#*jazz hands* surprise

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished

ok wow a lot of you really love my Eddie in the UD with Will au and want that in fruition, huh… so by popular demand here’s like a very rough oneshot. Basically a first draft that sets up the overall plot until i write a better one someday in the future

Edit: I lied, here’s the other parts (ongoing): Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 now on ao3!

Wayne doesn’t hear the news of Will Byers’ disappearance until the afternoon workers come in. Within minutes, the whole plant is buzzing with bewilderment and sympathy. But there is also an underline of fear that struck some of the hearts of the family men. Hawkins hadn’t seen any child disappearance cases, at least not since Wayne moved to the town in the last decade.

He is worried about the boy, especially for the Byers family. He doesn’t know Joyce too well, but they’ve talked plenty at Melvard’s with stories of their boys being quietly mischievous. Wayne sent a silent prayer that Will can be found soon and bring his mother peace.

He doesn’t speed the drive way home, but it’s damn close. He just wants Eddie to be home safe without some boogeyman taking him away.

Thankfully, his nephew is on the couch and watching a movie. He greets Wayne with a lazy wave, “Weren’t enough leftovers so I made some dinner. Hope you won’t die from my veggie soup.”

Wayne ruffles his hair - which had grown past his ears now - and sits next to him. “You heard about the Byers boy?”

“Hm, yeah. Everyone was talking about it. Saw Jonathan putting up the flyers too.” Eddie says, his eyes still on the TV.

Wayne puts an arm around him, making Eddie look at him. “Ya know that if you ever go missing, I’ll search even the lands of Hell for you.”

Eddie’s quiet. He stares with misty eyes, which he quickly blinks away. Then he lightly shoves at Wayne’s ribs. “‘Course, you would, old man. I’m the only family you care about.”

“Hey, don’t go disrespecting your cousins like that.” Wayne jokes back, making Eddie laugh. The two of them watch the movie in comfortable silence until Wayne has the mind to get up and shower.

—

It’s a double shift today. It means extra pay but it also means Wayne wouldn’t be home until early morning. He tells Eddie this before leaving and Eddie says it’s fine as usual, only that he had band practice so he’ll be coming home late. Wayne tells him make sure to stay safe too.

The next morning comes as the second day of Will Byers’ disappearance. Wayne is predictably sore and tired, but his mind remains sharp as stone.

It’s why he doesn’t miss that Eddie’s van isn’t parked next to the trailer.

The small pebble of concern forms in his stomach, but he brushes it off. Eddie’s been going to go to school early lately so it’s not unusual.

But that pebble feels like a rock when he heads to the kitchen and finds no note on the table.

When Wayne first took in Eddie, who was skittish and mute back then, he started writing notes and leaving them next to Eddie’s plate of breakfast. It was little things like ‘eggs are better runny’ and ‘don’t remember toast being this toasted’. A way to get the boy to slowly open up. Not only it worked, but Eddie soon started writing his own notes, mostly of jokes that always made Wayne laugh heartedly.

Even at seventeen, Eddie never missed a day of breakfast without a note.

Wayne makes himself take a deep breath. There wasn’t any reason to get worried. Eddie might’ve been tired or was in some kind of rush. But even then, he would make doodles to make up a lack of written words.

Just check him at the school. He’ll still be there, even if he’s missing classes.

So Wayne leaves and drives en route to Hawkins High, the secret bane of his existence. (Not that he’ll confess that to Eddie. His nephew already has enough of an ego.)

But as he turns at Cherry, he nearly crashes himself into the trees. Because at the corner, parked hazardously at the side, is Eddie’s van.

Wayne gets out in record time, but forces himself to a slow pace. He hopes that anger wouldn’t be on his face when he finds Eddie on the driver’s seat.

But Eddie isn’t in the driver’s seat. In fact, the door is half open. As if it was meant to close but had no force behind it. The front of the van also looks crushed in.

That pebble or rock in his gut grows bigger and heavier when Wayne spots a red handprint stained on the wheel.

Somewhere further in the woods, the search party calls out Will’s name. Wayne is the only one to call out for another.

—

Earlier

Eddie scowled at his bandaged left wrist. He mentally sent a thousand curses for Luka Belinski to jail for a thousand years. The crime? He showed off how easily he can flip his switch knife without getting cut, creating a jealous curiosity within Eddie to try and do the same action. Now his ability to play another instrument was impaired forever!

Seriously, fuck the clarinet players.

He sighed, starting up his van’s engine. He pulled out of the school parking lot, waving to a few peers as he hit the road. He waited until the school was out of view that he changed the radio to David Bowie.

He was in a bad mood. Sue him. Not that anybody can find out.

As he sang along to “Watch That Man”, he felt his left palm oddly sticky. He lifted it up and saw that some of the blood had dripped out his bandage.

“Shit-” was all he said before something crashed in the front of his van. He swore even more loudly, turning the wheel too quickly and pressing the brakes. He thought he heard a loud wail before the van went off the road and finally stopped.

Eddie shakily got out of the van, nearly falling over. His hand pressed against his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. Before he could inspect the damage, he heard a pained growl. He whipped around and saw a thing standing up long and tall with a face that opened up like the devil’s Venus Flytrap.

What the fuck?!

He ran into the woods. Yeah, nope nope nope fuck that.

Branches snapped behind him and he felt a clawed hand grabbing the back of his jacket. He fell to the ground, screaming and kicking his legs out as he was dragged. His good hand reached out to the scratch the monster’s arm, but his nails barely dug into the gross skin.

There was a weird swoop of vertigo as if Eddie was thrown up in the air. He remained on the ground though, but not until he was actually thrown across. His back hit against a tree, knocking him out for a second.

When his vision cleared, it was to the horrific closeup of the Venus Flytrap face. Eddie opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The monster growled, its weird toothy mouth drooling over him. He shut his eyes, hoping that he would die painlessly and that Wayne wouldn’t find his body.

Then the monster growled again, with some weird fleshy sounds. Eddie dared to peek an eye open. Its face-mouth was shut and it looked around. Then it hopped to all fours and ran off to another direction.

He forced himself to wait for a full minute before he ran again.

There were few things Eddie realized. One: he had no idea where the fuck he was. Two: he had no idea what the fuck was that thing. Three: holy shit monsters were real and he almost died. Four: was it snowing?

He slowed down his run and reached a hand out. A few snowflakes slowly landed on his fingers, but it didn’t melt or felt cold. It wavered around before he blew them off.

He looked around, trying to guess which way was the road, and saw even something more weird. There were vines practically everywhere. The ground was littered with them. They curled around tree trunks and hang off the branches. Eddie was pretty sure that none of that even existed in the Hawkins woods.

Something blurred to his far right and growled. Eddie went back to running.

He looked back to see if that monster was back and fell off a small ledge. He tumbled and rolled with a yelp, feeling one of his ankles spike in pain. He scrambled to get back on his feet and made direct eye contact with Will Byers.

Seeing the kid’s missing posters everywhere had Eddie memorize the face. Bowlcut hair with a dimpled smile and cheerful eyes. But the kid’s eyes were fearful as he hid under a den of twisted roots.

“Uh…” Eddie said because what the fuck, he just found the missing kid.

Another growl, closer this time.

Will’s eyes snapped up, gesturing wildly to Eddie. “Here, here, quick!”

Eddie crawled in record time into the root den, barely fitting next to Will. He clamped a hand over his mouth as the sounds of the monster approached right above them. It made more sniffing and growling sounds, each one sounding closer…

He glanced at Will, who held a small rock in his hand. For a second, Eddie thought if the kid was gonna hit the monster with it. Instead, Will swiftly threw the rock to his left where it landed loudly against the bushes.

The monster roared so loud Eddie thought his ears burst. It scampered off to the rock’s direction and then everything was quiet.

Will poked his head out and nodded, “It’s gone.” Then he looked at Eddie and Eddie looked at Will.

He brought his hand down from his mouth, suddenly feeling lightheaded. “Don’t tell them I listened to Bowie.”

The last thing Eddie saw and heard before fainting was Will tilting his head in confusion and asking, “What?”

— —

tagging these lovely people for their excitement over this silly au: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36

[jazzzzzzhands]

SO!! Y'all wanna see the GIFT i got my Wally?? I got him something SO SPECIAL!! Um um!! Voice reveal because it was so hard to capture the SOUND this was the best take i did for a friend!!

Yes YES!! I gave him .. A HEARTBEAT! A HEART!! Oh it PULSES, so i can FEEL him!! The surgery went so well and it was very easy and fast! (Putting his shirt back on was the hardest part) The Beating Heart comes from Build-A-Bear!! (For anyone else who wants to give Wally the gift of a Pulse!)

I think Wally loves his gift!!! Well his Heart is all a flutter anyways! Um and HEY while i'm here!! Thanks for 2000 Followers!! Wow! i'm flattered! Gushing even! It feels like not long ago, i was flustered over 1000!! I'm such a small time artist! and i've always done what i love! I know it is not a massive number, but it is to me!! Always feel free to drop me an Ask! a Request! Especially if it involves playing Dress-Up with Wally!! (or another neighbor!!... hey i need to get used to drawing the others tooo)

[infernal-feminae]

tfw you realize both your parents are fallen angels so you technically have 100% angelic blood

[khaleesiofalicante]

[xhatake]

alt! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else! [ sakumo & misaki hatake ]

      Misaki was good. She was good & she knew it. Sakumo would often chastise her, claiming that her pride would be her downfall... But it was what made her immortal, invaluable to the village. She was trusted with ugly secrets, dealing in the shadows of the village with a macabre sort of delight. She was a floating asset, assigned to whatever team her skills would complement. She was hardly the only Inuzuka brat out there, but there was a graceful brutality to the way she worked.

Misaki was often sent as a warning bell, setting every example as to why Konoha was not to be trifled with. Sakumo was the storm she promised.

She had been sent out on a mission with a three-man squad. Much to her despair, she was not left in charge of the unit. She was supposed to follow Sakumo's lead. He was one of the only surviving shinobi in the village she respected enough to listen to on the field ( most of the time ). They often had conflicting philosophies, but she knew he would ensure her survival indefinitely. She flashes a toothy, sharp smile at him as they leap from branch to branch, approaching where their target was supposed to be holed up.

They had been tasked with taking out a handful of shinobi that had fled Kirigakure & were attempting to seek asylum in the land of fire. It was a breach of security to leave them be. Sakumo seemed troubled by the assignment, but he had taken it regardless. As was his duty. Misaki catches an imposing scent on the horizon, the scent of pine & gore. There are several blips of chakra in the surrounding woods. She holds out her arm in a signal for the team to stop. She wouldn't tread too much on Sakumo's command, but it wasn't like he had her sensory abilities. Their opponents were close.

Misaki doesn't see the Kunai coming, in her own pridefulness. She is so sure she knows where every enemy in located that she fails to notice the man emerging from the shadows behind her. She survives at Sakumo's mercy when he is before her in an instant, deflecting the attack with his blade. The conflict that passes after this is quick.

Misaki recovers from the thrill of survival quickly, working in tandem with her ninken to tear through the men that had moved in on them. She was light on her feet, lethal in the strokes of her own blade. Sakumo is a sight to see in battle, cutting through his opponents with a cool sort of ease. Misaki had always admired him for it, though it was no secret that death weighed uncomfortably on his shoulders. The night before they had traded sentiments over a fire. He had big ideas for what the world could be, but the tired look in his eyes suggested there was not enough of him left to see them come true. He had a kinder heart than the man she sees covered in blood, breathing hard over a crumpled body.

        “ You saved my life. “ There is something almost vulnerable about her words & she regrets them immediately. This was not the time. It was only a moment in between battles, there were more enemies on the horizon... but there always would be,“ Thank you. “

Sakumo nods, jaw taught. Where Misaki delighted in their success, she could see a certain despair behind his steely grey eyes. He is awfully grim for someone who just won, but Misaki can sympathize whether or not she understands.

A kind heart was a curse in this world of theirs. Not everyone could be so fortunate as she, in all her coldness. By firelight, he had admitted in a lack of faith in the bloodshed expected of them. It was no secret that Sakumo had lost everything. He had buried brothers, sisters, nephews & cousins. There were only a handful of Hatake left in their world & each of them was well-acquainted with death. Sakumo had mentioned that his clan was not the only one that knew loss. That the shinobi they were hunting likely had a story similar to his own. Death would breed death, indefinitely. The concept was not one Misaki had paid much thought to until now.

" This isn't something you should thank me for. " Sakumo wipes the blood from his blade, sheathing it temporarily. He was fast enough to draw it again when the time was right. His reaction is not surprising. But Misaki pities him. She can't help it. He clears his throat, casting his gaze to her, " We should keep moving. They know we're here. "

She nods. That day, they do their duty. When they return home they are praised for the blood on their hands. It's the first time Misaki wonders whether or not it was something to be proud of.

[kanene-yaaay]

I posted 306 times in 2022

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My 2022 most famous posts:

#5

I like it

Warnings: None, really dfgyuidfghj. They’re just being silly and having fun! Lee!Basil and Ler!Sunny with brief Lee!Sunny and Ler!Basil. About 1.600 words.

Kanene’s notes: Okay okay so I read @tickly-killer‘s tickle headcanons for Sunny and Basil and got a lot of inspiration because aaaa! They’re so a d o r a b l e!! I wanted to write about Sunny randomly tickling hsi friends but I wasn’t able to squeeze that in this fic so dcfghjkfghj let’s see in the future! Because now I def want to write more about those beans having fun. <33

[~*~]

"It's dumb but I kind of like it? I am not sure why!" Basil hugged his dino plushie close. His eyes jumped quickly between staring at his fuzzy new green socks and trying to decipher Sunny's expression, the glances getting progressively slower as he realized nothing but understanding and a small glint of awe stared back at him. 

Sunny always seemed to understand him.

"It's nice." Basil continued when Sunny didn't say anything, feeling a bit bolder when his friend blinked at him, attentive at every word that left his mouth. "I always liked to laugh and... tickling never fails to get us to laugh, right?" He smiled, shyly hiding part of his face on his plushie again. "And it's playful too. Hero is always tickling giving Kel birthday tickles when he is still too energetic to go to bed after his party and Aubrey likes to pull tickle fights when we're all together..." At the memories of loud laughter, joyful teases and friendly shoves both teens stared at the ceiling with smiles on their faces. The moon high in the sky and the tiredness that slowed their movements showed how late their sleepover got but, still, between sleepy giggles and warm hugs, none of them had the courage to call it a night. That was when whispered secrets began to fill the room. Basil turned a bright - and still a tad flustered - smile in Sunny's direction. "... I just think that I like tickling because it makes me feel closer to you guys."

Sunny stared right back at him, and for a second the fog of sleep cleared from his mind, making him too much aware of how hot his cheeks are and how crazy everything must sound to his friend. How embarrassing. What was he thinking? So silly. All of this was just so silly and embarrassing, and he shouldn't just go telling things like this without even thinking about, what was he thin-

"I don't think it's dumb."

Basil let out a loud squeak, making both boys freeze when Kel squirmed on the bed next to them, breathing stopping for a second before his snores began to fly in the air again. Sunny let out a relieved sigh, noticing how nor Hero or Aubrey's asleep form seemed to react to the blonde's squeal. Basil took a few deep breaths to clear his head. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight and repeat. The same routine for when the dark thoughts tried to be too much.

When his blue eyes opened they found concerned black ones. Basil held Sunny's hand and gently squeezed, a relaxed smile in his face showing the other that he was truly okay.

Sunny nodded. He scooted over, pressing their bodies together in the shared mattress on the floor, his words a whisper. "I think it's cute."

Basil's shoulders bounced as he held his flustered titters, the honesty on his friend's tune doing nothing to quell the blush slowly creeping to his neck. "Thank you, Sunny..."

The other looked at him then around the room, eyes unfocused as if he was pondering about something before nodding at himself and letting their eyes locked themselves together again. Basil wondered if he was going to share a secret, too.

They stared at each other. Sunny’s lips quirked upwards and for some reason Basil felt shiver run down his spine, making a wobbly tune take over his smile. Sunny just tilted his head, like a confused puppy, before slowly pulling both of his hands up, fingers wiggling in the air.

"Sunny!" A quiet gasp left his mouth, body instinctively trying to squirm away however failing as his back pressed on a cold wall, giggles already bubbling and jumping in excitement in his chest as the offending hands got closer and closer and closer to him. 

Sunny only grinned in response, feigning an attack and fishing a yelp from the other, who was quick to cover his lips with his right hand, using the other to try to bap the teasy fingers away in a silly fight that last less than a minute. Soft snorts began to paint his words. 

"I am going to wake them up, Sunny!" Sunny, the traitor, only snickered in amusement, deciding to finally attack the other's sensitive neck with a series of light scribbles and nimble scratches, being oh, so careful to go all the way up to tease for a few seconds the spot behind his ears before going back down and giving a bit of attention to his collarbone. "Sunny!" 

Both boys couldn't help their big smiles at the high pitched, muffled giggles that were quick to become quiet squeaks as that lovely spot right under Basil's chin was targeted, making the blonde bounce on the spot in an attempt to get rid of the giddy energy which seemed to spread across all his nerves, especially when Sunny changed his attack to softly prod and poke at his ribs, leaving a trail of tingles everywhere he touched. "Plehehehease!"

"Don't worry." Sunny stopped the tickles to adjust himself, pulling his friend closer so he would be able to hide his face on his chest, an opportunity Basil immediately took, muffling even more the snorts and yelps that blossomed on his voice. Sunny chuckled happily at the sight. "I will stop before you get too loud." He promised,  experimenting a light squeeze at his belly and deciding against tickling the spot when a bark of laughter momentarily filled the air, which led him to firmly rub the skin and to not only chase the remains of the ticklish feeling away but also make the other basically melt on his embrace. 

He placed the information in a folder and put it away for another day.

"I like your laughter." He pointed, his fingertips trailing on the ticklish skin of the other's back, tapping their way up and down on his spine, humming contently with Basil's snickers, "and I like that you like it. It's a good way to make you smile."

He squirmed a bit when his friend's hands rested on his sides, almost clawing at the ticklish spot, probably as he tried to keep his balance. Sunny felt his own attack become wobbly, being thrown away by the sudden tickly sensation. He squirmed a tad more, trying to dislodge the hands.

It didn't work.

"But do you know what I also like a lot?" Basil's voice, even though still full of bubbly laughter, held a hit of something else. Sunny looked down, wide eyes finding blue ones mischievously shining in mirth. 

Basil's joyful smirk only grew bigger at the redness that covered the tip of Sunny's ears, quickly nodding at his friend when said one shook his head in response, already knowing the answer for his question.

He decided to answer anyway. "Revenge!" He whisper-shouted, carefully pinching his usually quiet friend's sides, almost squealing in pure delight with the way Sunny became boneless at his touch, hands hugging himself and cheeks puffed out in his herculean effort to hold in all the laughter.

"You're so cute, Sunny." He almost didn't realize when the words left his mouth, his fingers spidering their way to the so guarded armpits, too much in awe with the titters that escaped from other's tightly pressed lips. It has been a time since they had a tickle fight, he almost forgot how happy they made him feel.

"You're both cuter when you're sleeping, though."

It took everything in the blonde to not scream and wake up the whole city at the new voice, his body immediately jumping and turning around to stare at the yawning Hero with a wide stare.

Ver o post inteiro

79 notas - publicadas em 27 de janeiro de 2022

#4

Come here, I have a surprise!

Warnings: None, really dfgyuidfghj. They’re all just being dramatic and having fun! Lee!Isabella and Lee!Mirabel with Ler!Luisa because I am weak for the idea of someone being tickled while being picked up. About 1.000 words.

Kanene’s notes: THIS LITERALLY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUST A QUICK THING AND SDFGHJUKILODFGHJ. W h y.

Anyway ONE MORE NEW FANDOM XDDD I wasn’t sure if Luisa really calls Mirabel “hermanita” on the movie since I didn’t watched it in spanish (yet :3) and she does that on the portuguese dub but I hope it is still cute and in character anyway. This is just a fun crazy fic I did because why not, am I right? x) 

I didn’t review this before posting so a few things can be confusing. Hope it is still enjoyable anyway. Have a nice day! :DD

[~*~]

“Camilo!” She whisper-shouted, looking over her shoulder with a wary manner. Everything seemed fine right now, but for how long would it stay that way? Her knuckles rasped and knocked coincidentally on the face engraved on the wood door, colliding with a bit more of force than it was necessary, which would be exactly what she would be doing if that little gremlin doesn’t open the door right in that damn inst-

The floor trembled under her feet.

Oh no.

“Camilo! Camilo, quick open the door. Camilo!” The tremor got stronger. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no. That wasn’t good. That really wasn’t good. Now there was no way the one on the other side of the wall wasn’t listening to it too. She was running out of time. Her knocks became more desperate. “Camilo, I know you’re there! Open the door! You know I can’t hide in my room, she will find me!!” A loud scream echoed in the distance, with a quick, sad look to the sky Mirabel prayed for Isabela. More specifically she prayed to NOT have the same fate as her older sister. Her knocks turned to full slamming her fists on the wood.

There was loud laughter blossoming in the distance.

The floor only trembled more, the sound of thundering footsteps filling the air in sync with the beat.

“Camilo! I swear, I swear I am going to eat all your arepas! I am going to grab your special coffee and give it all to Antonio’s friend if you don’t open that door right now, Camilo!” Her threats were answered with an affronted gasp from the other side, a resounding click of a door being locked pertinently dancing around her.

The loud laughter got closer. Uncontrollable giggles mixed with a playful voice full of words she couldn’t decipher right now.

“No, Camilo! I was kidding, I was kidding!” 

“Mirabel! Found you, hermanita!” Her back collided when with a spin the one being called turned to stare at the scene in front of her, fists still knocking on her cousin’s door. Luisa stared right back at her with a gigantic grin, totally unfazed with the squirming form of Isabella dangling on her shoulder, squeaky, snorty laughter flooding freely from her lips as she did her best to wiggle away from the hand holding her in the place while delivering plenty of squeezes and pinches to her sweet tickle spot. Mirabel’s eyes were pried from Isa’s fate to focus on the way Luisa opened her other arm in invitation, stepping closer. “Come here, Mira, I got a surprise for you.”

Mirabel smiled wobbly at her, pressing her back even more on the door, as if the younger one tried enough, she would become one with Casita.

“Camilo, please, I am sorry for threatening your coffee, okay? Please, Camilo, I will owe you one, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-”

The door moved just the tiniest bit, with the corner of her eye Mirabel was able to see brown eyes peeking from the tiny crack opened. 

Bless Camilo’s companionship, his loyalty, his kindness and their story. She knew nothing would be able to make him betray their incredible strong bond formed over stealing food in the middle of the night, she should never had doubted her favorite, bold, good cousin and his true brave heart-

“I am sure that if Camilo opens the door he can also see the surprise.” Luisa’s smile only grew bigger at her, sharp with playfulness and soft around the corners. Mirabel cursed under her breath.

“Yeah, no.” The crack closed, Mirabel cried in protest at the same time Isabella squealed, Luisa now adjusting her with a careful jolt that made the older sister scream with a joy she would forever deny and changing her attack to dance her fingers on her ribs, focusing in that spot right in the middle of the highest rib that fished bubbly, weaker giggles. “She has that look on her face. The same mom and aunt’s get when they’re about to wreck us or to say something embarrassing about our days as babies.” He forced an exaggerated cheer in his next words, mimicking Luisa’s voice and tune. “Either way, good luck with your surprise!”

“Traitor!” Mirabel glared daggers at the door. Maybe if she had enough determination and heat she would be able to melt the object and hit her traitorous cousin. A suspicious footstep clicked behind her and she turned around quickly only to see that now Luisa was two feet closer to her, her free hand wiggling her fingers in an invitation still. Butterflies began to fly crazy in her stomach, anticipatory giggles jumping excitedly on her chest. 

“No one told you both to prank her.”

“But she looked so cute with that cat noses and whiskers on her face and the flowers on her haEEEK-” in a blink Mirabel’s foot wasn’t touching the ground anymore and the whole world become a mix of colors before her was laid on Luisa’s left shoulder, her hand quickly worming her way to her underarm, laughing happily when she was rewarded with a loud shriek.

She jolted both younger and older sisters on her shoulders, ignoring their synchronized squeals of protest.

“I am sorry!!” Mirabel said amidst her laughter. “It was Isabella’s idea!”

“Was it?” Luisa hummed, walking in the direction to her room calmly, waving at Bruno’s amused face when she passed.

“She is lying!”

“Am not!”

Ver o post inteiro

111 notas - publicadas em 30 de janeiro de 2022

#3

Pspsps, come here

Kanene’s Notes: I wrote clever gremlin Sun and Moon with Sun being an overly excited puppy and Moon a teasy bastard and I regret  n o t h i n g. You can pry this happy and soft scenario from my dead cold hands.

Warnings: This is a tickle fanfic with Reader Insert with Neutral Gender Reader (they/them) and Lee!Reader with Ler!Sun & Ler!Moon. Moon and Sun are separated animatronics and are not brothers here. Can be viewed as romantic or platonic. You all live together. Around 5.000 words. It has nicknames, playful teasing, raspberries, fluff, cuteness and they trying to convince the reader to go sleep.

[~*~]

"No." 

You squinted your eyes at the animatronic perched on the top of your fridge, faceplate spinning for a second before his smirk grew wider, his hand making a 'move closer' gesture in your direction. 

“Not a chance.” You repeated slowly, savoring the words as you crossed your arms and defiantly retreated farther on the illuminated living room, very aware that  the animatronic wouldn't try to follow you with his aversion for artificial lights. 

(You wondered if his eyes, for being overly adjusted to see and move perfectly in the dark held some kind of sensitivity for lightness in general. You both should look into that later. It definitely wasn't comfortable to irritatedly hiss at lamps every time you made a move to flick the switch.) 

"Pspspspsps." His raspy voice glitched in an amused manner, drops of snickers falling from his mouth together with this truly compelling argument, totally underrated by your frown and impressive glare. Red eyes glinted stronger with mischief. "Come on, Moonlight, why don't you move closer? ~" 

You showed him your middle finger. Louder crackled chuckles filled the air.

"Naughty, so naughty. That kind of language is forbidden in the daycare." Moon's head bobbed from a side to another, clearly more than amused at your current predicament. For a moment the mental image of a cat flicking its tail twinkled on your mind. 

"This is not the daycare. This is my house and I am an adult who is allowed to go to bed as late as I want." You did not highlight the last part with a pout. Shush. You can’t prove anything.

"Of course, of course." For some reason, he agreeing with you brought a bigger sense of dread than anything else. Although there wasn't much time to think about it when the six feet tall animatronic in all its metallic glory jumped from his high hiding spot and consequently made your heart stop for a hot second, fearing for the integrity of your floor tiles. However, with an exaggerated flourish and a way too much smug click of joints, he laid on the ground with a surprisingly soft thump.

"But," his voice dragged you from your own mind. Your thoughts were really distracting today... 

Probably a consequence of your latest restless nights but you were just not about to admit it. This was now a battle of principles. 

"But," Moon repeated, his gaze much more piercing than before. You wondered if he was discreetly checking your vitals again. "A certain human agreed to let us help if they diverted far, way too far, from their usual sleep schedule. Using any, any, any means necessary." You gulped. Damn, Past You, how could you betray Present You so easily? "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, starlight?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"No? Ohoho. Maybe we can refresh your memory." His smile grew. The hair on the nape of your neck standed, a shiver running down your spine as your instincts realized there was something strange in your surroundings just too late.

A shadow hoovered nearby.

"Right, Sunny?" 

Strong arms hugged you from behind. "Righty, right! Of course! You see, sunlight, moonshine, our light! Each one of the daycare attendants are equipped with a voice recorder to guarantee the safety and security of your children with the highly specialized tech developed by the Piz-” Gradually, Sun’s voice gained a more neutral tone as he recited the programmed speech inserted on his code. In the middle of his sentence a buzzing sound cut his speech and you felt him shaking his head, very much likely pushing the warning embriebed on his programing away. It didn’t take long before his usual upbeat voice appeared again. “Yes, yes, yes! Lots of adults would stop getting in trouble when we told them that. Lots and lots. hehehe”

Feet dangling centimeters away from the ground (why did they have to be so tall?), you tried to loosen his hold in vain, squirming as a halfhearted groan mixed with your protests. “Sundrop, wait. Babe, you can’t just betray me like that!”

“Sorry, sunflower,” came his reply devoid of a single drop of regret. He lowered his faceplate right in front of you, smiling in an equally apologetic and amused manner. A roll of rays (which were much more unimpressed and entertained than an energetic excited spin and not to be confused with the angry rotation of rays) made a soft breeze hit your face as you ironically repeated his words under the breath. A light pinch on your side made it all stop. “But we promised to help. And you know how I hate to break my promises... or to see you exhausted any longer.”

A warm feeling blossomed immediately on your chest at his sweet, kind words, knowing very well how much care those held. To be honest, your heart kind of melted a bit. However, months of sharing a house with the celestial animatronics taught a thing or two about that playful shine on the robotic lens and their ability to use their cuteness for pure evil.  

You managed to free one of your arms to point at him accusingly.

“You don’t dare to be sweet with me right now, mister.” His puppy eyes seemed to only get bigger and more pleading, arms cradling your body closer to the soft chest. You refused to crumble under such a clear adorable attack. “I know very well you’re just trying to distract me while Moon dim the lights, Sun.”

With a startled yelp, the night themed one almost let go of the broom he was using to poke at the switch and set it on a darker mode, his features not even a tad ashamed as your accusing gaze clued on him. 

“D e m o n.” You fingerspelled at him.

“Guilty as charged.” His own precise signaling was quick to follow, his sentence tauntly ending with a wave - fingers wiggling in your direction - at the same time Sun spun and turned your body to face him, a hand dramatically clutching at his chest as if he had taken a shot. 

“Your doubts of our love wound me, firefly! Oh, oh, oh the pain! The distrust! The unfairness of your mean, mean, mean words is breaking me apart!”

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151 notas - publicadas em 30 de maio de 2022

#2

Good Night, Sun

Warnings: Raspberries, Angst, Nightmare (mentioned), Hurt/Comfort, Cheer up tickles, Lee!Sun and Ler!Moon. About 1.600 words.

Kanene’s notes: So I have a new fandom SDFGHJKDFTGYHJU. Okay, okay, I was in a v boring writer block until I re-watched @sid-is-screaming amazing TikTok with Sun and Moon being just the custest beans and then a sudden motivation hit me because!!! Cheer up tickles!!!! So yay! Fic! I am not gonna lie, I still need some more pratice to understand fully their personalities but this is already a start. I hope you all like this. Hope you have a comfy day, beans. Take care!

[~*~]

"M...Moon..." 

It was just a weak whisper, almost inaudible with the way it was pronounced, the usually so excited animatronic not even being sure if he would be heard by his sound asleep brother. 

It was a good thing - he decided as his eyes followed Moon when the called slowly blinked awake, his confusion, even if clear on his expression, being pushed aside as he sat next to him, eying warily the tears that ran freely across Sun’s faceplate, trying to lock their gazes unsuccessfully - that they were so carefully equipped with sensitive sensors prepared to analyze and capture the tiniest hint of any distress sound and quickly find their sources, keeping it easier to find and help scared - or scarred - kids. 

And animatronics too, as it seems.

"Sun?" His voice slurred with the way his wires and functions began whirring to life. The blue one realized it was way too dark for them to be fully charged, meaning that there were very few reasons for the other animatronic to be there, none of them being very good. 

Sun sniffed miserably, arms hugging himself, no answer leaving him. Moon calmly prodded again. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

And Sun didn’t found his words to answer because he actually didn’t want to be up, he didn’t want to literally shake with the way energy flowed inside of every single one of his wires, making his endoskeleton tremble in what, in any other situation, would have him perfectly hyped up to play with childrens, but right now just lead to a series of unpleasant shocks to travel through his spine, making his fingers hold his arms tighter. He just- he couldn’t- he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop the flashes of those awful, horrible moments which kept dancing in front of his eyes in explosions of red, orange and fire, oh god, the fire felt so real and horrible and burning and getting closer, closer, closer at every single second and it didn’t mattered how much he brought his brother close to him, how much they hugged and tried to find an exit, there was no escape, there was simply no escaping because the flames were everywhere and they were going to- they were going to-

A hand held his own - when did he start gesturing, again? - and pulled, the firm, yet gentle, sudden touch making the shadows of his nightmare pop out of existence in a fast piece of moment as he found himself lying on his brother’s chest, who just adjusted himself so they could rest more comfortably on the mattress, eyes widening as the other let out a quiet whimper, hugging him tightly.

‘That bad, huh?’  Moon sighed, not unkindly, a hand laying on top of Sun’s head, softly running his fingers across his rays feeling the corner of his mouth quirk upwards with the way Sun immediately relaxed on his hold, a stray, much weaker, sniffle leaving him.

“Sounds like a bad one. Our neuro system can really suck, sometimes.” The other huffed in a tired kind of approval and Moon quietly softened at the good signal that the reaction was, mentally shaking himself awake. It was decided, even before the moment he saw those tears, he wouldn’t fall asleep until his brother did so, it was the least he could do for the one who always brought a smile on his face, never leaving his side independently of the situation. 

He hummed in thought, searching for a good topic to distract Sun from his own thoughts. 

“Have I ever told you about the dream I had in which we were both part of that old show, the one with those two inventor kids who  live in an eternal summer vacations, and Vanessa was our older sister but for some reason she only talked by singing?”

“W-what?!” Sun sputtered, a light already beginning to take space on his eyes as he stared at the other in an amused confusion. “No you didn’t. Why didn’t you!?” His lips turned in a wobbly line, giving his voice a bouncy tune. “Vanessa singing, I can’t believe it.”

“I never told you because I knew you would try to pull her to the karaoke nights, that is why.” Sun snorted at the mental image, quickly hiding his faceplate on Moon’s chest, shoulder’s shaking a little with the two or three giggles that he did his best to keep trapped. Moon playfully poked him between his shoulder blades, fishing another snort. “Quiet, you never know when she will be listening.”

“Stooop, don’t be mean! She is actually nice when you give her a chance, you know?”

“A kid could steal all of your glitter and you would still think they’re nice.”

“Hey! No!” Sun batted Moon’s finger away and it came back for another poke, looking at it warily for a second before jumping to defend his tiny, squishy human friend. “Gregory is a very great kid. He just needed the glitter for a project and he apologized after his timeout! One day we all will have a slumber party and you will see how well behaved he can be. Ask Freddy, he agrees with me.”

Moon huffed, the memory of Monty bad mouthing the young human as he tried to clean all the true mess of glitter his entire form was after the aforementioned’s prank led to equal parts of disbelief and amusement to fill his reaction. The kid has the courage, that he could give. 

The one in night themed pajamas was about to mention said prank to Sun, however, as he saw the way his brother was getting closer to pout he decided to grant a bit of mercy to their usual playful banter. He could be a bit more soft today. Just for Sun.

“Ok, ok. Now sush or I will never be able to tell you about the dream.” 

And then he started. Moon talked and talked, about that one and many other weird dreams he had, adjusting his voice box to its softest setting, letting his calm tune fulfill the room as the stories brought their attention away from the tears and those scary memories which hid on the dark corners of our mind.

Soon enough a barely muffled laughter yanked Moon out of his thoughts, the same grinning as he saw more and more giggles escaping from his brother’s lips.

“Oh, so this is funny to you, huh?” One of his hands began to scribble the other animatronic’s left side, fingers lightly dancing freely and nimbly across the sensitive spot, only seeming to get faster as a wider smile took over Sun’s expression. “Me being unable to move until naptime was over because a bunch of kids fell asleep in a pile on top of me it’s a very funny story to you, huh?”

“It t-tihihihickles, Moon!” A rather high pitched squeal broke his protest when his brother decided that his other hand was bored and tickling Sun’s unfairly ticklish cheeks was the only way to give it a proper enrichment. “Nohohoh, wait! No, no, n-not thehehere!”

“Why not? I think this is a very good spot. Here, I will show you.” He highlighted his words by blowing a raspberry on Sun’s cheek, being rewarded with a loud shriek and hands immediately pushing his face away, loud squeaks and wheezes mixing themselves in the laughter that danced in the air. “But maybe you would want a few tickly-tickly-tickles-”

“Eek! Dohohon’t call them thahahat!”

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234 notas - publicadas em 19 de janeiro de 2022

Meu post nº 1 de 2022

Ooh, requests are open??

Could I request a fic of Moon (FNAF) being a playful/teaser ler with male (or neutral) reader? I haven't been able to find many of him 🥺 👉🏻👈🏻

No worries if not tho 💜

~🌘

I give up from trying to write mini-fics sdfghjdfghj I got really excited with this because!! It's been such a long time since I wrote a xreader fic and I never tried to make it a tickle fic before so yaaaaay! I really hope you like this! <;33

I went for the neutral gender reader. Around 3.000 words. Can be viewed as platonic or romantic. No proofreading so some parts can be a bit confusing. Have a nice week :D

[~*~]

“Are you having fun, yet?”

The sudden raspy, robotic voice probably would scare you if it wasn’t the third time Moon questioned the same thing, his voice coming upwards and not so far away from your spot, showing that he decided to test the metallic cabs this time. You sighed, half exasperated, half amused as you took another sharp turn, ducking behind and under a few tunnels from the playground in hopes of throwing him out of your back. Finally opting for crouching under a yellow slide, you squinted at the animatronic as he headed the opposite direction of your hidden spot, trying to not step on a bunny plushie forgotten there - probably another squeaky toy, those seemed to be appearing just about everywhere these days. - Maybe Moon’s heat vision was malfunctioning? You made a mental reminder to come back to this later after all the tests were over.

Of course, if your superior knew that the way you both decided to conduct the tests to see if his new updates were running smoothly and correctly was through a series of games that somehow came to a heated Hide and Seek in the dark, you knew you would be listening a lot from her. However, how could you shut down Moon’s excitement by forcing him to repeat previously cataloged movements and answer thousands of redundants questions about ‘Are you having any problems staying still in the air? Spin non stop for one minute. Are you having any problems to stay still now? Spin non stop for two minutes changing from going from left to right and vice versa at every twenty seconds. Are you hav-’.

Yeah, you couldn’t exactly blame the petulant scoff that left the calmer daycare attendant when he read the first page of the tests, just as you couldn’t find in yourself any regrets for letting you to be dragged to his shenanigans when that gaze - usually so bored or tired - stared at you with a new chaotic light.

That is how you ended up in this situation, eyes following the blue form of Moon as he moved across the play area with his new suspension cabs, jumping on the playground to look inside the tunnels and around the climbing structure before floating in the air with a few pirouettes, probably enjoying the feeling of the exciting freedom that came with his new update.

The new system was created in an attempt to attract more kids and make Moon an even more visually more appealing character for the younger ones - who would, as consequence, convince their parents to spend more and more in marketables and tickets on the Daycare - since they have been receiving complaints from clients of how much ‘strict’ and ‘uncaring’ - especially for the kids who refused to respect the, as Moon himself proclaimed, sacred Nap Time - the night themed animatronic was with the children.

It was kind of sad, really, that those guardians focused so much on Sun's excited and energetic demeanor and declared that was the only one personality fitted to take care of kids. How they ignored the way Moon would create a schedule every day before the shopping opened so every kid would have a chance to choose a book to read during storytime, how they failed to notice the way he would make different voices for each character even when changing the tune and timbre of his chatterbox didn’t came naturally to him, or even his careful and kind - even if a bit sharp around the edges - actions was when the young ones had a nightmare and he immediately went to comfort them. Just a bit more of attention, or mayhaps just care, and any parent would see how a few shy kids, when the daycare was about to close and guardians waited in a fan of emotions to pick their child and take them home, shuffled closer to Moon and tugged his clothes, thanking him for spending time with them or handing back his noise canceling headphones.

Instead, plenty of clients and even employees kept throwing annoying comments, trying to jab an inexistent rivalry between both of the daycare attendants, receiving back a witted answer from nighthemed robot or an overly excited passive aggressive comment from the day themed one, who would never pass a chance to protect his brother.

So, yeah, you’re not about to deny him a few more minutes having fun with his new update

Besides, the prospect of being able to grab insufferable, careless guardians who shouted complaints at the flickest, stupidest things and throw them far away would be good for Moon’s general health, you’re sure. Not that he would ever do that - or at least you hoped he wouldn’t. Way too much paperwork to even be worth it, - but the fact that he would be able to could bring the true peace to his grumpy heart.

Going back to the present, a quiet chuckle left your mouth as you wrote down a few observations on almost the finished paper you needed to hand to your superior on the next day. Hopefully the support team wasn’t going to have too much work to make the necessary corrections you pointed out. If everything kept occuring well, the daycare attendant would have his new mean of transport in no time.

A cold feeling ran down your spine.

You couldn’t hear the metallic clicking sound of the animatronic moving around anymore.

Mentally cursing your distraction you moved just the slightest from your hiding spot, just to be able to take a better look at your surroundings, a strange chill running across your bones. There was always a strange sensation of electricity and wariness that accompanied childish objects when they were bathed by darkness and complete silence, an aspect that plenty of horror movies liked to play with and that had some scenes of the said ones start to play in front of your eyes. You wrinkled your nose, perhaps you should tune down the whole watching scary movies for a bit.

Another chill danced in cold waves across your nerves, leading the hair in the nape of your neck to stand and an invisible force to turn your head upwards, almost colliding with Moon’s face, which dangled - just like the rest of his body - a few centimeters above you. Even if he didn’t have the need to breathe, you could almost be sure a puff of air hit your features when the aforementioned opened his mouth, a pleased grin on his face.

“Found you. ~”

Things happened way too fast after that.

A blink and you stumbled to be in your feet.

A blink and the animatronic had to quickly retreat to not be headbutted.

Blink. You were running, excited giggles filling the air. Blink. You heard a soft ‘thump’ behind you, followed by quick footsteps. Blink and you impulsioned yourself forward, fuelled by the sinister snickers that got closer and closer to you.

Blink and something made you lose your ground.

A high pitched squeak echoed as your body fell to meet the cold floor of the daycare, your eyes catching a glimpse of something rubbish for a piece of seconds.

Those fucking cursed squeaky toys-

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324 notas - publicadas em 7 de fevereiro de 2022

Veja a sua Retrospectiva 2022 →

[mitsurifacts]

Mitsuri is trans, actually

[olliesneweyes]

432 YOU MADE AN ACCOUNT????????? <-wipanon

HII!!!!!!!!!!!! YEAH I DID LMAO

[the-vale-of-creatures]

i refresh every 5 minutes. imagine my surprise

Surprise!

[ohproserpine]

ii. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3

tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, unsettling & obsessive behavior, jealousy, possessiveness, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, unwanted advances (not by alastor), murder, graphic descriptions of injuries

As the days unfolded into weeks, Alastor remained true to his word. A routine soon formed between the two of you: he would make regular visits to the speakeasy, engage in polite conversations with Mimzy, and take his usual seat to enjoy your performance.

In time, Alastor's interactions with you grew more intimate. And one night, following the success of one of your busiest night and biggest show, he surprised you with a beautiful necklace. Pulling you into your dressing room, Alastor asked for permission to formally court you. Without hesitation, you agreed, and in a burst of affection, proceeded to kiss him within an inch of your life. 

Since then, Alastor had begun to take you on dates outside the speakeasy. He whisked you away to quaint diners, lively jazz joints, and even introduced you to his mother—a sweet woman who welcomed you with open arms.

Throughout your time together, not a single one of your performances escaped Alastor'. Why would they? For him, your shows were the very essence of color in his otherwise dull and monotonous existence. His devotion to you almost mirrored religious fervor as he attended each of your shows like an impassioned disciple in the dimly lit speakeasy pews.

Your voice became a spell, luring Alastor like a foolish sailor drawn to a siren's call. In those moments, the world faded away, and he followed the melody with an irresistible pull, captivated by thoughts of you, you, you.

Only you.

Tonight, however, was anything but ordinary.

Alastor, following his usual routine, occupied his customary spot at the pub, savoring his whiskey with slow sips from his glass. However, the comforting rhythm of the night, which he had grown used to, was broken when the band screeched to a halt, the shrill notes of the violin cutting through the air. Immediately, the pub erupted in a chorus of boos and shouts.

Alastor blinked, his smile turning strained as he noticed a man stumble onto the stage. It was clear that he was intoxicated, moving about as gracefully as a headless chicken, as he made his way towards you, nearly knocking you off your feet.

Noticing the commotion, Mimzy clicked her tongue, slammed her drink onto the counter, and swiftly rose to her feet. She rushed to the stage, the glitters on her vibrant dress catching the dim lights of the speakeasy.

“Why, I oughta—" she began to seethe, as she stomped towards the stage, finger wagging in the air. “That’s the fifth time this week, Giovanni!”

"Ah, Mimzy! Jus' wanted to surprise my sweetheart," Giovanni slurred, his thick accent muddled as he clumsily leaned into you, head tucking into your neck.

Snap.

Alastor felt a visceral reaction, something within him snapping as the glass in his hand cracked under the strain of his grip. The fractured crevices dug into his skin, and golden liquor seeped out, mixing with crimson red blood.

As a regular performer at this pub, your popularity was unquestionable, and Alastor was not entirely pleased with the attention you garnered from other men. If given the opportunity, he would have you whisked away from this place. In his eyes, your voice was too lovely for a place like this. Your talent deserved a grander stage than the confines of this tacky establishment.

“Ahah,” you smiled awkwardly, shuffling away and shrugging the man's arms off of you. “Not your sweetheart, Giovanni…”

"Are you not happy to see me, carina?" Giovanni’s voice dropped to a whisper, his hand dropping to grip you by the waist. He leaned his face in closer, and you cringed. The man's breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were a bloodshot red. “Come on~ I came all the way to see you.”

“Ya' can go see and do whatevah the fuck you want with her after the show!” Mimzy scowled, stomping her heels onto the wooden flooring. “Can't have a moment of peace in here. Someone get him off my stage!”

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Giovanni retorted, his anger bubbling over as he lashed out, kicking the microphone stand in Mimzy's direction. She barely dodged in time, the crash of the mic hitting the floor drowned out by the screeching feedback.

"Please. Just go," you pleaded, your patience wearing thin. "Why? Why do you always have to make a scene?"

"Ay, carina, don't get bratty with me. Let's talk in the back," Giovanni insisted, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he attempted to pull you off the stage. But before he could, Mimzy's guards intervened, forcefully yanking him away.

"Hey! Get ya' hands off'a me!"

Turning around, you rushed to get off the stage, but Giovanni somehow managed to break free and extended his hand, trying to grab onto you. Panic welled up within you as his hand reached out, but relief followed when he was abruptly stopped by none other than Alastor.

"Now, now," Alastor's voice had a lilt as he held onto Giovanni's wrist, but the venom woven into each word was unmistakable. His ever-present smile stretched wide, serving as a clear warning. "Causing a commotion isn't the best way to impress a lady."

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wring his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled and adjusted his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wriggle his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"Ha ha! Kind sir, when someone disrupts a delightful performance, it becomes everyone's business," Alastor laughed, the sound of it tinged with sarcasm.

"But I must commend you. My, that impromptu performance of yours was quite remarkable; you truly made a wonderful spectacle of yourself!" Alastor's grin widened, his mocking tone drawing out laughter from the crowd.

Then, Alastor bent down to meet Giovanni face to face, his amusement fading. 

“Though I think you've overstayed your welcome, no?” Alastor's grip tightened around Giovanni's wrist, the pressure leaving bruises in its wake, hues of purple, green, and blue blossoming beneath the skin.

Alastor's grin turned sharp. "You will leave. Now."

"F-Fuck are you gonna do if I don’t, aye?" Giovanni spat, attempting to maintain a façade of bravado despite the pain. He tore his hand away from Alastor's grip, cradling his wrist. "Ya' think you can tell me what to fucking do?!"

"Hmm. I would at least advise you to salvage whatever dignity you have left and leave. If you had even a dust of intelligence in that hollow head of yours, that would have been the first thing you'd have done," Alastor chuckled.

“Damn right. Ya ain't got no fuckin place in my establishment,” Mimzy scowled, snapping her fingers and gesturing towards the men surrounding Giovanni. “Take him away, boys!”

As Mimzy’s goons surrounded him again, Giovanni sneered, "This ain't over."

"Oh, my dear pal, I assure you, it is very much over. The lady has made her wishes very clear," Alastor grinned.

With a final snarl, Giovanni was forcibly led away from the scene, his protests fading into the background as Mimzy's guards escorted him out. Mimzy wasted no time, bustling backstage and barking orders to her staff to clean up and prepare the stage once more.

Alastor's charismatic facade returned as he turned to you, though a glint of irritation lingered in his eyes. "Apologies you had to see that, cher. Let's hope the rest of the evening proceeds much more smoothly."

"I hope so." With a sigh, your gaze shifted downward, and you spotted his injured hands. The glass he had broken earlier had left wounds all over his calloused palms — not deep, but enough to draw blood.

Concern etched across your face, and you gently touched Alastor's hands. The radio host, accustomed to your touch by now, allowed you to inspect the damage.

"You're hurt," you pointed out, caressing his skin.

Alastor met your gaze with a reassuring smile. "Ah, this is just a trifle. A mere inconvenience, I assure you! My, I've endured far worse during hunting, darling! This is hardly worth mentioning."

"But—" you began, only to be interrupted by his finger pushing against your red lips.

"Worry not, cher. I'll take care of it. There's no need to play nurse," he spoke with finality, as if this was a matter not open to further argument.

"Alright," You managed a small smile. "I am really sorry things turned out this way, Al. I didn't know Giovanni was going to show up again. He's always been like that for as long as I can remember. I told him to stop but he never does."

"No need for apologies. None of this fault is on you, darling. Though it does add a touch of excitement to otherwise mundane affairs, doesn't it?" Alastor chuckled heartily, though you sensed there was a bitter undertone to his laugh.

"Excitement? That man is a shitshow just waiting to happen," Mimzy returned and walked up to both of you, rolling her eyes. "And I thought I got rid of him for good..."

Suddenly, she leaned in with cosmetics in hand, deftly swiping lipstick across your lips and delicately brushing blush on your face. "Now come on, dollface, let's get you back to that stage."

You realize you're still on shift, but the thought of performing feels nearly impossible at the moment, especially with all this lingering adrenaline in your system. Admittedly, you're a bit shaken up, and all you want is to curl up by Alastor's side and savor the night with a drink in hand. 

"Oh, Mimzy…I'm not sure I can really perform right now, love. I feel…" you slowly trailed off, faltering under the weight of Mimzy's hardened gaze.

The blonde cooed out your name, her fingers gently wrapping around your arm, soothingly rubbing it up and down. "Dollface, you're not here to question; you're here to perform! Alastor here has been so kind to get rid of your little problem. Now, let's get back up on that stage and do what you're good at."

"Pardon?" Alastor snapped with a raised brow, his usually jovial tone replaced by a sharper edge. "Well, I don't mind in the least. In fact, I rather enjoyed putting that simpleton in his place. I'm sure your patrons can afford to wait, can't they? This poor dear is still shaking in her heels!"

But you intervened, mustering a smile and smoothing down the wrinkles on your dress while nervously tending to your hair. "Oh no, Al, it's alright. Mimzy's right. I can't just let one man ruin my entire night."

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, taking a moment to compose before adding, "Besides, the show must go on, right?"

Alastor paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied your nervous tics. The radio host silently appraised your form for a few more seconds before eventually giving in. "Hmm, very well. If that's what you wish."

"Thank you, Al," you whispered with a smile, tilting your head up to press a kiss against his cheek. Your lipstick had left an imprint on his bronze skin, but he made no move to wipe it off.

With a chuckle, Alastor leaned back into you and returned the gesture warmly. 

"I'll take care of everything, doll," he whispered, voice low, before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "He won't ever bother you again."

Confused, you blinked up at him with those bright eyes he loved so much. "How do you plan to do that, Al?" you asked, but he ignored you, staring at you with that unsettling look in his eyes again.

Alastor suddenly raised your hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with gentle pecks, causing your mind to blank and cheeks to go aflame. 

Tapping her foot impatiently, Mimzy's irritation grew as the display of affection lingered longer than she deemed appropriate. With a swift swat of her hand against the man's shoulder, she hissed at him. "That's enough outta you!"

Alastor smirked to himself and began walking back, seemingly satisfied with the subtle disturbance he had caused. He was such a bastard, but he was yours.

With a shake of your head and a smitten blush gracing your cheeks, you returned to the stage. The blinding spotlight enveloped you as Mimzy tossed the microphone back into your waiting hands. 

Meanwhile, Alastor reclined in his seat at the booth, his gaze fixed intently on you as you resumed your performance. The audience, having brushed off the brief interruption, eagerly redirected their focus to you.

Rabbit, rabbit! Won't you run away? Don't give the farmer all his fun today~ He'll get by without his rabbit pie. So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run!

As you neared the end of the song, Alastor joined the crowd's applause, rhythmically snapping his fingers together.

Wonderful, as always.

.

Snap.

The sudden, jarring sound shattered the stillness of the forest, followed by a shrill scream that seemed to shake the trees. Giovanni's hands instinctively shot down to his ankle, where his bone had twisted in a gruesome sight that sent bile rushing to his throat. However, he had no time to inspect the damages as a rustling bush caught his attention. Desperately, the man began crawling on the ground, doing his best to move farther away, dragging mud and dirt all over his body.

"Don't give the farmer his fun. Fun. Fun," emerging from thick shrubs, Alastor sang lowly as he continued his slow advance, relishing in the fear that emanated from his prey. He raised his hand, fingers idly tracing over the red mark on your lips, and if he focused hard enough, he could still feel the burn of your affections. "He'll get by without his rabbit pie."

The dense forest around them seemed to close in, casting eerie shadows as Alastor's menacing silhouette moved closer. Giovanni, now gasping for breath, cast terrified glances over his shoulder, desperately searching for an escape route.

"So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run," Alastor continued to trail after the man, his axe slung over his strong shoulders, a sinister grin etched on his lips.

Ah, it had been so long since he last pursued larger prey, opting for smaller catches like rabbits and squirrels lately. This, however, was a different kind of pursuit, and the thrill was delicious.

“It's rather unsavory to disrupt a live performance,” Alastor mused, gripping his axe and running his bandaged palm along the side of the blade. "Oh, the misery! Each performance interrupted, a masterpiece marred!"

“Though I suppose you redeemed yourself with your own impromptu circus show,” Alastor snickered, reaching down and seizing Giovanni’s sprained ankle, dragging the screaming man back toward him.

"Good show!" The radio host grinned as he pressed his feet against Giovanni's back to prevent him from escaping. Alastor raised the axe high, the glint of the blade reflecting the crazed gleam in his eyes.

"Now, let's see how this act ends."

With a practiced swing, he brought the blade down, chunks of flesh and blood spraying onto his clothing and skin from the impact. Alastor laughed as the light gradually faded from the man's eyes, his once-struggling arms and legs now falling limp.

“What a show!”

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

[galariangengar]

Ya know, I gotta say… I’ve somewhat recently developed a crush on champion lance, I’ve always kinda thought lance from Pokémon was cute tbh 🤷🏻‍♀️

[jyoongim]

LISTEN!! I have a spicy request!!

Alastor x reader and it's that stupid demon using reader as a cockwarmer while he's on air.

Ask and you shall receive!

Sorry if this was a little short!

Themes: established relationship, cockwarming, alastor being a little shit, soft porn plot

You were tinkering around the hotel running a few errands when Alastor had summoned you to his radio tower.

you knocked on his door and entered when you heard his muffled voice.

”Alastor did you need something?” You asked him as you walked in.

He was sitting at his broadcasting station and adjusting some knobs.

”Aaaah my dear, youre just in time to keep me company for todays broadcast” he chirped getting some scripts ready.

you smiled and went to make yourself comfortable in the other chair.

you enjoyed being in the studio as Alastor worked as he usually liked to be alone as he broadcast his talk show.

before you could even make past him, he caught your waist and plopped you into his lap. You were quirked a brow but he just smiled and cut on his radio.

”salutations you damned souls” he started.

you nuzzled against him as you got comfortable and leaned your head against his shoulder as he did his thing. Alastor’s voice was so relaxing to hear.

you listened to him for a while in pure bliss.

until you felt a noticeable lump underneath your ass.

oh

you blinked and tried to adjust yourself, when Alastor’s hand gripped your waist. His lips were at your ear “what a naughty doll you are dearest” he whispered. You blushed and tried to move so you weren’t causing him any discomfort.

but Alastor had other ideas.

He lifted you up a bit and you heard a distinct click of his belt and zipper

you went to ask him what he was doing when you felt his claws pull at your panties and brought you back down onto his lap.

only to have your cunt filled with his cock.

your back arched and surprised you let out a soft gasp.

”A-Alastor?”

he hummed and kissed your neck “you’ll have to be quiet mon Cher, wouldn’t want the listeners to hear would you?”

you whimpered and tried to stay as still as possible.

but it was so hard.

Alastor continued on with his broadcast and you were positive that you were leaking all over him.

”please” you whined as his dick dragged along your insides.

alastor tutted at you, nipping at your ear.

His hands had moved to gripped your waist and he purred into his mic

“Well folks that all for tonight so please enjoy the sensational tune of true radio”

he hit a button ending the audio and switched to having soft jazz play.

he turned you around and grinned at your wobbly lip

”you did better than I thought my dear…now how about I treat this needy cunt hmm?”

[callmemickey]

Cumming Home for Christmas

synopsis: Simon surprised you by being home 3 weeks early, which means you get to take him to your family’s Christmas get together! Unfortunately, Simon hasn’t had his fill of you… How thin do you think the walls are in the bathroom?

content: Afab, porn w a plot, smut (dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, quickie, slightly public? maybe other stuff idk) fluff fluff fluff kind of angst if you squint real hard he just loves you sm my sweet Angel babey reader muah love u 2

word count: 3.7k

notes: Don’t ask me why I chose Christmas this is purely self-indulgent. Also, he’s a brunette going off of the comics, so I’m running with that thx!

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Warm Christmas lights, sparkling ciders and the expensive alcohol, the soft hum of cozy Christmas jazz on the speakers, family buzzing and soaking in each other’s presence - there was nothing else you could ask for. In this massive sea of black and red formal attire, your family, both close and extended, came together for an amazing holiday party at your grandparents’ estate.

Simon, who surprised you by coming home over three weeks early, has accompanied you as your plus one to the family’s holiday party. It made the event even better. Your family adored Simon to bits and pieces, constantly embarrassing you in front of him, begging to know when he wanted to start a family with you, your aunts drinking too much and asking him to take off his coat and flex. He dealt with the melting pot of clashing personalities better than you had ever imagined.

Simon expertly handled the socializing carefully and precisely. He preferred to be an observer in these bigger settings rather than to speak. He gave simple answers that were concise one liners, saving his social battery. So, to make up for it, he would escape to assist anybody needing aid. When dinner was ready, he assisted in the kitchen, making sure that everybody had their meals first, and was later caught cleaning the kitchen (much to your displeasure). He also helped light your grandfather’s cigar outside. The Parkinson’s has been making it difficult for him to light them on his own, and Simon even listened to an old war story.

It was unbelievable how much you loved this man.

Now, nieces and nephews weaved between adults and furniture, the fireplace burned hot and strong, people laughed and yelled happily over the gentle music, and the scent of baking pies and pastries wafted and filled the air. Your lovely military fiancé, overworked and tired on his break, did so well to deal with this. Of course, Simon, being an incredibly selfless person willing to compromise in any situation or scenario just to make you happy, said that it was alright when you invited him. “Nothing would make me happier,” he had said in a low, roughened voice - which was right before he buried his face between your legs.

But I digress.

Simon stood next to you as your uncle told you both in absolute monotony about his recent trip to Italy, “So beautiful. Your aunt Amelia and I want to get a vacation home there.” He finished, and you nodded awkwardly. “Sounds like you and aunt Millie had a great time, uncle Mike.” Your tone was dry while Simon nodded and hummed in response. He just wasn’t… very present.

Simon had his attention and focus set on pretty high at the beginning of the night, but he was able to relax a little bit since then, to let himself just be in the moment - or so the psychiatrist says he should. He was actively paying attention to the conversation, yes that is true, but the hand holding your waist began to… wander, a little bit. Slowly at first, but much faster now. With a hand that started on your shoulder in the beginning of the night, bit by bit lowered down your back, smoothing above the top of your ass and to your hip. Fingers pressing deep into the black velvet of your dress, Simon tried to keep you caged next to him. That didn’t matter though, because you would have done little to resist him.

You two shared a quick glance. His dark brown eyes were slightly glossed, his gaze a salaciousness that he always brings home. Ooh, it made you want to rub your thighs together just to feel something. You nodded again to your uncle Mike when he brought up something else that was equally boring. Simon, having a better idea and use for his time, suddenly seemed to have remembered something, “Apologies, Mike, but Y/N and I have to make an important phone call.” You looked up at him.

That brief look in his eye was so, so hungry. The greed brewed like a dark storm. You felt a hot chill race down your spine, your core began to burn. You acted as if you remembered the same ‘something’ as well. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we almost forgot!” You gasped in a low voice. His fingers squeezed your hip, making your chest slowly fall into shallow breaths as you could imagine him purring in your ear.

Good girl.

You two waved him off as you turned to leave the kitchen. Simon took the wine glass from your hand and placed it on the countertops as you two walked through the doorway. His hand pressed on your lower back, guiding you into the dark hallway. The armoire in the middle lit with warm candles that smelled of cinnamon and spiced apples, casting shadows that bounced and flickered across the walls. It helped light your way to the restroom, but it also kept you two enveloped in shadows to help hide whatever sins you were going to commit. Simon, without a word, opened the bathroom, and with nobody inside, he sweeped you in, locking the door behind you two.

The bathroom had warm string lights strung across the crown molding, and a window with fake candles sat high on the wall. The room was a little loud with the echoes, so you smacked the switch on the wall to turn the fan on, hoping to mask whatever sounds were going to flood the room.

Not even a second, in such a calculated move, Simon plucked his mask off and had your lips locked with his as he hoisted you onto the sink counter. All you could do in that flurry of movement was gasp, his hands gingerly holding your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, sighing as you felt a hardened tent in his trousers press eagerly against your clothed cunt.

You ran your hands through his dark brown hair, a moan running from you into him as his hands gave your ass a harsh squeeze. He ground his hips into you, pulling a whimper from you as he pressed roughly against your thrumming clit. Simon broke from your mouth, kissing your neck as his fingers pushed up into your dress, grabbing your panties.

“Quiet - or they’ll hear us,” he whispered against your flesh. You panted with a nod as he slipped your panties off, tossing them onto the floor along with his jacket. Simon quickly unbuttoned his white sleeves, rolling them up to reveal his heavily veined forearms, his one arm tattooed with black. He expertly undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down slightly, his hardened cock springing free.

He kept kissing your neck, lightly sucking to tease but not enough to hickey or bruise. His fingers dipped into your embarrassingly wet sex, rubbing at your clit and folds before pushing two fingers into you. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, so wet already.” His voice was a growl against your neck, slowly pumping them, his fingers rubbing up against that spongy spot inside.

It caused you to mewl. Simon’s one hand jumped to cup your mouth shut, making you gasp. The movement threw you off balance, your upper back falling back to press against the mirror while grabbing onto his wrist for support. He continued to finger you and hold your mouth closed, your whimpers mumbled in his hand.

Just as quick as you just started grinding your hips, he pulled his fingers away. A disappointed moan left broken up between your mouth and his palm. Simon grabbed his cock and started to pump himself, lubricating it with your juices before rubbing against your clit. He moved his hand from your mouth down to your hip.

You whimpered, “Oh my god, Simon.” Your hips wriggled and bucked against the dizzying sensation. He chuckled, slowly pressing his cock into your hot, wet cunt. The familiar stretch made you hum in need. “You’re gonna tease me? On Christmas?” You whined, your legs once again wrapped around his hips, urging him to sink into you.

“Ahh, have you been a good girl, though?” He asked in a low rumble, his other hand grabbing the other hip, his prepared stance making your hole clench around his member. He had a half-lidded stare, swirling with a level of lust you couldn’t really see the end of - bottomless and ravenous. Simon towered over you.

“I’m always a good girl for you, Simon,” You cooed.

He slowly pushed in, making you inhale sharply as you stretched so wide to allow him to fit. You held your breath as he pushed his cock through. “I’m just teasing, love - I know you’ll always be my good girl,” he said with warmth in his voice.

His tip kissed your cervix as he nestled fully, deeply, completely. Your head rolled back on the mirror as a satisfied sigh escaped you, but Simon’s grip on your hips tightened intensely. You gasped as he began a fast pace, his hips slapping loudly against your thighs and echoing in the bathroom. It was almost too much. It gave you little time to prepare for his entering, but you settled nicely around him after a few more thrusts.

Simon wasn’t normally this fast. He loved to hit with hard strokes, but nothing typically of this pace. Fortunately, you weren’t one to complain. It was so goddamn good. You hate it when your fiancé is away, not knowing where he was for most of the time, but when he’s gone for so long and comes back? Fuck. It’s criminal how good the sex is. His impatience made it impeccable.

But you were desperate. You wanted to cry and moan and yell, to beg and pray for him to bring you to a higher plane of pleasure. Oh, God, you would do anything for it, anything for him. You grasped at his forearms, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving stinging crescent moon shaped imprints in their path. He groaned lightly at your sharp grip, a soft chuckle coming from him. “Oh, you like this?” He asked, and you nodded, biting your lower lip to keep anything but your gasps, pants, and squeaks from escaping.

“Touch yourself,” his voice wasn’t harsh, but it was a demand.

With one hand still on Simon’s arm, the other moved to your clit, and you began to rub in quick circles. Simon watched your face twist and change: your mouth hanging open as you panted, but occasionally closed to bite your lip so to stop yourself from moaning; eyes half-lidded, barely open, glazed, and painfully horny; back bowing and arching, your toes curling, body just at a loss at what it can handle. This was Simon’s favorite view in the world. It’s what he came home for. It’s what he fought for.

A moan tumbled from your mouth as you held on for dear life. “S-Simon!” You whined his name, the heat inside of you burning red hot, uncontrolled, and rampant.

“S’alright love,” his voice was soft, “you gonna cum?”

You nodded quickly, the fingers on your clit stuttering as you found your release fast approaching, his almost brutal pace not slowing in the slightest. “I’m gonna c- ah- cum, Simon!” You struggled not to say too loud. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, Y/N,” he ushered, “cum for me.” Simon knew how to drive you over the edge. His hand reached out, firmly but gently cupping over your mouth to keep your head in place - and to push back your lascivious sounds.

A moan found itself trapped, lodged in your throat as you fought with your whole might not to yell and cry out. Your orgasm ripped through and crashed over you like a tsunami. He had unraveled you.

Your back arched, and you couldn’t roll your head back. Your lashes flickered as you struggled to keep your eyes from crossing or rolling back to look at Simon while you came. The fingers you had on your clit stopped moving as you were paralyzed, but the grip you had on his forearm stayed strong, “Ahhh, fuckin’ look at you. That’s a good girl, cummin’ nice and pretty on my cock. You like that, yeah?” He groaned, hips putting in more power to drill into your tightened pussy, tears pricking at your eyes as the orgasm left your legs shaking around him.

Simon retracted his hand, grabbing back at your hip. You let out a quick, small cry as your free hand held back onto his forearm. “Y’alright, love?” He grunted, and you nodded furiously before he could stop, but he started slowing down. You didn’t want him too. “Need- I need you,” you gasped, “don’t stop, Simon.” You whimpered.

Oh, to be buried deep inside your pussy was all he could have ever hoped for upon coming home. Y/N, ever so kind and giving. Simon tightened his hands around your hips again and began the brutal pace as you struggled to keep silent.

That’s when you felt your body heating up again. Your sex thrummed with the building pleasure and excitement once more, causing you to moan while you held onto his wrists. A light sheen of sweat sat on your skin, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your flesh.

Simon moaned softly with a smirk, your fucked out expression and legs lazily clinging onto his hips was such an amazing sight. The snapping of him against you had beat your pussy red, leaving it angrily aroused. “You gonna cum again? Yeah? Ahhh, thas my needy girl.” Desperate, tiny grunts popped out of you with each thrust, your pussy swallowing Simon deeply.

“Si-Simon! Gonna- c-cum!” You gasped out with each pump. 

Your orgasm hit like a rapid flash of heat and pleasure. A squeal escaped you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back, legs around Simon’s waist tightened, your whole body trembled from his unrelenting pace. Your face was flushed red, eyes completely glazed and lost as your hair stuck to your face.

“Ah, f-fuck, so fuckin’ tight. So good - my girl is so good, God, cummin’ on my cock, just like that.” He growled, his hips slowly beginning to fall off rhythm while his orgasm began to creep up on him.

You moaned and begged, “Ah, Simon, nngh, I-I can’t- please cum!”

“Don’t you worry, g-gonna cum inside this pretty pussy,” Simon groaned, “gonna fill you up, yeah?”

You nodded furiously as your body screamed in overstimulation. “Please, I- ah! Too much, ah, you’re too much, Simon!” You cried out, your ever tightening cunt being stretched open, begging for his release.

“Y/N- Y/N, fuck!” He hissed as his hips slammed against you, tightly holding his cock against your cervix as if he was threatened to be ripped away. He groaned, emptying himself into you completely, his cock jerking and flexing harshly, making the veins on his shaft more pronounced. You whimpered, your cunt tensing around him as you felt hot waves shooting inside of you. He stayed for a moment while panting, his thighs shaking slightly, relishing in the feeling as oxytocin and dopamine flooded his brain. Simon pulled out, a throaty groan leaving you at the sudden emptiness, your legs letting go of him.

“Well… let’s hope nobody heard that.” Simon said in a low voice, pulling up his underwear and pants, buckling his belt and grabbing your panties for you. You slid off of the sink and inhaled sharply as your knees buckled. He immediately latched onto your arms, making sure you wouldn’t fall. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, y’alright?” He asked, slowly loosening his grip to make sure you were okay on your own.

“My legs, Simon. Jesus Christian Christ - I can’t stand.” You huffed, leaning against the sink, glowering at him as you took your panties from his hand, embarrassed.

He unrolled his sleeves, buttoning them. “You’re really gonna talk like that? On Jesus’ birthday?” He looked at you as he grabbed his jacket, shaking his head. “What would your nan say, hmm?” He feigned sincerity, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he swung the jacket on.

“Well, the jokes on you because Christmas isn’t even Jesus’ birthday.” You snapped back at him, slowly sliding your underwear on as your knees shook like a newborn giraffe. He tutted in disapproval as he moved up to you.

Simon’s body was close, his body radiating warmth. He wasn’t one for a lot of physical affection, which was alright, so when he took the time to be attentive to you… you always melted against him immediately. His finger lightly hooked under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. Your body subconsciously gravitated towards him, like a moth seeing the moon for the very first time.

He leaned down, lips brushing so close to yours, your eyes still connected . “Fuck what day it really is - I just know I’m home.” Simon pushed in for a deep kiss, brimming with emotions, the kinds he couldn’t really say. As he pulled away, he couldn’t help but admire you.

The golden candlelight fluttered across his face. His tired but warm eyes studied you, as if seeing you for the first time, memorizing and mapping every freckle, wrinkle, and spot, because he’s scared that the moment he looks away, he’ll forget. He took in your flushed, messy appearance as if God himself sent down a heavenly body to give him a reason not just to fight, but to live; an angel on its mission as a guide, and he would willingly martyr himself on the ground at your feet if it meant he could just hear you say his name. Once.

Simon wanted to say these things, but he wouldn’t. He might never. But that’s alright, too. Not everyone is meant to love so boldly.

You cocked an eyebrow as he stared at you so intensely. “You okay there, Lieutenant?” You asked, a small smile on your lips.

He realized that, yes, it was alright that he didn’t say those things. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have to - you just knew. Everyday he thought about how he didn’t deserve you. You, ever so loyal and strong. You’ve given him a purpose, motive, after all of these years - alone.

He often wondered what he had done to deserve having someone like you in his life. Someone who loved and cultivated, with hands of soft mercy, so tender and kind. A voice of validation, honesty, reason, all stemming from your unconditional love. If he had met you years ago, before the therapy and psychiatry helped, he would’ve let your fingers prick and bleed as you grasped at his thorns while he plucked you of your petals, leaving you broken and bare.

He didn’t deserve you.

Simon returned the smile, his voice soft, “Never better.” His hands moved to hold your waist as you two shared a few more kisses. “You know I like it when you call me that,” he hummed in between the lip locking.

You moaned gently and teasingly bit his bottom lip, your hands pressing against and gliding up his shirt. You kissed his jawline and sighed, “Is that so, Lieutenant Riley?”

He squeezed your waist in a warning. “Careful, love, we don’t have time for round two. Save it for tonight.” Your pussy purred just as Simon pulled away, picking up the mask from the sink and putting it back on in an attempt to obscure his identity.

You hummed, legs still a little shaken. “Well, I might need a minute to get my feet under me. You… okay with managing my family alone?” You asked hesitantly, eyes slightly squinting as if to flinch. He studied you for a moment, eyes glancing you up and down. It made you a little self-conscious, causing you to shift.

“Of course, Y/N,” his tone was reassuring, and subtly professional, “you sure you want me to leave you? Just say the word, love.”

Your body relaxed a little, and you nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”

Simon faltered, if for a moment, before he gave you a soft squeeze on the arm, and left. You sighed, turning to lean onto the counter and fix your hair in the mirror. Your legs really were shaking, much to your surprise. Yes, yes, Simon makes you shake plenty, but he doesn’t always fuck that hard, if rarely. You couldn’t be more embarrassed. Sending your fiancé, who is not the biggest people-person, back to the wolves, but it’d be more embarrassing if you walked out there in your current state.

You fixed your dress and made sure you were able to stand properly again after a few minutes. Making sure your hair, makeup, and dress were all still together, you left the bathroom with caution. You quietly snuck down the hallway, back against the wall. You got to the doorway and peeked around the corner to peer into the party.

You don’t know how long you were in the bathroom for as the crowd surprisingly died down. Family members left for home, hotels, or whatever bedrooms your grandparents had available, so the end-of-the-night afterparty was intimate and calm. You inched into the room, eyes falling on Simon, who was outside with your grandfather, lighter in his hand.

You smiled gingerly as your mother called you over. “Sweetie, everybody loves Simon. I know he isn’t much of a talker, or a hugger, but he made a great impression.” Her voice was filled with warmth and happiness, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “He also listens to your grandfather’s stories, bless his heart.” She cooed. Your mother continued to speak, but her voice drowned out as you watched your future husband.

Simon stood at ease, with his hands held together and relaxed behind him as your grandfather engaged him in a story, puffing his cigar shakily as his hands trembled while he was animated. It was so calm and serene, watching him nod, the ghost of his jawline moving beneath the mask as he spoke. Your heart fluttered as Simon’s eyes flicked over and locked onto you, giving a little wink before turning his attention back to the present conversation.

Okay, you’re definitely sitting on his face tonight.