#THE MINTIES ARE ALIVE AND VERY FUCKED UP

[tabieeee]

SO.. THE MINTIES AND BOB ARE BOTH ALIVE

(By Bob I mean redshirt/bluesuited/lucky cameraman and by Minties I mean the green suit twins cameramen)

The Minties and Bob were working with Secret Agent the entire time

Bob had to be more open about it because of his device but the Minties were there for extra help/eyes incase something happened to Bob(?)

Minties were saved last minute by Secret Agent making them invis/incorporeal/TPing them

Minties are ALIVE and in the elevator with the everyone. we saw them because the invis thing isn't perfect or more obvious in the dark

At the end of 70p3, Plungerman gets Transmission Error and sees Bob who only just looks at him and disappears. like he's pitying Plunk because he knows he'll be killed off

Then the Minties show up, do a handshake and when they flash GREEN that is when Plunger sees Secret Agent

Minties were there to be an extension of SA's abilities. to talk to Bob and then Plunger and make them invis when they needed it

The Minties are the LEAST like normal cameramen, they're tools of SA. these bois are warped (a Minty asked Bob for a handshake who was confused and only then remembered to do a thumbs up)

Bob is kind of in-between, maybe he became part of SA's deal recently and isn't weird like the Minties yet

Plunger & DarkSpeaker only had a brief interaction with SA and only were somewhat affected by him (transmission error, invis, seeing SA)

You know who does handshakes? Secret Agent. look at the Alpha-Hills Labs poster

Transmission errors always happened to hide SA's existence/powers

SECRET AGENT DISAPPEARED BEFORE RIGHT ON SCREEN IN EP64. HE WENT INVIS. THAT BITCH

BREAKDOWN OF MY THOUGHTS BELOW:

So I saw a screenshot of Bob on Twitter and thought it was odd that he was still damaged. If he died and was a "ghost" like the Minties then why did he still look damaged?

The Minties look fine, but that's cool because they're dead and are just "ghosts"... Vsauce voice OR ARE THEY?

Plungerman and DarkSpeaker both went invis suddenly, during that time Plunger had a Transmission error, so the Alliance didn't see that.

Bob and the Minties both disappeared at the end the same way, and since Plunk & Dark are both alive, that means they were never dead in the first place. They aren't ghosts or hallucinations, they were invisible through Gman-esque powers from Secret Agent.

THIS IS A MINTY. They are glowing green the same way as both of them at the end of 70p3. So. Bob and the Minties both work with SA. Bob was sent in to be the guide to lead Plunger and Dark to finally kill off ScienceToilet. The Minties were likely there to be a backup plan and have the ability to turn themselves and others invisible (maybe Bob can do that too since he also vanished).

SA gives cameramen Transmission error and didn't use the invis ability until they were right at SciToilet's doorstep. he is intentionally keeping his existence hidden from the Alliance.

The Cameramen that work with Secret Agent are weird. A Minty tries to give Bob a handshake, that's not what cameramen do.

But the Minties did it with each other just fine. They either forgot what cameramen do or they assumed Bob would also do a handshake because all three of them are working for Secret Agent.

They must've learned it from Secret Agent. I would be VERY suspicious of anyone doing handshakes from now on.

In conclusion: Bob and the Minties never died, they went invisible through SA's powers and Plunger & Dark assumed they were dead. The Minties are cryptids who act nothing like normal cameramen because they were changed by Secret Agent's powers, Bob is a new addition to Secret Agent's team and hasn't quite forgotten how to be a cameraman yet. SA does not want the Alliance to know about him. The only reason Plunger and Dark saw that much is because SA was already planning for everyone in the infiltration team (except his pawns) to die. Maybe he was the one that lead to the deaths of everyone.

anyways I'm gonna go sit down I think my brain just exploded

[morerandombullshit]

Gambit headcanons because I'm still in denial like, a month later he's alive and well i swear

(idk the original artist so i can't credit them but DAMN he's a whore and proud not that i'm complaining, that's a veryyyyy nice view i'm getting there )

Bisexual with all-fucking-caps, leaning slightly towards guys

He's canonically a cat dad, and he'd definitely get a bunch of cats and name them after all the other X-Men minus Magneto because he's petty like that he's also still very fucking salty about Rogue and Magneto being exes

Since Cyclops has a cat allergy (at least in my mind) and is pissy about Gambit having cats, Gambit gets this cute little orange kitten he names Sativa (she got the name because Wolverine left his blunt somewhere, she got to it and consumed all the weed), puts her in Cyclops' closet with cat supplies and some weed, making his allergies act up like fucking hell

Oh, and he also left a note saying, "Enjoy the stoner cat, mon ami, she's yours now (but I will sue if you treat her badly)" for shits and giggles if Cyclops finds her

Pure Spotify addict literally me with Spotify I listen to it whenever possible, his ears are probably ruined from blasting his music so loud, but he doesn't exactly care because hello, music at full blast is better than paying attention to the real world i have mfing issues i think but oh well

His music taste is certainly something, mostly grungy rock with a little emo shit, rap and R&B mixed in, and maybe some slow, bittersweet romantic pop in between

One of his favorite songs is I Was Made For Lovin' You by KISS, he just appreciates the classic rock vibe

Though he also appreciates Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin, California Love by 2Pac, Good Days by SZA and others

Best cook in the mansion—no one can dispute it, and he knows he's a great cook and he never ceases to rub it in Cyclops' face because Cyclops can't cook for shit

He's not a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, being able to put a bottle down before feeling the effects, but he's the silly drunk, stumbling around and babbling incoherently in either English or French

His favorite drink is Jim Beam's Devil's Cut, the reason behind that being the smoothness of the minty bourbon

[maegalkarven]

"What happens now?"

Nemo has spent unimaginable amount of time staring at his father's skull, its eyes unlit. Was he watching still? Did he see Nemo brought back to life by the forces the man himself did not understand? Or did he no longer care?

And just who exactly was Withers?

"Milord?"

It took a tentative touch to his shoulder for the man to finally turn around. And there they were, the damned, bloodied fools of his father's unholy assassins. The best of the best, the worst of the worst.

Staring at him like sheep brought to the slaughter.

"Yes?" It took all of his composure to simply shake the hand off and not break it; but composure was something he had a long good time of practicing.

And without the urge it was almost...easy. Almost like violence was something he didn't have to perform anymore.

"What will happen now?" Asked the girl, and Bhaal beneath, how didn't he notice how young they all are? None of the assassins looked older than forty and it said something about this whole business. Probably something very unsavory.

Nemo took a deep, steadying breath.

"Now," his voice echoed from the walls, multiplying it in a rather menacing manner. "You will renounce my father. You will lay down your weapons and your faith and will do no more of his bidding. Either you walk out of this godless or-" and at that he sent a glare more suited to be accompanied by a knife than by simple words. Seven hells, words were hard. "You will not walk out of it."

"Are..." another assasin raised a voice. "Are you asking us to forsake Bhaal?"

"Yes."

"And the alternative is..?"

"Joining his ranks on the other plane, of course," Nemo smiled his best, 'charming' smile. "But you all should be ready for that, everyone who kills should be ready to meet their own death. Or are you the cowardly kind?"

"So you will just kill us?" Oh, they argue now. Stupid lot. "As simple as that?"

"As simple as that," he gestured back at where whatever the fuck was left of his sister dearest lay. "Just like her. Though, I suspect, you'd throw less of a fuss over it. Or will you?"

"But we did everything Bhaal asked of us!" Another of his bunch of stupid idiots complained. "Everything you asked of us! And you will just...discard us?"

Of course he will. Did they not realize what kind of place it was, what kind of a "family"? Murder was what they did, all of them.

Him - more than the others.

"If, notice the emphasis, you do not reject Bhaal. But tear him out of your hearts - and you can walk out of this alive."

"And what about our contracts?"

That actually made him pause.

"Your...what now?"

The girl, the brave foolish girl who dared to touch him, spoke.

"Our murder contracts, you know, the ones we earn our wages from?"

They earned their wages? No, scratch that, they had wages?

He was sure he would not be able to forget that.

"Remind me for a moment, what's the deal with these," he winced. "Contracts?"

"Well...People ask us to kill someone," the girl shrugged. "We kill the target and get paid for that. Don't you remember? You set up the whole deal, said murders won't pay for our food unless we do something about it. And we did something about it," she grinned, obviously proud of "the whole deal."

"It was such a smart thing to do too, Lady Orin would never! All she wanted us to do is to perform the murders...fancily."

"By playing her corpse-dollies, I see."

Someone snickered. The girl frowned.

"Something like that. We had to run the operation in secret, but what else we were supposed to do?" She gestured around wildly. "The temple might provide us shelter, but the food? And what of our families? Some of us have children, you know, parents. Who will support them?"

Alright, now this was becoming weird.

"You're saying you've killed people...to feed your families?"

"I have a pet," someone from the crowd shouted. "It's an alligator and let me tell you, providing for this thing is costly."

"You have a pet alligator?"

"Yes," the man stepped closer. "His name is Minty, you've met him! Said he's a mighty beast and what I'd better feed him the corpses of my victims, that'd save the costs."

Despite his best judgment Nemo could feel a smirk crawl up his lips and firmly settle there.

A pet alligator Misty. Ridiculous.

There was a bunch of freaks and weirdos standing in front of him.

But again, wasn't he the same as them? A blade made of flesh, a man knowing how to take life and little else.

Maybe something could be salvaged here yet.

Maybe.

"Alright," the sigh he let out didn't feel forced, yet there was some anticipation too. Murder was familiar. Murder what brought money was...prospective. "Show me these contracts."

[climbthemountain2020]

Remains of Spring - Chapter 4

Hello, my sweet friends,

If you've kept up through both Hope of Spring and Remains of Spring, I truly hope you've enjoyed. These were my first two fics, and I can't thank you guys enough for all the love, encouragement, and kind words, as well as the new, forever friends it brought me! (looking at you @cauldronblssd)

That being said, due to some particularly aggressive anons lately, I think I am going to double post and wrap this up.

If you ever sent kudos, comments, or just generally followed along, the deepest, most earnest thank you. I started this year with a brand new laptop and a dream that I might be able to write and post a single full fic this year. Your encouragement has put me way over that goal, and inspired me far beyond it.

I hope you loved my take on Tamlin's story, and I hope you'll check out some of my other stuff, too!

Love always,

CC

Part 4/5 | Ao3

[This chapter fits after Chapter 15 of hope of Spring. Find that here. To read Hope of Spring sequentially from the beginning, go here]

The bed still smelled like her, he mused as he waited for the parchment to arrive back to him. That minty smell that followed her everywhere drew him in every time he came across it, but it sent a distinct ache through his heart now that he was smelling it without her here. The faint sound of a rolling slip of paper flitted through the air, the parchment falling back onto the bed.

Your offer is too good to refuse, my Lord. I will be home tonight–we’ve got some additional training today, but I can’t wait to be back with you. I love you.

She loved him, and he might be the happiest male alive. It was a privilege, a true one, to touch her, to love her. In the past week, they’d spent more time than not getting to know each other intimately, finding the things the other liked and growing closer with each touch. There was a sense of peace and satisfaction within Penny that brought Tamlin such great joy to see. Some part of her seemed to have settled, and he couldn’t believe his luck that it had been with him.

He scribbled the reply down, already looking forward to seeing her later.

I love you, too. Knock ‘em dead.

__________________

Hours ago. It had only been hours ago that he’d spoken to Penny like everything was normal, and now he was on a field, covered in blood, about to kill or be killed by Beron. His armor was shit–they’d had no time to prepare. The warning had come in from a messenger not even twenty minutes ahead of the incoming armies; he’d only had time to send the messenger on to the villages asking for help and warning the families, and then enough to get to the sentries of his own manor.

The half-assed effort at armoring himself was to be his ruination now, injuries littering his arms from an hour of hard battle. He’d fought his way to the front, cutting down great swaths of the armies of Autumn as he went. Finally, he’d come to meet Beron. There would be no negotiating today–Beron had come to take Spring, and would not be leaving with anything less unless he was dead. Tamlin intended to deliver.

He was so thankful, for the first time, that Penny had been gone in the Night Court. He’d likely never see her beautiful face again, a fact that crushed him, but at least she was safely away from here. He’d told Tally to send a message to Night Court and then hide in the cellars with as many staff from the manor as possible, bolting the doors. He hoped that the message had gotten out in time. He’d been holding the line as well as he could, but Beron’s fire was vicious, and he’d have to resort to his beast form soon without additional assistance.

He felt her it the moment she winnowed in, her magic calling out to him as it so often did, his flaring back in response.

Fuck. Is she ever going to learn how to stay away from danger?

He hoped beyond reason that she would simply go to the manor until it was over, but he knew she’d likely already decided to do the very opposite of that. In the distance, an entire battalion of Autumn was turned into bloody mist on the wind.

At least Rhysand is here.

It was more than the magic now, an insistent tugging on his chest kept him curious as he tried to focus on shielding against Beron’s blows. Beron remained focused on him, totally oblivious to the events of the battlefield. He’d turned out for blood today, hoping to find Spring wide open and defenseless. He may walk away the winner, but Tamlin was going to make him fight for it. Tamlin had made mistakes, but he’d use his last breaths to defend this court–defend Penny–and he’d never regret it.

Then, pure horror coiled within him as he saw a figure crest the bloodied hill over Beron’s shoulder. He knew immediately, even in the Illyrian leathers and covered with blood, that it was Penny. Before he could even avert his eyes, his chest exploded. He thought he’d been stabbed as that gentle but insistent tug turned into a whip cracking through his sternum. Penny sprinted down the hill, and he knew without a doubt then that he was looking at his mate.

How had he missed it this whole time?

It seemed so obvious now, like knowing the grass was green or the sky was blue. She ran to Beron like some avenging angel, nothing but violence in her eyes, and he was overwhelmed with panic suddenly that his mate, the love of his life, would die before he could ever tell her.

She shot her hands out at Beron, shooting Rhysand’s dark power at him without a thought. Beron’s shields were up, but it was enough time for him to strike out at Beron with his own magic and scream to Penny.

“Penny, you have to go! Please, leave. Penny, please!” He was not above begging to get her to safety. The terror and the urge to protect her seized through every nerve in his body, but Penny refused. He’d never been angrier with her or loved her more fiercely.

He dragged his eyes from her, finding his ancient family sword–heavy and deadly and crusted through the hilt with an emerald-addled grip. He braced himself against it, pulling it up into the air with a practiced grace and swinging it against Beron, but another Autumn soldier had come to protect his flank with that sharp flame. In a blinding flash of agony, his shoulder had been singed through to the skin, but it didn’t stop him from turning and gutting the Autumn soldier.

Penny fought like she’d been taught, throwing the darkness out to blind Beron the second his shields fell. She did everything as she was supposed to, yet Beron was lethal even without his sight. He struck out with that centuries-old fire, and Tamlin felt more than saw the flames ravage Penny’s body. Her anguish and pain ran a path up his body straight through the bond, and he was nearly knocked back with the force of it.

“PENNY!” He screamed, instincts overriding all else as he ran to her. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, only knew that his purpose was to keep her safe. He sprinted across to her, ready to destroy any who dared harm her. And when he reached her and saw her beautiful eyes open, everything was okay. And then the sword went through his side.

Tamlin had taken many injuries in his life, widely varied from negligible to severe, but nothing hurt quite as badly as a sword through the side. He felt the pain very distantly–his body likely already going into shock–but all he could see was Penny as he fell to the ground, her sweet face looking up at his.

“No.” She whispered. He could taste the blood in his mouth–not a good sign. But all he wanted to do was hold her face in his hand, watch her nose scrunch once more as he teased her about something. He was falling forward, falling into her arms.

He’d been so lucky to find her. Some people never did.

He could hear her screaming, so quietly now it seemed like she’d gone miles away, but he could still feel her warm hands on his.

Penny.

Please. Please Tamlin. Please don’t leave me.

Penny.

Penny.

Penny.

Feyre?

What was Feyre doing here?

“It’s okay, Tamlin. You were stabbed, but you’re okay.” He tasted blood on his tongue.

His or Penny’s? Where was Penny?

He shot up in the grass, side cramping immediately as he dropped back down. “Tamlin, you need to rest. She’s fine, she's right over–Penny? Penny!” Penny was laying on the ground a few feet away, writhing in the grass, though he could see no bodily injuries. Feyre reached out to touch her and hissed at the contact.

“Feyre, she’s burning out.” Rhysand was here. Penny made a hoarse sound in response, and the pain twisted through Tamlin.

“She needs water. She needs cold water.”

“There’s water in the manor. Take her to the master bath.”

Feyre grabbed his arm and they winnowed, suddenly back in front of the manor. She raced upstairs, Tamlin watching Rhysand winnow in right after them and carry Penny’s lifeless body inside. He stumbled up the stairs behind them, in agony but unwilling to be apart from her.

“Drop her in the tub. Feyre, I am going to turn the water on and you’re going to freeze it as soon as she’s in it.” Smart. Rhysand knew what was happening. “Fuck! Feyre, now.” Feyre froze the water around Penny right as it began to boil, but the ice was beginning to melt the second it solidified. “Keep going!”

“What’s happening to her?” Tamlin was scared, experiencing true fear and feeling nothing but anguish down the bond.

“Rhys, knock her out. Now!” Feyre screamed, and his mate went blessedly limp in the tub, the water melting and freezing and melting around her again.

[thetavolution]

1, 11, 24 and 38 for Ingrid ^^

1. She doesn't anger easily in most situations. There are only a few sore subjects that can set her off. I.E. Disrespecting nature, hurting animals needlessly, etc. If it's a personal slight, she'll try to hide it. If she's mad about someone (or something) else being hurt/disrespected, she'll actually blow up. It shocks people because it feels very out of character for her. The quickest way to upset her is to insult or hurt someone she loves.

11. It may be odd to say, but she's drawn to safety. People who make her feel safe, be it physically or emotionally. Yes, she can take care of herself and she's not looking for someone to cower behind. She just wants someone who will make sure she's safe and vice versa. If someone feels like home to her, she can make any kind of personality work. But it also doesn't hurt if they're fucking ripped. (Look, she loves muscles. It's fine.) But a little belly pooch is just as cute to her.

24. She actually likes colder weather. She doesn't do so great in the heat. For her, autumn is the perfect amount of chill in the air without being freezing.

38. Positively, it would have to be Minty and Laura pre-BG3 timeline. During BG3, she would credit each of her companions for helping her grow, especially Halsin.

As a child, she had a tumultuous childhood in the underdark. Her life was changed when a druid from the surface helped find her when she was lost and guided her back to her village. It changed the trajectory of her whole life and inspired her to become a druid. She never forgot that adventurer and hopes to find them once again, if they're still alive.

Negatively, her father really messed her up emotionally and mentally. Her step-mother didn't help either. (Her father did nothing to stop the toxic situation.) They really contributed to her anxiety and self-loathing. Her bio mom didn't really protect her either. So the adults in her childhood made her a neurotic mess.

Thanks for sending this!

[skwonkk]

It is beautiful... I ask of you to get the hands ready unless you tell me they can't in which case I'm sorry. Laughter is only one thing you can do under a tree; you can also do various other things like make a pie with blueberries and peaches and raspberries. Persephone is a daydream had by the sleepless pandas sipping noodles delicately and yet making so much noise I cannot imagine what it must cost you. The vampire fangs were on sale for $25 but that doesn't seem like much of a sale, now, does it? I think not. So a cockatoo might be a better deal. They don't use very much shampoo, only a little bit of eyeliner, the pudding is free, but the vitamins are not... none of this makes any sense financially. The girls went shopping at the mall again; doesn't that seem fake? What do they even need at this point? Do they like it in there, even with the French fries on the floor and the greasy mustard smell? The mustard there was a little funky last time I went, which mind you was about three years ago so things might have changed but they also might have not. There are a lot of mysteries in the world like for example why am I so stupid? Well that's not too much of a mystery because sometimes creatures and individuals are just stupid and that's the way it is. It's made maybe for entertainment. Entertainment is baffling, isn't it? Will people one day watch rainbow static with random sped up noise samples and declare that peak entertainment? It could happen, I think. But I'm stupid, so I don't think. I did, however, ask some aliens what they think, and they said it was none of their business and they mostly just had people leave them alone. Said it was for humanity's own good. That there's too much work to be done first. Then they drank their special drink which is sparkly and turns your mouth sparkly when you drink it and immediately evaporates when it makes contact with stomach acid. They seemed to be having a good time, so I left them be. And then the other day I heard that the Velvet Prince was in this big room that was kind of gold but also copper and brown and a bit red too. There were all these old mechanisms with gears, and the gears were just, like, in the open. If there had ever been a panel covering them, well, there wasn’t now. There's probably more to investigate there; the Velvet Prince just went in briefly to get an old box of stuff. Oh man, did you see how bad they messed up the names? There was this chick named, like, Songi, I think, and they called her Mushroom. Another guy named Mike who they called Stem. Do you think they have a thing for plants or something? Cause this girl Rose didn't encounter any problems at all. Well, I hope they fix it soon; we were all very confused. Oh, man, you're not even listening, are you? No one cares about ANYTHING I have to say. I mean I can't blame them since I'm super boring, but still, like, I'm saying everything for nothing, and that's kinda sad. What is it that some people have that I'm lacking? That quality that just ropes people in... I'd say it was saying a lot in a few words, but I tried that and people told me to slow down. So now I'm slowing down and they're telling me to speed up? You can never satisfy people. Metal sink is sinking in the Mattel factory while singing about the factors of meddling with medals... OMG, she thinks, when will the new episode be out?! It's like the one thing she looks forward to. Her words, not mine. But even when the episodes are out it's a complete gamble whether they're available for streaming... And who the hell puts mung beans in falafel ?! It was all fucked up and creamy. I a mean its probabbly just mostly in my head mostly...? Whatever man I'm just lucky to be alive. And better mung beans in falafel than surprise cheese hidden inside a chocolate cake. Has that ahhpened? Yeah, man. Minto pinto crackers in ice cream minty flavour the flavour of childhood the first ice cream you ever remember eating which you ate in an underground food court at a broadcasting company when you were maybe 5 or 6. Relatable international experience. On MANDAY SANDAY TUESDAY you're totelly Cute,, yayayayy juiejkwecnkjfe totaly cute♡ and then you whip the lemon and you whip it real hard with the blood raspberries in the gothic palace while that thumping scared rabbit music just echoes all over the palace and the berries are reflected in the stained glass. HOW DARE YOU DEFY THE SKY-WITCH THE WITCH OF THE SKIES THE ONE OF THE CLOUDY STARRY CELESTE SKY WORLD. But only the DARK sky if it is like cloudy or nighttime or something. When it is sunny day the witch loses conteol and retearts to her bed where she feels all sick and she vomits up the sunshine she was forced to inhale. Sunshine does evil cruel wonders to her system. Can't handle it. Magical capitalism world filled with wonders such as: claw machines, shiny lights, gambling games, cheap ice cream, thigh high socks, giant plushies, headphones, useless posters, plastic bracelets, funnel cakes, and oversized hats. And working and working hahaha as if!! It's just the works. Like a mink in a sewer, oh why would you say that, get the mink out of the sewer, wash it off, yes! Put that little sweetie in a blanket! Nice n toasty. Fluffy fluffy boy! Precious mink! Precious beloved creature! I have to keep talking now because I already started. If you stop, you'll get left behind. Life seems to be about momentum, I guess? Unfortunate, really, since I'm not so great at momentum. And why keep going when there's nothing to keep going for? Not living, I mean, just - just words. He was sitting in a tree, his leg was really smooth - that;s because of the pants that were, like, what's that material called, the one that's shiny and a little bit silky but thicker and not that silky? Ugh, you wouldn't know. Yeah, no thatnks, I don't wanna eat it, but what's it made of? You must've coated it in one of those powders, the really salty powders like what's it called, GMO or MSG or something... yeah, so that dries it out but also makes it floppy? Interesting! So when you bind it with the meat, it binds intot he meat and acts as a seam of sorts... very, very fascinating. Too bad that I'm vegetarian. What, you didn't know? For a really long time, yeah. Hah! As if it has anything to do with being nice! Oh, her? Yeah, it's strange. She was in her room trying on all these fluffy sweaters, face creams, holding little items... of course she was really cute but I've never seen her like this before. Do you think it's the media influence? Because, yeah, she's kind of out-of-touch. Stop that, it isn't even Thursday! It was Thursday, right? Whatever. WHAT EVER.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[ofmermaidstories]

U think bakugo ever gets so angry his mouth misses surrender reader’s when he’s trying to have a passionate heated make out session because I do

Katsuki’s home for once, sleeping off the last few days in the darkness of his room, cocooned.

It’s early evening before he remerges. You’re peeling the potatoes for dinner when you hear him shuffling from the room to the bath, keeping track of him by the running of the taps before he closes the door, the sound cutting off — leaving you alone in the quiet of his large apartment, trying to amuse yourself by carving the perfect spiral of a potato peel; petty, silly.

When he wakes up after a marathon sleep it always takes him a while to come back, to return to the here and now; his mind catching up with the rest of his body as it realises it can finally relax, can take these next few hours to pause and breathe. He can be reticent even on good days: after big missions, after a series of demanding patrols, he’s even more silent, staying that way until something annoys him enough that he comes back into himself — or makes him laugh in his startling way.

The city outside is falling into dusk: the windows opened wide to the pink-twilight city glimmer. You hum along to a song on the television, jiggling the rice you’re rinsing and hear the traceable movement of your Pro Hero as he shuffles back into the living room.

“Hi!” You call out behind you cheerily, rinsing your hands and darting between the sink and the fridge. The door rattles as you open it, looking for the cold water bottle you set aside for him, earlier — but then big arms are slipping around you, enveloping you, and there’s the touch of lips against your neck, the feel of Katsuki’s fine hair against your face. The soapy, minty freshness of him, clean from washing up.

You lean back into the weight of him, the warmth, and he pulls you in tighter; breathing in deeply, like he’s still half-asleep. He very well might be — for a moment you stand together in front of the open refrigerator as you trace the veins of his hands, his arms, nosing into the side of his head where its against you.

“Hi,” You say again: softer, against the fine down of hair by his ear. Everything within you is vibrating that he’s here, that you’re together — your very cells rioting, hyperaware of his closeness. The invasion of space that only belongs to him.

The fridge beeps. You try and tug away from his arms to get his drink, to close the door — he pulls you back and kicks the door shut with a grunt. “No,” He says, and it’s ridiculous enough that you laugh. It’s the jiggling of the rice you were rinsing, the weight against the sieve; your body moves against his and he buries his face in your neck, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

You breathe in and settle and eventually he lets you turn in his arms, your hands snaking up between you, his bare chest and going to his face, cupping his cheeks. The lines under his eyes are deeper, now, than they have been since you’ve known him — he looks at you, ruby eyes dark and tired, and your heart tightens.

You thumb the shadows of his face, gently. The feather-light touch of handling something so irredeemably precious. In answer he dips into you, a headbutt with no real force; you’re breathing one another in now, and you let your hands slip from the panes of his face to his shoulders, your fingertips mapping the familiar feel of him.

“You need more sleep,” You whisper to him; the tiny space between you gaining all the sanctity of a Library’s quiet.

Katsuki huffs. It’s light against you. “D’wanna.” He says, annoyed, childish. His hands - hands that have destroyed, that have saved, that are now on you - tighten. You wait, tracing the edges of the scar on his shoulder.

“Missed you ‘n shit.” He says at last, even more annoyed, now.

You droop into him, wilting like a flower; you’ve missed him too. He hasn’t been home in almost a week — it’s not the longest of his stints, not lately, and you knew what you were signing up for, when you fell for him — but it doesn’t make it any easier. When he is home the two of you sleep in shifts, almost: only able to be together, both awake and coherent, for a few stolen hours. It means the need to be near him has gotten so persuasive, lately, that sometimes when you’re here and he’s in bed, sleeping off a battle, you crawl in next to him; carefully and lightly, curling into his warmth and forcing yourself into a midday nap, just to be near him, to share his space. You always awake entangled and overheated, afterwards — Katsuki finding you in his sleep and dragging you close, missing you just as much as you do him, even in his dreams. It’s never comfortable — he runs hot, constantly, and it’s like sleeping with a heater but —

It doesn’t matter. It’s just more proof that he’s there. That he’s with you, alive and home safe.

There’s a light touch of lips at your neck once more; leading, ghost-like tracing, kisses, from the dip of your collarbone to just under your jaw bone as you tilt, giving him more access. Everything within you pulses, tightens — he nips at the soft skin just below your ear and you finally turn your face to his, enough to feel the sharp intake of his breath before his lips meet yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

His mouth is cool and tastes of mint and aniseed from his toothpaste and mouthwash, respectively — you let him spin you, pressing you into the counter. He pulls away, grunting something, leaving you momentarily bemused — before he presses in close again, mouth on yours, his hands hot even through the fabric of your shirt.

You want to claw your way into this man. He tilts you back — like he’s trying to claw into you, too and you break apart only long enough for the both of you to draw in what breath you need, gasping before you are kissing again, sloppily. Hungry for the need to be close.

Behind you, something begins to vibrate — and then Katsuki’s phone is bursting into life with that ridiculous old All Might cartoon theme, sharp and loud in the apartment. You pull away from your hero with a sharp breath, your disappointment tangible — Katsuki rips himself away from you with a hiss, grabbing for his phone angrily, as he answers, “What the fuck do you want?”

You can hear Kaminari clearly. “Yo! Kacchan! Love hearing from you too, dude. A few of us are meeting up tonight — ”

That’s all poor Kaminari gets a chance to say. Katsuki pulls away from his phone, looking at the screen incredulously — and then hangs up, letting it clatter against the counter.

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Did you have to be such an asshole?”

Katsuki grunts, one hand pushing back his hair, irritated. “They all fucking knew I don’t wanna hear shit unless it’s about the case.” His eyes cut to you — in the kitchen lights, they glimmer, and his mouth softens. “They know I don’t get much… free time, or whatever.” To spend with you, he means.

You’re close enough that you can reach out and touch him, easily, so you do; pressing your fingers into his chest before letting your palm slide against him. Underneath it, you can feel the steady comfort of his heartbeat. He’s here. He’s alive and he’s home safe.

Maybe Katsuki is thinking the same thing. In a lot of ways, he remains a constant mystery to you; he covers your hand with his, pressing it further against him. His hand is warm; he’s warm. You trace the outline of your fingers together and then follow the soft lines of him, his collar bone, his adam’s apple — the motion of his neck as he swallows. And then your eyes are meeting his.

This man, you think. It’s awe and it’s love and it’s disbelief that he’s here. That you’re here, with him.

You lean into him; he catches you in a hug, tight and warm, his arms thick around you. Nosing against him, you breathe in his scent, the salty sweetness, and then say, “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” He grunts. You feel his lips in your hair, and then against the shell of your ear, his breath. “Missed you, too.” He headbutts you again, the heavy thunk of his forehead against the top of yours. You snuffle against him, annoyed.

“I have to make dinner,” You say, like you weren’t the one to bury yourself against him.

“Don’t care,” He says, a large hand slipping to the back of your neck — forcing you to look up at him, to meet his gaze, heated and soft. “Don’t want it,” He adds, his thumb stroking the soft skin behind your ear. “M’ — just wanna crawl back into bed with you and get some fuckin’ rest for once.”

“What rest,” You tease, but his hands tighten against you and you know what he means. It’s the same thing that drives you to nap, just to be close to him. To wait while he sleeps off a hard day, just so you’re there to welcome him back to the living. It’s just — it’s just the need to be together, in whatever way you can.

“I love you,” You say out-loud.

Katsuki headbutts you again, harder this time and you make a small squawk of protest — but he’s keeping his forehead against yours, trying to rub his nose against you, affectionate in the fickle way of a cat.

“Love you, too.” He says. You try and bite his cheek in retaliation — he swears, and tries to bite back and you are laughing, shaking like your sieve of rice — Katsuki holding you close, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

[elsieys-blog]

Perks of an insomnia-driven night (2)

Draco Malfoy x ravenclaw!reader

contains: NSFW! 18+ pure smut, praising kink, fingering, swearing and aggressive kisses.

summary: after your first encounter in the ROR, you didn't know he had other gifts for you besides his jewelry. it was the bragging of his talented fingers.

———————————————————

"Can I kiss you? And this time.. better?"

Draco looked like he was about to burst from the ever-growing impatience. "Fuck, yeah..."

His hand gripped your neck, the cold texture of his rings pressed against your skin made your body limp. When your mouth was ready to earn some bliss, you were a tad bit disappointed when his lips landed on your neck instead.

His tongue rolled and his teeth bit your flesh, alternating between sucking and licking. His nails began to rake your skin from how tight his grip was. You let out a soft moan and bit your lip instead to restrain anymore sounds.

He stopped. "Don't fucking bite your lip. Or I'll bite harder." You gulped and his head departed from your swelling neck. "I want to hear you make some pretty little noises, Y/n.."

Before you could reply, his lips crashed into yours, muffling your soft whining. His hold on your neck loosened and it cascaded on your draped breasts. His fingers traced your hardened nipples underneath your clothing, and when his index finger paused directly against your nipple that stands like a point, he began to rub in such a hypnotizing way.

You only know one thing. Draco's hands were skilled and experienced.

"Oh my god..." You gasped in between kisses but he was barely even starting.

"Such a sensitive girl." He groaned into your lips before aggressively pushing you as your back came in tact with the wall. After that, he closed the inches once more, pressing his chest closer to yours so that you share the same breathing pattern.

He stopped mid-kiss, staring deeply onto your thrilling eyes. "Lift your leg for me, love."

You did as what he commanded, lifting your one of your leg up until he pressed his hips further to your pelvis, feeling the thick line of his hardened cock. "Good girl. Do you feel that?"

You were tongue-tied, your mouth feeling as if it was about to drool from how badly you want to pleasure him. You sharply inhaled, taking in his ungodly scent. "Mhmm.."

"I hope you know how hard you make me, Y/n. And you're going to pay for that." He harshly spat and kissed you again. His hand tugged the hem of your skirt downwards and your panties in no time, a finger finding it's way to your clit.

He teased you, massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves as you jolted. You withdrew your head just enough to beg. "Please, Draco—"

"Please what?" He said just inches away from you that his hot breath fanned your face. He forcefully kissed you again, only massaging your clit in a faster tempo and tapping it every once in a while.

Your breath hitched and your body quivered and convulsed uncontrollably. "Please— I want you to make me come.."

"Is that all?" He sounded taunting, sarcasm dripping out from his tone. He scoffed unpleasantly, watching as you became fragile underneath the come-hither motions of his finger.

"No, just please— please do bad things to me." You moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head before shutting down. Your back arched with your lips wide open, allowing every moan to elicit from your lips.

"No, love. Eyes on me. I want your full attention on me while I finger-fuck you." He tower above you. The circular motions you felt began to go rougher and his fingers slid in between your folds, slowly getting to that one hidden part he had to touch until you fall to bits.

You held his wrist, ushering him to go further but he seemed to refuse. You moaned breathlessly. "Alright... I'll keep my eyes on you.." you opened and made eye contact with him and my god does he look predatory and sexy as fuck!

He grinned and looked as though he was ready to eat you alive. He swiped his finger against your pussy before inserting two fingers in a swift. You nearly yelped from the sudden sting, "Lord! You're so good—"

"Am I?" He whispered before lowering his head down until he approached your jaw. He fastened the way his fingers toyed you, creating wet and faint slapping noises as he grunted furiously. "Prove it. I want to hear you say my name, Y/n. Again. And again. And again."

You were short out of breath, unable to keep up and maintain your composure from his mesmerizing pace. So you tightened the grip of his wrist, informing that you were close... Really close. You cooed and choked on your own words. "Draco— Draco I want you—"

His breathing went ragged from the way you said his name. It was music to his ears and so he buried his fingers deeper with slower strokes. "That's my girl. My good little girl."

Your nails dug his wrist, scratches began to show prominence. You leaned your head on his forehead, sweat dewing on both your eyes.

He abruptly and harshly shoved your grip from his wrist away, pinning them above your head. "Stay still, love. I can't do my job if you're always moving..."

"I'm sorry, I— I can't help it." You cried out, gritting your teeth when he dove for stole another prolonged kiss.

It was urgent but just enough for you to enjoy his minty taste. The atmosphere went steamier as you got chaotically close to seeing the stars. You're panting, toes curled, tongues fighting for dominance and earth stopped spinning into it's axis.

"Oh my fucking god, I'm close Draco—" you husked, and ejected moans in full volume. It was as if time went slow as fire pooled low in your abdomen. Your guts twisted until juices began to sprawl on your pussy.

"Shit—" Draco withdraw his fingers and played with your wetness for a few seconds before drinking you like wine. Your veins hum from the view as he sucked his fingers with stern, placid eye contact with you, his tongue swirling seductively.

You shudder and dissolved in pleasure still, your legs shaking intolerably and the edges of your eyes began to see vignettes. Your head was pounding and dizzy but his devilish smirk brightened the hot space you were in.

"You taste delicious, Y/n. So fucking delicious." He praised, pressing your foreheads together to alleviate the hyperventilation. "Lord, your irresistible."

You smiled at him, a cosmic amount of butterflies filled your stomach. "We should see each other more often. Don't you think?" You giggled.

He sniggered and winked. "Beyond a doubt."

a/n: how's the steamy scene? *smirks. okay y'all I hoped you enjoyed part 2 which a part of me says this is a very irrelevant and abrupt scene but.. there's nothing wrong with blessing y'all horny asses with smut right? xx

[dreamersdreamloud]

Coming Home To You

Lena Luthor x U.S Marine Reader 

You’re excited for more than one reason. After an unexpected accident during a secret top mission that had you bedridden for almost a year, you finally get to go home. The military has given you the clearance to fly back to National City and reunite with family and friends for a couple months. 

Your captain was nice enough to convince the higher ups to reconnect and relax before duty calls again. You tried to tell your captain that it wasn’t necessary but you didn’t win the argument and just accepted it. 

“You did good work, Ace. Take the leave. You deserve it.” 

Ace. The nickname your captain gave you. You liked it. The reason he calls you Ace is because you’re one of very few good shooters out there in the Marines. You didn’t believe it yourself but you tend to prove it all the time. From shotguns, rifles, handguns, and arrows. You are a sharp shooter with any weapon you handle. 

“Thank you, Captain.” 

You touched down in National City. The feeling of finally being home is glowing. You play with a small engagement ring attached to your dog tags and look out to the window as the plane makes its way to an unoccupied gate. 

Lena Luthor. Your genius, beautiful loving rich girlfriend is who you want to see first we you get back to the city. The woman you’re planning to propose very soon. Just the thought of making Lena your wife made you smile. 

“Are you married, dear?” 

An elderly woman who was sitting a few seats next to you asked with a sweet caring smile. She caught you playing with the ring with your fingertips. 

“Oh no, ma’am. I’m planning to get married though. Hoping it turns out alright.” You said respectfully 

“The person must be lucky to have you. Her patiences will pay off once you pop the question.” 

You chuckled, “thank you, ma’am. But it seems like I’m the lucky one. She’s the most precious treasure that I have found in my lifetime. I just can’t believe that she’s still with me.” 

“So sweet. I wish you luck on the next chapter of your life.”  

Everyone was getting up from their seats and collecting their luggage. You quickly offered your help to the elderly woman and talked to her a bit more until you parted ways. 

You stopped by your hotel room first to drop off your belongings and take a quick shower to freshen up. You switched to a fresh new pair of your uniform and made yourself look more presentable. You made sure to hide any new war scars you have collected from the past months. 

Next, you stopped at a flower shop and bought Lena’s favorite flowers before heading to her penthouse. You know for a fact that she’s there since it’s a Sunday. She shouldn’t be in L-Corp working. 

You were getting nervous yet eager as the elevator pulled you up to her floor. You pop in a few mints and rapidly chew on them, leaving your mouth extra minty. You don't know how you got off the elevator and made it in front of your girlfriend's door but here you are. Flowers in hand and ready to give Lena a very long passionate kiss. 

You knocked on the door and waited for the woman to answer. The minutes passed we’re feeling extra long. You thought about how she could still be sleeping. You checked your watch before you got here. It remembered that it was already 10AM, she shouldn’t be sleeping in any longer. 

You knocked again. 

After a couple of minutes, you heard her moving towards the door. Lena finally opened it with just half of her body sticking out. 

She looked out of breath but totally shocked once she saw you. You see that she was just wearing one of her thin silk robes. She looks flushed and finds a couple of love bites on her neckline. 

Your feelings of happiness and nervous energy drain out of you. The two of you didn’t utter a word. 

“Hey, honey. Who’s at the door?” A very familiar voice ruined the moment. 

You know that voice. You know who it belongs to. You adjust your eyes behind Lena and find your youngest sister, Kara. She was just wearing sleep shorts and a loose t-shirt. Clearly, she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath since the impression of her hardened nipples could be seen. 

Kara stopped where she stood and gave the same reaction as Lena. 

“(Y/N), I can explain.” Kara spoke out first. 

You produce a dark chuckle. Your world around you is falling apart and burning fast as your anger is building up. 

“Darling, please. Hear me out.” 

You dropped the flowers and looked at the lovers dead in the eye. 

“My girlfriend is cheating on me. . . .” 

“(Y/N).  .” Kara reaches out. 

“NO!” You bark out. “I don’t need your damn explanation. It’s very clear what’s going on here. I can’t believe you two. I know that I was gone for a very long time. Yes I didn’t message you. Yeah I couldn’t tell you that I was caught in an accident and that I was fighting to keep myself alive! . . . I was keeping myself alive because I knew deep down that I wanted to come home to you. . .”

Tears were starting to fall. You felt so vulnerable. Moments of you and your team clinging on to your life while the helicopter crashes down flashes in your mind. Anger was boiling inside you. You hated how that accident happened. You hated that you couldn’t write to your family, friends, and girlfriend that you were in recovery mode. You hated knowing that they possibly thought you were dead to them. 

What you hated the most at the moment was finding your girlfriend cheating with your very own sister. 

“I just can’t believe you two. Lena, my own fucking girlfriend cheating on me. . . What’s very worse is that you’re cheating with my damn sister! My own fucking sister, Lena!” 

You shook your head in disapproval and started to walk away. Lena quickly grabs onto your wrist to stop you from leaving. You turn to her. Looking like a mess with tears running down her face. The look of guilt and disappointment was written all over her. You yank your arm out of her grasp. 

“Don’t bother. I wish both of you good luck with your new loving relationship.” 

Your last words sting your shattered heart. You speed walk to the elevator, ignoring Lena’s pleading cries. When the metal doors were closing, you last saw Kara trying to comfort your ex-girlfriend on the floor but the woman was desperately trying to break away. Kara was stopping her from running after you. 

When the doors finally closed. You broke down even more. Moments of you and Lena spent together flashes within you. You remember your first kiss with her. Your first time having sex together. The time was when she attended your award ceremony. The time where the two of you and your sisters spent the holidays in Midvale. 

Moment after moment adds nails to your heart. You punched and kicked the metal doors as hard as you could. Not caring that you’re damaging private property. You couldn’t feel the pain you were doing to yourself. You just felt numb. 

Tomorrow you’ll feel the pain you have physically brought upon yourself. In all honesty, you rather feel that than your aching heart that’s falling apart. 

You didn’t want to call any of your family members or friends. You wanted to be alone in your hotel room. You open a new bottle of whiskey and drink straight from it. You got out your untraceable cell phone and called one person you like to talk to. 

“Ace?” 

“I want to shorten my leave time.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH1

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

He was giving you that look. not the look, that look - the one that told you to stop doing what you were doing. It wasn't often that you'd layer it on thick for the press, making sure that you're giggling as you press your hand to his chest. With each flash of a picture you make sure you're striking a different pose. It was hard work being a liar, but it was even harder work without the publicity you gained. 

Your Publicist Cheryl or 'cherry' as she begged you to call her, had devised her own scheming plan to generate not only some amazing press for you, a well established quidditch player, but also some well-needed hype and sales for Fred Weasley's shop. After all, it's not every day that London's best quidditch player was dating Infamous Fred Weasley, Gryffindor Star beater and all-in-all stellar man. The plan had been well and truly in action for just over four months, With Fred the main face of the shared brand with his brother George, it felt like the best option according to Cherry. 

You were leaning into Fred, answering press questions about the latest win, how you were feeling about the upcoming game and, of course the all too regularly asked update on the relationship. You were 'very happy with a man like Fred', he was smiling down at you, gushing sappily "She may be the best Seeker in the game, but my god is she a keeper." The line made you sick to your stomach, When Cherry had pitched it to you both, you were groaning in disgust, but as she pulled the lollipop from her bright red lips with a pop, staring at you with raised eyebrows, you knew it had to be done.

As the interview began to wrap up, you thanked the photographers and journalists, grabbing Fred's hand and interlocking your fingers with a beaming smile, you made sure the cameras could see, after all the last issue of the Daily Prophet branded it as a 'winning smile'. You were escorted away from the press, once out of sight from them, your hand dropped from Fred's grip. "Well done for not making that so not obviously fake." you quipped at him, going to pull your coat on and check your phone for any messages. He laughed, imitating your voice, "Oh, Fred, you're so handsome, won't you just kiss me right now?" You scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Your phone had three messages when the screen had lit up, your stomach feeling like it had butterflies when you noticed the name. 

>> Do I get to see my beautiful girl later? 

>> I got your favourite for dinner. 

>> I miss your lips already

You felt like the luckiest girl alive in his presence, he made you feel like a princess - a queen even, with every night you spent with him. It all started at Hogwarts for you two, after all, It's not often you get to see the best Slytherin seeker and the Gryffindor star beater together. It really wasn't often because you'd been hiding your relationship for that long. He taught you quidditch skills that got you to where you are today during late, late night practices, often ending with makeout sessions on the grass as you straddled his hips,giggling into the bitter Scottish air. 

You fell in love with George Weasley as a teenager, and for 6 years you had kept your relationship a well-guarded secret. Even through the war, you kissed each other goodbye, praying that it was only a see you later. You knew that one day you would marry the gorgeous man you loved so dearly. You tried to persuade Cherry, who had and still has no clue about your true relationship status, for it to be George you had a public relationship with, but she quickly shut the idea down because George was 'too quiet'. 

<< I miss you so much Georgie… heading back to the shop with fred now

<< btw I'm staying over tonight, I won't suffer another night without kisses :'((

>> Just kisses? ;) 

<< Shut up. 

<< I love you xx

>> I Love you too, babygirl xx

>> Daddy can't wait to see you <3

George stood lazily, arms draped over the balcony as he was smiling down at his phone like a muppet. He was so head over heels with you that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. George wasn't mad that you had to fake date his twin, after all, he'd rather it be Fred than some random quidditch man, or worst of all, Krum. He knew and recognised how important it was to your career plus, what good businessman turns down the opportunity to rake in some sales? It hurt to read the papers sometimes, seeing how much attention you both got together, a part of him wished it was he who got to show you off. 

When you entered the shop, you caught George's eyes immediately, a bashful smile spread across your face, immediately feeling like a schoolgirl again in his presence. Fred sulked off to his office, leaving you to browse the shop until your driver arrived to take you to team practice. You were browsing the upper back wall of products when you felt his stare on you, he was meters away from you and you ached to draw him in for a kiss. You reached out to him, making the grabby hands that he couldn't resist, he checked over his shoulder, seeing nobody, before waking over to you, he pulled you into a quick and needy kiss by your neck, his other hand finding your hip. 

"I'll be home after practice," you mumbled between kisses. It was common for you to travel to his via floo, arriving at the place you truly called home, leaving a vacant and empty flat behind. He shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. "Too long to wait," he laughed softly, his lips pressing to yours again, you were just about to deepen the kiss when you heard Cherry yell out, "Y/N let's go or you'll be late for practice!" You sighed, leaving your boyfriend behind, fingertips being the last thing to separate as you walked away, leaving him dumbfounded. 

Practicing with your team was always a long, tough grind, your captain worked you hard and she knew it was all for the best, she was due soon to step down from her duty as captain, leaving the team in your hands, so you felt like you were learning double constantly. The warm water running down your skin made you crave George's touch even more, pushing the thought of Fred's hand on your hip out of your mind completely, you simply couldn't wait. 

When you arrived home, George, as promised had your favourite dinner ready for you. He was an amazing chef, using muggle techniques and tools to help create the perfect dishes without the need for magic. You shrugged off your jacket and bag, relaxing into the dining table chair as George brought out your bowl, his hands were massaging your shoulders as you ate, "Aren't you gonna eat, Georgie?" you questioned him, he smirked, "I've been waiting for you to get home so I could have my favourite." George was on his knees, hands reaching up to pull down your leggings, you lifted your hips up, allowing him to drag the material down each of your legs, hooking them over his shoulders, 

You knew exactly what he was doing, your hands found his hair and he tutted, breath fanning over your pussy as he looked up at you. "I made your favourite for you, Princess, You always liked it when we eat together." His tongue darted out to lick over your covered slit, feeling you already wet through your underwear, he hummed in appreciation, his teeth pulling the material to the side before attaching his lips to your clit.

Every time he hummed against you, it made you shake, the task of eating dinner becoming more and more strenuous, as you struggled to swallow down the food while he was pulling such sinful moans from you. George's skilled tongue was fucking your cunt, swallowing everything he could like it was the last meal he'd ever eat, and godric did he think you tasted divine, his thumb came up to circle your clit slowly, bringing you closer and closer to the ege. 

Thing is with George, he doesn't stop till he's got what he wanted. "Finish your dinner, baby," he smirked, a long finger slowly teasing your entrance, "I'm not finished until you are too." he was a determined man, by your second orgasm you could hardly hold up your fork, but nevertheless you soldiered on, managing to swallow the last piece just before number three hit, your legs were shaking and you were moaning incoherent sentences. That was possibly the best meal of your life, your weak legs could hardly hold you up when you tried to stand. 

George pulled you up into his arms, carrying you to the bed where he found your favourite shirt of his, helping you change into it, he left to make you a cup of tea, bringing it into the bedroom for you. sitting contently beside each other.

George's phone buzzed on the side, he read the message from fred. Laughing before showing it to you, the irony all too funny for him to resist. 

>> George, if only you had to do this… Fancy swapping places at the product launch on Saturday? 

<< Love to, but I'm not sure that's how the whole twin thing works. 

>> With an ass like hers, I don't mind it too much… shame, she seems like your type. 

The last text from him made george both laugh and be angry at him sexualising his girl. You laugh, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw before taking a sip of your tea, "He doesn't know George."

He hums a little bit before typing a reply. 

<< It really is a shame, she does have a nice ass. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes - Men. 

///TO BE CONTINUED///  Chapter Two >>>>>

Taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn

[riotqueen000]

The Mechanic Series #1: The Red Queen - Sano Manjiro

Chapter 3

"What in the blue shit are you doing here?" Asked Arisa curtly as their bikes halted when they saw Mikey, along with Draken, Mitsuya and Baji by the school entrance. Her face contorted in visible irritation.

"I thought he's irrelevant?" Akira who's back-riding on Arisa bike teased. Rio and Kiyori exchanged looks, rather flabbergasted as well on why the heck Toman Executives are in their school.

"Waiting for you, obviously." Mikey grinned rather sarcastically that irked Arisa more. Arisa chose to ignore the young commander and kicked her engine alive again, she was about to go the other way, but Baji blocked their path.

"Hold up, I'm just messing around. You're too hotheaded, President." Mikey chuckled and finished his dorayaki before licking the corner of his lips.

"Pretty hot, if you ask me." Rio commented, just enough for them to hear.

"Bitch I--" Akira laughed out loud that caused Arisa to give them a dangerous side look. The two immediately shut up while Kiyori just chuckled.

"What do you want?" Arisa questioned Mikey and took off her helmet, getting more impatient as seconds pass by.

Today has been a very stressful day, and she just wants to chill at their house and probably have few glasses of her stored red wine.

"I just wanna be friends with you. You did not even told me your name." Mikey replied, pouting his lower lip like a big child he is.

"Bold of you to assume I'd actually be friends with you." Arisa deadpanned that made Akira internally smirk.

Oh, she's loving this situation. Setting their stoic President up with the most notorious Gang Commander wouldn't be too bad, right?

"Just fucking agree so this shit would be done for." Draken rolled his eyes, he doesn't even know how the heck Mikey convinced him on visiting Arisa's school with him.

"I'm not dumb like you to be friends with Commander Short Legs here. So, sorry, I'm not sorry, leave me the fuck alone." Arisa sassed. Rio, Akira, and Kiyori exchanged looks as their mouths formed big Os.

Baji covered his mouth, poorly attempting to hold back his laughter. Mitsuya looked away to hide his visible entertained expression, he's not dumb like Baji to make Mikey upset now.

Arisa thought Mikey would leave after that, but the Commander just stared at her in pure amusement. His eyes had this spark as his mouth formed a wide smile.

"You're really interesting, President." Mikey chuckled. "C'mon, have some strawberry parfait with me, atleast."

"Is he asking for a date?" Kiyori wondered out loud.

"Yes." Mikey responded shamelessly with a wide grin.

Arisa's lips formed a smirk as she gazed at Mikey from head to toe before leaning forward, inching her face towards the young commander whose standing in front of her bike.

Her sudden action brought their spectators' jaws drop on the floor.

"Maybe when you get bigger, baby boy." Arisa whispered lowly, staring directly unto Mikey's eyes.

Arisa's yes reflected the sunset behind Mikey that made her orbs shine like polished jewels. Her scarlet hair is dancing along with light gush of wind, filling the air with the intoxicating scent of freshly extracted vanilla. Her breath fanned against his lips, making him inhale her minty breath with a tad bit hint of smoke in it.

Her stare brought an unknown sensation inside him. Her warm hues spread across his system, making him want for more.

"ARI-SENPAI!" Emma's voice echoed as she waved while jogging towards their direction. "Thank goodness, you're still here."

"Emma." Arisa patted the younger girl's head.

"Eh? Why are you guys here?" She asked her brother and his gangmates.

"Your brother is being a simp, what else?" Baji replied with a short laugh.

"I'm not!" Mikey retorted defensively, suppressing the blush that was about to spread on his cheeks. "More importantly, why are you here?" He returned the question.

"Oh, I was about to ask Ari-senpai for a meal." She replied and turned to the red headed President. "Can I?"

"Sure." Arisa replied immediately. "Aki, ride with Rio."

"What?! But, you rejected me! That's unfair!" Mikey exclaimed in pure shock and disbelief.

"Sucks to be you." Emma stuck her tongue and hopped on Arisa's bike.

"Better luck next life, Commander-kun." Arisa smirked once more before maneuvering her bike away from the boys with Kiyori and Rio's bikes tailing behind. Akira tossed some kind of a card towards Mikey and winked before telling Rio to drive faster.

Mikey caught the card that brought a huge grin across his face.

"Mikey, Pah called. There's an incident with Moebius."

"This is Rio and Kiyori and that's Akira." Arisa introduced Emma to the girls as they sat on a booth inside a retau cafè. "Don't get too close to her, though, if you want to keep your sanity." She sipped on her iced-coffee, pertaining to Akira.

"That's mean!" Akira exclaimed. "But, true. I'm the baddest bad bitch, afterall!" She added with a mischievous grin and flipped her hair. "Nice to meet you, sweetheart." The other two girls greeted Emma warmly, too.

"Nice to meet you all, too. Thank you for having me."

"Your name sounds like a foreigner's, are you a half-half?" Rio asked as she took a bite on her blueberry cheesecake.

"Yes, my mother is a Japanese but she left me at my grandpa's residence when I was 5. I never really knew about my father."

"Oh, shit. Sorry for asking." Rio immediately apologized for not realizing it is a sensitive topic to ask.

"It's fine. Better here than living with her, anyway. I've got amazing family now." Emma smiled, brushing off the sudden awkward atmosphere.

"You're a sweet girl, Emma-chan." Kiyori complimented with a sweet smile on her lips.

"T-thank you."

"By the way...you're into the dragon boy, aren't you?" Akira smirked and wiggled her eyebrows that made Emma's face flush a hundred shade of red, competing with Arisa's hair.

"W-what? How'd you know that?"

"Ah! I knew it. It's the way look at him, girl. Oh, I know that sparkle in your eyes when he's in your line of vision."

"You're such a creep." Another female voice commented, taking the empty seat beside Rio.

She have platinum blonde hair with black roots, and a pair of crystal eyes. Half of her face is covered by a maroon face mask, buy anyone could see that she's one pretty girl under those covers.

"Yo, bitch. Took you long enough." Rio snorted.

The natural pointed look of her slanted eyes made her seem to have a snobbish personality.

"Ah, Emma-chan. This is Seo Eun-Iseul, don't get scared at her. She just looks grumpy, but she's kind...deep inside." Akira introduced Iseul to Emma. "She's Emma, the girl Captain told us about."

"Nice to meet you..." Emma trailed off, not too sure what to call her. Her intuition that she's a foreigner is right, a Korean to be precise.

"Eul is fine. Glad to have you, too, Emma." She replied, taking off her mask and took the menu.

The six girls hung out until it's is time for Emma to go home. Akira brought her home as per Arisa's request, worried for her safety since she knew, some of that gang member might come after her again.

"I'm home!" The youngest Sano announced as she entered their humble abode while taking off her shoes.

"Emma, welcome home." Their grandfather greeted her back warmly. "Mikey's friends are over." The old man added and glanced at the pair of shoes by the entrance.

Emma kissed her grandfather's cheeks before going to the living room where Toman's founding members usually hangs out.

"Hmph! Looks like the traitor is already home." Mikey scoffed, scavenging the poor ice cream like a predator.

"You're such a child, jeez." Emma facepalms.

"Uh-huh, and you're a stealer." Mikey argued.

His friends could only shake their heads, Pah literally laughed his ass off when Baji told him about the incident earlier where Arisa called Mikey Commander Short Legs.

"Here. Peace offering." Said Emma in defeated manner, taking out a bag of Mikey's favorite dessert.

"You're the best sister!" The blonde male jumped on his feet and embraced Emma with a tight hug before opening the bag with sparkling eyes and drool on the corner of his lips.

"I'm your only sister, dumbo."

"Emma, you should be careful these day. Tell us when you're going out so we could drop you off and pick you up." Mitsuya said as concern is held in his eyes.

"Yes, yes. It's about Moebius and Osanai, isn't it?" Emma replied, sitting between Mikey and Draken as she took a piece of dorayaki.

"How'd you know?" Draken questioned with quirked eyebrow.

"Ari-senpai told me that that gang has been running wildly these past few days. One of the students in their school died out of suicide when they ganged up on him, do you know the video that went viral last week?"

"Yeah, I heard of it. The video is pretty nasty even my opinion." Pah commented, attempted to have a dorayaki, too, but his hand got slapped by Mikey, claiming that his dear sister bought it for him. "Selfish runt."

"The suspects of that incident is under Osanai's wing, they arrested earlier and it was the President who helped for the investigation." Mitsuya stated that made his friends fall silent with their mouths agape.

"That means she might be targeted by Osanai." Mikey stated with grim expression flashed upon his face. "We should make a move before that happens."

"Hey, hey!" Draken snapped his fingers in front of Mikey. "We already avenged Emma from the assault last time, we don't have to get involved with that matter anymore." The Vice Commander stated as matter of fact.

"Why not? She saved Emma when we couldn't, besides we didn't get to fight Osanai's main troupe because the bastard went into hiding. And now, he assaulted Pah's friend's girlfriend, whose part of Toman." Mikey argued, his eyebrows knitting together as his obsidian orbs darted at Draken.

"Why do I feel like you're making an excuse to get involved with the President?" Draken questioned.

"And why the do hate the President that much?" Mikey questioned back in taunting manner.

"She insulted you, countless times. And she, in fact, hates our kind, isn't it fair to hate her, too?"

[takenbyheartstrings]

Yes, I’m Changing | Corpse x reader

pairing: Corpse x fem!reader

summary: as y/n infiltrates Corpse’s life and his life, he seems to be happier and more alive.

warnings: mentions of anxiety and depression, crying, fluff, angst and more fluff.

request: hello can i please request a corpse x reader where the reader and corpse meet and instantly become best friends and he starts to get happier around her and get a little less anxious - maybe like she’s his saviour? idk, also could you please make her voice the complete opposite of corpse himself? tysm 🤍🤍

a/n: tysm for requesting! i hope this lives upto your expectations ^-^ OBVIOUSLY most of this is made up - and i’m talking about the Leslie and Corpse storyline - so please don’t come @ me S,JDFNKJSDNF

alSO KINDA SHORT IM SORRY

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You sighed as you logged onto discord ready for your stream, your setup was your favourite colour, so you clicked on your webcam with a smile and clicked to start the stream. People soon started to flood in.

“Hey guys!” You smiled taking a drink of water, “Welcome to the stream, we’re playing Among Us today with Rae and Sykkuno and a few more new friends! I think Corpse is coming to play with us, I’m excited to meet him!”

You quickly joined the discord call, Ludwig, Rae, Sykunno, Toast, Leslie, Poki, Felix and Sean had already joined, so as soon as I joined that was 9/10 of the lobby.

“Hey guys!” You giggled happily.

“Hey Y/n!” They all greet you happily, as you adjust your headphones on your head, pulling your mic a tad bit closer.

Soon one more person joined the discord call, “Hey,” a deep yet soothing voice speaks up.

“Woah.” You mutter quickly realising your mic discord isn’t muted.

Corpse laughs, you two were the only one’s in the lobby who didn’t know each other, “I’m Corpse, and you must be y/n.” You can hear his smile through the screen, “Big fan.”

Your face flushes red and chat takes notice, “Yes, that is me, I am y/n, and I, personally am very excited to meet you!” You cheer, trying to keep your cool.

“Holy shit guys.” Rae chuckles, “Their voices are complete opposite - it’s like the angel and the devil.”

“Hmmm maybe,” You perk up, “I guess I’d be the devil then.”

Corpse chuckles at your comment as the round starts as you smile because of his laugh, proud of yourself that you made the man, the myth, the legend, Corpse Husband laugh.

That was a year and a half ago.

You knocked on the door tugging on your grey sweater as he opened the door quickly, letting you in, before pulling off his mask as soon as the door had closed behind you. Corpse smiled at you as you hurried inside placing Grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

The two of you decided to rent a place together in LA to be closer to your friends and open up a new line of opportunities. Well, that’s how you pitched it to your best friend.

Anyway, it was game night at the Corpse x Y/n residence, last week was at Sykkuno’s house where you all played What Do You Meme, now it was yours and Corpse’s turn. Playing Cards Against Humanity because they all knew you guys had the largest collection of cards. You quickly set out everything on the table as Corpse just admired you from the couch.

“You could help, y’know.” You glared at him as he sat there watching you.

Corpse pretended to think about it, “Well, if I try to help you’re just gonna push me away and do everything yourself anyway.” He smirks - he’s right. You know he is. He knows he is. Everyone know’s he is. You’re a control freak.

You huff, “So what?”

“So what?” Corpse lets out the loudest laugh he can, “Last time you almost broke my finger!!”

You pause, before leaving it at that, Corpse just chuckles as he sits there, you finish in no less than ten minutes, “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” You retort.

Corpse looks at you, “I know you better than anyone, y/n.” It’s gonna be okay.

And he was right, the night went great. Everyone was smiling and laughing and having fun. It was a night to remember, mostly because Rae almost got blackout drunk and Toast and Sykkuno had to take her home early. But she’d just laugh it off in the morning after you call her and make sure she’s okay.

Corpse stands up, “Anyone need a drink?” He questions, as everyone shake’s their heads. Leslie actually changes her mind and follows him around the corner to a small kitchen.

A lot of people wouldn’t have known this, but Lesilie and Corpse met way before he met Felix or anyone current. She looks at him with a soft smile as she watches him get her a drink from the fancy fridge they have in their house.

“What?” Corpse questions noticing Leslie’s look.

Leslie chuckles, “You love her, dude,” She sighs before he can protest it, “Don’t try to say that I’m wrong either. She’s changed you, you’re slightly happier now, you’re making your way up there, she lifts your spirits every single day and you should see the way you fucking look at her, because I know you don’t know. You love her dude and she loves you too, think about it.”

Leslie leaves the kitchen as her and Edison are the only ones left in the house, it was kinda sad to see it without people in it but you smiled regardless. “That was really fun tonight, thanks Corpse!”

Corpse smiles as you do, “Always. But I’m super beat, gonna try and get some sleep.” In reality, he wasn’t. He was just gonna think about what Leslie said all night.

She was right. You loved him. But you couldn’t tell him that because 99.9% of the time they didn’t reciprocate those feelings back. She had learned not to try with love anymore. So you were sitting in bed that night thinking about a life where you had something good. You had love and comfort. Though you felt it was never going to happen.

Corpse was doing the same - he didn’t take the shots because he was scared. He thinks about her. All the fuckin’ time. How he’s so glad she joined that lobby. Leslie was right she made him happier. She made his life better. Way fucking better. He thought about a life with her, that it would be so good to call her his girlfriend. Never have to see her with another guy again - because yes. He was jealous of all the one’s she’d bring home after a night out with her friends. But she didn’t know they would come out and he’d scare them off.

He didn’t know he was doing that - not intentionally.

Your music fades out of your head as you try to fall asleep to it, but it fails coming back into earshot. You turn to the opposite side of the music. You tossed and turned before standing up out of bed. You had to do it. You had to tell him how you feel and you had to do it now. Something made you compelled to do it. Something made you need to do it.

You opened your bedroom door stepping out of it quickly walking down the hall over to Corpse’s room. 

Your anxiety started to spike, you could feel tears on the brims of your eyes - you were starting to overthink.

“What if he doesn’t love me back”

“What if he’s in love with someone else”

Corpse was having the same spike of anxiety, as he started to overthink feeling his stomach - his gut churn. He knew he had to tell you. No matter how anxious he was, he was willing to take that 50/50 chance. You were practically speed walking, and so was he. The two of you ran into each other, falling onto the floor opposite of each other, your hands catching you, breaking your fall. You yelped before you both chuckled and Corpse helped you up. The two of you hadn’t realise how close you were until Corpse spoke and you could feel the warmth of his breath and minty toothpaste on your face.

“Corpse I- I need to tell you something.” He stopped you.

“No- I do.”

“Corpse I have to tell you!”

“Y/N I LOVE YOU!” Corpse yells pulling away from you as he starts to pace, “I can’t go a day without missing you - I can’t go a day without you here. I crumble, I fall apart. You make me happier, nobody’s done that before. You are a light to my life, you are my sun, you are everything to me and I don’t know how to live without you - how to function. You went to VidCon for three days and I fell apart completely. I. Love. You.”

At this point Corpse didn’t know what he was saying. He was just going with his gut. You sat there shocked. You just smiled at him after a while. You ran towards him and jumped into his arms pressing a kiss to his lips and then pressing them all over the rest of his face.

He was relieved to say the least - probably guessing this is what you were going to tell him and he loved that - he could finally love you.

He carried you to his bedroom, which would soon be the two of yours as it was larger in size and fell asleep comfortably in each others arms as the warmth of Corpse’s body radiated onto yours. His arms around you, holding you to never let you go. To never get hurt. To protect you from all the bad in the world.

The two of your feelings were finally at peace. It was a beautiful masterpiece called love. You changed Corpse for the better and he changed you for it too. You both lived in perfect harmony with each other. It was a comfort you had never truely felt before - same to him. Something that the both of you never wanted to let go of. Let alone each other.

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Crashing | Jurdan Fake Hating One Shot

Written for: @poeticbrownmermaid​ for my 1k celebration!

Massive thank you to: @clockworkgraystairs​ and @sweetlyvillainous​ for beta reading this and holding my hand before I posted 🥺❤️

Summary: You’ve heard of fake dating. Get ready for fake hating. It’s all very romantic.

Rating: M/E for explicit language and a short, soft focus smut scene (a steam scene, if you will). The sexy parts start and stop after the ☽☽ in case you want to skip.

Masterlist

“You taste—” I’m cut off by my own giggle, which rises to my lips like my mouth is a glass and my laugh is the Champagne they’re serving at this dumb party. “You taste like bubblegum.”

Cardan looks at me funny, then snorts. “What?”

His eyes are beguiling when they’re amused. Even more beguiling when they’re amused and looking at me. They are dark intoxication. They compete against the night sky for vastness. I could swallow them whole.

We’re on the terrace under the stars outside his fancy-pants mansion. I’m sitting on the stone railing, my knees bracketing his lithe frame. His hands and lips are breathless effervescence on me.

I’m in a daring dress of red satin that I would’ve never chosen for myself had Oriana not insisted on finding us girls a tailor. It’s an elegant, backless number with an audacious slit up the side. The whole time before this in the ballroom, I could sense Cardan’s eyes eating it up while he pretended to hate me.

In this dress, I am a femme fatale spy from a film, meeting her tryst in the secret of shadows. Which is honestly not too far off from the reality of the situation, though I am no spy.

Cardan ghosts one hand up the exposed skin of my thigh. The night air is bracing as his touch.

“Jude,” he murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

He’s in a rakish black velvet suit with two blood-red rubies dangling from the pointed tips of his collar. It is decadence and sin given form. The first hour of this hell party was just that: Hell. By the time Cardan pressed a napkin into my palm with the words “Terrace. 10 min.” scrawled on it in smeared ink, I was beginning to glare at him in earnest—if only for the way he must’ve known he was teasing me.

Now, we’re making out behind two conveniently tall potted plants.

It’s all very romantic.

“I had one glass of wine, Cardan,” I say. I slide my hands from his hair and scrape my nails lightly down the column of his neck. It is heady, watching his eyes shutter. My hands slide down his chest and take up his lapels. I give them a firm tug. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I,” he says, lips hovering over my own, “Don’t believe you.” His breath fans across my face. It really does smell like bubblegum. And not the minty kind, either. I’m talking bright pink and bubblicious.

I lean back a little and stick my bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Why not?”

“For starters,” he says, “You’re a lightweight.” He trails that damned hand down my exposed thigh again.

I shiver. “So? I also ate like twenty of those canopy things.”

“Canapés?” Cardan smirks.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Highness.”

He flashes me a grin and I’m briefly stricken into silence. “Then, what have you to say to your unprecedented giddiness this evening, Your Majesty?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.” I grimace. “I just called you ‘Your Highness’.”

“What? Scared of the implication?”

“Uh, yeah.” My brows shoot up on my forehead. “Mainly because it implies that I’m your mother.”

Cardan’s face goes slack. “Shit, really?”

I nod and bite back my grin.

“I thought they were interchangeable.”

“About as interchangeable as a fork and a spoon.”

He sputters a laugh. “Shows what I know about royalty.”

“You realise how ironic that is, don’t you?” I say, nodding pointedly in the direction of the party.

It goes on without us, spilling its mirth in great golden shafts out onto the terrace. It doesn’t touch us, though. The air is cool, clear of the preening bullshit that so regularly lathers these kinds of events. And though he makes me dizzy, Cardan is the only real thing here.

I think I like parties better this way. From the shadows. In there, we’d have to talk to people, explain ourselves. We’re supposed to hate each other. We were always supposed to hate each other.

A smile plays at the corners of Cardan’s lips as if he’s gleaned these thoughts of mine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m too giddy to not be drunk.”

“Mhmm.” He nudges his nose against mine. “I’ve never heard you giggle before.” A slender finger tracks up my spine and it takes a considerable amount of concentration not to squeeze my thighs together. Goosebumps and a flush spring to my skin, anyway. “It’s delightful,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should work on your sense of humour.” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to.

“Maybe,” Cardan says, grabbing the back of my knee and hitching it up. “But that sounds like effort.”

I want to roll my eyes. This is exactly the reason we used to hate each other. His laziness, his arrogance, and entitlement made me want to punch him clean across his pretty cheekbones. I know my stubbornness and sharp tongue made him hate me right back.

Yet, when our worlds crumbled around us, we found ourselves crashing into each other. Entwined in a thicket of mutual understanding. Suddenly, there was so very little to hate.

We pretend to in public to keep up appearances. Everyone knows we hated each other. If we started being friendly around everyone else, people would talk. That’s the last thing we want. Even if they’d technically be right.

In private, though, Cardan is probably my most closely held secret.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still annoying as all hell. Like right now. But I’ve always liked a challenge.

I hook my leg around his back, pulling him in. My fingers card through his hair again. “I can be delightful in other ways,” I say, biting my lip.

His eyes lower to my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Cardan’s voice comes out a rasp. He cants my chin with the crook of his finger, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me with undiluted lust. The weight of his gaze is like a dizzying nightmare.

Then, he devours me.

Our mouths slide together, slowly at first, but building in fervor. Hot and heavy, like a fever. His grip on my thigh is bruising. His other hand splays across my bare back, crushing me to him, long fingers twining in my hair. Everything turns saturated and slow.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, determined to drink him up. He tastes like bubblegum and our reconciliation. At the same time, I hook my other leg behind him so he’s pressed flush against the apex of my thighs. ☽☽

A muffled groan rolls between his teeth. “Fuck, Jude.” Cardan is growing firm beneath his trousers. The feel of it sends a curl of sweet desire, dark and throbbing, through my core.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” I tease. I’m so featherbrained on the savour of his mouth, his liquid touch. My veins feel full of amber liquor instead of blood. I know I’m not drunk, and yet I feel it.

His fingers drawl back up my leg. “The question is, dear,” he says, “Can you be quiet?” The coolness of his hands sends a shock along the heat of my inner thigh.

I realise where he’s going with this and my breath hitches. My cheeks blaze. “Yes,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as confident as I should for such a high stakes rendezvous.

“Hmm,” Cardan thrums. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers are deft and twice as sly. He hisses through his teeth when they glide over me, exploring.

As a steady rain, he begins my unravelling. His mouth covers mine, swallowing a soft whimper that escapes my throat. I want to moan his name, to curse aloud, but I can’t if we’re to stay hidden.

The thought is both terrible and exciting at once.

Cardan keeps a torturous pace. I cling to him, panting, clutching at his arms, clawing at his back. His mouth roams my jawline. His teeth tug my ear. My mind is frenetic, frenzied, and at once thick in a viscous haze.

All I can think about is how this party is so stupid and soul-sucking, but Cardan is the farthest thing from stupid and soul-sucking. About how he makes me feel very much alive. About how I like him more than anyone here, probably more than even myself.

His other arm wraps certain and solid around me as he spins my world on its side. I lean my forehead on his shoulder. He kisses my neck. I can’t help the gasps that leave me.

My heart is racing. So quickly does it pump, in time with his ministrations, I think I might turn to white lightning in a bottle before all is said and done.

I know it when I’m drawing towards that precipice. My toes curl and flex. My legs begin to quiver. My knees lock up.

“Cardan,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Can you be quiet for me, Jude?” Cardan murmurs rough against my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too.

I am so muddled, I am so close. I can only manage a soft sob in response. Now he’s doubling his efforts and oh, gods is he clever.

I bite his shoulder to keep from making a sound as I shoot over the edge, a wondrous arc so high I’m sure I scrape the stars of their dust.

My hips writhe against his palm. I pull and rake my fingers through his hair as I spiral through the five stages of sweet delirium.

He holds me through it. Presses his lips to my hair and whispers what I think must be comforting things into my ear. I can’t tell because I’m incapable of comprehending much of anything beyond myself in his arms. He strokes soft circles over my back until it’s done. ☽☽

When everything settles, I’m still clinging to him, my forehead against the sureness of his shoulder. A sheen of sweat dewing my skin.

I’ve always hated this part about intimacy. The aftermath. Everything is too quiet. The excitement is gone. You’re faced with the reality of looking at each other without the rosy filter of lust. Maybe you’ll see each other for who you really are, and that’s a scary thought.

That’s probably how I felt once with Cardan, too. Back when we started…whatever this is. But now, in this moment with him, it feels less vulnerable and more like holding someone’s hand as you stare upon something a little terrifying.

Which is why I’m able to look up at him and ask in every manner of seriousness, “Why do you taste like bubblegum?”

His responding laugh is gentle and he shakes his head. “One-track mind,” he says. I shrug and wait.

“They’re serving bubblegum cocktails at the bar inside.”

My nose crinkles. “You actually drank one of those?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“No, I think I’ll sleep quite soundly if I never do.”

Cardan gives me an awful kind of grin that makes my toes curl anew. “Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he says, then tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “I happen to like bubblegum cocktails.”

I give him a dubious look. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’re not talking about bubblegum cocktails anymore.

For a long moment, we just sit there staring at each other. There’s a bloom of laughter from inside the house. The clink of glasses. His eyes trace the lines of my face. I still feel drunk on him and he’s looking at me too soberly.

So I say, “You have shit taste, then,” and hop off the railing. I side-step him before beginning the task of smoothing down my dress. If I walk back into the party all flushed and disheveled, people will know what I’ve been doing—which is almost as bad as if people knew who I’ve been doing.

“Oh, you can’t say that dear,” Cardan lilts as he leans back against the balcony with all the insouciance of someone who lives in this ridiculous mansion. And rightly so, because he does. “Not when you taste equally delicious.” Then he brings his fingers, the ones that have just been inside me, to his mouth and closes his lips around them, burning gaze locked on mine.

My eyes go wide. My jaw slacks as I watch him. I’m somewhere between affronted by his audacity and completely turned on again. Which is a confusing place to be.

He laughs at my probably very foolish expression and I turn on my heel to head back to the party. I’m not actually offended. I just can’t bear to look at him while he’s tasting me off his fingers without combusting on the spot.

Cardan grabs my wrist. “Wait, wait,” he says, still laughing.

I arc a brow and turn to face him. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and sounds earnest enough. “It’s just… you make me giddy, too.”

His words are a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realised it until he said it, but it’s true. It’s not the way he kisses me or the high of a climax, though those are surely nice things, too. It’s the way I feel when we’re together. Just his presence makes my head swim, my stomach turn flips.

He makes me feel a little bit invincible, and entirely beyond reason.

I look at him, the warm glow of the party playing off the sharp angles of his face. He’s still holding my hand, fiddling with the ruby ring I always wear.

On the crest of a breath, Cardan says, “Stay tonight.”

“Why?” I whisper, because we’ve never spent the night. I’m not sure we’d even know how.

“Because I’ll miss you terribly?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Because you’ll miss me terribly.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely survive,” I say. Even as my heart gives a squeeze. I don’t want to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

“Because you’re too intoxicated to drive home,” he says.

“I took an Uber here, Cardan,” I tell him. “And for the last time, I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not saying you’re drunk, Jude.”

He’s not grinning at me, which I think is a good sign. It means he’s not hinting at something sexual. Then again, that might also be a very bad sign. It means he’s hinting at something deeper. I’m not sure I want to get into that conversation just yet.

“Fine,” I say. I do want to stay. The thought of it sends a little thrill through me. “Hate me for an hour more. We’ll have a big argument about… something. And then I’ll tell Madoc I’m leaving.”

His hands snake around my waist. “What will we argue about tonight?”

I smile at him sweetly. “If your head is half as cunning as your fingers, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Cardan hums. “I do love it when we’re at each other’s throats.”

I roll my eyes but I’m betrayed by my laugh for not the first time tonight. Stupid punch-drunk feelings.

☽☽☽☽☽

Enjoyed this? Try:  King  |  Wicked Game  |  We’re All Mad Here

Masterlist

AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble for my 1k celebration but my hand slipped and whoops! It’s 2.5K words. I really hope you enjoyed this secret tryst one shot. I had so much fun writing it. If you liked this and want to see more from me, comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated!

I have a tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! I also recently jumped on the Twitter/Instagram bandwagon. You can follow me @/rebelwriter23 on Twitter and @/slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Instagram.

Back to the forest now. -Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Crashing- Illenium

Tag List: @velarhysismine​ @knifewifejude​ @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @thesirenwashere​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ @whocares-idont​ @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous​ @aesthetics-11​ @storiesandschemes​ @jurdanhell​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @thechainofiron​ @random-llama-socks​ @villanellevi​ @lady-thea-of-narnia​ @b00kworm​ @flowersinvegas​ @vanessa172003​ @cardanstrickytail​ @queen-of-glass​ @doingmyrainbow​ @words-of-the-wise​ @scarznstars​ @charincharge​ @fizziefaerie​ @fateandluminary​ @tessas-herondales​ @styles-taylor​ @jyoti96​ @losssssstttttt​ @transbordeamento​ @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer​ @woodsbeyond1​ @hizqueen4life​ @highqueenjudeduarte​ @m-like-magic1-blog​ @dorkzrul​ @whataboutmyfries​ @livelovereading123​ @queenofgreenbriar​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @lifeminuspickles​ @df3ndyr​ @christalpaez @aknymph​ @iammissstark​ @disco-tits1​ @star-flecked-soul​

[amintyworld]

The Return - Dream SMP 12 Years AU

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to another introduction to a AU idea I had with a lotta fluff and angst. May write more with this AU because I have a lot of ideas for it. Hope you enjoy and as always, if you have any questions about this AU at all, my ask box is always open, I'd love to talk about this.

By the way, for the enderman text I used this translator that my friend @griffintail uses in her work as well. It was really helpful and you guys should totally check out her work on her blog, she's awesome. - Minty

Summary: 12 years after the Bench Trio, Wilbur, Sam and Sapnap kill Dream for good and burn the revive book, the masked man returns on a plan for revenge.

TW: Blood/gore, kidnapping, torture, attempted murder, murder, implied character death, running away, denial, cursing, sympathetic dream? (He's a ghost). (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!) (Also, shippers get off my lawn please and thank you.)

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Michael’s eyes narrowed as someone, a stranger he couldn’t recognize slowly approached the house. That bright green hoodie and weird mask made his instincts flare, sensing danger. He jumped down, getting out his sword as he slowly walked to greet the intruder. His Dads and Uncle Technoblade trained him well enough that a plan was already forming in his head, going over the stock he had on him in his mind, prepared for whatever the stranger was planning to do.

A golden ax hung from the masked man’s back, a smile peeking out from under that smooth porcelain-like surface that the zombie piglin couldn’t tell if it was friendly or sinister. Finally, they were about five feet apart, facing each other. Michael pulled the cloak around him slightly more as a cold wind blew through the field. “Who are you? What are you doing on Snowchester Property?”

The man just stared at him, looking at him up and down.

“Answer me, dammit!”

“Michael, right?” The masked man walked toward him casually. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

“Not another step!” Michael shouted, pointing his enchanted netherite sword threateningly at the stranger, who looked almost amused at this action, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “How do you know my name?!”

“Oh, your parents didn’t tell you? We’re family.”

“...family?”

“Not by blood, of course. I’m more like... a friend. A family friend. Your parents and I were very close back in the day, I just came by for a visit.”

“A visit…? If you’re so close with my parents how come you haven’t visited before?”

“You know how adventuring can be - it takes up a lot of time, you know.” The masked man smiled and made Michael’s gut churn uncomfortably. “I’ve heard so much about you, Michael.” The stranger kept walking towards the teenager, his hands up casually. “It’s been so long, we should really spend some time and catch up-”

“NO! No. Stay… stay right there. Don’t… don’t you dare fucking move, you got that?!” The man stopped around three feet away from him now. “Now you either tell me your name or I’m putting this blade through your teeth.”

The man sighed. “Pity. I was really hoping to get to talk with you peacefully, Michael. You seem like a nice kid.”

“What?”

Quickly and flawlessly, the masked intruder pulled out his ax and Michael quickly readied his sword, ready for a fight. What he didn’t expect was for the intruder to get some air and run up the wall of the mansion, landing down the blow with a lot more force than the zombie piglin expected, and he dug his hooves into the snow, somehow keeping himself from getting knocked over completely. Using all of his strength he pushed the intruder off, scrambling for a strength potion as the man tackled him to the ground. “Nuh-uh, that’s cheating.” Michael was quick to grab his sword and defend, moving to strike against his neck. The masked man moved to dodge, the black string of his mask getting nicked by Michael’s blade, making it begin to fall to start to reveal blonde hair and cold green eyes that were somewhat familiar to Michael, though he couldn’t figure out from where. As he hesitated, the man’s eyes flared with anger. Within seconds he’d pulled Michael’s arm against his back toward his shoulder blade, making the piglin feel like his arm was going to snap. He grunted in pain, reaching to grab his sword that got knocked into the snow when he felt the press of an ax against his neck, enough pressure to feel the sharpness of the blade. The zombie piglin could hear his heartbeat in his ears, swallowing his fear.

“I’m Dream, though I think you already know who I am.” Dream huffed against the piglin’s desperate struggle, the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins from a victory. Of course, Michael knew the stories - his Dads and Uncle Tommy defeated that psychopath 12 years ago. They killed him, how the fuck was he alive?! The blade pressed harder against Michael’s neck as it began to draw a bit of blood. “Stop struggling.” Dream relished how much he’d missed all this, how much he’d missed being in control. “You and I are gonna have a little chat.”

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Ranboo hauled his basket of carrots and potatoes beside him as he reached down to grab some of the new harvests. A snowstorm was coming in soon, and they needed to stock up for the coming colder months. Their farms grew so big that a few of them set up shop in front of the old decommissioned prison, Pandora’s Box. Twelve years ago Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had faced that prison head-on, fighting their old allies turned foes, death at nearly every turn they took. They succeeded with a little help, burying the body a little outside of the prison walls and never looking back. The three of them faced many more trials after that, growing close as years passed and the server became peaceful as it used to be back in the beginning. The children grew up, their parents giving them the world and more, protecting them from harm, and making sure they had better than their parents ever did. Now, throwing another bright orange carrot in his basket, Ranboo couldn’t help but smile across the way at his husband, teetering up the ladder in a straw sun hat, gathering honey from their bee farm. He’d gifted the ladder a few years prior - “A little short help for my shortie”. Tubbo threatened a villain arc at the note, making everyone around the table laugh as Ranboo walked over to embrace him, his chin resting on Tubbo’s head gently as the shorter had crossed his arms with a huff. Ranboo’s heart warmed at the fond memory.

He felt happy.

FoolishG whispered to you: Ranboo he’s back.

You whisper to FoolishG: What do you mean?

You whisper to FoolishG: Who?

FoolishG whispered to you: He’s going after you first.

FoolishG whispered to you: Is Michael with you?

You whisper to FoolishG: No.

You whisper to FoolishG: You didn’t answer my question, Foolish.

FoolishG whispered to you: Michael’s in danger, you need to get to him now.

FoolishG whispered to you: Dream’s alive, Ranboo.

You whisper to FoolishG: If this is some kind of joke this isn’t funny.

You whisper to FoolishG: This isn’t funny

You whisper to FoolishG: You know how he messed with me, stop it

You whisper to FoolishG: Don’t joke about that, Foolish.

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish answer me

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish?

Ranboo dropped his messenger in fear as the reality of the situation began to set in, his breaths beginning to panic. No, no no no no… they killed him. They killed him, they got rid of him for good. He’s supposed to be dead, he’s supposed to be gone-!

“Ranboo?” Tubbo looked over at him with concern as he packed up the jars of honey from their bee farm. Ranboo’s silence did not help his unease. “Ranboo, what’s wrong?”

FoolishG whispered to you: Hurry, Ranboo. I don’t know how long he’ll last.

Tubbo was kneeling in front of him now, grounding him with his hands on his husband’s shoulders. “Breathe. Breathe, Ranboo. Deep breaths, you’ve got it…”

As Ranboo tried in vain to even his breaths, he held Tubbo’s hand in fear. “Dream’s back... He’s...he… he’s alive and he has Michael.”

“What?” Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “But… but we burned the revive book. We killed him, I saw his body-!”

“Michael… fuck, he has Michael…” Ranboo cursed on his breath. “This is all my fault, I should’ve known-!”

“No. None of that. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Tubbo dismissed, getting up and holding his hand out toward the enderman. “We’ve killed him before, we’ll just kill him again, right? We’ll save Michael and put a stop to this for good.” As Tubbo helped Ranboo back to his feet, he moved under a tree to place the purple glowing black box that greeted the two like an old friend. An enderchest. They hadn’t needed to use it for so long. They hadn’t needed what was inside. Tubbo pulled out a familiar enchanted sword that used to plague Ranboo’s dreams. His sword. The goat hybrid took off his straw hat and with one last glance placed it inside the enderchest, his eyes focused and thinking. He felt the new weight of the sword in his hand, getting used to the weapon again. “It’ll work this time. It has to.”

“It will.” Ranboo echoed.

Will it?

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, looking somber, numb. When they finally killed Dream they thought it would be the last time, the last war to fight. All three of them strived and hoped for peace, for all of it to be over, to get their own happy endings. He moved to the side, pulling out his communicator from his pocket. “Grab your stuff. I’ve got to warn Tommy.”

As Ranboo grabbed his own enchanted sword and his old armor from the chest, he couldn’t help but wonder, a single thought that nagged him and wouldn’t seem to leave his mind, making his stomach sink to the floor in dread…

...What if they never killed him in the first place?

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

Phil closed his eyes as he sat in his chair, feeling something wrong, off in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. The room around him is silent but Phil can feel the world yelling for him, screaming for him. It’s trying to tell him something. Phil’s been alive for a long time. He’s seen the earth burst with new life, and slaughtered bodies fall to the floor, smelling nothing but the cold press of death. He’s seen it, heard it, felt it so many times it was a familiar, somewhat comforting feeling for him. It was calming, it was constant, it was natural.

So why did it…?

Phil’s eyes opened slowly, looking out the window in thought as Technoblade walked in from the snowstorm outside, a chill running through the cabin. The piglin dropped his bag of loot on the floor and began to shoulder off his snow gear to hang by the fire to dry. As Techno walked past him, moving in front of the fire to undo his braids, damp from the snow.

“Techno, something’s happening.”

“Heh?” The piglin’s ears perked up from the break in the somewhat comfortable silence they usually shared. “What… what do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong. It feels… unnatural.” Phil said, closing his eyes briefly again to focus on the feeling. “Did you see anything off while you were out?”

“Not really, the snow’s coming down so hard you can barely see a thing out there.” The piglin shrugged, the concern on his friend’s face only making a pit form in his stomach he tried to ignore. “...what’s wrong?”

“Something’s moving… breathing… it shouldn’t be.”

“Zombies, maybe?” Techno suggested. “I did see a few while I was out.”

“Maybe.” Phil agreed. “Part of me feels like something’s off, something dangerous. Like when you… you were almost…” Phil sighed. “I guess I’m just worrying over nothing again.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing - you have good instincts, Phil.”

“Battle instincts. Instincts I don’t need anymore. And here I thought you’d have a harder time adjusting to all this.” Phil scoffed.

“A lot’s been changing. With everything that happened, I don’t blame you for being a little tense, Phil. I am too.” Technoblade admitted. “Just to be safe, we can double-check when the storm passes, that way we won’t get any interference with the communicators.”

“I’d like that.” Phil smiled, moving to sit next to his friend by the fireplace. “Thanks, Techno.”

Technoblade scoffed, his mouth breaking into a smile. “Hey, don’t mention it.” The piglin ran his hands through his hair, going through a few knots before grabbing a brush. Taking a deep breath to calm the knots in his stomach, Phil moved to set the kettle on the furnace, grabbing a match to light it.

Miles away from the icy tundra, Foolish walked through the Temple of the Undying, a small teenager in their arms. He was silent as he marched, tears going down his cheeks full of emotion the god held back. His arm gently cradled the child’s head close to his chest. His heart weighed heavy with guilt, words and memories echoing in his mind of failure, of how he failed his son.

Foolish could feel presences, he could feel others watching from the shadows and corners. Every single statue and totem memorial against the wall seemed to have their gazes fixed on him as if waiting for what the god would do next. For once, Foolish didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t even told anyone the news yet. How could he? His son was dead and it was all his fault. All because he wasn’t careful. Dream was back, he was standing there next to his son and for once he couldn’t control his anger, his panic. He tried to strike him down, but…

He still remembered every detail, how Dream had just… smiled. He wasn’t afraid. He was staring down a god, and he wasn’t afraid. Somehow, he was always one step ahead.

Lightening still sparked and clung to Foolish Jr.’s body. Foolish couldn’t help but think about how much pain he must’ve been in, how much pain he must’ve put him through. He fell to his knees in the center of the temple, gently laying his son on the floor, the beacon lighting him in a bright glow. His hands shaking, Foolish brushed a bit of hair out of Junior’s eyes, bowing his head toward the ground.

“I’m sorry…” His soft whispers echoed through the temple. “I’m so so sorry, Ra forgive me for what I’ve done…” Tears dripped down to the floor. “My little totemling…” Foolish’s eyes snapped toward the walls as the totem statue’s eyes began to softly glow, bathing the two in green light. The totem god’s eyes still wet with tears as he looked into the green eyes, a silent question on his mind. Whispers filled his ears that he couldn’t quite decipher. Suddenly, he felt it.

A pinprick in the middle of his chest, expanding throughout his body, the pain pulsing like a heartbeat. His breath hitched as drowsiness overtook him, making him feel dizzy. An essence was being slowly pulled from his body, glowing like some kind of enchantment on a weapon. Sweat built on Foolish’s brow as he struggled to keep his breaths even. Then… a stinging slice across his middle left him in a silent scream. His hand slowly reached up toward his chest, his eyes widening when he found it covered in crimson. The pain was overwhelming - it felt as if his body was torn apart and stitched back together in a matter of seconds. He scrambled to grab a health potion, downing it all and wincing at the terrible aftertaste but thankfully finally getting some relief. His eyes focused on the essence as it hung up into the air above the two, and slowly was lowered, expanding around Foolish Junior’s body.

As the green light faded, Foolish heard faint chanting, looking around for where it was coming from, trying desperately to piece together what was happening. Before Foolish had time to figure out exactly what the chanting was saying, the body shooting upwards from the ground, gasping for breath quickly grabbed his attention.

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

Michael didn’t know how long it was. How many hours had passed since he’d been tied to the chair? He didn’t even know if it was night or day. He sat in the middle of his parent’s bedroom, feet and hands tied expertly - he was completely and utterly trapped. With every time he struggled and strained against the bonds they cut against his skin and irritated it enough to make them bleed, almost training the piglin to try to stay as still as possible, to avoid any pain.

Dream stalked around the bedroom like a thief, searching through the closet and drawers for something or other. He’d pick up a potion, a diamond, even an ingot or two, holding them up toward the light as if to inspect them before dropping them in his bag. His gaze fell upon a picture of the family from their beach vacation a few years ago - Ranboo fell asleep with a seagull perched on his stomach. Michael remembered how much he and his father had tried to hold back their laughter enough for a selfie, only for Ranboo to wake up and scare the seagull away halfway through taking the picture. They looked so happy together.

Dream seemed unfazed by the photo, almost studying it in a sense. The gaze seemed oddly calculated, making the teen feel uneasy.

“Michael you’re a good kid, you know.” Michael’s glare bore into Dream’s mask as sticky drips of crimson spilled over his hands. “You always want to do the right thing, want to protect everyone. You shouldn’t have to be the one to fight your parent’s battles, should you?”

Michael remained silent.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael. I really don’t. Despite what your parents might have told you, I’m not a monster. It brings me no satisfaction to bring you pain. After all, you’ve done nothing to me.”

“So?”

“So I’m giving you some free advice - take the easy way out, for both of us. All you need to do is tell me where that armor is hidden, and I’ll let you go.”

“Bullshit.” Michael spat. “I know that’s not what you want, my parents told me more than that you’re just some scary monster. You’re a power hungry lunatic.”

A smile spread across Dream’s face at Michael’s words. “A lunatic, huh?”

“You manipulated Uncle Wilbur, you tortured Uncle Tommy… you betrayed my father all because you want power! You want control over people, freeing me would have you lose the only shred of control you have left on this server, so why would you?”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Dream said casually, rolling up his sleeves. “So smart…” He reached into his bag, grabbing a pair of shears that looked worn. There were initials on the leather cover that Michael couldn’t strain his eyes to see. Dream uncovered the shears, walking over toward the piglin and resting an arm on the teenager’s right side, trapping him.

Something churned in the piglin’s stomach. “What… what are you…?”

“Tell me, smart kid, do you know what it feels like to die? To feel nothing but neverending agony? To choke on your own blood as you beg for relief and warmth only to find yourself becoming colder and colder, not being able to move or even scream?”

Michael couldn’t help the fear that traveled up his spine. “I…I-”

“I wonder… would you like to find out?” The sharp end of the scissors was quickly set near the bottom of the piglin’s neck. It freaked Michael out - how calm Dream was about it all, how serious he sounded. Was he really going to kill him? The question sent his mind racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt like a trapped sheep in a wolf’s grasp. He wanted to run but he couldn’t.

“I...I just-”

“Do you know what canon lives are, Michael?” Dream asked smoothly, as if he was telling the teenager about the terrible weather. The words seemed familiar to the piglin but for some reason he was so stressed it was hard to remember anything specific. His parents never really talked about it much and usually tried to avoid the topic.

Michael thickly swallowed, acutely aware of the sharp blade against his skin. “No… no I don’t think-”

Of all the things he expected to happen in his situation, he certainly didn’t expect for the masked man to go into a small laughing fit over his answer. Michael struggled to find what exactly was funny, and a small pit of rage began to boil in his stomach, temporarily distracting the zombie piglin from the fear that the green blob seemed to pull out of him. So what if he didn’t know what those are?! Why does he care?! “Oh, I knew they couldn’t have told you everything…”

“What… what do you mean?”

“You see Michael, when someone dies they use up a canon life and respawn, until… well… they can’t anymore. Everyone has three, but a few have been used up over the years, at least when I was around.” Michael could see the beginnings of a smirk poke out from underneath Dream’s mask. “You’ve never respawned, have you?! All three lives, no deaths… oh, this could be fun…”

What… what the fuck was he suggesting?!

“Your choice - Tell me where the armor is now, or I’m going to kill you.”

The zombie piglin nervously looked around for any kind of out, something to stall. He couldn’t give up the location - Dad told him explicitly that he couldn’t reveal the location to anyone, no matter the circumstances.

Tubbo held Michael’s hands firmly in his own. “It’s evil, Michael. It used to belong to a very bad person, and he hurt a lot of people. We have to contain that evil here, for everyone’s sake. If this got into the wrong hands…” His father trailed off, not bothering to finish.

“I promise, Dad. I won’t let you down.”

Tubbo looked up at his son proudly, moving to cup his cheek with his hand fondly. “I know you won’t. You’re old enough and you’ve trained enough, you’ve earned my trust.”

He couldn’t let his father down, but…

“Five… four… three…” Dream huffed, getting impatient.

“You… you can’t just-!”

“Wrong answer.”

Michael’s memory was fuzzy after that - maybe it was because of the pain, or maybe it because he didn’t want to remember. He remembered… he remembered how his body trembled as Dream swiftly stabbed him in the chest with the shears, he remembered the tears going down his face as Dream tried to wedge the weapon deeper in the wound. And the pain… the pain was indescribable. Of course Michael had gotten hurt before - but arrows and zombie bites and broken bones could never compare to this, not by a long shot. Words left his lips so freely that he forgot exactly what he said, but when Dream twisted the scissors he whimpered.

He was mad at himself for crying and losing himself in front of his tormentor - he was giving him exactly what he wanted! Why did he just cry so easily?! Why was he being so… so weak?! He didn’t know exactly how or when the chair he was tied to flipped over, but he did remember shouting that seemed distant. He hit his head when he fell, adding to the throbbing dizziness in his skull. The pain hurt so much he wanted it to stop, please just let it stop...

He hadn’t even noticed the masked green blob left the room until a pair of dark purple eyes stared at him from the doorway. He felt himself tremble as the figure moved closer, and Michael squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to watch whatever that thing wanted to do to him next. After a tense moment of silence the piglin felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and his body relaxed into the touch, the familiar hum radiating throughout the stranger’s chest that always helped calm him. A hand reached up to scratch at his ears fondly, and Michael worked up the courage to open his eyes.

Two purple glowing eyes looked down at him, smiling and purring. The hair, the clothes… “Dad…?” Michael weakly croaked. The purple-eyed Ranboo smiled at him as he fondly patted his head. A loud noise erupted from his mouth, making Michael tense up in fear.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬.”

Upon seeing Michael’s distress, purple-eyed Ranboo quickly went back to sending calming purrs, holding his son’s head in his hands. Michael was so confused - what was that noise? More importantly, was his Dad okay? Ranboo’s hands drifted above the zombie piglin’s chest wound, a slight noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. He grit his teeth through the pain as he struggled to speak. “Dad, look, you… you gotta listen - Dream’s here, he’s gonna be back any second…”

The Ranboo-not-Ranboo’s head whipped toward the doorway at a loud crash, his grip increasing on the teenager slightly. Had his Dad even heard him? More strange noise erupted from his mouth, only increasing Michael’s concern. What was going on?

“⎅⏃⋏☌⟒⍀.”

Before Michael could ask what exactly that meant, with a ‘vwoop’ the purple-eyed Ranboo disappeared. Though Michael missed the warm comfort for his pulsing pain, part of him was glad. That means his Dad must’ve heard him, he was gonna warn the others and Dream wouldn’t hurt him, that was all that mattered. The other part felt like he was six years old again trapped in his own personal nightmare, begging for his father to come back and save him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. Static began to fill his ears as a slow deep sleepiness began to take over. Tears pricked at the edges of Michael’s eyes, the pulsing, burning pain becoming too much.

Just let me rest...

The door slammed open. A scream echoed.

“MICHAEL!”

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

Foolish had never seen his son so scared in his entire life. He shot up, grasping for some kind of lifeline, and Foolish didn’t hesitate to pull him close. “Dad…”

“Shh, it’s okay little totemling. Dad’s right here.” His heart felt full as he hugged his son tightly, afraid that if he let go it would all just be a dream. His son, his son was alive and breathing, his son was right here in his arms, he was okay, it was all okay-! Wet tears slipped down his face before he had the time to notice them. The totem god’s gaze shifted up towards the totem statue. The statue glared down at him, expressionless, as if nothing else needed to be said.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

“There was… there were shadows everywhere,” Junior sobbed. “It was cold and so, so scary and I didn’t know where you were, and-!”

“I’m right here, Foolish. I’m right here. It…” Foolish hesitated. How could he explain this to him? How could he tell his son that he failed him? How could he face his son and tell him the truth, that his own father had killed him? Maybe some things were better left unsaid, some truths untold. Foolish couldn’t tell you whether he avoided it to spare his son’s emotions or his own, simply that he found that he just couldn’t. “It was all just a bad dream, don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to respawn.”

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he’d tell him the truth later, but he couldn’t face it right now. He just couldn’t. Either way, what did it matter? He got a second chance, and this time he wasn’t going to mess up. Not again.

“Wait, where’s Dream?”

Foolish couldn’t help but tense hearing those words. “...What?”

“Where’s Dream? He just came back, I can’t leave him. He’s probably somewhere scared and alone, he probably thinks I died! I’m his only friend, I gotta-!” Junior shifted, moving to get out of his father’s grip.

“Foolish. Foolish, no.” The totem god said firmly. “Dream’s dangerous. He’s done horrible things, he’s hurt so many people back when he was alive, and I won’t have you be next.” Not again.

“But… but it’s been so long, maybe he’s changed! Maybe…”

“Foolish.”

“When Wilbur came back he changed, he became a good guy again! Dream’s been dead longer than him, he’s my friend he can’t… he’s not…”

“Dream used you against me when you stepped in front to protect him. Maybe his ghost was different, but… but he’s not a ghost anymore.”

Junior pulled away from his father’s embrace. “No, no that’s not true! You were the first one to attack him, he was just standing there, Dad! He just came back, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you assumed he did. You attacked for no reason.”

“Foolish you don’t understand, the things Dream’s done-”

“He’s been dead for 12 years, Dad! 12 years, and you don’t think he’s changed?! I thought you always believed in second chances, that everyone deserves a chance to do the right thing.” Junior stated. “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“He’s killed countless people in cold blood-”

“Haven’t you?!”

Foolish’s face fell as he looked over his hands. Static filled his ears as his mind remembered every single detail, and for a moment he swore he could feel the warm, thick blood coating his hands. No, no no no… not now… He quickly clenched his hands tightly into fists, closing his eyes, trying to block it out before it flooded back, before…

He felt arms around his neck, a warm embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-!”

As the feeling slowly faded, he opened his eyes, finding his son’s face red and puffy from crying. He mustered a small smile, both their anger long forgotten. “Hey, hey it’s okay… I told you I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“You were… you were turning into the… I’m so sorry…” Junior’s voice was soft and quiet.

“You don’t need to be, it’s not your fault…” Foolish reassured. “You’re right. You’re right, I’ve… I’ve done horrible things too. I just don’t want him to hurt you. I want to protect you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

Junior yawned, and Foolish smiled warmly.

“Come, my little totemling. You look tired.” Foolish said, scooping up the young teenager in his arms and walking toward his son’s room. Junior tiredly smiled.

“I love you, Dad.”

Foolish leaned down and gave his son a small forehead kiss. “I love you too, Foolish. No matter what.”

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

“Shit, shit shit shit shit…” Tubbo mumbled, his hands shaking as he rushed over to his son, noticing the large gash in his chest. He fumbled for his bag, desperately trying to find a potion of harming.

Regen, healing, strength, swiftness…

“Fuck.” Tubbo cursed under his breath, throwing aside his satchel and rushing over toward the drawers, pulling them open, throwing things to the ground in reckless abandon. What happened to the potions?! They always had extra, then extra for the extra! He and Ranboo were always prepared, they knew how hard harming potions were to make, so where was it?!

A loud crash ripped through the halls as Enderwalk Ranboo crashed through the wooden wall of the room, wooden splinters flying everywhere. Enderwalk huffed as he staggered trying to get to his feet, letting out a loud hiss as Dream walked through the new hole in the wall, his sword out, red staining his green hoodie. He looked over the scene, catching his breath.

“Oh, you guys wanted to pull one over on me, huh?! Throw the enderman freak on me, grab Michael and leave?”

Tubbo moved to be closer to Michael, pulling out his own sword protectively as Enderwalk moved in front of both, ignoring his own slashes and blood dripping to the floor. Enderwalk Ranboo screeched, almost daring the masked man to come toward his family. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on Dream, looking him over. “Yeah, something like that. Great plan, isn’t it?”

“Actually,” Dream let out a small cough, smirking. “Actually it’s pretty stupid.”

“I’d disagree, since we have Michael, and from the looks of it, you don’t have your precious armor.”

“Oh Tubbo, all these years and you’ve learned nothing… I always have other plans.”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you-?”

“Looking for this?” Dream smiled, holding up a glimmering potion of harming. Enderwalk was ready to pounce, looking over at Tubbo who stood up, sword raised. “Nuh-uh-uh. Try to take it from me and I’ll smash it on the floor. All of them.” Dream moved to open the flap of his bag slightly to reveal more potions of harming. Tubbo’s face fell - all the extras, everything…

Enderwalk looked back at Tubbo, head tilted in confusion as Tubbo signaled for him to stand down. Tubbo took a deep breath - he hated this. He hated that once again, he hadn’t thought everything through, he hated that once again he failed, and most of all he hated that fact that as of this moment, his son’s life was in that green psycho's hands. Enderwalk turned to hold Michael close once again, nuzzling him and getting worried and sad when he didn’t respond. “What do you want for it?”

“You know what I want.” Dream said coldly. “I’d hurry if I were you, or it’ll be Michael’s first cannon life.”

Tubbo promised himself he wouldn’t ever subject his son to that kind of pain, that he’d protect him no matter what. He let out a defeated sigh. “Second portrait on the left in the entryway. It’s behind the painting.” Tubbo held out his hand. “Now give me the potion.”

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo… never change. Once an idiot, always an idiot, isn’t it?” Dream tossed the potion bottle over, which Tubbo quickly caught as the masked man turned and walked out of the room. Tubbo quickly rushed over toward his son, putting the potion bottle to his lips. They didn’t have much time.

Of course, it wouldn’t heal much, but it certainly was better than nothing. He looked over toward Enderwalk, gears turning in his head trying to make sure he spoke clearly enough to be understood. “⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀, ☌⟒⏁ ⏚⏃⋏⎅⏃☌⟒⌇.”

Enderwalk nodded, rushing over toward the drawers, grabbing some bandages and handing them over to Tubbo, who set down the empty potion bottle. Enderwalk looked down at Michael as Tubbo worked, focused. “⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⏃⌇⌰⟒⟒⌿. ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬?”

“⌿⏃⟟⋏ ⊑⎍⍀⏁ ⏁⍜⍜ ⋔⎍☊⊑. ⌿⍜⏁⟟⍜⋏ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅.”

Enderwalk reached to scratch and pat behind Michael’s ears. Tubbo tightened the bandages as Michael stirred. “...Dad…?”

“Michael, thank gods you’re alright!” Tubbo moved to hug his son, Enderwalk joining in, purring happily at the reunion.

“What… what happened? Where’s Dream?”

No time. “Busy. Michael, can you move..?”

Michael shifted to sit, feeling sore, tired. Small pulses of pain still wracked his body that he ignored. He moved his leg slightly, testing the waters. “I… I think so…?”

“Good. Okay.” Tubbo got up, holding out his hand and helping his son stand on shaky hooves. “I need you to run. Run toward Uncle Tommy’s.”

“Wait, what? N-no, I’m not leaving you!”

“This isn’t a choice, Michael. You have to go. Now. Before he comes back.”

“But-”

Tubbo’s hands gently squeezed his son’s. “No matter what you hear or what happens, don’t stop. Don’t stop until you’re at Uncle Tommy’s and you’re safe, okay?”

“But what about you and Dad? What about Dream?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve held our own this long. We’ll meet you at Uncle Tommy’s soon, but you have to get there and get safe, okay? Don’t look back, just get there. You can do that for me, right?” Tubbo’s forehead gently bonked Michael’s. “Remember the time we got caught in the forest just as the sun was coming down?”

“Yeah. I was so scared I couldn’t move. It was my first time out at night.”

“Remember, I took your hand like this…” Tubbo slowly rubbed circles into the back of Michael’s palm. “And told you that you didn’t have to be scared, that I was gonna be right there with you. All the scary monsters, you didn’t need to be afraid because as long as you kept running, nothing could get you.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I-”

“Yes you can. I know you can, Michael. Run as fast as your hooves can carry you, I know you can do it. I know you can be brave.” Tubbo encouraged. “Get there, your father and I will be right behind you. I promise.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

“⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬! ⍙⊑⊬ ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⌇⏃⎅?”

Enderwalk nuzzled with Michael as a few tears spilled down the piglin’s cheeks, and he laughed, smiling. “I love you too, Dad!”

Quickly, giving his parents one last look, Michael dashed into the hallway, heading toward the balcony and jumping down into the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ran through the trees toward the icy tundra. Tubbo wiped away his tears as he looked over toward his purple-eyed husband.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬...?”

Tubbo cupped Enderwalk’s cheek as the enderman snuggled into the embrace. “⋔⟟☊⊑⏃⟒⌰ ⋏⍜⏁ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒. ☌⍜⟟⋏☌ ⏁⍜ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⌿⌰⏃☊⟒.”

Enderwalk looked into Tubbo’s eyes and nodded in understanding. He moved to hold Tubbo’s face in his hands as Tubbo stilled, confused for a moment before Enderwalk pulled him down to the floor in a tight hug. Surprised at first, Tubbo returned the gesture. A loud crash erupted from below the two, followed by loud angry yells that sent shivers up Enderwalk’s spine and made him tense up.

“WHERE IS IT?!”

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

“The flowers are really pretty today.” Ghostie smiled as he kneeled down in the daisy flower field, callused and rough hands moving to gently caress a flower.

“Yeah, spring’s coming.” Junior smiled, sitting down next to his friend.

“Spring…?”

“You… wait a minute, you’ve never seen spring before?!”

The ghost considered his friend's words for a moment, searching his own memory. “No, I… I don’t think I remember spring.” He smiled excitedly, a childlike curiosity in his eyes. “What’s it like?”

Junior settled down next to his friend, moving to pluck a flower. “Well, it’s warm, like… like hot chocolate, and flowers come back… it’s like the entire world comes alive again.” As Junior spoke, Ghostie pushed his green hood back and looked up towards the bright blue sky, noticing a small butterfly float past. His heart felt light, it was perfectly warm and bright, and something about everything around him made a smile appear on his face. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got something for you.” Foolish Junior smiled, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small piece of different colors of braided thread - a lime green and two different shades of blue with a small white shell at the bottom. He held it out to Ghostie. “Now we’re officially best friends!”

“What is it…?” Ghostie asked, staring down at the foreign object laid in his palm.

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Junior beamed, pulling out a similar yellow with the same two shades of blue. When his ghost friend didn’t respond or understand when he pointed it out, just staring up at him confused, he moved to explain. “You wear it on your wrist to show that we’re friends. See? It matches mine.” The twelve year old held up his own bracelet to show his ghost friend.

“Were… were we not friends before…?”

“Of course we were, Ghostie!” Foolish Junior exclaimed. “You’re my best ghost friend in the world, after all.” He reassured his friend. “I just wanted to make it for you because I thought you’d like it. Tubbo was telling me this story the other day about these special compasses, and… and I wanted to make sure that even if we’re not always together, we’ll still have a part of each other, you know?”

“It’s pretty. Like the flowers.” Ghostie smiled. “I love it.”

“Here, let me show you how to put it on…”

Foolish Junior heard talking just beyond his room as he packed, hearing his Uncle Eret downstairs. For a second, his mind wandered to what they could possibly be talking about. After all, it was just a simple respawn. He wasn’t that hurt, Ghostie got brought back… everything was perfect! Everything was supposed to be absolutely perfect.

So why wasn’t it? The whispers and hushed tones, the way his father looked at him, clung to him in a vice grip… it wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He knew his father wasn’t right about Ghostie, or… or was he Dream now…? Dream. It didn’t sound right, it didn’t fit him as well as ‘Ghostie’ did. The name felt so foreign on his tongue. But, if that’s what his friend wanted…

The teenager stilled as his gaze settled on the abandoned green and blue friendship bracelet left on his nightstand. He remembered how Ghostie held it with the utmost care when he handed it to him to take - “Make sure to give it back once the ritual’s all done. I don’t wanna get it dirty.” Junior remembered so clearly how Ghostie looked at him when he wasn’t transparent anymore.he called out for him with a smile, and his best friend simply turned around without saying a single word, looking around the forest.

After a moment of hesitation, he slid on Ghostie’s bracelet next to his own. He’ll give it back, he’ll reunite with Ghostie and introduce him to everyone and they’d understand. Then, they’d finally get to go swimming together like they always wanted to. They’d be together again.

All he had to do was find him.

You whisper to Dream: Meet me by the flower field tonight once the sun goes down. Be safe. We’ve gotta talk.

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

As his husband held his head in agony, Tubbo was quick to steady him, resting his head against his shoulder. He gently held him, adapting as he shifted every now and then. Worried thoughts filled Tubbo's head as he couldn’t help but think of the worst - it had after all been years since Ranboo had forced himself to go into that state. He was the one who pushed him, all for his plan, his 'big' plan. Eventually, Tubbo found the voice to speak. “You there, Boo?”

“I... forgot how dizzying it is…” Ranboo let out a pained chuckle against his husband’s shoulder. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” Tubbo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. A few tears slid down his cheeks as he softly laughed. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Michael okay?”

“Dream roughed him up a little badly,” Tubbo sniffed, moving his hand up to wipe away his tears. “I patched him up, gave him a potion and sent him on his way toward Tommy’s.”

“That’s good.” Ranboo moved to sit up fully, holding Tubbo’s hand in his to comfort him. His smile never left his face. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Well, Dream always told us what would happen if we crossed him.” Tubbo looked up at Ranboo. “Do you wanna come with me and find out?”

The enderman smirked playfully. “Aw, don’t tell me you tricked the poor thing…?”

“I do learn from the best.” Tubbo smiled. The door slammed open once more to reveal a very angry and pissed off Dream. Slowly, he walked over toward the couple, a golden axe drawn.

“Tubbo.” He growled.

"Dream." Tubbo smiled. "Did you find the armor?" A pair of netherite boots fell to the floor with a 'clang', the noise like thunder in the silent tense room.

“Where’s the rest of it?!”

“What, don't you like the boots?”

Dream pounced, tackling Tubbo to the ground and slowly pushing the axe blade up toward Tubbo’s neck. “Start talking you little shit.”

“Did you honestly think we’d hide all your precious armor and weapons in one spot?! Do you think after twelve years we’d still be that stupid?!” With Tubbo’s words, Dream looked like he was slapped, anger only building and rising the more he thought it over, the more he realized his mistake.

A mistake. He didn't make mistakes.

“We’ve buried them and hid the locations all around the SMP, just in case someone like you ever showed up again and tried to take us down.” Tubbo explained. “Good luck on finding the others, going through everyone on the SMP, digging through all that dirt… not to mention that as we speak Michael’s running to warn the others about you.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trapped.”

He didn't make mistakes. He didn't get trapped. He was always smarter, always faster, always in control. Why wasn't he in control?!

“Checkmate, Dream.” Tubbo spat.

The words sparked a flame within Dream’s stomach, igniting his anger and destructive spirit. Choked breathing filled the room as Dream wrapped his hands around Tubbo’s throat and squeezed. How dare he… HOW DARE HE TRICK HIM?! He saw red as he slammed Tubbo’s head back down against the wooden floor, staining it crimson. Ranboo yelled and screamed in the background until Tubbo was still as a stone, unconscious.

“Get away from him!” Ranboo yelled, grabbing his sword and moving to strike. A quick slash of Dream’s yellow axe sent him to the floor as well. Struggling to keep awake, Ranboo crawled, each movement feeling like fire as it combined with his older injuries, his blood dripping to the floor. Dream watched Ranboo a moment, relishing in his struggle, the blood bringing him a deep satisfaction. Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to walk over toward the enderman, his golden axe dripping with blood.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you guys to be so sharp after all these years… but you’re still making the same mistakes.” Dream said with an oddly calm and cold tone. “You three always underestimate me. You underestimated me then, and you’re still doing it now to make yourselves feel better, to feel like you’ve won. But you haven’t.” Dream kneeled down in front of the enderman, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face to look at his. “I’m going to win eventually. After all, I waited a hundred and forty-four years to get out of that hell hole you three put me in. If you think a small slip up is all it takes to stop me and the plans I have…" The last thing that rang in Ranboo's head before he passed out was Dream's crazed laughter.

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

General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you'd like to be added or removed):

@bonesposts

(Also, I believe @yellowhearthero wanted some protective enderboo, so here you go! :D)

[mvmmoney]

solomon spicy thoughts have entered the chat!!!

this came to me in a fever dream and I typed as fast as I could. I have no context for this, just straight up h hours with my favorite evil wizard overlord.

🔞 if under 18 🔞 do not interact 🔞

tw // sub!mc, light choking, nb!mc (they/them pronouns)

"So what's this potion do exactly, Solomon?" MC watched the sorcerer pour a lilac colored fluid into a small glass, notes of honeysuckle releasing into the air as he did so.

He finished his pour before answering, making sure the measurements were precise. "I suppose it's more or less what you could call a truth serum. Though it's far less potent and doesn't make you divulge the truth inexplicably. More like...gives courage to live in ones own truth freely, without feeling hesitating factors like shame, or fear." He placed the glass in MC's hand and shrugged, a response to MC's raised brow. "A witch I know has taken in a human apprentice, but she suspects he's sharing her craft with those who oppose her. I owed her a favor from long ago that has now been payed, well, depending." His hands motioned to the sweet smelling drink MC held. Solomon had assured them all previous tests went without a hitch; after a moment of contemplation, MC nodded their head. "Alright then, bottoms up."

There was nothing at first, just the scent honeysuckle and rain. It was calming, or maybe that was the potion at work, MC couldn't really tell. Solomon was standing in front of them, eyes focused and sharp. "Okay, you should be feeling more or less at ease right about now, would you say that's true?"

MC nodded. Ah, it’s the potion then.

"Good. Let's give it a test. Do you enjoy your time here in the realm of demons?"

"Sure do," answered MC, a grin on their face, "that's an easy one."

"Fair enough," Solomon agreed. He gestured over to a large couch that looked like something Belphie would have loved to sleep on. "Shall we?" He asked. MC headed in the living area’s direction, walking past him in the process. Being near him like this, even for a second, had always stirred something in MC. Neither of them had made advances towards each other before, but MC had sure thought about it once...and then maybe more than once. They wondered if Solomon had thought the same. 

He asked the next question as they sat down adjacent from each other. "Describe to me what it feels like to make a pact with a demon."

MC closed their eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling his minty scent. They felt goosebumps raise up on their arms. "Feels like...feels like power. Feels ancient and alive." MC opened their eyes, a little in awe of their own answer. It had been impossible to describe before, but now the adjectives they needed were clear as day. Solomon looked pleased, "Couldn't have said it better myself."

He looked down and noticed the glass still in MC's hand. "Let me take that. You've done me quite the honor in proving the effects of my gift, I could at the very least be an attentive host." His hand brushed against MC's as they handed him the empty cup. It felt like fire as it lingered on MC's skin. They clasped their hands together in response, bringing them to their chest.

Solomon immediately looked from the glass to their hands. "What is it? Are you alright?"

MC nodded, though their brows were still pulled together in slight confusion. "I'm fine. It's just, just...my hand feels warm, specifically where you touched it."

Solomon cocked his head to the side, curious. "Where I touched it? Are you in pain?" MC shook their head. He put the glass to the side and reached for MC's hands. They let Solomon take them in his own gentle grasp, the same tantalizing burn tingling their skin again. MC shuddered, unable to stop a fluttering feeling growing in their stomach; it slowly radiating throughout their entire body.

The man in front of them was still closely inspecting their hand. "There doesn't seem to be any physical marks. A warm feeling you say? Are you feeling it now?"

MC nodded, though now it was a lot more than a warm feeling isolated to their hands. For the past couple seconds they hadn't been able to focus on much other than Solomon's lips. Their cheeks felt hot.

Solomon placed his finger under MC’s chin, lifting their face slightly to meet his gaze. MC's heartbeat sped up. "This is a little unusual, I must admit, but not entirely unpredictable. Tell me, what are you thinking, right now?" 

Though MC felt their face flush, the truth flowed right out of them, no hesitation. "I can't stop thinking about kissing you. And about how I want your lips on my neck."

Solomon's eyes tightened, though nothing else about his body language betrayed him. "Ah, I see." He dropped his hand, but not his eyes. “Must be a side effect," he said finally. His voice was careful, they could hear the restraint underneath the coolness of it all. 

“I wouldn’t say it’s entirely all the potion,” MC protested with ease. They leaned toward him, a dangerous feeling building within them, “and according to you, all powerful man, I wouldn’t have been able to say that if it wasn’t the truth.” MC felt smug and confident — and they liked it.

A smirk formed in the corner of Solomon’s mouth as he mirrored MC’s movement. “I suppose not.” Neither of them moved for a moment, tension building with every passing second. MC’s heart was beating loud in their ears, sure that Solomon could hear it too. They had been here before in fantasy, but hadn’t realized how badly they truly wanted this until now, him inches away. 

MC felt charged, like they could take on the world - or rather one of the most powerful men in it. They closed the distance between them, drifting their lips to his and stopping just as they brushed against each other. “MC...” Solomon trailed off in a cautioning voice, though he didn't back away. Then his lips were on theirs. Slow and gentle kisses began to shift into a passionate dance between their mouths. Each of their breaths coming more and more jagged as their lust for each other was winning against the need for air. MC moved forward, pushing him back slightly to make way for them to straddle him. Solomon was happy to oblige, his hands finding their waist. 

The energy flowing between the two was electric. MC began rocking their hips on top of him, feeling his growing bulge between their legs. His kissing became more and more aggressive in response. Small moans escaping each of them as their hands explored each other. Solomon pulled away from MC, looking up at them above him, “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he warned. MC smiled, reaching down to the mound in his pants, “No, I think I do.” They kissed him again, tongues eager to be tangled once more. 

Solomon placed his hands under MC and in one swooping motion, Solomon had them underneath him. He pinned their arms above their head, one hand holding both their wrists. He was stronger than MC had imagined. They were aching for him.

"I can't say I haven't thought about you like this before. It doesn't take an elixir for me to admit that." His hand ran across their chest and over their mound. MC whimpered. "Speaking of which," he continued, leaning down to whisper in MC's ear, "what would you like for me to do to you?"

MC shuddered as they felt his breath move from their earlobe down to their neck. His playful kisses and bites made MC's nipples hard. "I want you to touch me," they breathed. He was kissing their chest when he mumbled, "Where?" He was teasing them and they both loved it.

MC bucked their hips in response to his question. "There, please..." they pleaded. He looked up at them and smiled. His free hand moved down MC's stomach and into the waistline of their bottoms, stopping right above their most sensitive area. He held their gaze, "How badly do you want me to touch you?"

MC sucked in a sharp breath, their desire for him overwhelming them. He had them in the palm of his hand and he knew it. The cocky bastard. They wanted to smack that smug look right off his face, and then ride it.

"Please, Solomon. I need you to put your hands on me, please." They pouted their lips at him. “Very well,” he said, finally plunging his hand lower. He rubbed them, up and down, up and down; slowly picking up his pace with each stroke. Their chest heaved as their breathing became more and more erratic. Their moans filled the air as they squirmed underneath Solomon's grasp. "How does that feel?"

MC grinded against him, "S-so g-goooood." If he kept this up they were going to cum soon, their orgasm already building. As if hearing their thoughts, Solomon suddenly pulled his hand from their pants. "Not yet, MC," he said with a devilish grin. He let go of MC's wrist to sit up on his knees. He pulled his shirt off his body and undid the buckle of his pants, which he fell out of immediately; his member hard and dripping with precum. MC starred at it, wanting nothing more than for him to slam himself inside them until they forgot their name.

MC was pulling their shirt off up over their head when they felt Solomon tug down on their pants, removing them in mere seconds. Climbing back over them, Solomon moved one hand to around MC's neck, and the other around his shaft, rubbing his tip at MC's hole. "Tell me, do you want me to fuck you like the slut you're acting like?"

"Yes, yes please. Please Solomon..." 

He pushed slightly at MC's entry, "Beg me." His voice mischievous, full of lust.

MC whined in anticipation. "Please fuck me, I want—I need you inside me.” They pushed their opening against him. “Please, please. I need to be fucked. I need it, I need you. I’ve wanted this for so long. I want your cock stuffed inside me, please give it to me Solomon, please, please, please, please...” They trailed off as his grip around their neck tightened. 

"Good," he cood, "you make a good little fucktoy." He waited only a second before he slammed into MC all at once, they gasped as his balls slapped against them. MC squeezed tightly around him as he pulled out slowly before slamming into them again. They arched their back and moaned as he rocked his hips, thrusting in and out of MC’s dripping hole. They could feel him stuffing them completely, their entire body in ecstasy. They clenched around him.

“That’s right,” Solomon said between huffs, “Take it all you cum slut.” MC growled in pleasure at his words. It was as if time stood still, the outside world ceased to exist. It was just them, bodies tangled together, skin slick with sweat. 

MC wrapped their legs around him then, allowing Solomon to pull MC up and onto him as he fell backwards into a reclined position. He dug his fingers into MC’s hips and they gripped his silver hair. He pushed and pulled their hips as they rode him, bitting their chest in the process; marks sure to be seen in the morning.

"Solomon, S-Solomon," they moaned, "I'm so close, please make me cum. Please l-let me cum for y-you. Fuck!" MC could feel their legs begin to shake as they bounced on his cock. Their body longing for release.

Solomon had that same cocky smile on his lips as he looked MC in the eyes. "You think you've deserved that, pet?"

"Yes, yes please!"

"You want to cum all over my cock?" He asked, voice deep with desire.

MC's body was on fire. Pulsing with every word he spoke. "Yes! Yes!"

"Yes, what?" He teased.

"Yes I want to cum...cum all over y-your cock! Please! Please let me cum!! Solomon please!!" MC's breathing was heavy, sure to explode any second now.

Solomon's eyes were wild, MC could feel his heart pounding in his chest, he was right at the edge as well. "I love hearing you beg. Do it then, cum for me MC, look me in the eyes and cum for me," he demanded. They locked eyes, it taking only seconds before MC's body released with a force they hadn't known was possible. They cried out sounds of pleasure as every single one of their nerves fired at once. "That's right. Don't you dare look away," he said as he hovered MC above him, pounding away at their hole. "Cum on my cock, cum with me still inside you...fuck!"

As they convulsed in their extended orgasm, they felt Solomon's seed fill them up. Their eyes hungry for each other as they came together.

Finally they collapsed into each other, unmoving as both of them caught their breath. It was Solomon who regained motion in his limbs first, carefully sliding out of MC as they lay on top of him. MC could feel his load slowly drip out of them and onto him, neither of them cared.

"Well," he said, kissing the top of their head, "Remind me to call on you for help with all my future potions, will you?" A small giggle escaped MC's lips, "Give me ten minutes, then let's try the next one."