#yes i am including every element on the table

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 2

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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn’t.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You finish your cocktail before you go into the concert hall. Roxie grabs a third and you pass, not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom. Besides, you don’t really like the way the vodka stirs in your stomach and little behind your eyes.

The band is decent. You don’t know any of the songs and only vaguely heard of the artist they are a tribute to. Still, you enjoy the live show; you focus on their instruments and how they use them. You always wanted to be musical but never had a sense of tone or melody.

By the end of the set, you’re yawning. Your sister is on her fourth drink and you can’t tell if she’s swaying to the music or if it’s more than that. As the rows empty, you shuffle out with the rest of the concert goers. The bright lights of the casino greet your squint and your ears pulse slightly from the noise of the strumming and crashing show.

“Mm, so, what’d’ya say?” Your sister makes almost every word into one, “how do we spend this?”

She fishes out the chip and you give a sheepish frown. You almost forgot about it. You still think you should turn it in. You don’t feel right spending someone else’s money. You do that often enough, much too old to be living off your mom.

“Don’t be boring,” she warns, “jeez. It’s just cards. Odds are, whoever dropped it, would’ve lost it to the house anyway.”

She claps her hand around your shoulder. You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan to check the time. It’s after ten! You haven’t been out that late since... ever.

“I’m not boring,” you cross your arms and shrug her off. “I just... am different than you.”

“Boring,” she repeats. “You can’t spend all day in your room.”

Yes, you can. And you do.

You don’t argue. When she’s like this, it’s only bound to become a scene. There are too many strangers around for that.

“Black jack,” she declares and spins the coin. It slips from her grasp and falls between her feet. She bends over shamelessly in her dress to pluck it up. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

She struts ahead and you shuffle after her, nervously wringing the strap of your purse. Hopefully she loses it quickly and you can just retreat home in defeat. You catch up to her as she reaches the stairs. She giggles as she leans on the railing and you take her other arm, trying to support her wobbly steps.

“Want another drink?” She asks.

“No, think we’re good.”

“We?” She scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“Please, Rox, let’s just find a table,” you peek around as her voice rises a bit louder than you like.

“Pfft, fine, but if I win, I'm getting a drink.”

You nod. Go along to get along. That’s what your mother always told you when it came to your sister. She’s more like your father than she cares to admit.

You get to a table and she sits easily on the high seat of the tall stool. She lays down the single chip and the dealer offers to break it into smaller ones. She nods and shrugs. You envy how smoothly she just breezes through things.

You stand behind her. You don’t want to take up a seat and the stool is too much of a climb for you. You can see it wobbling as you attempt to hitch yourself up with the crossbar. You’re good, you shouldn’t get comfortable.

You listen to the shuffle of cards as your sister murmurs something you can’t make out. You can only hear the low drone of voices as you stand back. You sidle out of the way as a man claims the empty stool beside your sister. He buys in and another hand is dealt. Hasn’t she lost yet?

The man leans into your sister and you grimace. She turns her head to listen to him and she giggles. Your cheeks blaze hotly and you cross your arms and rock. Neither seem to notice you as they get closer and closer.

As the game progresses, you can only really make out what the dealer says; the different numbers that have grumbles coming from other players. You bring your hand up to pick at the button on your cardigan. The man puts his arm around your sister’s back, his hand on her hip as wiggles in her seat coyly. What about Tom?

You peer around awkwardly. Do you stop her? Remind her of the boyfriend that got her the tickets for tonight? You bounce in your flats and pause as you find someone else staring back at you. Or are they? Just as quickly as your eyes meet, the stranger’s eyes flit away and he’s back to chatting with another man. It’s the very same man who gave you the chip. Maybe her forgot you. That’s not a surprise.

You return your attention to your sister. The man has moved his arm between them and your sister squirms. You watch his elbow as he pulls his hand back. He’s touching her leg. She’s wiggling and suddenly, she shoves him away and screeches.

“EH! I got a boyfriend, perv! I said stop.”

Her voice carries along the high ceilings and you cringe. You back up, cowering away as she stands and the stool teeters dangerously. She fists her hand and you think for a moment she might just hit the guy. He scoffs and turns in his seat.

“Babe, just wanted to buy you a drink.”

“Whatever. You fucking creep!” She hollers.

“Ma’am,” the dealer calls from the table, “is there a problem?”

“Y-yeah,” she hiccups, “this dude had his hand up my skirt.”

“She’s drunk,” the man shakes his head, “listen to her.”

“I’m--” your sister’s denial catches in her throat, “doesn’t mean he can just touch me.”

“Ma’am, if you’re drunk, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m fine. I'm not that...” She slides off the stool and stands, grabbing the chips in front of her seat and tossing them across the table. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

Her ankles tangle as she spins and she barely gets her balance before she storms away. Her strides are uneven as she bobbles drunkenly. You watch after her with wide eyes before you follow. She leads you into the bathrooms as she growls and grumbles. She slams into a stall and you stand outside.

You wait until she comes out. She’s quieter and her eyes are hazy. She washes her hands and applies a new coat of lip gloss.

“What a bust,” she pouts and rolls her eyes, “one more drink and we’ll go.”

“Maybe we should just leave now.”

“That guy was such a pervert,” she sneers at you, “you saw where his hand was.”

You nod, “yeah, I did...”

“So, you know I wasn’t being dramatic.”

“Yeah, but... everyone heard.”

“Oh fuck off,” she pushes your shoulder and stomps past you.

You feel bad. It’s not that she shouldn’t defend herself. You admire that she can, but she didn’t need to be so obnoxious. You trail after her into the casino. She heads directly for the bar. You hang your head and wait behind her. This time, she doesn’t offer you a drink. She’s mad at you now so it’s the silent treatment.

“Honey,” another man approaches, “how about I get that for you?”

“Huh?” She babbles, “oh, sure, baby, that’s sweet.”

The man offers his card to the bartender and orders a highball. He leans his arm on the tall bar top as he faces your sister. She bats her lashes at him and giggles as she pulls her drink closer.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asks.

You blink. It’s like you’re not even there. You watch awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow you up. Instead, you find an empty stool one seat away.

“Roxie,” she answers as you struggle up onto the seat. “And you, handsome?”

“Sam,” he returns, “what’re you drinking then?”

You notice him touch her glass along the brim but can’t see much else around your sister. She replies and his own drink is served. You shrink down and sigh. She’ll get her free drink and then you can just leave. You hope. You hold your chin as you dread another scene.

“Can I get ya something?” The bartender approaches.

“Er, water, please,” you choke out. He seems disappointed but gets you a glass.

You try not to overhear your sister and that man. It’s awkward and you hate this. It’s not the first time she’s done it either. The few times she’s brought you along, you’ve somehow become a third wheel. It reminds you of when you were kids and your mom forced her to take you with her somewhere. She doesn’t actually want you around, she’s genetically obligated.

“Woah, baby, you okay?” The man raises his voice and your sister’s body slumps. Shoot. No.

You barely get off the stool as the man clings to her drooping body. She giggles wildly as you tweak your ankle and rush over. That man, Sam he called himself, seems somewhat calm given the situation.

“Slow down, babe,” he chortles, “Jesus.”

She’s drunk. You knew she shouldn’t have had another drink. Your eyes meet Sam’s and he squints.

“You know her?”

“My sister,” you murmur.

“Oh, right, well...” he clears his throat and looks around, “you can take care of her then.”

“Wait--” you barely keep her up as she leans on you as she’s almost sideways on the stool.

He’s just leaving you? What the heck? You guess if he can’t get anything out of her, she isn’t worth the effort.

You sniff and struggle to slide your sister down to her feet. She’s heavier than you expect and her height makes her difficult to balance. You glance over as the bartender nears.

“Everything okay?” He asks sternly.

“We’re leaving,” you assure him, “sorry.”

“Five minutes,” he taps his watch face, “or I call security.”

You nod and move your arm around your sister’s back, “please, Rox, gotta work with me.”

She laughs again, “hey, where’d that cute guy go?”

“Please,” you beg again, “don’t...”

“Oh, hi,” she touches your faces and squeezes your cheeks, “baby sister.”

You hate when she’s like this. She’s always been a drinker, ever since high school when her friends would sneak out bottle from their parents’ stash. What was once an act of rebellion as a teen is now concerning as an adult.

“Excuse me, everything okay?” The timbre makes your heart drop and you nearly let go of Roxie as she leans in the other direction.

You look up. Oh god. It’s him. That dark-haired man in his expensive suit.

“I’m just... we’re on our way out--”

“She alright?” He points at your sister.

“Tipsy,” you utter.

“I see,” he pushes his hair back as it slips forward, “can I help?”

“Uh, you don’t--”

Before you can answer, he has your sister’s other arm. He almost lifts her entire weight off of you as he supports her against his shoulder. Your entire body is emblazoned in humiliation. You refuse to look above the floor as you’re certain you must have an audience.

You get your sister across the floor and into a hallway. There's an exit sign ahead but you're all turned around. The man stops you and Roxie.

"Where'd you park?" He asks, "this leads to Lot 5."

"Oh, uh..." you blanch. You hadn't thought of any of that. You slouch under Roxie's weight and try to see around her. "I'm not sure but... I don't drive. She was supposed to."

"Ah," he clucks, "and now she can't."

"Right," you agree glumly, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He asks.

"I didn't think... I let her--"

"Did you let her drink or did she make that choice knowing she was supposed to get behind a wheel?" He challenges.

"I guess... yeah. Sorry."

"Really, doll, no need to keep going on like that," he dismisses, "well, it's late and I can't in good conscience let you wander out with her like this. Especially if you don't have a way home."

"I could..." you begin. A taxi? You'd have to ask your mom to pay the driver when you get home. "Why would you... care?"

"Well, as the owner of this establishment, it won't look good on me if two pretty girls left and went missing," he chuckles then stops himself, "sorry, that's not funny. I just... we overserved your sister obviously so it's on us."

"Owner?" You gulp. You didn't think this could be any more humiliating.

"Bucky," he reaches around you sister.

You hesitate. You can't shake his hand properly as yours is around your sister so you just sorta grab his hand briefly and squeeze two fingers, retracting with another raze of embarrasment. You barely squeak out your name.

He repeats your name before he continues, "I'll get you two a room so she can sober up."

"What? No. That's... too much."

"It's late," he insists, "here," he pulls Roxie away from you as her head lolls and she snorts. He lifts her against his chest, carrying her easily. "I know a back way, just follow my lead, doll."

"Ummmmm," you drone and he waltzes back the way he came, hardly detered by the drunken body in his arms. You can only kick yourself and scramble after him. This night could not have ended any worse. Well, you guess it could if it went the way he suggested.

[oneshotnewbie]

Cult Victim

Criminal Minds x Reader

Summary: Supervisory Special Agent Y/n y/l/n, FBI profiler at the BAU specializing in tracking down and understanding serial killers and criminal cults. Brotherhood of Silence that aims to rid society of "unworthy" elements by spreading chaos and fear. They believe in ritual purification through terror. Leader Lucien Kane, a charismatic but deeply disturbed woman, sees herself as the "savior" who must free humanity from its sins. The Brotherhood is made up of fanatical followers who all came to the group through personal tragedy or mental disorders. They operate in secret and are willing to do anything to achieve their goals.

You are on the trail of the Brotherhood of Silence after investigating a series of brutal murders marked by ritual symbols and cryptic messages. Lucien Kane sees you not only as a threat to her group and her beliefs, but also as a chosen one who is to be led to a higher understanding through suffering and enlightenment. She believes that once you are "cleansed," you are the one who can carry on her legacy.

⚠️Trigger Warning for the whole series⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of blood, kidnapping, torture, sacrifice, depression, needles, injections, drugs, and those plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sound of the whirring computers in the FBI's operations center was almost soothing in its steadiness. Screens flickered with data and video feeds as you stood near a large, interactive screen. Your eyes were glued to the details of a particularly gruesome series of murders that had dominated the headlines in recent months. You were determined to find the perpetrators and bring them to justice.

Since the Brotherhood of Silence had come into your sights, you had barely been able to sleep. Your nights were spent poring over reports and reviewing and comparing old case files. Above your desk in the study of your apartment hung photos of the victims and maps with marked locations where the Brotherhood had struck. The lines with red thread between the various crime scenes formed a web of violence and terror. A web you couldn't wait to break.

Every detail you found, every tiny clue, drew you deeper into the darkness. The case had become more than just a professional challenge - it had become a personal mission that you pursued even after the rest of the team had long since finished work. You were sure that you were close to discovering a pattern, finding a flaw that would finally expose the cult.

"Y/n, have you seen the latest reports on the Brotherhood of Silence?" Spencer asked as he approached you cautiously with a stack of files in his hand so as not to startle you. You nodded and took one of the files. "Yes, I've looked through them. Their methods are becoming more violent."

Reid sat down at one of the desks and began to sift through the data. "There are indications that they are operating near Quantico. We must pull out all the stops to find them."

You sank into a chair across from him and studied the information. As you spoke, Reid noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the tension in your face. You were working harder than anyone else on the team on this case, and while your dedication was admirable, he was worried about you. He shared a look with JJ, who had also noticed that you seemed exhausted.

"Y/n, maybe you should take a break, hmm?" she suggested carefully, looking at you from her position at Reid's table. "You've been working through the last few nights. We all need to be in top form if we want to catch them."

You shook your head and looked up at her, worry reflecting in her eyes. "I can't. It's like I'm so close to finding something. These people are dangerous, and the longer we wait, the more innocent lives are in danger."

Tara, who had heard the exchange, also moved closer to you and placed an arm on your shoulder, playing with the soft lengths of your hair. "We know you mean business, sweetheart. But you're not alone. We're a team, and we can do this together."

You looked into the faces of your colleagues, recognized the concern, but also the determination in them. You knew you could rely on them, but the inner restlessness did not leave you alone.  The case had become embedded in your mind, a puzzle that you were constantly trying to solve.

"I know," you said finally, your voice light but still rock solid. "But something tells me that we are close to making a breakthrough. I can't ignore this and go home."

Emily stepped up, her presence calming and authoritative at the same time. "We will solve this case, y/n. But we have to make sure that we all do it healthily. Take some time for yourself this evening, that's an order."

You knew that she meant well, and you forced yourself to nod and fake a smile that did not reach your eyes. Inside, the desire to confront the Brotherhood burned like a blazing fire. You had vowed to solve this case, no matter what it cost.

But as you went through the data during your conversations, you did not notice the slight but targeted intrusions into the system. The Brotherhood had hooked their fingers deep into the FBI's digital networks, and they had only one target: you.

The Brotherhood of Silence had long operated in the shadows. Their leader, Lucien Kane, was watching events unfold from a secret hideout - one of many. Kidnapping you had become a central focus of her new plan. Your determination, intelligence and willingness to take risks made you a potential threat to them, but also a possible ally in their eyes - if she managed to break your will.

Their location was dimly lit, the windows draped with heavy curtains to keep out any daylight. An antique dark wood table stood in the center, scattered with plans, notes, and a single computer, its screen reflecting the bluish light of the command center.

Lucien Kane stood at the table with calm composure as she looked at Adrian, her most loyal follower and the technical genius of her followers. Adrian was a pale man with restless eyes that constantly moved as if they could reshape the world around him. He had infiltrated the FBI's network, hacked the communications channels, and gained access to the confidential systems without raising a warning.

"Do we have access?" Lucien asked, her voice light and velvety, imbued with an inner calm more sinister than any anger.

Adrian nodded, a fleeting smile crossing his lips as he appreciated the complexity of his work. "Yes, everything is set up. The surveillance has been bypassed, the security protocols are not activated. We have access to her communications. They will have no idea it's us.“

She leaned back, relaxed, as she folded her hands together. She enjoyed the view of the upcoming move. "Very good. It is important that Agent y/l/nis isolated before she understands what is happening. She is the key player, and her kidnapping will throw the rest of the squad into disarray."

Adrian looked at Lucien with a hint of admiration. "Her tenacity is impressive. She does not let up, even though we are always one step ahead of them." The woman next to him smiled, a cold, calculating smile that never reached her eyes. "That is why she must be taken out of the game. But we must not underestimate her abilities. We must lure her out with the utmost precision and skill. Have you prepared the message?"

"Yes, it's ready. The message will be sent from Emily's communication channel while she is being led astray by us with the team. She will not suspect anything. The need for discretion to protect her superior's supposed informant will cause her to go alone."

Lucien went to the window, where she looked out for a moment as if she could already see the world she wanted to reshape. "And what about the rest of the team?"

Adrian typed some commands into his laptop as he spoke. "I have prepared a disruption in their communication network. It will cost them valuable time before they realize that something is wrong. Agent y/l/n will already be in your hands before they understand it."

Lucien nodded in satisfaction, her thoughts already running at full speed. "Excellent. Once she's here, I'll receive her personally, so be gentle with her. She'll see that we're not just a simple enemy, but a force that can change the system from the ground up."

"Do you think you can convince her to join us?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice. "She has a strong mentality."

"Everyone has their price, Adrian. Everyone can be convinced and every mentality can be weakened if you just know which lever to use," she replied before turning away and leaving the room to make the final preparations for your arrival.

ᕚ---ᕘ

It was late afternoon when you were putting up the latest information and victims on the whiteboard in the conference room. The walls were already covered with photos of the victims and crime scene photos that documented the crime spree, but there were still little places to put something up.

The sounds of the office surrounded you when your cell phone vibrated on the table and caught your attention. It was an urgent one from Emily, who was currently out with the entire team, except Reid and you, on a trail that could create a breakthrough in this case. Your eyes narrowed as you read the instructions.

It was an urgent tip that supposedly came from a high-ranking informant in a remote industrial area north of Quantico. The instructions were clear and precise: go there alone to minimize the risk of the informant being exposed and not to put him in danger.

You read the message several times, your brow furrowed as your heart rate increased. The opportunity to make a break in the case was too tempting to ignore. Although it was unusual for Emily to send you alone, the security protocols and codes in the message were correct. You felt a mixture of excitement and caution, but your determination prevailed.

Before you left, you made a quick note and ran downstairs to inform Reid curtly that you were following up on a lead. "I'll be right back, I need to check something," you said as you grabbed your jacket.

Reid looked up from his computer and nodded, his eyes on you full of concern. "What leads?" he asked, and you paused in your position for a moment. "Prentiss asked me to look into something."

"Be careful, y/n. If you need assistance, call me. Stay on the radio   Garcia and I can hear you and send over backup if anything goes wrong." he spoke fully, smiling at you, still tapping away at his keyboard. "What can go wrong?" you replied with a smile. But inside, you had a sinking feeling as you left the building and headed towards the industrial area.

The industrial area was abandoned, a collection of old factories and dilapidated warehouses reclaimed by nature. The sky was overcast, and an ominous wind swept through the empty streets as you parked your car and got out.

Your hand rested steadily on your holster, a sort of safety as you cautiously entered the site. It was silent, save for the occasional creak of metal in the wind. The buildings seemed to have fallen from another time, their facades crumbling and shards of glass scattered on the ground.

You felt the cold creep into your bones as you followed the instructions in the message and walked to a specific building half-covered by ivy. The door was ajar. You paid attention to every sound, every shadow hiding in the corners. A claustrophobic feeling settled over you, as if the walls of the old warehouses were getting closer the deeper you walked into it.

"This is Special Agent l/n," you said into your radio to reassure Reid. "I'm at the specified location. Checking the area." There was silence. No answer. Your heart began to beat faster. "Headquarters, request confirmation of radio signal to the BAU."

No answer.

You drew your weapon and stepped inside. Your footsteps echoed through the deserted hall and the feeling of oppression grew stronger. You felt that something was wrong, but there was no way back. The darkness was almost tangible and the faint light that fell through the broken windows cast ghostly shadows on the walls. The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust that muffled your footsteps and increased the feeling of complete isolation. Cobwebs hung everywhere like curtains, blocking the way to unknown depths.

As you went deeper into the halls, you noticed that the air was stale, as if it had been trapped in the walls for years. A foul smell of decay and rust hung in the air, sharpening your senses and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You knew you were not alone, that eyes were on you, even if you could see no sign of life.

You activated the flashlight on your body armor, the beam of light flickering across the walls, offering glimpses of the dilapidated facility. Old machines stood like lost monuments, witnesses to an industrial past long forgotten. The thought that people once worked and lived here was hard to imagine.

A soft scratching sounded behind you and you whirled around, weapon drawn. But there was nothing there, just the wind whistling through the cracks, bringing the buildings to life. Your breathing was shallow, and you forced yourself to remain calm. This was a trap, you knew that by now. But the question was: Why did Emily bring you here?

With every step you took deeper into the building, the feeling of threat grew more intense. Your instincts screamed at you that something was wrong, but there was no turning back. You had to find out what was going on, had to understand why your boss had brought you here.

Suddenly you heard a quiet but determined sound behind you. It wasn't wind, not the creaking of the old building. It was the sound of footsteps moving toward you. "Agent y/l/n to headquarters. This is-"

Before you could continue speaking, you were grabbed from behind. Strong arms held you tight, and a syringe found its way through the thin skin of your neck and into your veins.

You struggled, kicking and shooting into the air, but the numbness set in quickly. Your senses began to blur and you could only perceive blurred movements and muffled sounds around you. "We got her," a male voice spoke triumphantly into a phone as he tied you up, the other end of the call on speaker. "Take her to the hideout. She'll have to understand that she's part of something bigger now."

It was the only thing you noticed before your limbs became heavier, your weapon slipped from your hand and a feeling of helplessness overcame you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The day was drawing to a close and the team returned to headquarters, exhausted from a long mission. The lead they had set out to and worked on had fizzled out and frustration hung in the air as they entered the building. But the frustration was quickly interrupted by an unsettling feeling.

Spencer Reid, the young genius of the team, stood at the radio station, where a flood of messages usually came in, but today there was a strange silence. Panic rose in him as he hit on the equipment, trying to make contact.

"Y/n, come on... answer me," Reid screamed, more to himself than to the others, as he frantically scanned the frequencies. But all he heard was static. His hands shook slightly as he checked the radio channel again, hoping it was just a technical glitch.

At that moment, the rest of the team entered the room. JJ, Tara, Rossi, Luke and Emily immediately noticed Spencer's worried face and the silence that permeated the room. "Reid, what's going on?" Emily asked with a worried undertone in his voice.

Reid looked up, his eyes full of unmistakable concern. "Y/n is gone. She hasn't checked in on the radio yet, and all I've got so far is static."

Emily frowned and stepped closer. "What do you mean 'gone'? She should be here with you."

"After you left, she said she was following up on a lead," he explained hastily, pulling out his phone to call you. "She got a message from you, Emily. She was supposed to meet with one of your informants, alone."

The person addressed froze in her position, her usual authority gone as she shook her head. "I didn't send her a message. I never wanted her to leave without backup.“

The atmosphere in the room became tense as the team members realized that something had gone seriously wrong. A hint of panic hung in the air as they began to consider the possible consequences. The concern for you, which had appeared so suddenly and without warning, drove them on.

At that moment, Garcia, the team's IT specialist, stormed into the room with a worried look on her face. Her normally cheerful and colorful demeanor had given way to a serious look. "We have a big problem," she began, placing a laptop on the table and sharing the screen with the group.

"I've detected irregularities in the network," she explained, typing quickly to check the security logs. "It looks like the FBI has been hacked. Someone has infiltrated our communication channels and may have tampered with everything sent or received today."

Realization struck like a bolt of lightning, and everyone in the room's eyes widened in horror. "That means the message to y/n was a trap," JJ muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Damn it! We have to find her, and fast," Morgan said, his hands clenching into fists. "We have no idea who did it or what they plan to do with her."

Emily took command, her voice calm but firm. "Okay, we need to mobilize all resources. Garcia, check every lead we have. Luke and Rossi, double check the last known locations from her phone. Tara, JJ, I want all available teams ready. We can't waste any time.“

Concern for you brought the team back together, determination burning in their souls. They knew that the Brotherhood of Silence had probably made a significant move and had you in their custody.

Garcia worked feverishly on her laptop as she collected data and analyzed the lines of communication. "I'll scour everything we have. Something has to lead us to y/n."

Reid went through your last known movements, his sharp memory searching for clues he might have missed. "Your car is equipped with a GPS tracker. If we find the signal, we can pinpoint her last location."

Tara and JJ began briefing the other teams while they planned the next steps with Emily. Everyone was focused, their concern for you drove them, and they knew they would do anything to bring you back.

The clock was ticking and the Brotherhood of Silence had a disturbing lead. The enemy was well prepared, and the tracks were carefully covered.

Meanwhile, you were held in a dark room, far from any help. The cold floor pressed against your skin. You were alone, and without contact with the outside world or your team. The way back would be dangerous and full of terror. But you were not one to give up easily.

The game had begun.

When you came to, you were lying on the cold floor of a darkened room. The air was stuffy and heavy, and your thoughts were in chaos. Your hands were tied, your legs immobile. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim light.

Lucien Kane stood before you, enveloped in an aura of eerie serenity. Her eyes sparkled coldly, and a smile played around her lips that did not bode well. "Welcome, Agent y/l/n," she said in a voice that sounded like velvety darkness, intimidating and threatening. "I hope your journey here was not too uncomfortable."

You tried to sit up, but your limbs were still weak. "What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice firm even though your heart was beating on your tongue. Lucien walked leisurely around you, as if she were guarding a trophy. "You are an extraordinary woman, y/n. Your skills, your willingness to take risks - you are a threat to us. But I also see the potential that lies dormant within you."

"Potential?" you asked, trying to organize your thoughts and find a way out. "You kidnap me and talk about potential? You are insane."

Lucien Kane laughed softly, a sound that echoed. "Maybe. But in today's world, you have to be insane to change things. The Brotherhood of Silence is more than just a group. We are a movement, a vision for a new order.

You felt the anger rising within you. A warming fire in the cold of the room. "Your vision is nothing but terror and murder. You believe you are above the law, but my team and I will hunt you down and put an end to this bullshit."

Lucien leaned closer, her face inches from yours. "The law is weak. It serves those who control it, not those who suffer under it. The choice is yours, y/n. You can become part of something greater or perish fighting us."

You returned her gaze with an iron determination and no fear whatsoever. "I will never be one of them. Your world is a lie, built on fear and destruction."

Lucien straightened up, a hint of regret and menace in her eyes. "Then I fear your time here will be very painful."

She signaled to a guy in the corner who approached with a syringe in his hand. You knew what was coming, but refused to panic. Instead, you looked for a spark of hope, a way to escape as the needle neared your skin again.

"We won't break you, but we will make you join us," she whispered to you as the anesthetic flowed into your veins. "You can take my freedom, but not my will, Kane."

Lucien watched as your eyelids grew heavy and you sank into the darkness. "We'll see, y/n. We'll see."

[felassan]

Some more info on the Mass Effect board game, from co-designer Calvin:

"Hi all, Calvin here, co-designer of the game. I've gathered all the frequently asked questions on social media and bgg and gathered them into some answers for you. Feel free to ask more questions if yours is not answered, and if I can answer it I will. I will be updating this as more information about the game becomes available. Release info - The release date is (hopefully) November depending on the gods of shipping - Price is confirmed, the game will be $50/£40 - The team is currently working on translation deals for 9 or so languages. More details soon. - For info on pre-orders go to https://www.modiphius.net/pages/mass-effect-signup - There are currently no plans for a collector’s edition vs standard edition - It is not crowdfunded, the game is direct to retail - "If you'd like to support the game right now, there's nothing better than going into your local FLGS and asking them if they'll stock the game when it comes out. With the vast amount of great games coming out every week, retailers rely on fans asking about the game. This helps them gauge how much to buy, the more people ask, the more buzz they know there is, the more confident they are to buy enough and the more likely there's one waiting for you on the shelf when you go in :-) That feeds up the chain; the more retailers ask their sales reps at Asmodee, the more Asmodee goes, "Oh wait, let's order more, so we have enough for all the shops". Plot - The game is set on the planet Hagalaz, early during the events of Mass Effect 3 - The players are tasked with investigating a crashed Cerberus research cruiser which could have info that contributes to War Readiness and could help stop the Reapers - The game is designed so people who have never played Mass Effect can still enjoy it. Eric hasn't played the games as much as I did so he got to do what he calls “the meathead test” on all the theming and story. - We worked with Bioware on all the plot and theming. - Yes you can do calibrations in this game Basic game info - Co-operative squad tactics - 1-4 players - Included are six 32mm minis, masc Shep, fem Shep, Liara, Garrus, Tali, and Wrex - Not many other components to keep price and complexity low - 45 minute missions - 3-5 missions per campaign - Branching paragon/renegade choices + sidequests - Enough missions to replay the campaign several times without repeats - Solo play is really fun, in fact I like all the player counts equally, which is something I’m very proud that we were able to achieve in this game - Solo play is basically multi-handing, you control more than one character. - There is no legacy aspect, the game is fully resettable - There will be new original art"

[character limit text break]

"Gameplay info - Low rules complexity, but with lots of tactical depth. We aimed for an audience of Mass Effect fans who might not know anything about board games. Board gamers should still find something to enjoy if they’re into co-op tactics. - A group that just wants to turn their brain off and blast through the game should have an easy time - But a group who wants to get the best endings, complete all the sidequests, get all the level ups will have to min-max pretty heavily - The game has relatively low randomness. Planning, prediction, and preparation are very important to avoid bad outcomes - but there’s still enough randomness to avoid AP as players try to plan out perfect turns. - Important gameplay elements include positioning and combo-ing abilities with other players. - There is a tactical map. - Players will level up their characters by performing in game actions and learn new abilities. - We got all 6 Shepard classes in there. It is one of the things I am very proud of doing. - Re: alpha gamers, Eric and I do not believe it is the designer’s job to solve for jerks at your gaming table. Obviously we have designed the game so that every player has something to contribute and there’s plenty of info so that it’s hard to track. But we also recommend having adult conversations with your table partners. Interviews/Behind The Scenes Beyond Solitaire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-nLGDt97i4 Topics: how we designed the game and implemented the narrative UKGE promo copy https://twitter.com/Modiphius/status/1796844231018811782/" Post last updated August 8th

[source]

New original art 👀

[mafuluzx]

I have ZERO idea if you write for ninjago DR characters but can I request a poly relationship between m!reader, cole, and geo...like reader and cole asking geo if they want to be in a relationship with them..I just think that their relationship would be so sweet😔😔

I seriously owe you an apology, because I honestly think it's been a year since this was requested... I am so sorry I took so long. I promise from now on to jump in to requests faster (Don't make me regret this future me)

Anyways, yes I do include Dragons Rising characters too! I really got to think with this one, since it's a completely new subject for me, and well, I don't think it turned out very well. I don't know a thing about polyamorous relationships, so don't expect too much from me, please.

Cole x Geo x male reader oneshot!

Takes place in Dragons Rising s1.

The Sweetest

Geo was setting the table with their new set of tableware that someone had very conveniently lost. Though each and every porcelain plate and cup were either chipped or just plain broken, Geo had fixed them all tight away.

Though the place had always been Geo's, Bonzel's and the kids' 'home', (y/n)'s and Cole's sudden appearance was very welcome.

The kids liked them, Bonzel seemed indifferent, but Geo had told the two ninja how Bonzel was a lot more talkative than before, and that was saying a lot.

"Geo seems eager today." Cole started a conversation with (y/n), whom he was currently making soup with.

"Yeah, he's been helping me around a lot lately." (y/n) admitted, not shifting his eyes away from the pot of soup he was stirring. Cole put an arm around around his boyfriend's shoulder, then continued speaking.

"Have you noticed?" He asked, eyeing Geo for a second.

"Noticed what? That he likes you?" (y/n) questioned casually, almost too casually.

"No, no. Geo like's- wait, what?" Cole seemed to realize what (y/n) had said, and stopped mid sentence.

(y/n), looking a bit annoyed, stopped stirring the soup and turned around to face Cole.

"Of course you didn't realize." (y/n) huffed quietly, "But you shouldn't leave him hanging like that. He's an amazing person, I really like his company, so I don't want you to hurt him."

Cole blinked in confusion for a moment, then finally opened his mouth to speak again. "No... he likes you."

"Ahahaa, Cole, I'm not joking." (y/n) let out as Cole threw his arms up in the air.

"I'm not joking either!" His slightly raised caught Geo's attention from the other side of the room.

"Is everything alright?" Geo called out, and quickly the two ninja turned to him with hasty smiles on their faces.

"Yeah! Don't worry about it!" "Yes, nothing's wrong!"

Geo gave the two a confused look, but turned back to his task in the end.

"..." "..." The two ninja quieted down, turning away from Geo while making a mental note to keep their voices down.

"So..." Cole started, "What are we supposed to do? Turn him down?"

(y/n)'s face paled, and at first it looked like he was going to nod, but then he let out a sigh, as if he was giving up on something.

"Cole, I... I don't mean to sound like this, but..." (y/n) hesitated to speak. "I don't think I can." (y/n) gave Cole a look that spoke a million words.

Cole once again placed a hand on (y/n)'s shoulder, and smiled. "And you don't have to."

. . .

After the meal, while Bonzel, was watching over the kids, Geo, (y/n) and Cole were left to clean up. As Geo was already collecting dishes from the table, (y/n) and Cole glanced at each other.

"Hey, Geo," (y/n) spoke up, shifting in his seat. "Can we talk for a second?"

Geo paused, stopping in place. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

"Please, sit." (y/n) motioned to Geo's seat, and the Elemental Master sat down almost immediately.

Cole leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "We've been thinking… about us. About you."

Geo blinked, his usual calm demeanor faltering just slightly. "Me?"

(y/n) hesitated, then smiled warmly. "We care about you, Geo. More than just as a friend. And if you feel the same… we'd really like you to be a part of this. With us." (y/n) showed what he meant by gripping Cole's hand tightly, before offering the other towards Geo.

For a moment, Geo just stared, processing (y/n)'s words. His fingers tightened slightly around the plate he was holding, and then, slowly and cautiously, he set it down and exhaled, a rare and genuine smile creeping onto his face.

"I… would like that," he admitted softly, and cautiously took (y/n)'s hand.

Cole grinned. "Good, 'cause I'm not gonna let you say no and brake two hearts here."

(y/n) laughed, and Geo chuckled. The three ended up cleaning up a little faster than usual, and even the most unpleasant tasks didn't seem that bad.

[shads-shipposts]

"Anachronism" Prologue Rough Draft +LORE✨

Remember how I mentioned that the chapters prior to this would only leave you more confused as to wtf was going on? Well, the prologue is now finished and is being posted.

The background of Anachronism is this: back in 2015 I attempted to rewrite a 2014 RP that included the Tintin sailors (which is my first fanfic ever). True Colors was the name. It was never finished, instead transitioning halfway through into an original fic where the sailors got new names/designs/backstories as they were changed into ocs. The Karaboudjan would become the Caroline, but Scarlett was already a self-insert so her initial character remains (though she's changed quite a bit). Both the original fics and the 2015 are scrubbed from the internet, though I do believe one of you followers actually read that 2014 one when it was on Deviant Art. I am so sorry you had to witness that 😬.

Jump to late 2017-early 2018, the first hints of Anachronism were forming. It wouldn't be until 2019-2020 New Years that I started it in earnest. The story follows myself (yes, I get "isekai'd") as I end up in the same timeline as that 2015 fic. Originally it was the 2014 fic but I really don't want to deal with certain elements of that mess. Anyway, that Anachronism kinda started collecting dust as my Bad Batch hyperfixation hit and Adventures!AU was born. That series takes place after Anachronism, but Anachronism was never posted.

Well, 4+ years, three and a half books, and 500k+ words later I am finally starting to post snippets to curse the world lol. Schedule-wise, Anachronism won't premiere in full until 2029 most likely, as Adventures!AU is still my main project. But I miss the Karaboudjan crew, and my hyperfixation is strong for them rn so I'm posting and working on chapters.

All that to say buckle up, this fic gets wild. Magic elements are minimal in this fic, but they still be there.

Enjoy! :D Feedback is most welcome, I'm still figuring out the characterizations for the fellas as it's been a while since I really wrote heavily with them (Bad Batch has claimed most of my time).

CW: Mild horror elements

1872 words

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

“Scared, Allan?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here after he closed his eyes. It’d been months since the incident that gave rise to the event playing over and over again in his dreams, but time hadn’t dulled any of his emotions concerning the event.

“I must say, your fear scent is… unique. Fishy and tart.”

 Confusion, horror, shock, disbelief.

“Don’t worry your little head there. I respect you and, strange as it may seem, I do find the need to fear you.”

Yes, fear there too.

“Funny ain’t it?”

And who wouldn’t be scared?

“An Alphian fearin’ a human.”

When they were faced with an alien of unknown magical abilities?

“Don’t see that every day.”

The scene wobbled and fizzled at the edges, like staring at a reflection on the surface of a stormy sea. The secrets surrounding the scene trapped deep in its depths, unreachable even if one tried their hardest to grasp the answers.

Allan Thompson walked through the scene, removed from his own actions as if he were just on autopilot. He couldn’t change the scene, no more than someone watching a reel on a screen.

He sat at the table, across from the half-human, half animal woman that watched him like a hawk. Dark stripes cut through her skin like thick shadows across a moonlit patch in the woods, a black and white tail flicked behind her, and piercing eyes the color of glaciers scanned him inside and out. She was a head shorter than him, yet power radiated off her like heat from an open flame.

His voice reached his ears, muted and distant.

His own and yet… not, in a way.

“Kid… I’m sorry about Turtle.”

The alien looked up at him, the furry ears on the sides of her head flattened against ginger hair.

“Thanks, man.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted to the side, as if searching for any other threats.

He knew it was a dream. Knew what was about to happen.

It did not ease the churning of his stomach.

“Actually,” she continued, mouth moving but voice coming from the very walls surrounding them. “I kinda wanted to ask you about something related to that.”

Allan knew what was coming. Knew what she was going to ask.

Knew how badly it would go, how swiftly the scene would turn dangerous.

But he was helpless to do anything but follow the script. Follow the events as they unfolded.

Eyes on her hands, waiting to see those thorn sharp claws, Allan again heard his voice from far away.

“Aye?”

He wished he could change course. Wished he could prevent what came next. Perhaps, if he could, then things would be different.

But no.

“Let me go after that short slaver with the dark brown hair. I want his head for orderin’ me to kill Turtle.”

There it was. The request that shattered everything. The request that would leave Allan with gaps in his memory that no amount of pondering or searching could ever fix.

He felt the shock course through his body, felt his spine stiffen and his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry…” he heard himself say. “But I can’t allow that.”

Ears shot up, a tail bristled, sharp teeth bared, and anger blazed in those icy eyes.

“What?”

If only he could alter his words. Explain more, explain better.

Save himself.

If only.

“I can’t allow you to kill him.”

He had dreams. He had nightmares.

This hell was something else entirely.

Pupils narrowed to slits across from him, jagged scars streaking down the table as wicked claws dug into the old wood.

“Is that your final answer?”

There was red now, deep in those eyes.

He could only watch, silently scream in his head as he fought with all his might to change the memory.

“Aye, I refuse to let you go after him.”

Futile. The scene would play out as it had many nights before this one.

The woman stood, ears low and tail lashing.

“Whose side are you on, Allan? Huh? The slavers?” A snarl curled her lip, the temperature around them plummeting as ice snaked out from her hands across the table. “How disappointin’.”

The edges of the scene corrupted, bleeding red and black.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to run. Wanted to hide.

Hide from the devastation bearing down on him like a hurricane at sea.

But there was no refuge. No escape.

“There will be another time to kill him.”

He had to witness the event that would alter his fate.

Words came faster now, a distorted echo to them that sent chills down his spine.

“But I heard the other slavers talkin’! He’s goin’ on patrol tonight! I can’t pass up this opportunity to claim revenge for what he did.”

“Look, kid. I said no, and that’s final.”

“Nobody’s gonna stand in my way. Not even you. Stand down now, Allan. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He got up.

Walked over.

“I told you no, kid! That’s an order!”

“Give it up, Allan. I’m doin’ this my way. I’m killin’ him tonight and you can’t stop me. Don’t even try to.”

He got close.

Too close.

It was over fast. She winded him with a headbutt, driving him back into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. He didn’t even have a chance to rise to his feet, weight pinning him to the floor. A rag clamped over his mouth and nose, drowning the world in a sickly-sweet haze.

 Darkness followed swiftly after, a growl echoing in his ears.

“You brought this on yourself. Sweet dreams.”

And those were the last words he ever heard from Scarlett Hyde.

Allan sat up in his bed with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down his face as he fought for breath.

Was that her now, hiding in the dark corner?

He flicked on the light, fingers struggling to grasp the knob.

Nothing, just his trenchcoat.

It was too hot. Too stifling.

Air.

He needed air!

Staggering to the porthole, he yanked it open and welcomed the sharp chill that rushed in. Allan leaned against the wall, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath and sooth his racing heart.

After that fight, any and all memory of the Alphian ceased. He couldn’t even recall what happened once he woke up. Because they sure as hell didn’t go from being overrun by slavers to being back at their home port without any sign there was even a hostile force occupying the ship.

Only one man had memories of Scarlett that went past Allan’s; Tom.

His friend and trusty right-hand man. The closest person to Scarlett on the ship prior to her mysterious disappearance.

Allan hoped he could have shed some light on Scarlett. Maybe Scarlett somehow drove off all the slavers after knocking Allan out, accessing some type of beast mode or something. She was an alien, and could shapeshift, so it wasn’t entirely implausible.

But no.

Tom’s last memory of her was Scarlett heading off the ship into the woods. Tom had gone after her, only to find himself face to face with the same slaver Scarlett was after. The slaver attacked him, but Scarlett showed up in some animal form and attacked the slaver. She won the fight but was stabbed in the process. Tom tried dragging her back to the ship after she shifted back to that half-human form, but then his memory too went dark.    

That was it. The trail ended. Went cold. With no hope of recovering the fractal memories.

Maybe Scarlett was around longer, and had some alien way of wiping their memories. Why, then, did he have any memory of her at all? If she truly aimed to wipe all memory of her existence, he should have forgotten her in totality.

Instead he was left with only partial memories and no explanation that could even remotely make sense of the event.

Every port they stopped at, every contact he knew, he asked. When Scarlett Hyde rang no bells, he tried the false name she gave at first; Ice Shadow. Still nothing.

He tried her description, her species, her family, everything.

Nothing.

As if neither she nor her species even existed in the first place.

A knock sounded on his door, and Allan turned away from the window to stare at the clock by his bed.

05:00 am.

His port watch wasn’t due for another few hours, so it couldn’t have been someone calling him for that.

“Al?”

Tom. What was he doing up this early?

Passing through his dayroom, Allan opened the door and found Tom looking almost as disheveled as himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tom rubbed his arm. “It… happened again.”

Allan’s eyes widened. “Scarlett.”

Tom nodded.

Allan stood to the side to let him in. “You too, huh?”

Tom straightened, looking slightly more alert as he sat on the couch in Allan’s dayroom. “Same dream?”

“What other dream would it be?” Allan growled.

Tom wasn’t put off by his tone, but then again he never was. “What are the odds, huh?” he said in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, a weak smile accompanying the joke.

Allan wasn’t amused. “Real funny.” He leaned on the table, pushing his hair back. “This is the fifth time in two weeks,” he growled. “I do not need this. We got that proud peacock prancin’ ‘round like he owns the damn ship, orderin’ us to and fro like damn dogs. I don’t need this headache on top of it.”

“At least the captain ain’t givin’ us any issues.”

“Don’t think that old man would notice if I scuttled the damn ship,” Allan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Probably not.” Tom tilted his head. “Don’t think the dreams mean anythin’, do ya?”

“Concurrent dreams about an alien that we both know had the power to alter dreams?” Allan said. “It’s fishy.”

“Think she’s comin’ back?”

Allan shrugged tiredly. “Hell, Tom, I don’t know.” He glared in the direction of the door. “At least Sakharine’s finally tracked down the second ship. Then we can be back at sea, and I’ll have other things to keep my mind on.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to have that guy off.” Tom shuddered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Allan stretched. “Guess I may as well get coffee, not like I’m gettin’ any more shuteye today. Want some?”

Tom nodded, stretching too. “Won’t say no.” He shuddered. “Anythin’ to keep awake after that nightmare.”

Allan understood his hesitation with going back to sleep. Tom’s dream was far worse than his, with the man being hunted down in dark woods by a slaver bent on murder. Scarlett’s animal form wasn’t exactly comforting either, Tom describing it as a large tiger-looking beast with saber teeth that was a third again the size of a normal tiger.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Maybe the cooks have somethin’ already.”

Tom nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

As Tom left, and Allan headed back to his room, the first mate mumbled under his breath.

“I really hope it was just coincidence.” He punched the door open. “Because I cannot deal with anything else.”

[panzerkatzee]

Update - Squirrel Brains, Meds and Magic

Sooo... where were we? Ah yes... life update, because writing stuff helps me process things and writing just for me feels kinda pointless.

CW: Mention of ADHD Meds, dependence on meds, medication withdrawal

So I just came out of a very weird phase.. like extra weird. Why you ask? Well.... after having teeth surgery on the twelfth of December, I deemed it a splendid idea to just.. carry my heavily regulated ADHD medication in my backpack.. and for a reason yet unknown and hopefully as meneial as... it fell from my pack and is lost somehwere in my room, I lost it. As it is heavily regulated and my psychiatrist deems it a "non essential" drug for me to cope, I spent the last nine days without it.

Which was... better than anticipated, yet still shit af.

I tried my best... and I had only one really bad day, luckily the rest were filled with Christmas stuff and my family being surprisingly supportive. Also.. I gave in to the temptation and installed Conan Exiles once more... my one biggest addiction ever. It might have been a very stupid choice or a decent one as it did help me to cope and is without consequence at the moment.

It also provided me with the chance to reconnect to some old friends I met while playing the game, which is exceptionally nice... and discover all the great new cosmetics the modders included soo double yay.

Luckily, yesterday I managed to get my prescription renewed from my doctors christmas substitute and as of today, I am back on the meds. It is... a fucking relief. Because I can finally sort through my thoughts, cope with sensations and centre myself once more. Something I struggle with a lot, when off meds.

Sometimes it becomes really hard to string together a complete sentence and the inability to do so... is excruciating for me.

Also it's absolutely essential from real self regulation. I did notice, even off the meds I had a better time at clamping down on my impulsivity.. but of all the intractions I had over the last nine days, the only one that didn't completely stress me out, was that with my best friend yesterday, where I knew I didn't have to mask (as much).

I even managed to meet my daily writing goal today, which is a nice bonus. Not that I am specifically working on any projects right now, but I actually started working on a fantasy story two days before my meds went out... and I plan on continuing on it.

It combines a character from a previous story, I started as a self-care project during NaNoWriMo with a world I started to create more than... 12 years ago.

It is a new take on the story I had actually planned, and we'll see how it turns out!

A small snippet for you, should you be curious now..~

Fjinna swore, she would shit herself any moment. Ever since sitting down at her table, the shrewd eyes of her newest opponent, had not left her. Pale, glinting like the Northern Peaks at sunrise and cold as the Eternal Glaciers, these eyes bore into her like darts thrown from a decisive hand. They did not stare, no, they seemed to flit about, but never so far that the fairhaired girl left their field of vision. By now, the avid dice player of interest was suspecting the reason for the sudden appearance. When the lady in the run down gown had sat down, she had been knees deep immersed in time-magic, profiting of the fact, that here in the Lower Rungs, no one knew shit about real magic. Only the crude Elementalism, the Legion practiced, and as Fjin wasn't trying to blow, burn, wash or push the dice, they had no idea, how she was actually manipulating the game. Looking at the glimpses of future, to know how the dice would fall. Something she did every other round, so the other players or the dice boy, wouldn't get suspicious. The woman couldn’t have been drawn by her stark white hair, now neatly tucked beneath a slightly rumpled but rather realistic wig, marking her as a daughter of the Emerald Banks, instead of the Isenfjrode. Especially paired with the pallid skin and assortment of freckles dusting her cheeks. The rest of her was as unremarkable as they come… rancid coat, rancid shirt and a pair of very nice breeches, she nabbed during one of her travels topside during the last dead night. When the moon wasn’t peering down with her baleful glare. So instead of fretting further, she fixed the woman in her best “This city shat me out so better don’t mess with me, asshole!”- stares and asked in the rough, slightly deeper voice she had picked up in this place: “Do I ‘ave sum’thin’ on me face or do we ‘ave a prublem Missy?” A thinly plucked eyebrow rose at the Sludge drawl and her head cocked ever so slightly. “No, not at all, your face is quite… pristine. Or at least in this environment I would call it that.” She scoffed, while noting her guess. The hairs on Fjinnas neck immediately stood on end. Magic… close. It was an effort not to gape at the woman, something she wouldn’t have managed, before coming here. That bitch… Her eyes quickly moved to her opponents hair, black, not too dark. Her eyes… they were… was she? “Ohh look at that… it seems like… great minds do think alike.” The lady chimed, really pushing the topside dialect she spoke in, eyes still on Fjinna. “I wonder, what else they could.. come up with..” Some of the other players now looked about them, confused, some brows were raised. “Cash out…” she hurriedly blurted, when she felt the tug. Not on her body or her mind… but on her soul. That stinging, ripping HE had been so proficient at, as the Eshari across from her tried to subdue her magic, chain her very soul.

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

Quadruple drabble for day one of Flufftober!

Prompt: "I've got you."

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

Rating: General

Characters: Jack O'Neill, Charlie O'Neill

Summary:

A moment in time between a father and so

____________________________Got You________________________________

Jack looked around with a slight frown. He was standing in the front hall, the living room on one side, the kitchen ahead of him, the stairs on the other side. It all seemed empty, but he knew better than that.

He shifted his feet slightly, continuing forward lightly and silently. He needed the element of surprise on his side for this. Luckily, as a soldier, Jack knew exactly how to be silent.

He crept down the hall, bypassing the living room because there were too many places for someone to hide and jump out. An ambush wasn't in his plans, if he could help it.

Jack made it to the kitchen and quickly scanned the room. There was no one there. There weren't any places to hide, except under the table, which was empty. He turned to go when one of the lower cabinets suddenly flew open and a little blur shot out, tackling into Jack's legs.

"I've got you." Charlie declared, clinging to Jack's legs tightly, lightly unbalancing him. "I've got you, Daddy! You're it!"

Jack laughed and let himself gently fall to the floor with Charlie still clinging to him. Giggling, Charlie leapt into his arms and Jack caught him, laughing.

"Yes, I am." he said, hugging Charlie and ruffling his hair.

The four-year-old loved playing a combination of hide-and-seek and tag. Jack was more than willing to indulge his son when he wanted to play.

Jack wasn't around as much he would have liked, being in the military, but he tried to make up for it every day he was home with Charlie. Including playing whatever games his son wanted.

It meant a lot, though he didn't think that Charlie knew or understood. All he knew was that Daddy was home, playing with him. When he had his ow n children, he would know just how important this was. It was very important to Jack, something he would remember in the years to come. Something he intended to hold on to for the rest of his life.

That in mind, Jack kissed Charlie's head.

"Daddy!"

He released Charlie, setting him on his feet and giving him a nudge as he sat up.

"Go on. I'll give you a head start." he said.

"Okay! Count to ten, Daddy!"

Charlie ran away laughing, Jack obeyed before getting up, chasing after his son with a laugh of his own.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

You probably already got this, buttt I'm at season 10 of the show rn and there's that episode where Carol has that weird dream about waking up, going into the kitchen where Daryl is cooking, and then Henry appears, okay. I've seen a lot of people being like "the fact that Carol is dreaming about Daryl and not Ezekiel definitely means something" bla bla. And then there was also the "let's go to New Mexico together" thing, which was probably only Carol trying to forget/heal about the whole Henry thing. And lastly I think it was 9x16, Ezekiel says to Daryl that he should go on his way to give him and Carol some time alone, or something like that. I still am not 100% sure why he said that, but some people were saying he was jealous? Idk, anyway, what are your thoughts?

Well, let me start by saying none of these instances remotely suggests a Carol/Daryl romantic relationship. I have to shake my head that certain ships claim that about every one of the situations you mentioned. It just goes to show that they're not *actually* paying attention to what's happening in the show that closely.

Each of these situations is so much more nuanced and complex than simply, "oh, maybe Daryl and Carol will finally have sex." 🙄🙄🙄

But let's take them one at a time. And I'm going to work backwards from the last one.

Ezekiel asking Daryl to step away is most definitely Zeke trying to win Carol back, but it has nothing to do with jealously. Yes, both are possible at the same time. Zeke pretty much says he knows there's nothing romantic between Daryl and Carol. It's just that they're best friends and Carol is leaning on a Daryl a lot in the wake of Henry's death. Zeke is thinking that, if Daryl isn't there for her to lean on, she'll lean on him, Zeke, instead, and maybe that will help him win her back. So again, there are so many nuances there that have absolutely nothing to do with a jealous-fueled love triangle.

Similarly, I do 100% believe that the talk of New Mexico was Carol trying to run away from her pain around Henry's death. Carol is notorious for running away from her problems, rather than facing or working through them. And again, neither Daryl nor Carol are awkward teenagers who might propose something like this as a cover for secretly having a crush and wanting to spend more time with one another. That's just not who either of these characters are. To suggest that's what's going on is doing both characters a disservice, showing that you have no idea who they actually are, quite frankly, downplaying Carol's motherly pain over losing a child violently in an extremely insensitive way.

Furthermore, notice how often when the writers are trying to show that something WON'T happen between Daryl and Carol, they use comedy to do it? There was the "wanna make out" line from 3x01, just moments before Daryl--very seriously--started staring at Beth while she sang. They did something similar about the friendship bracelets right after the New Mexico talk. And even in Find Me, they used mild comedy when Carol was catching the fish. And would you look at that: Daryl had an affair with someone else. Not Carol. I'm just mentioning.

Finally, there's the dream from Ghosts. We've actually done a lot of analyzing of this dream, and it's meaning still evades us somewhat. It's so obscure and complex--which is exactly what the writers intended, I'm sure--that it's hard to pin down. But to say that her dreaming of Daryl rather than Zeke is an indication of romantic feelings is just so simple minded.

Am I the only one who thinks that Carol having a romantic dream about Daryl that includes her dead son, who was recently beheaded, sitting at the table, would be profoundly twisted and disturbing? I don't think I am, but a certain ship seems to be just fine with that being the case.

Again, they're clearly not paying attention to what's going on. There are so many intriguing elements to that dream that we have sat and puzzled over. The fact that he mentions buying jam (peanut butter and jelly are a Beth symbol). The compass rose on Henry's shirt (has been an important symbol since at least S4). The fact that Carol's watch is missing it's clock hands (grandfather clock in still that says, "time escapes"). And that's just off the top of my head. There are problably ten other important symbols we've discussed at one time or another. Other people are completely ignoring all these things, but I promise you they're put in purposefully by the writers to foreshadow something we don't entirely understand, yet.

And this is exactly why I have zero problem with Carol showing up for S2 of the Daryl spinoff. Carol has more story to tell that the writers haven't given us, yet. I still don't know exactly what the dream means, but I think it's foreshadowing things that haven't been paid off, yet. I also think Carol hasn't entirely healed emotionally from Henry's death, yet. Not that you ever completely get over the loss of a child. Of course not. But perhaps helping Daryl protect Laurant or--gasp!--helping reunite him with Beth would go a long way toward healing her wounds. And once she's in a better place emotionally, I have no doubt she'll go straight back to the man she's truly in love with: Ezekiel.

Anyway. This has turned into quite the ramble, hasn't it? I don't know if any of this is helpful, but I hope it gives you some things to think about.

Just keep in mind that when certain ships reduce particular scenes in the show to daytime soap opera seduction fantasies, and then freak out and say the writers are disrespecting them when it doesn't literally happen, they're ignoring the beautiful, complex nuances the TWD writers put into these character arcs. Then they scream at those same writers for not dumbing down their story to make it cheap, high school drama. I think it's a damn shame.

And then there was Bethyl. *sigh*

Thanks so much for the question, Nonny! Xoxo! ☀️🔥😘

[theotherackerman]

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, A Song of Ice and Fire

NOTES: Okay I’m posting this and immediately going to start the next chapter...you’ll see why.....

Chapter Six:  All These Minutes Passing

The secret that Levi wanted to marry Mikasa to Eren lasted all of three sunrises.

Carla had found the letter in the study and immediately had said yes. She had taken to writing Levi and telling him as much. From there, a plan was devised. They would see how Mikasa and Eren acted, then go from there. But there were to be no other marriage offers entertained for either of the two. 

Dina and Carla immediately began scheming on how to make sure Eren and Mikasa spent time together. 

The Ackermans’ supplies arrived at the keep three days before the Ackermans themselves arrived. 

The tourney would happen two days after the Ackermans arrived. Grisha planned the actual tournament while Dina and Carla planned the events to accompany it. 

One included a night of dancing. It was hoped that Mikasa and Eren would find some time to be together during that. Somehow. 

Yet every time anyone brought up Mikasa, Eren either ignored it or changed the subject. 

It did not bode well for their plans. 

—---------

“Lykirī,” Mikasa commanded Kayda. 

“This is terrifying. What if she decides she doesn’t like us and eats us?” Sasha asked as the dragon looked from around Mikasa to Sasha. 

“She’s not going to eat you. She ate earlier this morning. She’s not hungry,” Mikasa reassured Sasha. 

Kayda would be carrying Sasha, Annie, and Mikasa to King’s Landing today. The dragon was finally big enough to do so. Previously, if Sasha and Annie accompanied Mikasa anywhere, they either had to be sent ahead or arrive after her. 

“It’s just like riding a horse,” Mikasa said as she climbed up on Kayda’s back. 

“A horse that can eat us and toast us for dinner,” Annie muttered as she climbed up after Mikasa. 

Sasha nervously followed Annie and climbed up after her. 

“Kayda, Sōvēs!”Mikasa commanded. 

The dragon shot into the sky.

Screams from Sasha and Annie could be heard all around the Ackerman castle. 

—--------------------------------------------

Eren ate breakfast with his friends fairly regularly. He didn’t like being seated at the high table. His parents didn’t seem to care which angered some of the nobles. Yet they were angry when Eren did sit at the high table. The nobles were rarely happy with Eren. 

“Are you competing?” Reiner asked Pieck. 

“I’m helping Zeke. I’d compete but I’d hate to make Jean boy cry again,” Pieck smirked.

“If you don’t stop calling me that….” Jean trailed off. 

The relationship between Eren and Jean was still strained. Neither of them spoke to one another and avoided each other when they were training. 

“You’ll what?” Pieck challenged him. “We’ve had this fight before. It ends with you on your back and not in a fun way.” 

“Will the two of you just fuck already?” Porco groaned.

“Hey! My little brother is here,” Colt insisted, pointing to Falco who was on the other side of him.

“I know what fucking is, Colt. I’m not a child. I won’t be a squire much longer, you know,” Falco spoke up. 

“Neither will I,” Gabi beamed. “I expect I’ll be knighted after I place higher than you, Falco.” 

“That’s not how that works and you know it,” Falco muttered before stabbing the meat on his plate. 

“What about you, Bertolt?” Reiner asked.

“I don’t want to fuck Jean either,” Bertolt answered. 

The whole table laughed, including Eren. 

“Sorry, Jean,” Connie said between laughing. 

“You all are hilarious. Maybe you should see if the king needs a new jester,” Jean muttered under his breath. 

“They could have said worse,” Armin shrugged. 

“Who all is entering the tourney?” Marcel asked, changing the subject back. “Beside Eren, obviously.” 

“I’m not,” Armin answered. “I’m still trying to get Hange to take the captain position. No need to bring any more attention to myself.” 

“I am,” Gabi replied. 

“As am I,” Falco spoke up. 

“I am, of course, for no other reason than to pick the most beautiful woman to be my queen of love and beauty,” Connie grinned. 

“So your mother?” Jean teased. 

“No, I thought I’d pick yours,” Connie snorted.

Ignoring them, Reiner spoke up, “I’m hoping to jost against Zeke.” 

“We will be entering,” Marcel said, pointing at himself and his brother. 

“Lord Ackerman is competing. I want to face off against him,” Colt said. “I want to see if he’s as good as they say.” 

“Zeke wants to face off with him as well,” Pieck replied. “I’m going to enjoy the mead and sweets they’re bringing in. Bertolt, what about you?” 

“I am as well. My father is coming. I hope to make him proud,” Bertolt replied. 

“So everyone but Pieck and Armin then?” Eren asked.

“Seems like it,” Jean muttered. 

The table scattered into other conversations. 

Jean had just realized Eren was sitting across from him. They had both tried to avoid each other when possible. Jean decided he should finally break the strangeness between them. Eren had tried to when they were in the North but Jean had pushed Eren away. 

“Are you going to ask her for her favor?” Jean asked Eren.

“No, it seems best if I leave her alone,” Eren looked down at his plate.

“You should ask her,” Jean reassured him. “She doesn’t give a shit about titles. I could tell that from her. Who cares what the others think? Wouldn’t it be a disservice to both her and you for not pursuing something that could be good?” 

Eren looked up, “I won’t stain her.” 

Jean never knew how much Eren must hate himself. He had never heard him speak like that. There was something going on that Jean did not know about, that much was clear. 

“Fine. But don’t get mad when she ends up married to someone else. It will not be me but someone sooner or later will pursue her. Do you want to feel that loss for the rest of your life?” 

Eren didn’t answer. 

—---

Zeke’s chambers were more neat than his brother’s. His bookcases were filled with exclusive books he had stolen from the palace library. Hange had taken to using his desk lately as they looked up information. Pieck sat on the chaise next to Zeke, her legs folded under her. 

“The symbol is a war hammer,” Hange said as they sat the book in front of Zeke and Pieck. 

There, sure enough, was the sigil of the Tyburs. The war hammer looked as if it was made out of ice. 

“They say back in the tales of old, the Tyburs had a war hammer that could control ice. Some interpretations say they could control the Others,” Hange explained. 

Pieck raised an eyebrow, “the Others? You mean that ghost story my father used to tell me is real?” 

Hange shrugged, “I’m not sure. If it is, the only thing that can kill them is dragon fire, weapons made by dragon fire, or valyrian steel.” 

“That’s what the weapons and jewelry Kenny gave us are made out of. Does that….what’s going on?” Zeke asked. 

“Assuming my thinking that the sigils have to do with magic, I would say that the Tyburs can control the Others,” Hange explained. 

“But we don’t know that the sigils mean anything. My family’s sigil is a cart. I can’t turn into a cart,” Pieck scoffed. 

“No, your magic would probably have something to do with the earth. It’s not all literal.” 

“Have you found any proof that skinchangers or wargs are real?”  Zeke asked. He tried not to give away the fact that he very well might have been one. 

“No. I don’t have any proof unicorns are real either before you ask. Though they were sighted in the forests of the North. Next time you go there, I’d like to come along,” Hange said before picking the book up and heading back to Zeke’s desk. 

“I would like to come along as well,” Pieck told him. 

“Yes, yes,” Zeke said as he waved his hand and stood up. 

Pieck leaned back into the chaise and stretched her legs out. “You know if it is true, does that mean Jean can turn into a fish? If so, I have another thing to tease him about.” 

Zeke rolled his eyes, “you need to stop torturing the poor man. He’s had enough of it from Eren.” 

“Never. He’s my arch nemesis.” 

“Now I’m agreeing with Porco. The two of you should just fuck,” Zeke repleid as he walked over to Hange, reading over their shoulder. 

Pieck rolled her eyes before chucking one of the throw pillows at the back of Zeke’s head. 

Vivica jumped up and caught the pillow before it hit Zeke in the head. 

“Thank you, Vivica,” Zeke patted the wolf on the head. 

Vivica barked. 

—---------------------

The time had finally come, the Ackermans were coming to the capitol. 

The dragon pit was a special building that was right next to the castle. It was where the dragons stayed while the Ackermans were in the capitol. It had been built during the war as a gift from Grisha to show how much he appreciated the Ackermans. 

Eren hadn’t spent much time there. He was walking over to it to be there with the rest of the family to greet Levi and Mikasa once they landed. 

Jean was his guard today. 

“Don’t be…” Jean gestured to Eren as they walked, “well you.” 

Eren rolled his eyes. “What does that even mean?” 

“I mean be nice to her. I know you’re on this whole martyr act going for you but it’s bullshit. The Princess has done nothing wrong.”

“You called me a bastard. You know what will happen if she is around me. Besides, I caused her nothing but pain.” 

“I called you a bastard because you were acting like…..”

“A bastard?” 

“You know what I mean. It has nothing to do with your birth. You should know I do not care about that. I thought we were better friends than that,” Jean confessed. 

“We are. I just….look. It does not matter. I’m going to keep my distance from her. I will just cause her more pain.”

“You’re as stubborn as an ass,” Jean muttered as they walked up to the rest of the royal family. 

The outside gates had been secured earlier in the morning but Armin was making sure they stayed closed. No small folk would be allowed into the castle during the stay of the Ackermans. 

Grisha had Hange and Porco at his side while Dina had Pieck and Bertolt. Reiner and Colt were with Carla. Their squires were elsewhere. Zeke stood with Marcel. 

A roar sounded in the distance.

Before anyone could react, a giant shadow was cast. It circled around the keep. 

“Is that Seaflames?” Porco asked. 

“It is,” Zeke said as he marveled at the dragon.

“Is  Lady Kuchel coming to stay with us as well?” Eren asked. 

“No, she came in case Kayda grew tired of carrying the Princess and her ladies,” Carla explained. 

Seaflames let out another roar that shook the ground before it was echoed by the other two dragons, who could be seen flying in the distance.

Seaflames cleared the castle as the other two came into view. 

Vulcan and Levi landed first. 

The earth shook as the dragon’s feet touched the ground. 

Vulcan let out a roar. 

“Lykirī!” Levi commanded. “Rȳbās!”

The dragon stilled. 

“Sorry, your grace. Vulcan is a bit cranky this morning,” Levi said from on top of the dragon. 

“Of course, he must be tired. Guards, open the gate to the dragon pit!” Grisha called. 

The guards opened the iron gate. Vulcan walked through. 

Eren hadn’t even noticed that Mikasa had landed inside the gate of the dragon pit until Eren walked through. Annie was holding on to Mikasa while Sasha was holding on to Annie. There was a saddle on Kayda’s back, different from the time Eren had ridden the dragon with no staddle. 

Kayda noticed Eren and snorted smoke in his direction. 

“Lykirī,” Mikasa commanded as she pulled on the silver chain that seems to serve as the reins of the dragon.

Eren looked away, towards Levi. He noticed Vulcan also had a saddle and reins on it. 

The doors to the dragon pit were carved with dragon imagery. He had never noticed that before. 

Vulcan began to go inside, followed by Kayda. The royal family followed the dragons inside.

The dragon pit was filled with plants, flowers everywhere one looked. Trees were even planted there. It reminded Eren of the garden that he had danced with Mikasa in. 

Mikasa’s ladies were the first to dismount. Both seemed relieved to be off the dragon. Mikasa, however, had not gotten off of Kayda. 

Levi jumped down off of Vulcan then began removing the dragon’s saddle and reins. 

“How did you ladies enjoy your first dragon ride?” Carla asked Sasha and Annie.

“It was certainly faster than the carriage,” Annie replied.

“I thought I was going to die. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it,” Sasha explained.

Carla and Dina laughed. 

Mikasa finally dismounted from her dragon. Kayda looked Eren’s way, the dragon almost seemed disappointed. 

Mikasa began to remove Kayda’s saddle and reins. 

Eren looked away from the princess. 

“Kayda won’t harm you,” Levi said, sneaking up on Eren. 

Eren looked at the head of the Ackerman household. “I didn’t think she would. Though I would understand if she did.” 

Levi raised an eyebrow at Eren.

Eren said nothing. 

—-----

The dragons were settled into the dragon pit. 

Mikasa, Sasha, and Annie had three rooms with a sitting room outside of it. It was to make their stay easier. The window looked directly over the dragon pit. They could see through the glass dome of the dragon pit and into it. 

Kayda had settled in easily enough. 

Mikasa felt a bit strange about the whole thing. 

Eren hadn’t greeted her, said anything to her. 

It hurt. 

“What are you going to do?” Mikasa asked Annie as Annie braided Mikasa’s hair. 

“Besides, stay away from Armin? Nothing. Though I suppose I’ll have to talk to him about joining up as soon as you get married,” Annie replied. 

“I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon.”

“Well maybe that will change once he sees you in this,” Sasha said as she placed a gold circlet on Mikasa’s head. There was a dragon on each side of the circlet and a ruby that hung down in the middle.

Mikasa looked into the mirror. “Did you make this?” 

Sasha nodded as she stood behind Mikasa. “It is the first of many crowns, tiaras, and circlets you will wear while we’re here.” 

“Did Levi ask you to?” 

Sasha shook her head, “no. I…this is what I’ve been working on. I know you’ll marry soon and I want you to have a piece of me even after that.” 

Mikasa stood and hugged Sasha. “You will always be a part of me. No matter what. I do not need a headpiece to remember you by.”  

Sasha blushed as she held onto Mikasa. 

“You’re going to mess up her dress,” Annie said as she straightened out the bottom of Mikasa’s dress. 

They pulled back with a laugh. 

“You speak as if you do not dread when she marries as well,” Sasha said. 

Annie rolled her eyes. 

There was a knock on the door in the sitting room. 

“I’ll get it!” Sasha said as she dashed from the room.  “Oh, it’s you.” 

Annie and Mikasa shared a look before they exited Mikasa’s room and walked into the sitting room. 

“You think you would have more respect for me,” Levi replied as he leaned in the doorway. “I need to talk to the Princess alone. You two should head down to the banquet hall. There are guards to escort you.” 

Mikasa’s ladies nodded before leaving Mikasa and Levi alone. 

There was silence for a moment before Levi spoke.

“You are marrying Eren.” 

“W..w..what?” Mikasa was in complete shock. She had told Levi everything that had happened days ago. She didn’t know how to feel about being betrothed to Eren. 

“He doesn’t know yet but the way Kayda reacted tells me he is the one.” 

Mikasa sat down on the chaise. “I think he hates me,” she confessed. 

“No. He doesn’t. He thinks he’s not good enough for you.” Levi sat on the chaise across from Mikasa. “That information I got from his brother. As annoying as he is, Zeke is a good person to get information from.” 

“So will it be announced at dinner then?” 

Levi shook his head, “no. Grisha does not even know I’m telling you. But I think you deserve to know. I wrote the letter the morning after I found you up in the middle of the night. Dragons know things, they see things the human eyes cannot. Come, let us go to dinner,” he said as he offered her his arm. 

Mikasa took it. They walked out together from the sitting room. There were guards waiting for them who escorted them to the banquet hall. 

“You should also know, the only reason he is worthy is because he doesn’t think he is,” Levi told her as they stood outside of the banquet hall. 

“PRESENTING LORD LEVI ACKERMAN, LORD OF THE NORTH AND PRINCESS MIKASA AZUMBITO ACKERMAN, HEIR TO THE NORTH, BLOOD OF THE DRAGON!” 

Mikasa looked over at Levi. She had not known that Levi had given her this title. He had waited for this moment when she was being announced to an entire banquet hall for her to find out. 

They walked to the front of the room, where Grisha, Dina, and Carla sat at a small table. 

“My king,” Levi said as he bowed. 

“Your grace,” Mikasa curtsied. 

“Yes, yes. We did this nonsense in the North. We don’t need to go through it again,” Grisha said as he waved his hand. “You must be starving. Go. Eat. Drink. Make merry.” 

Mikasa and Levi walked over to a circle table where Annie and Sasha were already seated.

“Lord Levi,” Zeke called.

There were two seats open, one between Zeke and some woman with long black hair. The other chair was between Eren and Zeke. Levi took the one between Zeke and the woman, leaving Mikasa to take the chair in between Eren and Zeke. 

Annie was staring at her plate, clearly not to look at Armin who was seated across from her. 

“I suppose it falls on me to introduce everyone,” Zeke said as he sat straighter in his chair. 

“Make the introductions short and sweet,” the woman on the other side of Levi said. 

“Well, that is the Lovely Lady Pieck Finger. She’s as much a Lady as I am,” Zeke smirked.

“Rude,” Pieck replied. 

“On the other side of her is Hange Zoe, last living member of House Zoe. They were good friends with Erwin and our current captain of the guard,” Zeke explained. 

“We’ve met in passing,” Hange said to Levi. “I’ve heard about you though.” 

“And I of you,” Levi said simply. 

“Next to them is Armin Arlert, I believe you met him when he came to the North,” Zeke said. 

Armin gave a small nod. 

“Then there’s Jean Kirstein over there, he also came to the north, and Connie Springer next to him.” 

“Wait, are you Lord and Lady Springer’s son?” Sasha asked as she sat up taller in her seat. 

“Yes, how do you know my parents?” Connie asked. 

“You don’t remember me?” Sasha asked, disappointed. 

“I am introducing everyone,” Zeke said, causing Connie and Sasha to stop their conversation. 

“Reiner Braun and Gabi Baun. The Galliard brothers, Marcel and Porco, Colt and Falco of House Grice. Bertolt Hoover, Annie Leonhart, Sasha Braus, and of course, my brother,” Zeke said as he finished naming off everyone at the table. “Now everyone knows everyone.” 

“Sasha? You look….different,” Connie said as he stared at her. 

“I don’t know if I’m to be insulted or not,” Sasha muttered.

“Oh this is going beautifully,” Zeke muttered before he picked up his wine glass. 

Mikasa looked over at Eren who was now looking down. One of the servants came by to fill Zeke’s wine glass after he took a drink. Mikasa picked up her own glass to find it empty. 

“Excuse me, could I have some as well?” 

The servant stared at her. “I’m sorry, Princess. We did not know where you would be seated otherwise..”

Mikasa raised her hand, “it is fine.”

“Keep an eye on her glass, she may need more if the night continues like this,” Zeke muttered under his breath as the servant filled Mikasa’s cup. 

Levi snorted a laugh. “I may start drinking as well.” 

There was an extremely awkward silence that was settling around the table. 

Plates of food were delivered. 

“Why is no one talking?” Gabi finally asked after everyone had been served. 

“They worry about offending the Princess,” Zeke said simply. 

“They don’t worry about offending you,” Gabi shrugged. 

The rest of the meal continued in that awkward silence that made Mikasa worry. Eren didn’t look at her once, she knew because she would look over at him. 

“Eren, why don’t you, Armin, and Jean escort the princess back to her room? I’d hate for her to get lost in such a large castle.” Zeke asked after Mikasa finished eating. 

“Me?” Eren said, speaking the first time.

“Yes, you. Her ladies have somewhere to be after dinner, right Levi?” Zeke asked. Eren may not have noticed as Mikasa was between them but Zeke kicked Levi in the leg.

Levi glared at Zeke as he spoke, “yes, we have a meeting.” 

“I’m sure Mikasa would not mind, isn’t that right?” 

All eyes were on Mikasa. “No, that is fine. Eren can walk me back if he wishes.” 

She prepared for him to say no. It wouldn’t be the first time he had rejected her, but she told herself that it would be the last. 

“Of course,” Eren’s voice was monotone. 

Mikasa and Eren rose, Jean and Armin shortly after. Eren and Mikasa exited the room, the other two trailing behind them. They gave Eren and Mikasa enough space to talk if they wanted to. 

Once they reached the staircase, Mikasa had given up hope that he was actually going to talk to her.

Every step they ascended, every step closer to her room Mikasa’s mood soured. 

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Mikasa’s hands balled into fists at her side. 

“Have I done something to offend you?” she asked as she came to a stop. 

“What?” Eren asked as he stopped but he did not turn around to face her. 

“Have I done something to offend you?” Mikasa repeated.

“No, not at all, Princess.”

She did not like the way he said Princess this time. 

It was flat.

 No sense of banter, no playfulness to it. 

It was just a word.

Mikasa shook her head before she began walking again. 

How was she supposed to marry someone who could not even seem to stand being around her? 

Eren was cold. 

But maybe this was the way he truly was.

Maybe this was the real Eren and the man she had met was nothing more than illusion. 

If she talked to Levi, told him how cold Eren was , he would end the betrothal.

The silence continued. Armin and Jean seemed to be muttering something behind her. 

Mikasa thought of what Kuchel, her mother, or even her aunt would do in this situation. It hit Mikasa that she had no idea what they would do. 

Kenny, however, would say something like it was a crock of shit that Eren wasn’t offended. 

Levi would first decimate Eren with words before setting to kick his ass. 

Neither of those approaches would work either. 

But avoiding this conversation didn’t seem to be the answer either. 

What kind of a man would ask a woman if she could ever want something more than a friend, if she would ever consider marriage, and then flee?

“You offended me,” Mikasa finally said as they reached her door. “You sprang a question on me that I was not prepared for, did not give me any time to think on it, and then fled my castle. That is an offense.” 

Eren stared at her. 

It was the first time all night he had really looked at her, green eyes meeting gray. 

Before Mikasa knew what she was saying, “I challenge you to a duel,” she blurted out. 

“Oh shit,” Jean muttered before realizing he had said it out loud. 

“You challenge me to a duel? I thought you weren’t allowed to fight,” Eren said as he raised an eyebrow. 

“I am not allowed to fight in the tournament. This is not for the tournament. This is for my honor,” Mikasa replied, standing a bit taller than she had before. 

“Your honor?” Eren repeated. 

“Do you deny doing such an offense? Shall we ask your guards?” Mikasa looked over at Eren and Jean.

“He did it. He fled that very morning, woke me up,” Armin spoke up. 

Eren glared at him. 

“Well, you did,” Jean added. “I think a duel is exactly what this calls for.” 

“I can’t duel you, you are heir to another land. It could lead to war between our lands. My father would disapprove,” Eren explained. 

“I think your father would disapprove of you offending me.”

“He would but I’m sorry, I cannot duel you. You’ve made it to your door. I will take my leave now,” Eren began to walk away.

Mikasa turned towards the door, defeated. 

“If you’re afraid, Eren, you could just say it,” Jean called to the Prince. “Your skills are pretty rusty. You couldn’t even beat a suckling babe anymore. Not to mention Princess Mikasa is considered to be the best fighter in the North. But you have caused her an offense, it is an act you must pay the price for.” 

Eren kept walking, not sparing a look back.

“It’s fine,” Mikasa muttered before walking inside of her room and locking the door behind her. She didn’t want to hear anymore. 

————————————-

Annie wasn’t wearing her skin again in this dream. 

She was in something much more graceful. 

Something with claws and teeth, sharper than 

She stalked up the mountain, through the forest there. 

She didn’t want to go North.

North…

There was something there. 

Something old. 

Something powerful.

Something that should have never survived. 

It lurked.

It waited.

—--------------------

The next morning was the first day of the tournament. 

Mikasa and her ladies had breakfast in the sitting room. Then Mikasa helped Annie and Sasha into their armor. 

“I am sure you probably should not be doing this,” Sasha muttered as Mikasa clicked the last piece of plate of armor on. 

“No one wants to watch you struggle with it,” Annie replied as she walked to the door. 

There were guards waiting, two that they didn’t know the name of. They were to show them to the field where it would be taking place. The woman filed out of the room and followed the guards through to the outside.

“Who are you going to name the king or queen of beauty if you win, Annie?” Sasha asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll win. I’ll lose the joust. I’m hoping I get knocked out of that competition before I have to face Levi,” Annie replied as she swung her helmet. 

“I just hope to win the archery contest,” Sasha smiled. “You will win the melee, Annie. There is no doubt about that.” 

Annie scoffed, “I don’t know. There are some of the best knights in the kingdom here.” 

“But you’re better,” Mikasa reassured her friend. “Make it quick when you do win. We already have to sit through five days of jousting and I’ll be stuck up in a box.” 

Annie laughed, “is Eren going to be there?” 

Mikasa shook her head, “He’s competing.” 

“Do you think he will ask for your favor?” Sasha asked.

Mikasa shook her head, “no. I don’t think so. I…I don’t know how much of the tourney I’m going to watch when you two are not competing.” 

The rejection from Eren hurt.

 She planned to tell Levi after the tournament that she could not marry Eren. He didn’t respect her and as much as she thought he saw her more than some princess, he had proven yet again that he just saw Mikasa as a princess, nothing more. 

“Did something else happen?” Annie asked, concerned. 

“Nothing that can’t wait until after the tourney is over,” Mikasa put on the face she was expected to have.

—-------------------

Eren would have jumped at the chance to duel Mikasa, to spend any time with her. He had wanted to train with her so badly. Last night, she had offered him the chance that he wanted. 

Instead, he turned her down. 

“Are you going to continue to act like a fool?” Zeke asked him as they trotted their horses out to the field where the area had been set. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Eren asked as he watched Fenrir and Vivica run in front of them. 

“It means I heard the Princess challenged you to a duel, you turned her down. You fled from the North. You barely speak to her. You are being a fool.” 

“I am being smart.” 

“No, you are not. You are hurting her. Anyone with eyes could see that.” 

Eren looked down, “it is better this way.”

“Then you are a fool,” Zeke stated. 

Eren was.

He knew he was. 

He couldn’t even look at Mikasa. The hurt she must feel, the saddest, it was too much. 

He wanted nothing more to……

His thoughts were cut off by the Princess and her ladies arriving on the field at the same time he and Zeke had. 

Annie and Sasha were both in the standard silver Ackerman armor, the dragon sigil front and center on their chest pieces.

Mikasa, however, was wearing a blood red dress that had a white ruffle at the back of her neck. There were gold flowers near the neckline while a pattern of vines covered the dress. She wore a dragon pendant around her neck. A gold beaded belt encircled her waist and there were rubies hanging from her ears.Her hair had been braided, almost like a crown on top of her head. She wore a circlet, a simple silver one with a dragon in the middle and drooping chains.

Mikasa was breathtaking. 

“You should ask her for her favor,” Zeke said as he knocked his shoulder into his brother’s. 

“Won’t that confuse her?” 

“Or you could simply stop acting like an ass.” 

Eren just kept walking. 

—------

Sitting in the box with Grisha, Carla, and Dina had not sounded like a good time to Mikasa. 

She had nothing against the queens and the king, it was just…intimidating. 

So instead she was on the ground with her cousin. 

Jean was facing off with Zeke. It was the first match of the day. 

“Care to make a wager on that?” Levi asked her. 

“The prince. No question,” Mikasa nodded. 

“I think the same.” 

Then Zeke and Jean were off. 

Lance pointed at one another.

CRASH!

Zeke’s lance made contact with Jean’s armor, knocking Jean off of his horse. 

Levi nodded simply. 

Mikasa grimaced as she could feel the pain from her past times of falling off the horse and hitting ground. 

The crowd was cheering for Zeke who circled around, his lance raised high. 

“Who will you crown when you win?” Mikasa asked. 

“No one. There is no requirement to crown someone to be the ruler of love and beauty.” 

“I don’t remember you always being so boring.” 

The next two riders were people who Mikasa didn’t know who they were . 

The following two riders were getting ready about twenty feet from Mikasa and Levi. Eren was one of them. Mikasa turned her back to him, moving closer to Levi. 

“I think you should end what you told me yesterday,” Mikasa said as she looked down. 

The next match began. 

One of the riders dismounted before the lance even hit him, the sound of him hitting the ground hard made Mikasa wince. 

“Did something happen?” Levi asked, not taking his eyes away from the riders. 

“He hates me. I challenged him to a duel. He said he couldn’t due to not wanting to start a war with Kiyomi. He barely looked at me. How am I supposed to marry him?” Mikasa whispered. 

Levi opened his mouth to speak but Zeke rode up to him. 

“Lord Ackerman, a word?” Zeke said as he dismounted his horse. 

Levi dismounted and walked off with Zeke.

Mikasa just stared at the ground.

——-

“This is a disaster,” Zeke said as he pulled his helmet off. 

“Your face or those two?” Levi question.

Zeke rolled his eyes, “you are hilarious. Yes, those two. What are we going to do about them?” 

“Why are you asking me?” 

“This was your plan!” 

“According to the letter from Queen Carla, it was your plan to start.” 

“I didn’t think it would end up like this!” 

“We need to motivate one of them.” 

They both turned and looked at Mikasa and Eren. Both of them had their backs to the other, both were staring at the ground. 

“They’re absolutely pathetic.” 

“Mikasa knows. So that can’t be the motive. What motivates him?” 

“Anger. Hate. I suppose love since his whole claim is he does not want to stain her.”

“What about jealousy?” 

“Hmm….it can. He proved that when he fought Jean.” 

Levi studied the other knights. “Would Jean do it again?” 

“What? Be interested in the princess? I don’t think so. It looks to me that he is trying to heal that wound between him and Eren.” 

“So we need someone else. Anyone Eren is afraid of?” 

Zeke snorted a laugh, “he’s been picking fights since he could walk. I don’t think there’s anyone who scares him outside of our father and he rarely does that.”

“Anyone he won’t pick a fight with?” 

“Armin, possibly. But I wouldn’t wager that either. He’s very unpredictable.” 

“What about you?” 

“Me? No. He’d see right through this.” 

“Well we need someone!” 

“I think you have someone. I actually have a plan,” Zeke smirked.

“This ought to be good. Let me hear what you have to say.” 

——————

Mikasa had taken to sitting on the railing that was between the stands and the field. She was careful not to block anyone’s view but no one had said anything to her yet. Most of them were sitting up higher as well. 

Eren had won his joust.  He was followed by two other knights Mikasa didn’t know. 

Annie was up now. 

Jousting wasn’t her best event. 

Mikasa cheered for her anyway, making the blonde blush. She was up against Connie, Lord and Lady Springer’s son. It was a battle of the northerners. 

CRASH!

Both of their lances made contact but it was Annie who dismounted Connie. 

Mikasa jumped from her spot on the fence, screaming loudly. 

Annie swung the horse around, lance high in her hand. 

Mikasa was grinning as her friend rode over to her. 

“You did perfect! How are you?” Mikasa asked as Annie handed over her lance to one of the servants and got down off the horse.

“Good. I forgot how it feels to take one of those to the stomach.” Annie said as she pulled off her helmet. 

“I’ll make sure the servant has warm water for you. You are representing House Ackerman after all.” 

“Sasha is in the last joust of the day.”

“Where is she anyway?” Mikasa asked, looking around. 

“She was with Levi a moment ago. Something happened.” 

Mikasa frowned.

Levi hadn’t told her that. 

As if on cue, Levi walked towards Mikasa. 

“You need to change,” he said as he thrusted her leather armor into her hands. “Go to the dragon pit. You’ll be safe from anyone walking in on you there. There are some bedroom on the ground floor, towards the back.” 

“I cannot compete,” Mikasa reminded him. 

“You’re not.” 

“Then why would I need this?” 

“You challenged a duel, did you not?” Levi asked as he leaned back on the fence. “You were slighted, you made the challenge. I took it up with someone higher,” Levi nodded his chin in the of where the box where the royal family sat. “You’re the finale today.” 

Mikasa held the leather armor close to her and nodded. 

“Annie, go with her,” Levi ordered. 

———-

Kayda had been waiting for Mikasa. The dragon seemed a bit restless. It was probably because Mikasa was also restless.

Most families wore plate armor to fight. 

This was not true of the Ackerman family.

While Levi and the other wore it to joust, it was leather they did melee and hand to hand in. 

It was dangerous. 

It was stupid. 

But it was what made them the most fierce of the families.

Only direct descendants did this. Sasha and Annie could wear plate whenever they wanted. They had also adopted the Ackerman ideals.

The idea was that the Ackermans moved too fast, too precisely to be hit so there was no reason for them to guard themselves with plate. 

Mikasa, Sasha, and Annie had learned to fight in every sort of clothes they had. Corsets, dresses, stays, plate, leather, and chain mail. Skirts. No shoes, nightgowns. It didn’t matter. If there was a chance they could be caught off guard in any type of clothes, they learned to fight in it. 

Mikasa finished fastening the last bit of armor to herself. 

She walked out the room, ready to fight.

Kayda huffed at Mikasa when Mikasa walked by. Vulcan continued to sleep, not interested in either of their antics. 

“I’ll be back,” Mikasa promised Kayda. 

————————-

Reiner’s lance hit Sasha, throwing her off of her horse.

That would leave a bruise. 

Sasha stood up, mostly unharmed. Her ego was more bruised than her body but it also meant she wouldn’t have to face Levi later.

There were cheers. The first day of the tournament was over. 

“JUST A MOMENT, EVERYONE. COULD I HAVE YOU ATTENTION?” One of the guards yelled. 

Everyone stopped. 

Grisha stood from the throne in the royalty box. 

“A duel has been called. As you all know, anyone has the right to call for combat in our kingdom when it comes to their own honor. It seems whether it was meant or not, someone was slighted,” Grisha’s voice boomed. 

Eren turned pale. 

The crowd began to mummer. 

“So it is my duty to make sure such a duel happens. Princess Mikasa, if you please,” Grisha held his hand. Mikasa walked out next to Grisha. 

She was dressed in her leather armor, her hair pulled back. 

“Prince Eren Jaeger, now. Amends by combat. First to draw blood,” Mikasa commanded. “Do you accept?” 

All eyes turned to Eren. 

He couldn’t refuse. 

“Weapon of choice?” Eren asked as he walked to the middle of the jousting field. 

Mikasa didn’t speak, she simply drew her sword from her side. 

Eren nodded. 

——————

Mikasa’s sword clashed against Eren.

He was good. 

Mikasa had to give him that. Her slash was met with a parry. 

She thrusted her sword again. 

She wished she had a great sword because with Eren’s bastard sword, he had a longer arm span. 

The problem was Eren was on the defensive. He would not fight her.

He would take everything she gave him but he would not make a move.

That made Mikasa angry. 

It was a weakness of hers. She let her emotions to her and the man she was fighting right now seemed to be a large cause of a lot of them. 

So she’d let him parry. She’s let him block her thrusts with his own sword but she would not stop. She would get through. 

But what would be won? 

Her honor? 

She really didn’t give a shit about her honor. 

She wanted her friend back. 

Where was the man she’d liked enough to take flying with her? 

The one who promised to show her everything in King’s Landing. Where did that man go and why had he been replaced? 

Who was this? 

She was beginning to get sloppy. She became desperate in her moves. 

She lifted the sword, acting as though she was going to come from the right before at the last moment going to the left.

Eren moved his sword to the right. 

Would he finally fight back? Give her some sort of response? 

And what would it take for him….

Her thoughts were cut off as steel met the flesh of her cheek. 

She reached up, touching her face.

It was small.

Ever so small. 

Eren’s eyes widened. 

Mikasa pulled her hand away from her face. 

Blood.

Eren had won. 

He had drawn first blood. 

[scorchedmizar]

The Lord is back to seething almost immediately. His flames burn blue and then white for a fraction of a second. Toddler? Toddler??? Forget Elara! Who the hell does this bot think she is? He's halfway through a grumbled comment about a "prissy bitch" when he notices the cheesecake. Damn it all to hell... Alcor knows him too well. Of course the size of the bite he takes- fuck it's actually really good- has him chewing long enough for Andromeda to finish her whole longing-to-see-the-world spiel. Ugh. However, it is hard to not want to talk about the world he's created. He's put a lot of work into it. Even if he's still very much so ticked off by her constant use of the word darling she is respecting his title at the very least. That's more than he can say for... plenty of people really. Besides, she's all starry eyed, literally. And yes, he will admit it, he'd far rather listen to his own voice than hers.

No, it's not blue. Blue is an ugly, vile color that I've wiped completely from my dimension. It's a pale, off-white yellow. There's nothing fucking special about the sky. The grass is still green. The oceans are... what they are. I'm sure Alcor could blabber on and on about all of that though. Mountains are literally just rocks that have- Sl- Slow down! I am NOT carrying you out of this building.

Alcor visibly pouts when the daiquiri is ripped from his hands. Already drank half of it and he just got it! The fool nibbles at the cheesecake instead, curiously staring at watching Andromeda. He's still very infatuated with her sunrays.

Anyways. As long as you don't screw up any of the basic fundamentals or unintentionally create new elements that nearly cause you to completely wipe the dimension a second time, ruling over a dimension is nothing special.

Oh and I guess there's three towns I have. Ecxluding the cult they're pretty generic. Just a bunch of... creatures, people, beings that fled from their dimensions and pledged their allegiance to me in order to live peacefully with a bunch of other people in the same circumstance. It's not like I was using the space anyways.

He waves a hand dismissively.

But I'm sure someone like you would rather hear about my castle? The massive library that Alcor takes care of? The magic, star power, and highly advanced energy system that's taken me centuries to perfect?

The stained glass scenes, the marble floor, the regally decorated throne room? The masterful paintings hung in every hallway and the bathing chamber that includes a sauna and a hot tub? The kitchen and dining room with the cherry wood table, golden utensils, and the sparkling diamond chandelier? Definitely inept with any finer details but most people can appreciate the castle interior at least...

Maybe the conversation started out dicey but with his favorite servant in his lap, cheesecake on his tongue, and a topic that's actually relevant to him, the Lord has drastically calmed down. Whatever calm even means for him.

@stardusttheaters

Alcor holds open the door for his Lord, smiling up at him. He receives little but a grunt in response. Once inside, the servant is pulled close to the Lord's side with a firm hand around his waist. He's still nowhere near fully recovered, being drained of a good chunk of star power and energy isn't something that's fixed in a couple of days. But he promised Alcor he'd do this before the end of the year and he makes sure to keep his promises, the serious ones at least. Unfortunately the final week of the year he'd been stuck resting, at his servant's insistence, but he can tell that Alcor is simply happy that they're even doing this at all.

He's re-enabled his flames, at a lower temperature for now; they're a pertinent staple to his image after all. Right arm and shoulder are still pretty fucked but that's to be expected when he's only got one arm to fix it. Alcor's makeshift fix of pinning his cape over his shoulder so it covers the injury has gone untouched. Under bystanders' glances it's hard to tell that there's nothing underneath and it still makes him look pretty badass so...

But this isn't about him, it's about them today. His fingers flex against his servant's side. Normally the Lord is little less than repulsed by PDA but he's still sore as hell so he thinks he deserves it this time. They're in an unfamiliar dimension too! Of course he needs to keep Alcor within sight... and touch. Especially when he knows that that annoying staffbot is around somewhere.

So what are we waiting for?

Oh, well, um... Ah, let me- let me notify her...

Alcor does indeed text Elara, sending a short little "We're here :)". He has to resist fidgeting around with his ribbon at his neck, now tied into a cute little bowtie. It's a bit tighter than usual but he definitely saw the Lord eyeing it so it's worth it. Anything to keep his god content today.

Titan was in the midst of ensuring that some of the stage lights were indeed fixed and operational for today's show. Creator forbid he ever allowed anything to ever go wrong during a show. He was double-checking the high powered light bulbs were screwed on correctly --and they were. He took a moment to send a thanks to his mechanic in training along with a little praise for a job well done.

A notification popped up in his HUD, causing Titan to freeze in place and tilt his head slightly upward as he checked the message. Oh. His computer was pinging him that a multidimensional phenomena was happening around the Theater. Strange... it wasn't in the foam pit that acted as a portal. And that was turned off right now. So how was he getting an energy signature? He quickly made its way to the origan point to find the strange....knight? Animatronics? What the heck was he looking at?

He couldn't come off as he normally does -- stern and demanding to know where the hell they came from. Instead, Titan forced a very small smile and gave them a wave as he approached the pair.

Hello, Welcome to the Stardust Theater. I am Titan Star, Head of Security for this location. How may I be of service today?

[to-unknown-lands]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　Chemistry asks (part 1)　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 彡 ☆彡 ☆彡 ☆

1/hydrogen/H: what do you consider most important/significant about yourself?

2/helium/He:  are you optimistic? 

3/lithium/Li: when you’re in a gross mood, how do you deal with it? 

4/beryllium/Be: are you interested in gems and crystals? 

5/boron/B: do you make or fidget with slime? 

6/carbon/C: do you thrive on change or does it scare you? 

7/nitrogen/N: is there anything about you that people underestimate?

8/oxygen/O: what’s something you do to feel healthier or to gain energy?

9/fluorine/F: in general, do you have a bad temper? 

10/neon/Ne: what’s your favorite aesthetic? 

11/sodium/Na: what annoys you the most? (what makes you... salty?)

12/magnesium/Mg: is it difficult to calm down when you’re angry or annoyed?

13/aluminium/aluminum/Al: what’s one of your most important skills?

14/silicon/Si: how good are you at using technology and fixing things?

15/phosphorus/P: are you impulsive or more inclined to think before you act?

16/sulfur/S: do you struggle with self esteem? 

17/chlorine/Cl: how close are you to your friends?

18/argon/Ar: what’s one of the laziest things you’ve ever done?

19/potassium/K: do you like pastel colors?

20/calcium/Ca: what’s something you do to help others?

21/scandium/Sc: do you like cold weather?

22/titanium/Ti: how well do you handle stress? 

23/vanadium/V: do you wear a lot of color?

24/chromium/Cr: are you an artist or otherwise creative? 

25/manganese/Mn: do you see things as more black and white, or more multifaceted?

26/iron/Fe: what’s your greatest strength or best trait?

27/cobalt/Co: does your name have an unusual/cool story or meaning?

28/nickel/Ni: what is one of your strongest beliefs? 

29/copper/Cu: do you have lots of interests, or a few specific ones?

30/zinc/Zn: do you work better on your own or in a group?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆part 2 soon｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let's see if I make it through Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

At Corissa’s insistence, and against your own reticence, you have a taste of nearly every course. The fiery red head gabs animatedly in her work, to her assistants and the servers, and even to you. You feel something very peculiar; you feel included.

That pleasant sensation is as fleeting as the night. The servers bring in the dishes, many untouched, and you clean them attentively, keeping the counters clear of clutter. Corissa mutters about the waste and has the leftovers scraped into containers, promising them to her hardworking staff. She even offers you one but you refuse, you’ve indulged enough. You suspect Mr. Laufeyson would be less than pleased to see you walking out with a to-go box.

You are not requested again to tend to the diners. Voices carry from down the hall and the front door opens and shuts between farewells. Amid the hue, you do not hear Mr. Laufeyson though you try not to listen intently.

Corissa and her staff depart with their work done and you’re left to clean up. It’s near midnight. You’re surprised at how long the gathering lasted and yet, you wouldn’t know what to expect. You’d never attended anything like that. You didn’t even go to your own high school graduation.

There’s a scuff and a shadow darken’s the edge of your vision. You lift your head to find Mr. Laufeyson crossing the threshold, his polished shoes clicking on the tile. You dip your head in acknowledgement and return to stacking the dishes neatly inside the cupboards.

“Do not forget the dining room. My guests proved to be animals,” he scoffs, “though, what use would you be if they didn’t leave you some work?”

You nod again. You close the cupboard door and move to the stemmed crystal. You open the glass cabinet that holds the various liquor vessels. You set each in tidy lines, following the pattern.

You wait for him to leave but he remains. Is he watching you or are you just paranoid? You clasp the door shut and face him, though you’re not intent on him. The dining room. You hope you might finish it quickly. You glance at the clock again.

“Do you recall what I told you at the beginning of the night?” He asks brusquely.

You gulp and part your lips, your words trapped in your chest.

“Speak,” he demands with a flippant flick of his fingers.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Not a look, not a word,” he retorts.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t–”

“The blond man. I saw your eyes stray,” he insists, “the worst thing you can ever do is lie to me.”

“I… I apologise, it wasn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

“Ah, enough,” he dismisses your protests, “this isn’t an argument. I am merely reminding you of the rules. I do hate to repeat myself.”

You seal your lips and put your chin down in deference. You made a mistake. You’re wrong, he’s right.

“Now you know. I expect it not to happen again,” he rebukes.

His sole squeaks on the floor as he spins and struts out. You look around, time to move on to the dining room. You tiptoe out and find the hallway empty. You creep down to the dining room and find it similarly abandoned.

You enter and begin your work. You wipe down the table and tidy little bits of food and forgotten napkins. You push in the chairs and remove a broken stem from one of the vases at the centre line of the table.

The clock ticks and heightens your impatience. You have to hurry if you’re going to catch the bus. If you don’t… you don’t know if you can budget a cab.

“There is another thing,” Mr. Laufeyson gives you a start as he appears through the archway, “something forgotten…”

You look at him with confusion stitched into your forehead. He reaches into his jacket and slips out a pinkish slip of paper. It’s folded into quarters with a curl in one corner. You recognise it immediately.

“I assume you didn’t mean to leave it on the floor,” he sneers as he comes closer, holding it between his index and middle fingers, “I almost tossed it but I did peruse it in case… Well, I don’t mean to pry…”

You take it and nearly thank him aloud. You look at the folded invoice and a cringe pinches your cheeks. You didn’t even realise you’d dropped it. You would prefer to forget about it but that would hardly void the debt.

“You look well,” he muses. You flinch; what does he mean? “I did note it was for the same date you were absent however.”

You tuck the invoice into your pocket and fix another chair. He lurks close as you try not to falter. He puts his hand on the next chair to stop you.

“You may speak. Humour my intrigue. You don’t appear very sick.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels as if he’s making some joke you don’t understand. Your lips strain and you stare at his tie.

“My father had an emergency, Mr. Laufeyson. That is all. He is better now.”

“Ah, a loyal daughter,” he remarks, “it is almost endearing.”

You stand in a stalemate. Your eyes drift over to the clock and back to his slender tie. You’re almost done and you’ll have just enough time to get to the stop.

“I suppose you are eager,” he steps in between you and the clock, “to get home to your sick father.”

You clutch the cloth tight and scrunch your lips. Your stomach does somersaults. You want to beg him to let you finish so you can go home. So you’re not stranded but you already made yourself pathetic enough.

“I am not a man without empathy, I would not keep you long. However, I do wish to have a proper conversation,” he declares.

You nod and wring the cloth. You dare to peek at his face and find his attention on your hands. You still them and drop your eyes again. Is he going to fire you? Rather, tell the agency of your misdeeds?

“I would assume you rely on transit. I am in a rather bright mood after my little soiree so I feel of a mind to offer a favour. One which would allow us to converse,” he rolls the button of his jacket between his thumb and index, “I would drive you home and you would listen, yes?”

You nod and he shows his palm.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. That is very kind.”

“Isn’t it?” He preens and swirls away again, “ten minutes should be sufficient for you to wrap up. I will be at the door.”

“Yes. Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Wonderful,” he strolls out, his unusual glee putting you on guard.

🧹

As promised, Mr. Laufeyson is waiting at the front door. You only realise after checking the back door. You don’t feel good about accepting an unearned favour but the last bus is well and gone.

He opens the door as he sees you enter the foyer. To your surprise, he holds it for you to pass through first. You suppose it's a habit. He is fond of etiquette.

He follows and directs you to a sleek black car in the drive. You wait patiently at the passenger door as he unlocks it and lowers himself into the driver’s seat. It’s only then that you get in, gently closing the door. You put your kit between your feet and click your seat belt into place.

He turns the ignition and the engine hums quietly. It runs so smoothly, you barely feel it. He backs up before steering around the arch of driveway and towards the gate. He reaches to hit a button on the small fob dangling by the rear view and the wider gates split for him to pass through.

You wait for him to begin. He must be basking in your anticipation. Less than eager for what comes next, it's more a needling anxiety. 

“So, let us get down to it,” he begins, one hand on the wheel. The roads are near desolate in the late hour. “I’ve a proposition for you.”

You wait and listen. You assume that’s the deal still. He chuckles and carries on.

“An arrangement convenient for both of us. You see,” he pauses, exhaling as he measures his words, “I am not fond of the agency. I’ve not been for some time, neither have I had the time to search for an alternative. 

“Details are irrelevant. My ex-wife enlisted them for a maid. Just as she employed the gardener and the cook. She might be gone but her handiwork remains, though a very big void as well,” he turns down the next street as you twiddle your fingers, “that is too say, she managed the house and without her, I find myself lacking. I’ve not even the chance to acquire a house manager, but now…”

He lets his suggestion dangle but you’re not quite sure you understand. You hate to presume. Hate to think more of yourself than you should.

“What I’m proposing is that you step into her shoes. In the manner of taking on that management. The gardener, the cook, general maintenance and the like,” he explains, “but of course, you would also keep to your existing tasks, keep the house orderly in all ways.”

You still your hands and stare at your lap. You don’t really believe it. He thinks you capable of all that? Based on what? Some mopping?

“You are rather adept at following orders,” he says, “and you are in need of money, yes?”

You hunch down in shame.

“I will pay more than the agency for I would not take a cut as they do. You will be compensated appropriately for your efforts,” he assures, “as they would lessen mine.”

You look over the dash and at the road ahead. Your father will be home soon, he might need more help, and yet, you most certainly need money. You still have over a month left on probation and even after, you’re not guaranteed full-time hours.

“There would be a starting bonus,” he intones, filling the silence, “fifteen hundred. As an incentive.”

Your eyes burn. That’s what the invoice reads in red. He’s taunting you now. He knows that you need it badly. 

“This offer stands until you leave this car,” he says firmly, “so you may think about it.”

You blanch and keep your eyes forward. You can think all you want but that won’t change anything. There is no other answer. Even if it makes you nervous, even if you find that house stifling, and him terrifying. None of it matters. You need that money as much as your father needs you.

“I accept, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur. “I will do my best.”

He hums, a triumphant note, “I expect nothing less.”

🧹

You’re greeted by an empty house. It was too late to even think of going to the hospital. You wouldn’t want to wake your father during his recovery, and besides, his dejection sticks in your head. He told you not to come back.

You go to bed but don’t sleep very much. It’s hard in the lonely house. You want to tell your father that you got a new job. That you’re going to be able to pay for his hospital bills and that you’ll make things better. You will, when he gets home.

What has you just as wakeless is Mr. Laufeyson. He said you could start tomorrow. You’re nervous about that. Your only experience is the last month and a half of cleaning. He might expect more than you can do. Worse, you might not be able to meet those expectations.

You toss and turn, sleeping a few hours just before your alarm. You have your tea and get dressed. You bring your kit, just in case, and head out to catch the bus. You don’t like being in the house alone so you’re all too happy to get out.

You walk the block and a half from the bus stop. You realise as you come to the iron gate that you don’t have the new code. You stand cluelessly, locked out and listless. You notice the small button by the metal speakerbox. Does it work?

You tap the bell and wait. Nothing. You even lean in to listen to the speaker. It’s entirely dead. You try again. Still, nothing.

You lean in and peer through the bars, like a prisoner. The front door opens and Mr. Laufeyson appears, a harried pace with a hint of agitation. He comes to the other side and looks out at you. His eyes scan you from head to toe. He opens the gate from within.

“In, in,” he demands curtly, “are you not supposed to make my life easier?”

You step in and he swings the door shut harshly. He huffs and swiftly outpaces you back towards the door. You hesitate. You never go in that way.

“Do not waste my time,” he orders without looking back.

You jog to catch up with him. You hop up the steps behind his lithe gait and trail him inside. He stops and points to the mat. You leave your shoes on it even as he keeps his own on.

“I’ve a list made up. That is sufficient, yes?”

You nod and he sighs. He’s already moving as you slipping in an effort to keep up.

“Speak,” he drawls.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Very good,” he praises, a lilt of condescension dripping from his lips. “I trust you sent your resignation in. I would be happy to cut ties from that cursed agency at the soonest opportunity.”

You bite your lip. You didn’t even think of that. Your silence is telling.

“Add it to the list,” he says derisively.

[rayslittlekitten]

Cooling Off

“Toff Girl” (aka “Damsel” Universe) Masterlist

A/N: I am finally done with this! I've been working on this on and off for like two months. This is supposed to take place between Yes, Daddy and Damesl in Euphoria. The scorching summer gave me an idea and I was glad to add other elements I've been waiting to use into this. Iniitally I was going to make this a one off for The Little Sister universe but I felt this dynamic worked better for this one. Hope you enjoy! (Also, this was not beta'd so you may find some grammatical or spelling errors.)

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: ~4.5k

Plot: Trying to cool off turns up the heat instead.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F! Reader

Contains: teasing, water gun play, sundress, bratting, chasing/primal play, dub-conish?, unprotected P in V, penetration with objects (i don't know if that needs to be a warning but including it anyways), creampie, choking, face slapping, degradation, manhandling, daddy kink, D/s dynamics, DD/lg elements (no age play), some aftercare, some praising

It's hot. Sweltering hot. And there's nothing on God's green earth that can provide sufficient relief except to hide from it. That is, if you're lucky to. Even then, sometimes it's not enough. It has hit record high temperatures and this type of weather was never intended for this part of the world.

It's so hot outside, Mickey decided to close the pub down for the day and let Ray work from home. There is no need for them to run around the city and if he's honest, he'd rather stay in the comfort of his air conditioned home anyways. Even the born and bred Texan can't get use to the heat.

And you? Never have to work a day in your life, but you choose to because even though your parents can afford to, you don't want to rely on them for financial support. Well, if there's a new shiny car you want, you know they'll shell out the money without question for their only child, but everyday living expenses, feeding yourself and putting a roof over your head, you want to be able to pay for it with your own hard earned money.  Also, the beauty of your job is, most days you can work from wherever you want. It's essentially a remote job and when you're not at the office, you usually work from your own flat or at a café, but today you're doing it in the comfort of your boyfriend's house. You had invited yourself over this morning when he casually mentioned that he's working from home today and he didn't have the heart or stomach to turn you away when you greeted him at the front door in a short slinky sundress with his favorite morning pastries fresh from the bakery.

Now, you're nearly finished with all your tasks so you're bored. You're just waiting for your boss to email you back for approvals and you know she can take forever to get back to you. You look over at Ray who is seated at the dining room table, working quietly. That man has not left his seat for the last five hours since this morning. Even though he's working from home, he's still dressed in his pressed jeans, button down shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbos, waistcoat and a tie. You don't know how he does it. Your sundress doesn't even feel light enough for you to beat this heat. While you appreciate the central air Ray has in his meticulously designed house, the unprecedented 40 degrees temperature outside is affecting the performance of the air conditioning unit. At least you're not sticking to the leather couch. It's really a good thing you have nowhere to go.

You've got to admit though, you admire Ray's discipline and focus. You've tried to distract him all day to keep him on his toes - and to have some fun - and it's like he's got invisible blinders and earplugs on.  It first started small, like constant tapping your finger on the table or shaking your leg when you know he hates that.  You would make an obnoxious refreshing 'ahh' sound after every loud sip of water. You almost spit out your water once seeing the stern look Ray the gave you after you did it probably for the 50th time that day. Then it escalated to you grabbing his butt or running your fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, flustering him for a moment. At some point you purposely dropped your pen in front of him and bent over to pick it up, but he seemed oblivious to it. You even tried to get his attention by blatantly rubbing yourself under your dress at one point while he was on a call with Mickey, but he avoided your gaze and was so concentrated on his computer screen. You're pretty sure he saw you in his peripheral vision though. For a second you might have had his attention, but he continued to work seemingly unaffected. You can now see why Mickey hired him.

With nothing else to do, you check the time and decide it's time for your lunch break.

"Ray, are you hungry?" you ask him, breaking the deafening silence in the room. You needed to hear something other than the occasional clicking and clacking from both his and your laptops.

Ray brings his wrist up to check the time.

"Very. I'm almost done with this. Should probably order takeaway. It's too bloody hot to... cook..."

Ray's sentence dies off as he looks over at you getting up from the couch and bringing your arms up above your head to give your back and shoulders and good stretch from sitting on the couch for so long, letting a moan slip out as your muscles loosen. He adjusts his glasses as his eyes wander down below your waist where the hem of your short sundress rises, stopping just at the top of your thighs, but he notices the undercurves of your ass peeking out just enough as you twist your waist from side to side. When you look over at him, Ray quickly turns his attention back to his notebook, scribbling nonsense to pretend he wasn't distracted at all.

"Yes, Daddy," you answer before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

He pauses his task, his pen in midair, to look up at you with wide eyes and look of warning. You coyly look back at him with the slightest smirk, amused by his reaction.

"What? I didn't mean anything by it," you tell him, but he's not convinced.

"It just rolled off my tongue," you shrug.

Ever since you and Ray started exploring power dynamics in your relationship, which you both enjoy very much, you like to push it a little further each time just to see where it goes. Since this is still new to you and Ray, no rules or expectations have been established yet. He is more experienced in this than you are so you're still figuring out what works for the both of you and what you want out of the experience. You typically don't call him Daddy outside of the bedroom or scene, but you're feeling playful right now.

As if on cue, the tip of Ray's tongue darts from between his pink lips, just enough to wet them before returning to its hiding place, with his gaze still on you.

"I'm going to grab some ice water. Do you want any?" You ask as you saunter over to the kitchen.

Ray hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging on it while clearing his throat.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I could use some," he answers and then starts loosening his tie and unbuttoning his waistcoat to shed the extra layer.

Ray continues to watch you when the back of your dress rises again as you reach up to grab two glasses from the top cabinet. Of course, tall man, tall shelves. You have to tiptoe and use the countertop as leverage, leaning against it and practically climbing on it, making your backside stick out a bit and allowing Ray to have a better view under your dress, but not enough to see everything. You hear Ray clearing his throat again. After successfully getting the cups, you fill each with ice and cold water from the dispenser.

You walk back to the living room, heading towards Ray and place the glass on a coaster next to him. No water rings on this oak table.

"Thank you," Ray says as he turns to look up at you. "Good girl."

His attempt to hide his smirk didn't go unnoticed. You, on the other hand, have no shame in showing how his praise affected you. You feel your cheeks getting warm - and not because of the weather - as you flash him a wide grin.

"Have you picked a place for lunch yet?" he asks after taking a gulp of his much needed ice water.

"No, not yet. What are you in the mood for?" You snake an arm around his shoulders and slide yourself onto his lap while balancing your own glass of ice water in your other hand.

Ray watches you take a sip of your water. You shriek when a drop of condensation hits the exposed skin at the top of your chest. You glance down and remove your arm from his shoulders to wipe off the water. You seize up for a moment when another droplet hits you but realize how much relief the cold water brought you. A lightbulb goes off in your head.

"Actually, I'll go pick us up some lunch, yeah?" you ask, looking back up at him, catching his eyes focused on where the water fell on you. You clear your throat and his eyes move up to meet yours.

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want," Ray quickly says before shifting his attention back to his work. "I'd like to finish this, please. Off you go."

Ray gently pats your butt and you move off his lap.

"I'll be back in a splash."

You lay a quick peck on his cheek and leave your glass of water on the table before going to grab your purse. Ray notices the condensation of your glass pooling onto his pristine table and immediately wipes it down before placing a coaster under it. His eyes twitch for a moment as he looks over to call out to you but you're already out the door. You dread the heat outside, but it'll be all worth it.

***

Ray had finally taken a break. He didn't realize how stiff his muscles were until he actually got up from his seat, giving them a stretch and loosening them a bit before taking a stroll to the bathroom. All the water he’s been drinking is finally catching up to him. When he walks back to the dining and living room, he expected to find you as he thought he heard you come in, but you're nowhere to be found.

"Hm," he curiously hums. Maybe he misheard.

As he gets comfortable again to continue working, he notices a translucent neon blue plastic gun with an orange tip next to his laptop. He picks it up to inspect it, the clear liquid content sloshing around as he turns it over and shakes it. For a moment, he glances over at his laptop screen and does a double take when he sees something he did not type up in large bold letters:

"WANT LUNCH? FIND ME."

Ray adjusts his glasses and lets out a heavy sigh.

"Love, I don't have time for games right now," Ray shouts, not knowing if you are even within earshot of his voice.

When he gets no response, he just shakes his head and goes back to work, but is interrupted by his growling stomach. He ignores it, taking a sip of his water when he suddenly feels something wet and cold hit the back of his head. He immediately flinches and ducks, quickly turning around to find no one. After a quick scan, he puts the glass of water down on the coaster and cautiously looks again. Everything seems to be in place and not a soul in sight. Just then, Ray's phone rings, startling him for a second. He quickly checks his phone before turning his attention back over his shoulders.

"Yes, boss?"

While listening to Mickey, his eyes stay vigilant of his surroundings, darting around behind furniture and walls for any sign of you.

"Yes, I'll send that to you right now."

He quickly hangs up the call and slips his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to his laptop to send the information Mickey had requested. Just as he clicks on the "send" button, he feels another squirt hit his face. He instantly turns his head towards the direction where it came from and sees movement from behind one of the couches. He recognizes the pattern of your short dress peeking out from where you're crouching down. He wipes his face and glasses with his handkerchief and then grabs the water gun. He slowly and quietly rises from his seat with the gun pointed out in front of him, holding the plastic toy like a real one, except his finger is on the trigger because he's ready to squeeze at any given moment. There will be no warning.

After a few moments of absolute silence, you curiously poke your head up to look over the top of the couch and stiffen as soon as you make eye contact with Ray and see him heading towards you. You gasp when he starts moving quicker. You run like hell to the kitchen, using the island as a barrier. The two of you circle the island as he chases you, both trying to predict which direction each of you will go.

At some point he pauses to shoot you, but you were able to duck in time to avoid getting hit. When you pop back up and try to shoot him back, you shriek when you see him rounding the corner so you sprint off but not without getting hit in the back with water, making you squeal. You jump into the first room you see, into his study. You crouch down and hide behind one of the large accent chairs most further into the room.

You're expecting Ray to walk into the room any second as he was close behind you, but you don't hear any footsteps. In fact, it's too quiet. After a few seconds, you cautiously peek around to look towards the door, waiting for him to emerge, but nothing happens. Peeking out a little further, you carefully look around the room.

You slowly get up to your feet, trying not to make any noise. Once you've steadied yourself, you freeze when you suddenly feel something against the side of your neck and one of your arms, the one holding your own water gun, twisted behind your back. You try to wiggle and move away but his other hand swiftly comes down to grab your other arm, also pinning it behind you, rendering you helpless. You try to kick back but he pushes his body up against yours, trapping you between him and the back of the tall chair.

"Did you think you were going to outrun me?" Ray asks, holding your arms steady.

"Maybe," you huff out, still struggling to get out of his grip.

"The sun must have fried that pretty little head of yours when you went out there."

"Yeah. Maybe you should take a look at it for me."

You're not in the business of hurting Ray, but the adrenaline running through you has got you feeling a bit competitive and also bratty. You swing your head back, hoping you won't break his nose, but just enough to distract him so you can get loose. Expecting his face to collide with the back of your head, instead you quickly find yourself pushing up against the decorative wallpaper. Quick on his reflexes, Ray avoided your attempted head bash and pinned you against an adjacent wall, carefully to not hurt you, but limiting your movements even more.

"Did you seriously just try to knock me in the face?" he asks incredulously.

"I knew you would move out of the way," you lie. You really underestimated his skillset. You know his line of work, but you thought he was just a paper pusher and chauffeur and the guns were just for show. 

He’s a proper gangster. You’ve never seen him use a gun before, but you suppose that’s by design. Also, your own combat skills are very limited so you're not sure what you thought would happen.

You notice something pressing against your ass and you push back against it.

“Careful, love.” Ray warns, pushing back. “Finger’s on the trigger. Don’t want to get wet now, do you?”

"How do you know I'm not already?"

You usually don't really care for guns. You've witnessed toffs showing off their toys and shooting skills, particularly the men in your social circles. Flaunting their wealth won't do since you also come from money, so they need to find other ways to get your attention, but that doesn't do anything for you. Rich men with big guns? Big deal. You've seen too many of those. Unless the world is coming to an end and you need to hunt for your own meal, it's pointless. It's just an ego stroke for them. A gun measuring contest if you will. You're pretty sure they don't know how to defend themselves if it came down to a gunfight.

However, never having ever seen Ray in action with a gun before, you realize now that when he wields them, it gets your blood flowing. You've never been drawn to or attracted to guns, but there's just something about it when Ray handles them. He’s careful, precise and intentional with how he uses them.

He has nothing to prove. He utilizes it on a need-to basis. He knows it’s not something to flaunt and doesn’t need to whip it out to show everyone how big his cock is. He’s subtle and stealthy and that makes him that much sexier. You’re now both afraid and turned on by imagining him with a real one. That kind of power is like an aphrodisiac.

"The gun fight was supposed to cool us down but I guess it's doing the opposite, eh?" you say, pushing back again.

Ray looks down between the two of you to see you grinding back against the tip of his water gun. He curiously tilts his head to the side.

"This turns you on, doesn't it, love?" Ray asks into your ear, leaning in and putting his weight on you, causing you to groan.

"Maybe just a little," you admit.

"Just a lit'le? I can smell you," Ray growls. "You've been teasing me all day, love. Distracting me while I'm working. Being a naugh'y lit'le brat."

"Yet you've kept a straight face and focused the entire time," you respond. "Quite impressive really."

"Let's just say you'll never win a poker game against me ever," Ray adds.

“Well, now that I know—“

You get interrupted by Ray's phone when it rings. You feel Ray shifting, pinning both of your wrists with one large hand and tucking the gun into his belt before he reaches for his phone in his pocket.

"Yes, boss?"

You try to shimmy out of his hold as he's on the phone, but you have no luck. His long fingers are firmly gripped around your wrists and the weight of his hips are pinning you against the wall.

"Sure, boss. I'll take care of it as soon as my lunch break is over."

He hangs up and slips his phone back into his pocket and retrieves the gun, continuing where he left off. You feel your dress hiked up and there's a pause. You're wondering what's the hold up and you try to turn, but Ray pins you back against the wall. You flinch when you something running up and down your slit and let out a low moan when you feel it brush up against your clit.

"You're not wearing any knickers under that short dress and you went out in public that way?  You've been more than naughty. You've been a bad, bad girl." Ray states.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" you tease.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kitten."

A guttural noise sounding almost like a purr comes out of you when you feel more pressure against your core.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” you taunt.

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“Oh, love. You're just hangry," you add.

"Hangry?"

"Y'know, hungry and angry--"

"I know what it means!" Ray quickly spits out right before his stomach audibly rumbles.

"See. Hang--"

"There are other things that are a bit more pressing at the moment," he interrupts while pressing his crotch into your backside.

You bite your bottom lip and hum, pushing back.

"I know you get off on me manhandling you like this--"

"I know you also get off on manhandling me like this--"

"You somehow don't know when to stop pushing Daddy's buttons, do you?" Ray presses the tip of the gun against your opening.

"No, Daddy! I--" You gasp and moan when you feel the gun start penetrating you.

"What was that, kitten?"

You bite your lip and thrust back, trying to fuck the barrel of the gun. You moan when feeling it pushing in deeper.

"You needy slut. Look how desperate you are," Ray growls.

You have no response except to enjoy the feeling between your legs until it disappears. You whimper at the withdrawal, but suddenly you're pulled away from the wall and tossed onto one of the nearby couches. You quickly turn onto your back, but you're met with his gun in your face. Testing his reflexes, you fake a lunge at him and he presses the tip against your lips. You slowly open your mouth, feeling the plastic slip in deeper the more you open up.

Ray watches you as he starts undoing his belt and jeans. You start to move your mouth over the barrel, licking and gently sucking on it, bobbing your head up and down.

"You dir'y lit'le whore," he smirks. "My dir'y lit'le whore."

Ray pushes your legs apart with his knees and aligns himself with you before shoving himself into you. You moan around the gun and your eyes roll back. While holding himself up with one arm, Ray's hips pull back and slam back into you.

"God, you're so fucking wet. You really do get off on me manhandling you, don't you, slut?" He continues to slowly drag himself in and out of you.

You don't quite respond. You just continue orally pleasing the gun as you feel Ray torturing you.

"But it's not fair when you need to be taught a lesson."

Ray's free hand goes for your throat and he thrusts into you rhythmically, at a medium pace.

You moan around the gun again and arch up, feeling pressure on the sides of your neck and cervix. He is not wasting time as he's pumping in to you deep and hard.

His grip around your throat tightens and you start to feel yourself fading. Shortly after, you tap on his arm. He immediately loosens his grip, gently massages your neck with his fingers. He pulls the gun out of your mouth and tosses it aside.

"You alright, kitten?" he asks, stilling his hips to give you a few moments. He leans down closer to you to examine your neck. “Are you good to continue?”

"Yes," you nod.

"Yes, what?" His grip on your neck tightens again, but not as strong as it was before.

"Yes, Daddy," you answer and then Ray places a quick tender kiss on your forehead before slipping back inside you, continuing where he had left off.

This was not going to be a slow chase, but it doesn't need to be because he is hitting you in all the right places, both inside you, around your neck and most importantly, your brain and pain sensors. You've both learned degradation and pain gets your blood moving, but Ray always balances it out with praise and affection. They're like yin and yang.

"Not wearing your panties out in public in that short dress? You were desperate for attention, weren't you? And teasing me all fucking day. Is this what you wanted?” Ray goes off.

Not being able to speak in the moment, you simply flash him a smirk as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. You can feel your walls start to flutter when you feel Ray smack your face.

“Don’t you dare cum. You haven’t earned it. This is your punishment.”

“Yeah? And what if I do?” you push back.

With that, Ray releases your neck, pulls out of you instantly and then starts jerking himself over you.

“No! I’ll be good for the rest of the day,” you pout and whine.

“Too little too late, princess.” Ray continues to stroke himself, getting himself closer.

“Please, Daddy?” You show him your saddest puppy eyes as you reach down and gently rub yourself to relieve some of the pressure building, spreading your legs a bit more. “I’ll be a good little kitten for you. I promise.”

Ray’s hand slows down as he watches you. 

“I know you wanna cum inside my pussy and claim what’s yours, don’t you?” you continue to tease. 

“Who’s Daddy’s fucking slut?” Ray asks.

"I'm Daddy's fucking slut," you mewl.

“And who owns this cunt?” He follows up.

“You do,” you answer.

“That’s right, and don’t you ever forget that.” Ray shoves himself back inside you and you gasp, feeling yourself full again.

You run your hands over his chest and move up to his face, slipping your fingers coated in your own arousal into his mouth. He sucks and licks on them before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. He drives himself into you over and over again, sprinting to the finish line. You’re close to your own and you’re not sure how much longer you could hold back.

“Cum for me, kitten!” Ray grunts.

You finally let go and feel Ray spurting inside of you as you milk him, grinding up to meet him. You both moan loudly as your orgasms take over.

After you both take a moment, Ray pulls out of you and takes the bottom of your dress to clean himself off before tucking himself back in and making himself presentable again.

“Ray! This dress is dry clean only!” You scold him.

“That’ll be a lesson for you,” Ray nods. “Besides, that’ll wash out.”

“I’m not so sure…” you say, examining the white stain that’s forming.

“Love…” Ray starts.

You look up at him as he reaches in to grip your chin. He moves your head left and right, touching and checking for any marks or injury. He then inspects your wrists, seeing some light bruising. He brings them up to his lips and kisses them.

“You alright?” he asks, looking straight into your eyes.

You nod. He continues to stare at you for a second before planting a kiss on your lips. Both of your growling stomachs interrupt the moment.

“Come on, love. This is cutting into my short lunch break. I’m going to have to work through it.” He offers you his hand and you take it. 

He pulls you off the couch and after you get to your feet, you fix your dress.

“The water gun was a fun clever idea but don’t you ever shoot that inside my house again, you understand?” Ray says as he leads you out of the room.

“Okay, fine!” you reply.

He swiftly swats your butt and you squeal.

“Yes, Daddy!” you correct yourself.

“That’s my girl.” He leans in and plants a kiss on your temple.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Angst in coming. Diluc Zhongli and your pick being haunted by the SO they couldnt save.

Lingering Regret

Warning -> Only Angst (there isn’t a happy ending here, the reader is dead, all interactions are memories*, mentions of Kaeya (D), illness non-specific (Zh)) 

( i made myself cry ) 

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Dainsleif, Diluc, Zhongli 

The ghosts of the past cling to our shadows and seep into our memories when we least expect them to. For some they can move on, they can be healed by the passing of time, but for others, it becomes a festering wound that will never seal. 

Dainsleif

He was no stranger to regret, absolutely everything in his life was a torturous experience. From the day he became the Bough Keeper to the night he failed them all, it was a memory burned in his mind for all eternity and as if he bore the weight of all of Teyvats karma he wove it into the fabric of his being 

There was nothing he thought could break him more, could lower himself further into the sinking sandpit that was his life - that was until the day he met you

Just how many years ago was it now. With the curse of immortality like a chain to a world he was obligated to avenge, it was growing harder and harder to remember you - but there were moments when he could see and those were the ones he longed to hold onto 

“Dainsleif, are you ready?” Your voice called down to him, his eyes flooded by the bright light that surrounded you as you patiently waited for him to climb the dark stairs. You followed him everywhere, much to his disagreement, but he had grown warm to your company. “The day won’t wait for us, you know.” 

The light was so bright, why was it hiding your face? Wait -- let me see your face, I can’t remember. Don’t … don’t leave. 

He blamed himself for your death - there was no one else who could have stopped it but him and, on the day you left this world to a place he had no way of reaching, was the day he stopped caring 

There were rumors of a man who took little to no payment for almost any job - 300 mora and he’d handle your issue. They called him “The soulless vessel” for he was void of any and all emotions 

How could he hold onto something that he didn’t understand anymore, how was he capable of experiencing a sensation that had no more purpose - he was nothing but a shell without you 

“Psst, Daini. Hey sleepy, wake up.” The sound of your laughter, let me hear it again.

“Silly, we can’t sleep forever, wake up.” The touch of your hands, oh I remember them now … were they always this small. 

“I guess we can rest a bit longer, you know I won’t mind.” Your lips, how could I have forgotten their warmth; I’ll let you remind me. 

“Dainsleif, I love you.” 

The birds pulled him from his dream, their chirping calls to each other a playful and carefree tune. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face, how it cast its glow across his lips but as the memory of his dream began to fade away he covered his eyes with his hand to hide the tears that disappeared into his hair.

“Forgive me …” 

 Diluc

Lingering ghosts loved to slip into the darkness that was Diluc Ragnvindr - when they fit so perfectly there, why wouldn’t they make him their home 

He had countless people close to him perish and each one was a direct result of his actions - his father, a slash of a blade, his brother, a clash of opposing elements, his values, a single dismiss of a hand, his friends, the darkness of the abyss and the hands of the Fatui -- there was nothing he let get close anymore because it was only a matter of time before he brought it crumbling to the pit of his existence 

How could he have been so naive - what was hope but a debilitating disease and yet you purged all of that from his mind every time you entered his space, every time you pushed your way past the walls he so expertly crafted -- you were the last thing he clung to, the last light he vowed to protect 

“You know, you don’t have to worry about me all the time, I’m more capable than you think.” You crossed your arms and gave him a cocky smirk, the bag of supplies resting at your feet as they waited for you to pick them back up again. It was only because of his hesitancy that they were there in the first place. 

“I have seen your capabilities many times, yes.” 

“So, what, you don’t trust me.” 

“That is far from the truth.” He looked at you for a moment before sighing in defeat. His hand reached for the bag and lifted it to your hands. “Do be careful, is all that I ask.” 

“You know I will.” With a bright smile, you took the pack and slung it over your shoulder. In your excitement, you turned toward the door before pausing as if you forgot something and when you hurled yourself back to him only to place a kiss on his lips, he felt the heat from his pounding heart rise into his cheeks. “See you soon, handsome.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

The distant and closed-off winery owner turned into a being of rage the day of your death. No matter how hard those closest to him tried to quell the wildfire that was his fury, they could only stand back and deal with the aftermath - The flame of Diluc’s devastation was so great that it left a permanent scar in Mondstadt and to this day the earth has yet to heal 

It was on him to protect you and he couldn’t, he wasn’t even there to try and he wasn’t sure what was worse - but one was for sure, the anguish he felt knowing you called out for him but he never came to save you ate him up inside. He wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore, he was no-one 

“Diluc! Come back!” Kaeya shouted but he couldn’t hear over the sound of the violent crashing and eerie nothingness in front of him. 

“Kaeya, don’t!” Another voice joined the noise but Diluc didn’t turn around. In front of him was the only answer to his shattered and empty heart. 

“Diluc please, they wouldn’t want this!” Kaeya reached for Diluc’s arm but the pressure and wind from the opening were so great it felt like a thousand anchors were strapped to his body. “Diluc!” 

Suddenly, there was silence. No noise, no sound but the world continued to whip around like a violent storm. Kaeya’s fingers touched the fabric of his brother's coat and, as Diluc turned his head to look back, tears were streaming down his face. It was strange to see Diluc’s lips moving as if he were saying something but there was nothing, an unbearable amount of nothing.

Riddled with fear, Kaeya extended his hand toward the rip in space and as soon as he felt the pulse of his vision escape his fingers, his others curled around Diluc’s jacket and flung him backward. In the settling explosion, the sound of the world slipped back in and as those who cared deeply for the man who no longer knew his name drew closer, the first thing they saw was his hunched-over body guarded by blue and the sound of his painful cries. 

Zhongli

To know suffering, to know loss was nothing new to the Geo Archon. For six thousand years he watched those close to him rise in greatness and fall in agony - for some they were thrust into death by a number of means and for others, well, his hands have never been clean 

Still, even if he had known what it was like to lose someone he loved, it was never easy and while he always knew the day would come when you left this world to walk a path he’d never know, it wasn’t something he expected so soon 

There were endless memories he couldn’t wait to make with you - the engraving your life into the notches of his soul, to be reminded of your face by simply turning around, to recall your wit with banter of his own, to be inspired by you every single day he stepped out the door -- why didn’t you stay 

“Welcome home, Zhongli.” You were already preparing the table with the teacups by the time he entered your home. It was elegant incarnate to watch you move around the room, to place everything so perfectly and properly that he wondered if you hadn’t been a spirit in another life. 

“I am home.” He reached for your waist and pulled you close, his smile setting yours off, and as the kettle began to sound he first greeted you with a heartwarming kiss. 

There are many things he can circumvent - his capabilities are endless but he found that no matter how strong a person is, there is one thing strength cannot beat 

To watch you slowly suffer was a torturous thing. Every day you grew weaker and weaker, your skin changed but the kindness of your smile outweighed it all until the day finally came ... 

A ceremony to send someone off is a beautiful thing, a celebration of their life while they kept it their own, a remembrance and blessing to hold strong every impact they made - but to Zhongli that day was laced with bitterness 

He made the arduous steps up the hillside. His legs carried him on even when nothing else of him felt the desire to do so. When he finally reached the peak, he prepared everything so skillfully as if he’d practiced this a thousand times, and it's possible he did for there was no end to his life even if he wished for it. 

“My dear, the flowers are blooming splendidly.” He set the burning incense by the weathered tombstone. It had faded and eroded over the years, but as he brushed the engraving with his fingers, he could still make out its marks. 

The chimes in the tree rang out as he poured a glass of tea before setting it against the small offering before you. “Ah, I can only hope you are able to see them from beyond the veil.” As he gazed out over the vast field, the sun illuminated the thousands of flowers that surrounded your grave, and, as he took a sip of his tea, he sighed contentedly before continuing, “Never worry, I shall cultivate more until you do. I know how fond you were of flowers.”

--

tag list:

@star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @clemmywrites @handswritteeen @musekala @mooshymello @glazelilyy @twokissesforamelia @angel-melt @lucacandy @marianadi @smol-knife @nightlywallows @aoirohi @mguerra11 @lucy-roo @maiiikoo @nonniechan @tempehlust @zenith-impact @plumpkie @jaggedsi @salty-salty @onlyhereforinteractivestories @liebestraumss @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @anatthesavage @mkazuyuh @excitedlysuffering @kaidou-pie @yujiia @cytomegalia @natxxu @fvushiguros @nua-fromliyue @nightlywallows @yoshikuno @anonymousficreader @cyphermagic @chichikoi @akira-kiryu 

[laketaj24]

Serotonin

Author’s Note: I finally finished something in my drafts after two months. I feel semi accomplished today! Taglist is open, as are requests!!!! Send them… I want them.

Pairing: Colson Baker x Reader

Warning: Smut, public sex, drinking, language

Inspo Song: Why are you here?

 The eyes searing into you from across the club belonged to Meg Styer; you knew of her well, based on Colson’s Instagram, she was the new arm piece. The well-known model had a reputation of making herself known to the exes, even if that meant starting confrontations when they were not needed. She crossed her long russet brown legs; they shimmered in gold, as did her entire outfit. You felt immediately outdone, thinking of the minimal effort you’d put into the outfit or your makeup today. Tonight's outing was not supposed to be about Colson or this new woman; it was about falling out of this fucking slump you'd found yourself in for the past month.

"It’s lively here.” Eric grinned. Straight edge, Eric.

You cringed inside; if your mother could have created someone on an app, Eric would have been him. Without a doubt, he was handsome, with dark hair, delicate features, and not a tattoo or piercing in sight. The club had been his idea, but parts of you believed he’d gotten the idea from your sister, who knew that there was no way in hell you’d sit at a restaurant and eat. You liked the action; your job called for you to sit in silence and awkward conversations; you didn't want your life to be a damper as well.

“It is,” you looked around, taking everything in, including the abrasive eyes that still remained on you, but it didn’t matter once he entered the room. The black shirt revealed his entire tattoo-riddled chest, even the one of your name he’d gotten a few years back. He looked like he might be up to trying you tonight, so you had to disappear and do so quickly. “We should go to the booth you got.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”

It wasn’t a good idea; you sat uncomfortably across from the pair watching their every move while trying to suppress the need to end the date abruptly and slap the fuck out of him. Irritating you always was the one thing he did exceedingly well. Meg sat in his lap, draping her arms over his body, throwing her ass on him like she had no shame!  Did he know it was you across the room from him? Did he care? You watched as the waiter brought your third glass of tequila to the table and leaned into Eric, noticing the earthy cologne mixed with the whiskey. He smelled nice, or perhaps you were elusive to the bullshit because being near to him dulled the ache of the scene across from you.

The room to be secluded offered no privacy, so even when you felt alone, you were smothered in the thoughts of what if he saw you kiss or touch this guy- what the fuck was his name again? You uncrossed your legs, clumsily kicking the round glass table in front of you and spilling his drink but thank god not yours.

“I need some air; I’m gonna go get some.” You paused and took your glass. “I’ll be back.” The words scrambled out, and you did too, pushing up from the leather couch and not looking back to see Eric’s reaction to the awkward movements.

Too many people surrounded you, and at the moment, all you truly wanted was to hear nothing and feel nothing, even if it meant you had to get shit-faced. The stairwell didn’t have many people in it; only two women consumed in one another and Colson.

Your heart sunk once you realized it was him, from fear, dread – fucking embarrassment, maybe? He shook his head; you took notice of the three earrings in one ear while the other garnished a seat of crosses that dangled. Colson’s hair was slightly disheveled atop his head; the dark roots peeked out of the platinum blonde tapered cut. He looked great as usual. “I thought you were in for the night?” Colson’s voice carried over the music because he refused not to be heard, especially by you. He looked down at you, nursing the glass of chilled tequila. You’d acquired a taste for it over the years of being with him, Colson drinking tequila like water had rubbed off on you. “This doesn’t look like your place.”

“Did you want something?”

“Why are you here with that broke down,” He paused dramatically, raising his hand as he thought of more insults. “Tom and Jerry looking motherfucker?”

“That’s the best you can do?”

Colson drug his teeth over his lip, “Where you meet him?”

“Where’s that instamodel chick? You know the one with the plastic ass and tits? You leave her in the car just so you can go check on your other hoes, or is she in here with them?”

“Man, stop.”

“I saw her looking at me, don’t tell them about me. I’m not your concern, and I am damn sure not theirs.”

“How’d you catch her looking at you if you weren’t looking at me?” Colson’s cocky smirk sent a rush of anger coursing through your body; even when he lost, he found a sure way to find a confident victory in it.

“Bye, Colson.” Your eyes met his, remembering how blue they were. Even when he was dead drunk, they found a way to still hold onto the Colson you knew was in there somewhere. The sweet one that danced in the rain and stayed in bed with you every free night he could give -- you shook it off. Breaking eye contact with him to look anywhere but the blue crystal stare. You cut down to the ground, admiring your pumps before he turned away from you and left.

The drink was no longer cold, and the tequila didn’t even burn as you chugged down the remnants of the clear liquid. You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath, and then leaned against the stairwell.

“Long night?” Eric cleared his throat.

“Already, I’m so sorry. Could we leave here?”

Eric shook his head yes and placed his hand on your shoulder, “Is everything okay?”

“Perfectly, fine. It’s fine.” You swallowed. The hazed state of your mind needed to be cleared, especially before you left with him. “Can I meet you upfront? I’m going to freshen.”

“It’s fine; take your time.”

 You wouldn’t take your time; the quicker you were out of this place, the better. Whenever you were in his element, your mind refused to do the right thing. You moved through the crowded dance floor, carefully avoiding familiar faces. And finally, you were at the restrooms splashing the cool water on your face. You looked yourself over, grateful you hadn’t worn makeup—the trickles of water run down your rich ochre brown skin.  Too many thoughts raced through your mind out there but not in here. It was silence, and your mind was in a stupor. For a second, everything stilled, your heart and breathing were relaxed, and everything was back to normal, that moment as everything else was short-lived.

Colson’s reflection appeared in the mirror before you. “I cannot believe you lied to me?” The door clicked behind him.

“I didn’t lie to you.” The way he casually entered the women’s bathroom to start an argument pissed you off. “And get the fuck outta here.”

“We talked earlier today, and you said you were in for the night.”

“You said you were going out by yourself, and you got a whole entourage. So, same shit, we both just single now.”

“Come here.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me to come here. You don’t get to follow me in the bathroom and talk to me about fucking lying when you-.”

Words ended when his lips met yours, he towered over you, but he didn’t mind the effort it took to get to your lips. He walked you against the wall- steadying your steps to his until he picked you up, and as if your body knew the routine, you wrapped your legs around him. Your lips eagerly kissed him back, tugging on his bottom lip before returning to take more kisses. How were you this hungry for him? You wanted nothing more than him to fuck you, rip this dress and ruin you in this unlocked bathroom. “Y/N.”

“Fuck me.” You pleaded.

He only needed the confirmation to move towards his belt buckle unsheathe his dick. There were two ways you fucked, frantic and as if you would never see one another again and then slow – ironically, they both had the same outcome. Your heartbeat matched his, strumming against your chest, and his matched yours. You loved it. There was no foreplay needed; you wanted to feel every inch of the pain he had to offer. He pushed the black dress up to your thighs, bunching the fabric enough that it revealed your pussy for him. He swiped his tongue over the pads over his fingers and swiped your lips. You were wet for him. You had been the whole night, no matter how much you wanted to deny it. He pushed the long finger into you, curling it to press the soft pad that made you squirm and throw your head back in pleasure.

He moved from the wall to the counters, not giving a fuck if someone walked in or not; he spread your legs wider for him and gripped your curls. Exposed to the world, but all you could see was him. You reveled as he slammed into your hilt deep, muted your sequel with his lips, and paused. “You missed me, didn’t you?” He whispered. “Y/N?”

“Shut up,” Your pussy answered for you, squeezing to pull him deeper as he fucked into you. He wasn’t even deep enough for you; your fingers tug on the black shirt as you thrust to meet him each time. Your skin clapped against his every time, his cock expertly hitting that spot inside of you that made you want to cum right then and there. You held it, panting as it began to build up all over your body. He knew the signals, the way your hands rapt against him, legs quivered, and your pussy throbbed.

“Up.” He said, listening to the door open behind him.

Decency had left when he started fucking you, there was no way in hell you’d stop now, and Colson possessed no fucks when it came to sex. They could watch whoever the fuck it was. He positioned you in front of the mirror, bent over for him. Colson’s heavy hand came down on your ass, and then he pushed into you arching your back before wrapping a hand around your hair and fucking into you wildly.

Your ass bounced back on him, and his moans made you wetter. Your fists clenched as you tried to steady yourself – there was no controlling the orgasm that flowed through you. Your breath quickened, your toes curled, and your eyes snapped closed as his name rolled from your tongue.

“Open them eyes.” He gave an arrogant laugh before leaning over you, pushing himself deeper and flicking his tongue over the lobe of your ear.,

Your eyes opened, and you saw yourself flushed with sweat, mouth open, and him fucking the shit out of you. The scene erotic, beautiful, and shit you wanted it again and again. “Oh shit.” You mumbled.

“You think that fucking clown ass suit gone give you this?” He laughed as he slapped your ass again. “I thought not.” He guided you back on him, taking your hips in his hands, making sure you took every inch. He was greedy himself, watching your breast bounce in the reflection of the mirror, all while hearing you echo throughout the entire bathroom. It was music to his ears. Colson slowed his stroke momentarily, peppering, kissing down your shoulder blade before increased his pace once again, and your body jolted. You ground against him, urging him to cum and the pressure built. He panted against your back for a moment and then kissed your exposed skin. “Don’t go home with him.” He whispered, retrieving your panties from his pocket. Colson lowered himself to his knees and turned you around.

“You can’t tell me that.” You whispered.

“I’m asking.”

“Are you taking her home?”

“I can drop her ass off at her place right now.” He smiled, pointing. “Shit, you can ride shotgun.”

Good memories flooded of his snarky ass sense of humor and late nights. “You’re silly.”

Colson adjusted your dress and then stood in front of you, making sure your hair and lipstick was not smudged everywhere. “Drop Chandler off and come home.”

“Fucking hell mate,” Dom’s voice did not seem shocked. “This other chick is trying to kill me out here. Y/N?”

“Dude, will you get the fuck out of here… like now.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.”

“This was-,” You step away. “Uhm, I don’t know. I’ll call you okay?”

“Tonight?”

“Tomorrow.” You clarified. “Or the next day, just give me a damn minute to breathe?”

“Bet.” He sighed. “Should I go first… so it won’t seem suspect?”

“You’re a 6’4” guy leaving the women’s restroom, you’re busted.” You chuckled.

 A/N: I through Dom (Yungblud) in there because I kinda love him just as much lol might right him too! Hope you enjoyed! Thank you! Please let me know what you think!

Taglist: @taytayize123 @supernaturalvikingwhore @jae-writes-fanfiction @bigsisbria @placeoffreedom @kyla-queen @missdforever @gottatoxicattitude @bang-kim-bap @msreshel @blowmymbackout @titty-teetee​

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part I

Summary: When Will asks him to pick Michael up from school, Spencer may or may not develop a schoolboy crush on the kindergarten teacher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: Here she is! I’m not sure exactly what it is about Spencer Reid x teacher!reader, but it is my most requested fic topic, and I am happy to oblige! This is the first in a multi-part series. Weird is Good also takes place in this verse. Any teacher!reader requests will be folded into this verse as well, so feel free to continue sending me those!

Series Masterlist

Click here for the story mentioned, read by everybody’s fave Michelle Obama.

———

“A strong geographical profile is one of the most important pieces of the overall behavioral profile; it significantly narrows the area the team has to cover, allows for law enforcement teams to prioritize and maximize limited resources, and helps focus the investigation in conjunction with the other elements of the profile. And that wraps our section on building geographical profiles!” Spencer smiled at the faces in front of him, gesturing to the board. “The information we covered today will make up a significant portion of your midterm, so make sure to review it before next week. See you all next Thursday!”

As his students began packing up their things, Spencer’s phone rang from inside his bag. When he retrieved the phone and saw Will’s name on the caller ID, his brow furrowed in concern. “Will— everything ok?”

“Hey, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured him. “I’m sorry to ask, but JJ’s on a case, and my partner and I just finished our last call clear on the other side of the city. Henry’s got soccer practice, but Michael’s gotta be picked up in about— well, shit, right about now. Would you mind picking him up and bringing him ‘round to the house?”

Spencer looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder and started up the aisle out of the lecture hall. “Yeah, of course! It’s over by the Naval Observatory, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. If you pull ‘round the parking lot, they usually come out the side door. His teacher’s real sweet, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll let her know you’re picking him up.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Spencer pushed open the door and made his way down the hall.

“You’re the best,” Will drawled. “I’ll only be about half an hour.”

…

When Spencer pulled the baby blue Volvo into the parking lot of the school, he saw Michael and Ms. Y/L/N sitting on the steps of school. Their heads were so close they were almost touching, looking down at a book laying across their laps. Her legs were stretched out straight and she pointed down to the page, saying something that made Michael throw his little head back in a laugh that floated in through the open window of the car. Spencer grinned at the familiar sound as he pulled around the carpool loop.

When he recovered from the giggles, Michael caught sight of the car and waved his hand excitedly at Spencer. Ms. Y/L/N looked up and gave a wave as well, albeit a little less vigorous. She closed the book and turned her torso slightly to unzip Michael’s backpack and drop the book into it.

Spencer put the car in park, stepped out, and walked around the car to meet the two of them. Michael was already up and running, throwing himself at Spencer’s legs and hugging them tightly. He leaned down to return the hug. “Hey, buddy! How was school?”

“It was amazing,” Michael gushed, pulling out of the hug to gesture wildly. “We learned how to write the zzz sound, and now we know all the sounds! Oh, and then we used blocks in math, and that was so fun, because Ms. Y/L/N let us build with them when we were done counting. Oh, and then we learned about frogs, and they are so cool. Did you know that frogs have night vision? Oh, and Ms. Y/L/N said I could borrow my favorite book from the classroom library! She read it to me already while we were waiting for you, but maybe you could read it to me, too? I can read some of the words but not all of them yet, so I still need some help.”

Spencer smiled widely at him. “Wow, that does sound like an amazing day. I did know that about frogs, actually! And of course, I’d love to read with you.”

“The book’s called Giraffe Problems, and it’s about this giraffe named Edward who doesn’t like his neck.” Michael looked at Ms. Y/L/N. “What’s the turtle’s name again?”

“Cyrus,” Ms. Y/L/N reminded him.

“Right, Cyrus.” He looked at Spencer. “See, that one is tricky because c’s don’t usually make the sss sound, but sometimes they do. Ms. Y/L/N’s teaching me about it, even though she said it’s kinda hard for kindergarten.”

“Because you’ve got a big, powerful brain, right?” she said, tapping her temple and winking at Michael. “I’m Ms. Y/L/N, by the way. You must be the infamous uncle Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then she smiled at him and his big, powerful brain melted inside of his skull.

Michael continued talking, and Spencer briefly wondered if this is how people felt when he rambled. Michael lost his attention immediately, because all he could do was stare at Ms. Y/L/N. Her eyes glinted with humor as he chattered on. She followed his expressive motions with well-timed nods and mhmms, a skill she’d no doubt honed through years of indulging kindergarten babbling. She met Spencer’s eyes every so often, only a slight eyebrow raise indicating her amusement. Her hair had been tied back, but soft pieces had come loose throughout the day, falling into her face and around her shoulders. Up close, he could see that the print of her collared a-line dress was hundreds of green frogs. On her feet were a pair of beat up, low top converse, and Spencer thought he could physically feel the crush branding the chambers of his heart. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Michael’s hand tugging on his pant leg, and he looked down to see him looking up expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Spencer asked him.

“I said,” Michael repeated with a sigh, “can we look up the author and see if he has any other books?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Of course, buddy.”

“Jory John has lots of amazing books,” Ms. Y/L/N confirmed. “You’ll love the series he wrote with Pete Oswald.” She smiled at the pair of them before checking her watch. “I’ve gotta go pack up, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael.” She winked at Spencer, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “It was nice meeting you, uncle Spencer.” She waved again and then turned up the stairs to disappear into the building.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and then turned to Michael. “Well. All right, are you ready to go home?”

…

They were settled into the car and halfway home before Michael finally needed to take a breath. Spencer capitalized on the break in conversation.

“So, Ms. Y/L/N seems pretty cool,” Spencer hedged.

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Michael confirmed with a nod. “On Fridays she lets us put on the smocks and paint. And she has really good story voices. Oh, and she also has these really cool blocks that stick together—magnet blocks. And when I fell off the jungle gym and got a big scrape, she gave me a Paw Patrol bandaid! And she gives great hugs.”

“Good story voices, huh?” Spencer met Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Better than mine?”

Michael tilted his head in deep thought. “Hmmmm. It’s pretty close. Your wizard voice is good, but she does accents.”

Spencer blew out a dramatic breath. “Guess I’m going to have to up my game.”

“You’re gonna have to practice a lot, because Ms. Y/L/N reads to us every day.” Michael raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Hey!” Spencer looked incredulous. “I read every day, too!”

“Yeah, but do you read with story voices every day?” Michael clarified.

Spencer sighed. “Well, I guess not.”

“It’s okay, uncle Spencer,” Michael soothed. “You can’t be the best at everything.”

“So they are better than mine?”

Michael pressed his lips together, and Spencer almost laughed at how much he looked like JJ. “... maybe.”

…

A trail of shoes and school supplies led to the couch, where Spencer and Michael sat shoulder to shoulder. They were on their second read of Giraffe Problems. Spencer took a long, dramatic breath before launching into Cyrus’ banana speech, and Michael burst into a fit of giggles. With his best theatrical voice, Spencer read down the page. “Yet, day after day, I’ve felt like such a fool as I stretched my neck toward those greedy branches, only to be limited by my own physical shortcomings.” He flipped the page and changed his tone. “You… want a banana from a tree?” He looked at Michael and said, quickly and in a low voice, “That’s what I said, yes.” Michael wheezed out another laugh.

Spencer finished the story, Michael mouthing the words along with him. When they reached the last page, Spencer softly closed the book and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s a pretty great story.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Ms. Y/L/N said she likes it because it reminds us that we gotta love ourselves and our bodies for how they are.”

Spencer nodded. “Absolutely. We’re all different, and that’s what makes us special.”

“Yeah. I just really like when he’s wearing all the scarves.” Michael burst into another fit of laughter, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

The front door opened, and Will was smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the sidewalk.”

“Daddy!” Michael jumped up from the couch, and Will bent to scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. It sure sounds like you and uncle Spencer had fun, though.” He shot Spencer a wide smile.

“We read Giraffe Problems. Can we read it again later?” Michael asked.

“Sure thing. We can read it before bedtime.” Will set him down, furrowing his brow. “Wait, Giraffe Problems? Is that a new one?”

Michael shook his head. “Ms. Y/L/N let me borrow it from the library. I have to give it back in two weeks.”

“Man, Michael, you really lucked out, huh?” Will posited. “Ms. Y/L/N is so good to you.”

“Jeez, everybody’s saying that today,” Michael sighed. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N is amazing, we all know this.”

“All right, sass monster. I didn’t know uncle Spencer thought she was amazing, too.” Will grinned. “We gotta go pick up Henry in a few minutes. I’ll get you a snack, and you can pick up your things?” He gestured to the mess of shoes and school supplies in the foyer.

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “That’s probably my fault. We were just so excited to read the book.”

“Ah yeah, I know how he gets.” Will crossed to the kitchen. “A one track mind, that one. Thanks again for picking him up today.”

Spencer stood from the couch and followed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s no problem at all! I can do it any time.”

“Well, I don’t want to bother y—”

“It’s not a bother!” Spencer schooled his voice back into a normal register at Will’s raised eyebrow. “It—It’s not a bother at all. I, um— I have a lot of free time when I’m on sabbatical. Especially since I’m only teaching one course this semester. Plus, I love seeing the boys.”

“I’ll remember that.” Will smiled. “So… Ms. Y/L/N’s amazing, huh?”

Spencer just knew that his cheeks were as red as the apple Will was cutting up. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah, she was— she was really nice.”

“She’s not bad looking, either,” Will supplied. When Spencer’s mouth fell open, Will continued, “What? JJ thinks so, too. Don’t tell me you didn’t even look, because I know that’s a lie.”

Spencer sputtered, “I— well, I—”

“Daddy, can we get an ice-cream on the way home?” Michael interrupted, completely unfazed.

Will laughed. “Saved by the bell, uncle Spencer. Yeah, buddy, we can get ice-cream.”

…

“It’s not weird to look her up. I just want to know more about the person who’s educating my godson,” Spencer tried to reassure himself as he pulled up the school’s website. He scrolled to find the teacher pages, a little smile crossing his face when he saw Ms. Y/L/N’s picture— white ruffled shirt, red bow, and black hat. A perfect tribute to Mary Poppins.

He dropped his smile. “She barely said five sentences to you, and you didn’t say anything back.” His eyes wandered over the links on the side, landing on the About Me section. “But she did say she’d heard a lot about you, so it’s only fair that you get to know a little about her.” Against his better judgment, he clicked the page link. A photo of Ms. Y/L/N— grinning and holding a very distraught-looking black cat— popped up on the screen, and Spencer laughed aloud.

I grew up on a farm outside of Fayetteville, NC before moving to Boston to complete my undergraduate degree. I moved to DC to earn my Master’s in Early Childhood Education, and I have been teaching here for 8 years! I love working with young learners, because children grow so much in their foundational years. Watching a child have a lightbulb moment is one of my greatest joys. When I'm not in the classroom, I love to read, travel, play scrabble, and spend time with my cat Roald (pronounced Roo-all)!

Spencer scrolled through the pictures of Ms. Y/L/N and her students. There were pictures in their “smocks,” which Spencer discovered were really just old t-shirts. There was one of her in the middle of some very animated story telling, and another of a field trip to the zoo. In each one, the smiles beamed out through the computer screen in a digital portrait of unbridled joy, contagious even over the waves of the internet. Smiling to himself, he clicked on the tab labeled Teaching Philosophy.

I believe that every child is an extraordinary and essential piece of our classroom puzzle. In order to nurture the unique individuality of each of my students, I work hard to make our classroom a safe, positive, and supportive community where students are given the space to express themselves. Our classroom culture is also one of kindness and creativity, where each individual is valued and celebrated for who they are!

Spencer swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat as he thought back on his own school career. While his teachers had always appreciated his intelligence, he honestly couldn’t recall a moment where he had felt valued for just… being himself. The majority of his time in school had been spent unsuccessfully fending off bullies, completing other students’ homework, or being gawked at like some sort of alien. He was grateful that Michael would hopefully never go through anything like what he’d experienced; at least not while Ms. Y/L/N was around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned back in the desk chair to pull it out. He swiped it open to read the incoming text.

JJ: So......... you like Ms. Y/L/N, huh? 😉😉😉

Spencer: What?! Did Will tell you that? I didn’t say that.

JJ: Some things you don’t have to say out loud, Spence.

———

Tags: @spacedikut