse filling his mind. “I… I don’t know. It’s difficult to tell when you’re inside it, but I think it was specific to us. We haven’t exactly asked around town about it. I was hoping one of you could check the archives-”

“It does sound a little familiar, actually, what Martin described,” Sasha said. “I went digging after the Simon incident, but what I found didn’t seem worth mentioning at the time since it wasn’t all that similar to what Simon trapped him in. A few people along the coast reported an unexpected urge to sit outside in a fog by the sea no matter how bad the weather, way beyond some fancy for nature. Apparently, one woman got a nasty thump on the head during a hailstorm.”

Next to him Martin went rigid, eyes darting to the pitch black window across the room. 

Jon replied quickly, “Was there any other follow-up? What allowed people to leave that state?”

“Seems like you stumbled on the solution already. Every time, another person had to pull them out of it. Not always someone they knew, but they were always outside the effect but could see the fog around them. That woman I mentioned was found by her daughter after she’d gone missing for two whole days,” Sasha said. “Besides that, one person died of pneumonia, and the only other living one I tracked down moved further inland and hasn’t seen anything since.” 

Tim added, “And from what you said that last one is considering moving back which- Look, I know some people have a thing about the ocean but if it were me-”

Jon’s heart thumped in his throat. “And this wasn’t centered anywhere? No specific sources or locations?”

Sasha paused. “Not really. The coast is the only real connection I could find besides the fog.”

“The whole ocean can’t be haunted, can it?” Tim asked.

“It doesn’t necessarily come from the ocean-”

“Then why not stalk the streets of-”

“With our sample size we don’t know that it doesn’t-”

With some frustration Jon interjected, “-and right now we don’t have time to figure out if it does. What we need are connections. The Lukases, the Fairchilds, Elias-”

“Speaking of which, you haven’t told us anything about him, either,” Tim said. “He said you were taking some ‘unplanned time off’. Been a lot more around ever since.”

“All things considered I can’t believe he hasn’t fired me and done away with the whole thing,” Jon said with a dull laugh. 

“Jon.”

“Right… Right. Without going into all of the details, I returned early from my last work trip and  caught Elias breaking into my flat.”

A comically synchronized “What?” came from both of his assistants. 

Jon tried to push on. “After that I came here to lie low-”

“Oh no, you do not get to say Elias robbed you and then move on like it’s nothing!” Tim exclaimed. Sasha shushed him, and Tim continued with gritted teeth, “How am I supposed to not shout about that? We should be calling the police-”

“What exactly was he looking for that you wouldn’t just call the police?” Sasha asked. 

Jon’s stomach dropped. “It’s-”

In a conspiratorial whisper, Sasha asked, “Did you take something from artifact storage?”

“What? No! What-” 

Tim scoffed. “Don’t act like that’s out of the question. Look what we roped Martin into!”

Beside him Martin didn’t quite relax, but he lifted his eyebrows slightly and mumbled, “Not wrong-”

Sasha butted in again. “What was he trying to get at, then? You can’t expect us to believe he’s randomly picked up robbery on the side-”

Jon’s eyes flitted about as if the living room held the words that would bring this conversation to heel. All he received was an unhelpful and decidedly unsympathetic shrug from Martin whose gaze remained firmly on the window. Jon saw nothing but mist gathering across the glass.

“-so if you want us to help-”

With a grunt, Jon leaned forward and out from Martin’s hold. He spat out, “Let your own bloody curiosity motivate you, then! I’m not discussing this further until we’re all several hours from the Institute, especially if Elias is keeping his eye on both of you. If you have something useful, get here as soon as you can so we can finish this. Then you get your answers.”

Tim started, “Oh, fuck off, you can’t-”

“Fine,” Sasha said, cutting him off. “We’ll scrape together what we can and get there by this weekend.”

“Really?” Jon asked, glancing at an equally shocked Martin. “That’s- yes, if you think that’s enough time-”

“But we get a full explanation the moment we get there. And Jon?”

“...Yes?”

“This is why he gave you the job, isn’t it?”

Jon deflated, mouth curling into a scowl. “I don’t see how that’s relevant-”

“You wouldn’t,” she said flatly. “Anyway, try not to get spirited away before we have a chance to interrogate you.”

“Yeah, lie low and, I dunno… stay indoors?” Tim paused. “Probably already doing that. What Sasha said. Don’t get kidnapped.”

Jon sighed. “We’ll put in our best effort. And if-”

“And if we think of anything for you to use immediately, we’ll let Martin know since you can’t be bothered to use your own mobile,” Tim said accusingly.

“I threw mine into the ocean weeks ago.” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but he wasn’t sure what was supposed to have come out of his mouth in its stead. “Hope that helps.”

There was a long pause, to the point where Jon wondered at being muted again. Tim finally answered, “Right. It does, I think? We’re… we’re gonna go now. Apparently we’ve just promised to do double the work we expected this week, didn’t we, Sash?”

“We did. Good luck out there, boys. We’ll be in touch.”

And the call ended. Jon held the mobile in his hand, staring at the thing as if more information would come out of it. Instead it silently switched back to Martin’s home screen and he was met with the gaze of a small beagle puppy. 

The weekend. Depending on what that meant, he could have anywhere from three to five days before-

“They didn’t seem too angry, all things considered,” Martin mumbled. When Jon held out the phone he took it and returned it to his pocket. “You think they’ll have something?”

Looking ahead at the blank television screen, Jon said, “I don’t know. They wouldn’t rush to get here without the beginnings of a plan?” He fell back onto the couch. By then Martin had retracted his arm and now worried at the back of his hands, cracked and dry from the cold air.

“What’ll you tell them? When they get here?”

“I don’t know... Whatever feels right. The only thing that matters is that they’re coming.”

Help was on the way. They had only a few days to wait instead of a week and a half. They would do what they could for Evan, and for Martin. The larger issue with Elias was… It couldn’t be dealt with until he spoke to his assistants in-person, gauged their loyalties and however much surveillance might be on them after his departure. He could say all of this aloud. Despite the day being as uneventful as either of them could have hoped, Jon was very, very tired.

So tired that when he next opened his eyes it was to the sound of the front door closing down the hall. He rubbed his face and rolled his aching neck. Blinking in the light of the living room lamp, he saw the blurry outline of Martin standing between him and the kitchen.

“Looks like the call took a lot out of you,” Martin said, resting a hand on the door frame. “Wanted to make sure the front door was locked before heading to bed.”

Was Martin’s hair wet? Jon blinked a few more times, pushing the sleep from his eyes with his fingertips. No, the lamplight was playing tricks on him.

Jon reached out a hand and asked, “Still willing to share?” 

In a few slow strides Martin was pulling him onto his feet, a hesitant smile on his face. “Do you still want to?” he asked in turn.

Was his hand colder than usual? What did he know about what was usual when they’d only touched hands a few times, mostly under dire circumstances? How cold were his own hands? 

“Mm.” Jon looked at Martin’s fingers loosely curled around his own. “Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t do much more than what we’ve already been doing. Physically, I mean.” In spite of himself, he yawned. He yawned in the middle of this. “I usually bring it up before crawling into someone’s bed the first time around.”

“Oh. Okay,” Martin said and gave his hand a small squeeze. Even in the dim lamplight he knew Martin’s ears were darker than before. Warmer. “So…last night was fine?”

“As was this morning, though that should be obvious,” Jon replied, gently tugging Martin towards the stairs.

“...Cool.”

If the man was a poet, he kept to the written word.

[grapecaseschoices]

I loved the ori facts. I was wondering if we could get some val and hiyam facts as well pls. 🥰

Val Montemer

1) Their middle name is Ariel.

2) I think I've said before that they are really into cars and tinker in a garage. Nothing official, a hobby and they let them have their own spot.

3) Val's closet is filled with leather jackets. Which is fine because the rest of their clothing is rather cheap, mostly just white shirts and jeans. Though they have a few polos, like those weirdly colored and patterned one teenage boys wear. Like some weird puce green and maroon stripped thing. It hurts Nate's eyes and soul.

4) Despite dressing like a greaser and a 19 year old college skater as well just styling their hair the same, Val went to cosmetology school. Did well in it. Their focus is in hair. Tina and Felix are the only ones who make use of their skills these days.

5) Their favorite films are the Rush Hour ones [to Adam's exasperation and fondness. Val is one step away from saying "Do you understand the words coming outta my mouth?" To the wrong person. It really is a miracle they haven't yet.] And they love anything Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew related -- well they haven't seen the CW show yet.

6) Val is allergic to latex. They found out yhe first time they tried a kiwi in middle school.

7) Val has phasmophobia. It isn't severe but yeah they have a fear of ghosts. Which is funny because they would sometimes follow conspiracy theorists on YouTube and stuff.

8) Surprisjng to most: Val is a big tea drinker. They don't hate coffee but it isn't something they seek. They have 0 tattoos. And only two piercings; they did to prefer black studs.

9) Nate and Val don't like each other. But they're doing better. They're so different. Nate TRIES, of course, but Nate is Nate. However, for Val -- has pushed too many buttons. Still they make an effort for the team.

10) ooc fact: Val is my shortest (5'1") and youngest (24 at start of book 1) detective. Val might be one of my shortest IF characters, period.

Hiyam Vinke

1) In another life, I could maybe see Hiyam doing something corporate. She gave a go at pre-law and they took business classes. (Her parents definitely would have preferred it) But music was always her heart. And she always wanted to see her name in lights. Maybe she could have been an entertainment lawyer but I don't think she would have been happy.

2) Hiyam has this ... lowkey obsession for anything with wings and a stronger one for anything that can fly. I don't even fully know why zjhshshe. I mean I do but -- It sounds weird because she is just so brash but I think sometimes she does feel a bit caged. Maybe it is expectations, maybe it is preconceptions. I will figure it out yhe more I ponder her, I'm sure. I'm not sure how much of it is actual people caging her or how she just sees things. [I kind of feel like it is a mix]

But when she and Seven broke up, she replaced Seven"s initials with a butterfly.

3) Hiyam is an acts of service kind of love/friend. Less in the 'makes breakfast for you' [though she might] and more in the you're stranded, half drunk, and don't want Orion to know. You know you can call Hiyam at 2am and she will show up. Some complaints but she will show up with water and a blanket. She is not yhe little things friend but she is there when needed.

4) Recently learned that Hiyam has a soft spot for Rowan. And she is more fond of her fans [as a whole] than expected.

5) She is 6'0".

6) She did ballet from kindergarten [maybe earlier) well into HS. It was one of the few things her parents consistently showed up for. But music needed her focus, so she gave up performing but she still occasionally practices [no one knows]

7) She used to play chess with Devyn before Orion showed. And of course read up on it because she was so bad. She couldn't stand losing and I think that was around yhe time she had to let ballet go, so in her mind she refused to "quit" on something else. But she never got into it into it until the crush peaked.

8) Hiyam has two dogs. A French Bulldog and a Rottweiler.

9) She has her tongue and belly button pierced, on top of her ears.

10) ooc fact: She is my one of two glasses wearer [Val being the other] and my only other smoker outside of Andy. [Gonna get more glasses folks]

Ty for the ask!!

[twilightangel83]

A Change in Perspective: Chapter 1

Aaah shoot. Meant to start posting this last week. I have 18 chapters of this already posted and I wanna put them all on here before I start updating next Friday. Welp. Get ready to start getting 2+ of these chapters a day I guess XD

Zuko wasn't sure what woke him. A slight noise on a ship that should be empty. He got up quickly and began making his way out of his room. It could be his uncle, returning early from his walk, but somehow he didn't think so.

"Uncle?" he called "Uncle is that you?" No response, but he wasn't really expecting one. His uncle generally took fairly long walks and he only left a very short while ago. He quickly jumped out of his room, ready for an attack. He didn't see anything so he started making his way through the ship, alert for any signs of an attack, but he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

By the time he reaches the control room of the ship he's starting to think he imagined things or that it had simply been the ship shifting on the water. Groaning quietly he rubbed the back of his head and gave one last look around, planning to head back to his room. But at the last moment, something caught his eye. Just outside one of his windows was a strangely familiar reptile-bird. He frowned as he tried to remember where he'd seen it from and just as it flew away it hit him. The pirates!

He didn't have time to think beyond that before an explosion rocked the boat and caused him to spin around towards the noise. From farther in the ship, flames rushed towards him and his eyes widened in fear. He barely had time to draw flames around himself as a pathetic attempt to protect him from the explosion before it hit and he was knocked flying through the window and out of his ship. A cry of pain and fear escaped him moments before he hit the icy water and everything went black.

Iroh hummed to himself as he made his way along. He knew Zuko was upset about his crew leaving with Zhao and couldn't blame him, but he also couldn't blame the crew. There hadn't been much of a choice unless they wanted to be branded traitors or deserters. Hopefully, Zuko would calm down soon and accept that. He put those thoughts aside for now and simply focused on taking in the sounds of nature around him.

His relaxing thoughts were suddenly interrupted when an explosion went off from behind him, hitting him with a blast of hot air. Alarmed, he spun around and his eyes widened in shocked horror. As the red glow lot up the sky, he knew with icy certainty what had blown up.

"ZUKO!" He barely realized he was yelling as he set off back towards the ship as fast as his old legs could carry him.

His hopes for finding his nephew alive quickly died as he drew closer and got a better view of the ship. The entire thing was burning with heavy flames. Zuko had been resting in his room. There was no way he could have survived this. His breath caught in his chest as he slowly sank to the ground.

"Zuko..." it was closer to a moan than anything else as he bowed his head. Why. Hadn't he lost enough? Was this his punishment for his actions as a general? But why punish his boys in his place? First Lu Ten and now Zuko. Both his boys were gone. Taken from him in their prime. Tears began leaking from his eyes as he bent over, halfway collapsing to the ground as sobs shook through him. Why hadn't he insisted Zuko come with him? Or at least stayed on the boat himself? He may not have been able to save his boy, but at least he would have died with him. Part of him told him he needed to get up and get away from the flames that were starting to catch on the dock, but the majority of him didn't care. Let the flames take him like they'd taken his son.

The first thing Zuko noticed as he came to was that he hurt all over. The second thing he noticed was that he was cold. 

Keep reading Here

[daidoruyume]

Chapter 7 Backstage

I was particularly excited for tonight’s concert. Important announcements! I needed to deliver it well for the fans. The girls were in the finishing touches with their make-ups, hairs and clothes, while I was ready. Kind of rushed it, but I was too excited. The last few days have been a little… tough. My sentimentality taking over my reasoning. All of those past adventures were too risky, I felt. It was like I was pushing it too hard… or, maybe, that I wasn’t pushing it enough. I still didn’t know. What a dilemma. 

 It was soon time to appear on stage, and although I was pretty confident, I still wondered… would she be there? Would I be able to concentrate? My mind felt blank for a few seconds, but it eased soon. I couldn’t do it just for her, there were many people who wanted me to perform well tonight. Myself included. I needed to do it for Miyuu, too.

 The first three songs went well, I was calmer than expected. Then, it was the MC. Something drew me to her, who I had spotted as soon as I entered the stage. I couldn’t help it, I wanted to know more about her. I kept looking at her, as if there was nowhere else to look at. I even forgot for a minute who I was. I felt like I wasn’t anything but hers. 

 My sister came next to me and gave me a hug, which took me out of that seemingly hopeless state. I was able to continue my work, but every once in a while, I’d look at her. I’d think of her every second. No matter how I tried to fool myself, she was the reason I was doing that. I needed to do it for her. I needed her to notice me. Why was I still so hesitant.. Why couldn’t I come clean and tell her I wanted to talk? Why couldn’t I go after her? I was afraid of so many things… I wanted her to love the real me… I wanted her to remember me. Being an idol was what brought us close, and yet… I didn’t want her to see me as only that.

 The concert ended sooner than I expected, and I felt my blood boiling from within. I was excited to hold her hands, and talk to her… my own secret wishes kept bothering me. I wished I could take her, run away with her… would she follow me? Maybe her idol, but… but what about this silly, small part of me? Would she do anything for that, too? I waited for her, though, but she never came. 

 The meet and greet ended, and I felt really sad. Did she forget to buy the tickets? Did she not want to see me? Was she struggling with money? I didn’t know what it was, and it saddened me so much. No one knew about this, so I tried to remain calm and just told them I was tired. The girls were going to celebrate the success of our concert, but I just felt like crying until my worries eased.

 I had changed and was about to leave, when I accidentally hit my hand and I saw a little blood. I searched for band-aids in my purse, but I had none, so I went after the staff to help me. They told me to enter a specific room, and so I did.