#Yes this is a muse account but it needs to be said

[ouroboros-or-ob]

Happy new year! Because of the trending topic, I’d like to start the new year off by saying that asexuals and aromantics are part of the LGBTQIA+ community, whether they’re asexual and straight, asexual and gay, asexual and bi, aromantic and straight, aromantic and gay, aromantic and bi, or aroace!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Host | Yandere Zoldyck Family

“I’m so happy, we were able to locate the portal so quickly! Now you all can return to your world without breaking the space-time continuum!” You mused, happily sipping on the piping hot tea in front of you.

Whether you liked it or not, you wouldn’t have refused this cup. After all, it was specially crafted for and given to you by the reclusive Zoldycks. It was an honor—more like a miracle that you were being served an un-poisoned cup of tea. 

You were used to prickly (read as: murderous) anomalies that were ejected into the aimless void of time. As per your occupation you housed and befriended said anomalies until it was time that they returned to their dimensions.

When you were selected at the end of your life for this position, the galactic overlords in charge assured you that this was a duty perfect for you. That no matter what, your tenants would find themselves comforted by you during their time there. 

You begged to disagree even though none of your tenants had successfully ended your life yet. You prepared yourself for the day they one day would. 

“Yes, it will be a shame to lose contact with a host as pleasant as you.” 

Zeno smiled, closing his eyes as brought his own cup to his mouth. Letting a hand fall over your heart you silently thanked him. Another hand reached for you tearing your attention away from the former head.

“It is a shame your work keeps you so busy!” Kikyo cried, holding your hand. Gingerly running the pads of her fingers over your knuckles. 

“Ah, but I feel as though I haven’t worked a day.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you like this job of yours?” The old man raised his brow.

“Of course! When I’m not hosting I’m free to do what I please and the guests that come by always make things interesting.”

Memories of the various visitors came to mind as you smiled; Kikyo puckered her lip in a pout. Her clutch on your hand had gotten slightly tighter, nothing alarming but noticeable.

“But don’t you feel overworked? Tired? Lonely?”

“There’s always the other people in the town.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have expected them to have any intelligible conversation.”

You dismissed the slight towards your community, it’d be impossible for her to realize their worth within the year. Granted they weren’t particularly strong or inquisitive; it wasn’t like they were built to be outstanding anyway. Nonetheless, they were kind to you and always understanding when it came to the guests. Not once have you needed to send a complaint to upper management. Everyone played their prescribed roles without fail.

“They can be really pleasant, once you get to know them.”

Zeno sighed, “So you say but I can’t imagine you not caring for them. You're always so forgiving.”

“Well…they have their flaws.”

“Ah! You’re too humble (Y/n)! The least they can do is honor your contribution to their pathetic lives!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zoldyck but a cake every once in a while is good enough for me.”

“Ah! So simple (Y/n), it screams you no nothing of luxury!”

“Really I feel as though I’ve almost been overwhelmed with it with the Zoldycks here.”

“Please! If you could see the Zoldyck Estate in our world, you’d truly know luxury!” 

You let her continue, chatting with her and Zeno, who occasionally chimed in. It was time to enjoy their company for they’d be gone before you knew it. 

____________________________________

“Ne (Y/n)! Alluka wants to hold onto your jacket for a bit is that alright?”

“Oh? I barely noticed I left it behind but sure.” 

You continued to walk side by side with Killua making your way to your destination. The wind was cold. Wisping at your cheeks and nose as you mesmerized yourself with the smoky puff your breath made. Catching cat-like blue eyes watching you with amusement you stopped, replacing it with an embarrassed smile. 

He snickered. “What? Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh Killua you're the only kid that makes me feel like a silly child again.”

“Eh?! You make it sound like I’m the reason you’re just childish anyway.”

You playfully hummed. “Hm. Maybe I am.”

You shared a laugh before letting your eyes begin to wander. Looking past the trees of the park to admire the clouded sky blending into the freezing lake. Despite having walked this path millions of times before, it never failed to take your breath away. Making you sigh in awe, you minded the frozen droplets hanging off the naked branches; looking as though they were a part of some artist’s canvas.

Even the rosiness that danced at your cheeks brought by your body’s attempt to warm you in the frigid season, felt magical in its own right. It was easy to lose sight of your path as your feet remember the way; allowing you to drift. 

But before you could go too far the warmth of another hand-a smaller hand in your pocket brought you back. Looking down in surprise at the blushing owner looking away from you. You chuckled intertwining his smaller, rougher hand with yours as you walked with a pep in your step. 

“I-I’m just keeping my hand warm. Where I’m from it never gets this cold.”

You smirked. “Sure!” 

You didn’t believe him and he knew that. But that wasn’t the point anyway. 

“You two seem to be getting along well.” 

The monotone voice stopped the both of you in your tracks. Standing in a slim-fitted insulating jacket was the eldest of the Zoldyck children. Standing precisely on the crack in the sidewalk he demanded you meet at. You didn’t miss the annoyed click of Killua’s teeth. Or the blank foreboding stare directed at a specific pocket of yours.

“Yup, Killua offered to walk me to our meetup spot. If you’re alright with it, I wouldn’t mind if he came with us.”

Illumi robotically tilted his head, his eyes still trained on the same spot it had been focused on since he started watching you. 

“I doubt Kil would find any enjoyment in where we’re going.”

Killua's eye twitched. “Oh? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere for adults, I’m sure you’d find it boring.”

“Really try me,”

The two intensely held each other’s gaze, vaguely conveying that this may need your intervention. With a well-timed sneeze, you might have saved yourself and the whole park from their ‘playful’ exchange of blows. Illumi seemed to back down first stepping closer to your unoccupied side where he waited for his brother to leave. 

Said brother didn’t look all too convinced. Squeezing his hand in yours brought his attention to you, already smiling in silent reassurance.

“Hey, take care of my sweater for me ‘kay.”

The silent message was heard as Killua, who begrudgingly released your hand from his hold. With a final glare towards his brother, he’d begun to leave, watching as you turned and waved to him as he went. He also watched as his brother slipped his hand into your opposite pocket. With a final click of his tongue, he moved at speeds practically impossible for the human eye back to the apartment you’d organized for him and Alluka. 

Making your way wordlessly out of the park, finally stopping within the toasty insides of a ceramics shop. With the unmolded clay in front of you and the guide having finished their instruction, you finally giggled at Illumi. 

“I’d hardly call ceramics an adults-only event.”

Illumi didn’t laugh, he didn’t even look up from the shape he was focused on molding. 

“I would. He isn’t a part of this so it isn’t bizarre for it to be considered an adult event.”

You decided to keep quiet about the toddler two tables down. Instead, you poked your head over the assassin’s shoulder to see what he was making. Glad you hadn’t started working on your own creation, you pulled back the raven locks that were spilling dangerously close to his work in progress. 

Missing the slight stutter of his fingertips as he registered the soft, gentle hold of your fingertips he continued. Opting to focus solely on his creation with more intensely.

“I’m so glad I brought a hair tie for this exact moment.”

“...if you don’t hurry up your clay will dry and your money will go to waste.”

“Ah. So money conscious.”

Finished with a nice low ponytail, you scooched back into your seat; prepared to begin your own creation. Sparing a glance at Illumi, you expected he’d be laser-focused on his work but instead he was staring at you unapologetically. While you found this wasn’t uncommon for him it didn’t change the fact that it was still odd. 

“So uh what are you making?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just asking, are you worried I’ll make fun?”

“My finished product will be more than enough to answer you, right?

“I guess so.”

You had an inkling of worry that he’d create something graphic and horrific. But you had to remind yourself: he wasn’t Milluki. Who unapologetically, on multiple accounts, scarred surprised you with animal entrails, graphic posters, and concerning digital art that bore striking resemblance to you.

Speaking of striking resemblance…you had a glorious idea. 

____________________________________________________

“So…what is it?” 

You hated to ask but you had to. The ceramic resembled the bare requirements of a face colored by a paint color akin to your skin tone. Somehow when you turned your head to the left side you saw a screaming face but when you turned your head to the right it looked as though it was smiling. 

“....” 

He just stared at you blankly (as he usually did) but you could tell there was something unfamiliar. He turned his head away from you as he reached for his creation back. 

“If you can’t tell than it shouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sorry!” 

You held the…thing in your hands with care as you bore witness to the rare sight of an embarrassed Illumi. 

“Even if I don’t know what it is I think it’s beautiful in its own right.”

“Don’t lie its unbecoming of you.” 

“I’m not lying!”

You let him snatch it from your hand and tuck it in his pocket. Smiling to yourself, you found comfort in that he didn’t immediately toss it into the trashcan by the doorway. Catching up with his quick pace you held you’re wrapped creation to your chest. 

“I would like to continue on now.”

“Don’t just sweep it under the rug! It’s all about growth.”

_____________________________________________

“Here you are Kalluto!”

He was doing what you had suggested: finding his own style. Alas, he still found himself taking the most buried articles of clothing from your closet and posing in the mirror. If you had noticed you didn’t say much, when you let yourself into the room he’d been given. 

“I made it just for you.”

The vase had a pink hue, with speckles of purple. He liked it but he was curious why he was gifted this. 

“I based it off the color of your eyes. I saw the shade being offered and I thought it’d be a perfect souvenir for you.”

His cheeks were overtaken by a hot crimson as he gingerly accepted the small vase. He loved it! Holding it close to his chest he almost missed the presence of his eldest brother outside his room. Judging by the slim-fitted jacket, his hat, and his pointed stare at the gift itself told Kalluto everything he needed to know. So that was his decision, for his day out with you? The ceramics shop?  

The image of you crafting something while smiling along with him. Hands touching one another while you both crafted something beautiful. Your attention solely focused on him. 

He’s so jealous. 

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”

“ I’m so happy you like it! I was worried I wouldn’t get the color right but looking at you now I see I’m right on the mark.”

Kalluto’s cheeks never changed from heir red color, causing him to tuck his head into the collar of the shirt he stole from you borrowed. Sending a cautious look at the figure in the doorway he took a gamble. He put the vase down, quickly moving to nestle his head into your stomach almost immediately having your arms wrap around him. He didn’t bother locking eyes with the observer, instead pretending to be fully enveloped by your attention. 

If he did have a problem, Kalluto could argue that his time with you was limited. Therefore nothing was off the table. Not when their access to you would be gone forever. He’d rather it not be that way.

__________________________________________________

“Silva.” 

The call of his wife had the current head of the Zoldyck family, wordlessly asking what she needed. Nonetheless, he responded in kind. 

“Kikyo.”

The two of them were seated a ways apart from one another each sipping on their respective drinks as the candles slowly burned. 

“We need to talk about (Y/n).”

“What is there to talk about?”

He knew what she wanted to talk about. Those of any authority within the Zoldyck family already had a gray consensus about their host. All that was needed was definite words, so that they could be a united front on the subject. 

“On the topic of (Y/n) coming with us.”

Silva crossed his arms. 

“We cannot.”

“Why not? All of us like them! They show promise in maintaining the family, they’ve even convinced Kil to come home more often!” 

He wanted to grit his teeth but he didn’t. Only brought his cup to his mouth for a pensive sip.

“No, they’d never survive training. Let alone our world in general.”

He maintained his composure as he parroted Zeno’s consultation. Even as his wife slammed her own cup on the tray and opened her mouth to protest. He knew she’d ask because he had asked. 

“Mr. Silva. Is it okay if I call you that or would you rather it be Mr. Zoldyck?”

It amazed him that such a meek, small, weak host would have made him even consider bringing you along with them when they returned. Their host couldn’t be farther from them brimming with compassion and mindfulness that brought out a side the family had long since fought against. 

It shouldn’t have enamored them as it had. But it did. Leaving everyone in the family vying for their attention. With them the family’s prowess in killing meant nothing and it didn’t do any favors in garnering positive response. 

But it was for that exact reason Zeno mused that they’d never fit in the Zoldyck family. Even if they chose the route of marrying you into the family it would diminish your time with the everyone. Favoring the one they’d marry over all others. It’d be so unfair

“Husband, this opportunity to attain a sliver of another world would benefit the Zoldyck family! Even more so as a tenant or as a servant under all our care! It wouldn’t impede the family’s strength and their rules to serve would make them an asset to explore.” 

“And have them reach a butler’s strength alone. At their level?”

Kikyo hung her head covering her visor with her hands as she resisted the urge to weep. Silva refused to look at her, focusing intensely on the still liquid in his cup. The pain in this revelation was mutual. 

“Mr. Silva, did you go to aquariums when you were younger?”

“For missions.”

“What about on your own?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“I don’t know, to see the animals. To learn about them.”

“What use would learning about these animals do? If there is no time that I’ll be within their biome it would do nothing for me to retain this information.”

“Isn’t it nice to just be in awe though? To just fathom loosely about the world we barely have begun to discover?”

The image of their excited face illuminated by the tank was the moment Silva’s first felt that emotion. It reminded him of meeting Kikyo, of having his heir, of establishing a budding lineage. He learned that feeling was better not left ignored for it could very well determine the safety of the ones he felt it for. 

He’s seen it in his children, in all his children, so he could only see what he could control spiraling for the others. He could only think about the repercussions for when they returned home. There’d be no way to cull it easily; with you being literal dimensions apart.

Kikyo’s sulking stopped abruptly her hands folding to sit on her lap.

“Perhaps there is a way to bring them without breaking the rules.”

Blue eyes look at her expectantly.

“The Zoldyck’s have not encountered anyone worthy enough to consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yes, the process hasn’t been used within the family before…if it were to be implemented–” There was something hopeful within her voice and a twitch of a smile on Silva’s lip. 

“Then the rules that qualify the one adopted would be entirely up to the head of the family.” 

Silva attempted to resist the smile that spread across his face, as he leaned back onto his hand. How apparent would it be that their host had such an impact on them since they left the mansion? But even so, this was proof that they should have their host after all. 

“I’ll have to check with Zeno…but perhaps it might be a veritable solution.”

____________________________________________

You were glad you spent the night before sobbing your heart out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to smile through the Zoldyck’s goodbyes. Granted none of them, except for Kalluto and Alluka, were even close to shedding a single tear. Nonetheless, you hugged them all trying to calm yourself. 

The otherworldly energy spewing from the portal never made you nervous before and yet your hair was standing on end. Your tolerance for fearful situations had decreased significantly as you got to know the Zoldyck family but it never completely went away. You weren’t an idiot. 

They were a family of assassins. 

It’s foolish not to expect threats on your life at every other turn. But this had an effect on you on a deeper level than that. This was more unsettling. 

Was it the amount of place-holding spirits killed during their stay? Or the physical planet of this dimension lurching as it coughed up one of the most murderous families to stay here? Or was there something wrong with the integrity of the dimension itself?

You were tethered to the realm and it was tethered to you. For the most part, it only means you have a loose idea of what’s to come with the weather or an effect on a guest’s actions. But in times of dire situations, you’ve had the world reach out to you. At this point, you were already looking for a sign. 

But that wasn’t your main focus not when the younger ones were keeping you occupied. Hanging on your arms were Alluka and Killua; the latter was playfully mirroring the former. 

“Aw (Y/n)! We’ll miss you so much!”

“Yeah! We’ll miss you soooo much!”

“Ah Killua at least you could pretend to be serious about this.”

Spying Kalluto a ways off clutching the vase you had made him you gave him a small smile. 

“This relocation didn’t turn out to be a complete waste.” 

Milluki spoke up, unabashed as he pulled along a cart of all his anime and gaming memorabilia. You could see the invisible sneers of disgust from majority of the family, Killua didn’t even bother hiding his. 

“For once I’d agree,” Illumi chimed sending a bottomless look in your direction. “There were plenty of…unexpected trades to learn in a world devoid of hunters.”

“Thank you?” You shrugged.

Zeno let out a chuckle putting a thoughtful hand on your back. 

“I think all of us in the Zoldyck family have learned quite a bit.” You had to fight the tears now.

“For that we thank you.”

The entirety of the Zoldyck family bowed to you, leaving you to fight tears at the demonstration of respect and love they had for an average-dimensional host. Fanning at the water building up in your eyes you bowed and thanked them yourselves.

“You guys! Get over here and give me hugs!” 

You made sure to hug every member of the family even if they made unsettling comments as you did Milluki. 

Getting the timing perfectly right the portal opened to its full size, the electric blue illuminating everyone’s faces. You could smell the atmosphere of the Kukuroo mountain and the forest upon it. All that was left to do was for them to enter. 

“Alright now as stated before time has only been an hour in your world. Now you will be coming down from the sky but I’m sure you all will manage.”

“Thank you for everything (Y/n).”

You bowed your head to the patriarch missing the devious glint in his eyes.

“Of course.” 

Starting with Silva they each dove into the portal, leaving you to stand by yourself in the field of sunflowers selected as a gateway. Turning away from the flashing portal you could finally address the world’s message for you. The surrounding grass began to lay down unnaturally, spelling out a word. 

“They–”

You bent to down watching as the green blades folded into more words, filling your heart with trepidation as it spelled slowly.

“--will not–”

The blades continued to fold slowly as the sunflower stems frantically sprouted from the ground. Not bothering to wriggle free from the stems wrapping around your wrists, you tried to hurry the world’s spelling. Why did you feel like you needed to rush?

“-let you go–? Wait what the he-” 

Before you could finish a translucent, glowing, and golden dragon, like one from Japanese folklore came out of the portal. Wrapping around your entire body it skillfully carried you into the shrinking portal. Only stopping for a short time to wriggle free of the sunflowers that were simultaneously pulling at your limbs.

Now on the other side of the portal, you were being pulled backward. Your front looking at the endless sky watching the portal shrink and close, slicing the desperately reaching sunflowers and their stems. 

Something within you seemed to break but before you could dwell on that you finally tried to register what was going on.

“AHHHHH!”

Diving with you in it’s coil the dragon was rocketing in the direction of a mansion. All you could do was hold tight as the dragon slowed to a stop. Gently letting you lie on the floor, taking a moment to ground yourself you barely registered the booming voice.

“Congratulations (Y/n), you’ve been inducted into the Zoldyck Family.”

“W-what?”

“As the adopted of the Zoldyck, you’re duty to the family is to be protected and to participate in the family to the best of your limited abilities.”

“Wait—”

“Per your lack of Zoldyck blood, your title as the adopted is willing to change for the family’s convenience.”

“HOLD ON!” You stood up fully holding your shaking hands out as you began to process what this would mean. Before you can get a word in Kikyo runs up to you, shoving your head into her chest as she rocks your unsteady form. 

“Rejoice my (Y/n)! Now for all the care you’ve given us, we get to take care of you!”

“Mother, you’ll smother them.”

“Ah big brother, don’t need to get jealous I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“I know that.” 

Unable to speak or look too far away, you felt Alluka and Kalluto grab at your pant legs. No doubt they glared at one another as they vied for your attention.

“(Y/n)!” ”(Y/n)!”

Being no help at all Killua wasn’t too far behind, ”Oi don’t hog them all.”

Whether it was the exhaustion of dimensional travel or losing air within your mother Kikyo’s breast. Beginning to lose consciousness you could barely make out the ghost of a smile on Silva’s face. Zeno withheld no courtesy, smiling happily as he turned away.

After all, you were home with them. Where you belonged. 

Surely the Zoldyck family could handle the dimensional repercussions of claiming their host.

[craisinsensation1029]

Tri Harder

Chapter 2 ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

also on AO3 <3

Suguru Geto & Satoru Gojo

After an innocent party game, Geto & Gojo make it their mission to fuck you. That's it.

Ch 1 | Ch 3

fem reder, alcohol, provocative dancing, making out, semi public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, NOOOO ONE IS STRAIGHT ONCE AGAIN

~7k

MDNI

When Shoko didn’t answer her phone the following Monday, Gojo knew there was only one place she would be. He always picked Geto up from work, but he wouldn’t be driving straight home today.

“We’re going to see Shoko.” Gojo was peeling off the pavement the moment Geto closed the passenger door. “I was knocking on her door earlier and she didn’t answer. Hasn’t answered my texts or calls either.”

“Yes, my day was fine,” Geto yawned, throwing his laptop bag into the back seat. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Gojo looked over at Geto who was donning a black, button down shirt with khaki chinos. For the past two years, he worked as an English teacher for highschool freshmen and sophomores after he graduated. 

Gojo on the other hand was working for his family’s accounting company, although even he would use the word working rather loosely. More like, he graduated from college because he had the resources to do so, but he knew money would never really be an issue. He worked from home mainly because he needed something to occupy his time while his friends were busy.

“How was your day, angel? ” Gojo teased, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they arrived at a red light.

“If you want a nickname, you can just ask,” Geto laughed lightly. “No need for you to keep throwing this temper tantrum about it. You being all jealous is cute though, I’ll admit that.”

“Not jealous,” Gojo grumbled. “But you know what’s actually crazier than you accusing me of being jealous and throwing a temper tantrum?” He looked over and raised a brow for dramatic effect.

“I don’t know.” Geto shrugged. “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“The fact that you were telling me to be nice when you were busy being two fingers deep in someone you knew for like, an hour. ”

Geto contemplated his word choice before he spoke. “Well, she said thank you afterwards. For all intents and purposes, I was being extremely nice,” he reasoned. “I was providing a service, if you will.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Gojo shook his head as he continued driving. He wasn’t always the most careful driver, but was always mindful when Geto was in the car. The threat of being scolded for his driving skills had him obeying every traffic sign and speed limit until they reached their destination.

Gojo drove successfully without any criticism, and parked in front of the building. He and Geto got out of the car, Geto holding open the building door for them.

They made their way towards the back of the library where Shoko usually holed herself up and cut herself off from the rest of the world. Her head bobbed to whatever was playing in her headphones as she scrawled something in her notebook, highlighting it quickly afterwards.The table was littered with cans of empty energy drinks and candy wrappers, a telltale sign she had a big test coming up soon.

Geto pushed some of the empty cans aside so he could get a clear view of her. He then sank into the seat across the table from her while Gojo pulled out the chair next to her, spinning it around and sitting in it backwards. Gojo folded his arms over the top of the chair, looking in Geto’s direction to start the conversation.

“Shoko,” Geto mused, a gentle smile gracing his face. “Glad to see you’re alive and well after the party. You were fast asleep when we left.”

She looked up, capping her highlighter with a wistful smile on her face. “It was a great birthday.” She took one of her headphones out of her ears as she said your name. “I’m glad she took care of me and Utahime the next morning. I swear, we always get more fucked up whenever she’s around. Her and that damn cooler full of drinks.”

Gojo quickly cleared this throat at the mention of your name. “Oh, yeah! About–”

“No,” Shoko cut him off. 

Gojo felt like a deflated balloon careening through the air. “What the fuck?” His voice came out more frantic than he planned. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Shoko’s eyes traveled from Gojo’s to Geto’s, pointing an accusing finger at both of them. “Okay, you both listen then,” she demanded. “I’ll have you know that she is Utahime’s friend before she’s my friend. They were like, childhood neighbors or something. She just happened to go to the same med school as me,” she explained.

Gojo and Geto exchanged a look that told them everything they needed to know, but Shoko continued. “Utahime always says it's unfortunate enough that I know you two, and doesn’t want any more cross contamination.” She shrugged lazily. “That’s why you’ve never met her. For what it’s worth though, Utahime was super fucked up at my party, I don’t even think she remembers you two were there.”

Geto raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” He remembered very clearly being acknowledged by Utahime… and threatened several times.

“Well she normally always complains afterwards whenever you two happen to be around.” She spoke of Utahime’s distaste for the pair as if it were the most casual thing on the planet. “But in the morning she only talked about how much fun she had.” A sly smile played on her lips. “Anyway, don't start blaming me that you never met her friend and couldn’t… do whatever it is you two do.”

“Ugh,” Gojo groaned, throwing his head back in disbelief. That was cockblocking to another level. Preventing them from even wanting to meet you was utterly ridiculous. “What’s her problem?”

“I think she’s still pretty upset about the whole graduation dress thing… among other stuff,” Shoko reminded him.

Graduation Day, Three years ago 

Gojo stood happily with Geto and Shoko on the day of graduation. Utahime bounded over to get in on the picture they were taking. She unzipped her gown, causing Gojo to let out an obscene gasp. 

“You just got a degree and that’s what you decided to wear?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she growled, immediately clenching her fist. “I chose this dress months ago, and I look great.” 

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, a grimace painting his face. “You should have chosen your dress years ago if this is what you went with after deciding for months.” 

Her lips formed a scowl and Geto’s voice interjected before she could say anything. “Satoru, not everyone is able to afford the style they want,” he reasoned. “She’s probably just working with the best she had available, you should be nice.” 

Her scowl deepened as she looked from Gojo to Geto. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she seethed. 

“Oh.” Geto was taken aback. “Was that dress actually your first choice?” 

“You two are the worst.” She stood next to Shoko. “I hate them.” 

Gojo rolled his eyes. “That was eons ago. You don’t see me getting my torches and pitchforks ready every time she calls me a blue eyed, unblinking freak.” That was among the less colorful choice of words she had in her arsenal whenever she referred to Gojo.

“I’m still unsure where her animosity for me came from,” Geto mumbled, recalling the same dress situation. He truly thought it was just a last minute option, but he pushed the memory aside. That was Utahime’s issue, he was fishing for information about you. “So, what do you all do when you guys hang out?” he pressed gently. “It seemed like she already knew all our other mutual friends.”

Shoko shrugged. “Drink, hangout. Nothing crazy.” She tapped her chin with her highlighter. “We’re going out to some club this weekend since Kento and Yu are finishing their programs this semester. She might be there,” she teased.

“What club?” Gojo asked immediately.

“I don’t knooooow, ” Shoko sighed. “I can’t really seem to remember… if only I had a pack of cigarettes to jog my memory a bit…” Geto looked at Gojo and raised a brow. Gojo grumbled something unintelligible and took a twenty out of his wallet, sliding it to Shoko. “Well I’ll have to make sure I have enough to get Utahime drinks at the club too. Not like she would accept anything from the likes of you two.”

Gojo took a fifty out of his wallet this time, grumbling, “Do you remember the name of the club now?”

She let out another sigh as she said your name. “Well, she’s still my friend too, you know? I can’t get Utahime something without getting her something, that’s just rude.”

Gojo fished out another fifty along with some miscellaneous singles that were in his wallet and slid it toward her. Geto bit back a laugh as Gojo rolled his eyes. “Do you remember now?”

Shoko picked up the money with a nod. “It’s actually all coming back to me now.” She smiled at Gojo sweetly, “Club Phoenix at ten. You’ll probably want to come a little after that though, so Utahime is already drunk.”

“Can’t believe I had to give my friend over a hundred bucks to tell where she’d be hanging out this weekend,” Gojo groaned, shaking his head. “Something tells me we need to reevaluate this friendship.”

“Your own stupidity cost you…” she paused to count the money before pocketing it, “one hundred and twenty seven dollars.” She moved to start packing up her things. “Why didn’t either of you geniuses just ask for her number?” she laughed. 

Gojo’s face immediately fell, and Geto shot him with an equally blank stare. Shoko let out another laugh as she shoved her things into her bag. “Give me a ride home, would you?”

“Yeah, just use me again,” he mumbled. Gojo hated the unintentional comedian he became with the way Shoko’s sides were splitting with laughter, but he stood anyway and reoriented his chair to its original position. 

Geto picked up the empty cans and wrappers on the table, discarding them in a nearby garbage can. “Still find it hard to believe youre studying to be a doctor when you smoke and drink like a sailor.”

“It’s called duality.” The three got into Gojo’s car and he dropped Shoko off. She waved goodbye, still laughing as she said, “See you on Saturday!”

When Geto and Gojo returned back to their apartment, Gojo immediately flopped onto the couch with a groan. “Why didn’t you get your angel’s number?” he taunted. “Hmm?” 

Geto let out an easy laugh as he stripped off his shoes and slid into the kitchen. “I guess I was a bit too preoccupied to think about that.” He grabbed the chicken he seasoned the day before from the fridge along with some vegetables. He chopped the vegetables diligently as he preheated a skillet. “Doesn’t matter now though, we’re seeing her this weekend.”

“Too preoccupied?” Gojo scoffed. He got up from the couch and joined Geto in the kitchen. Plopping down on one of their dining room chairs, his hand cupped the side of his face and his elbow rested on the table. “Well I guess if I were in that closet for hours, I would have forgotten too.”

Geto slid the chopped vegetables into the pan, delighted by the fragrance of the onions and garlic as they began to sizzle. “By that logic, shouldn’t you have thought to get her number because you had less time?”

Gojo scrunched his nose. “Just shut up and cook.” He shook his head, unable to shake the conversation from earlier. “I still can’t believe Utahime is being so… vindictive.” 

Geto started to move the vegetables around in the skillet, adding the chicken once the vegetables were browned. “If she's still upset about that ugly dress, so be it.” He wasn’t as bothered by her dislike of him, he didn’t care about egging her on either. Referencing you, he said, “If she wants to be around us, she will. She’s met us now, I don’t see Utahime being a real obstacle.”

“You sure?” Gojo asked, extending his legs. “Well, Shoko did tell us Utahime is easier to deal with when she's trashed.”

Geto waved off his last statement. “She’s a real nonfactor if you ask me. It's us, right?” he asked with a smirk.

Gojo smirked back and nodded in response.

Gojo and Geto had both been to club Phoenix plenty of times. Their whole friend group used to sneak in when they were all underage, giggling when they were let in although it was no secret to the bouncers that their IDs were fake.

The club had a live DJ every night, the drinks were shitty and the food was questionable in every aspect, but it was always a good time. The dance floor was always packed and strobe lights illuminated the space without being too disorientating. There were some couches placed in the alcoves while the others lacked furniture and remained in the dark, untouched by any lights and hard to be seen from other areas in the club.

Even as years passed by, they still found themselves enjoying the space even though they had been to many more upscale clubs since then. Tonight was no different. 

Geto wore dark jeans with a short sleeved buttoned down shirt, opting to keep the first few buttons undone. Gojo similarly wore dark jeans with a cotton tee, and they both wore casual sneakers. They each took a shot for good measure, and Gojo put on his shades before they got into an Uber and headed over to the club a little after eleven.

Music pulsed in their ears the moment the pair got past the bouncer and walked into the club. Every bar seat was filled and even more people stood surrounding the area as they flagged down bartenders for drinks. The DJ was amping up the patrons on the dancefloor, shouting something into the mic neither of them could really make out. Whatever it was, everyone on the dancefloor cheered and continued dancing. 

Gojo’s eyes darted over to the couches, hitting Geto’s chest when he saw Shoko. She was sitting with Nanami and Utahime, but you were nowhere in sight. “Let’s go ask if she’s here,” Gojo insisted.

“Don’t bother,” Geto answered over the music, nudging his chin in the direction of the dancefloor. 

There you were. You wore a baby blue sequined top that was low cut in the front and in the shape of a butterfly, tastefully showing cleavage. Thin straps held up the top that tied around your neck and back, the expanse of your smooth skin glowing under the lights on the dancefloor. The top cut a little above your belly button, the ring now changed to match the color of your top. 

A white mini skirt hung dangerously low on your hips, and a white lacy garter with a heart buckle graced one of your thighs. The ensemble was probably illegal in a couple countries, and Geto and Gojo were grateful they were able to gaze at the outfit in the flesh.

The barely there edges of your skirt swayed as your hips moved to the beat of the music. Your movements were fluid and carefree, a smile gracing your face as you danced. Next to you Haibara danced wildly, exuding the same carefree aura as yours as he brought his drink to his lips. He then extended the straw in his glass towards you which you happily accepted. Your lips wrapped around the straw taking a sip, and Haibara drank from it again.

“You see what Utahime did? We could be sharing drinks with her,” Gojo grumbled with a shake of his head. “Let’s go over there.” He was already pushing his way through the crowd before Geto could dignify him with an answer.

Gojo had little difficulty navigating through the sea of drunken people to get to where you and Haibara were dancing. Geto followed closely behind with ease.

Gojo tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned with a large smile on your face. “Satoru?” you yelled over the music. Your eyes trailed over to Geto. “Ah, Suguru, too!” You reached up and wrapped the crook of your elbows around their shoulders for a quick embrace. “Nice to see you both again!”

Haibara turned, pumping his fist with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Woo! Didn’t know you two were coming out tonight too!” He brought the straw back to his lips, promptly finishing his drink. He shook the glass full of ice. “You two came at the perfect time! I’m going to get another drink and check on everyone, keep her company, will you?”

“Go, go,” Gojo encouraged. “We’ll make sure she’s safe, don’t you worry!”

“You two are awesome!” Haibara gave him a thumbs up and pushed through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

You turned your attention back to the pair, their bodies towering over a large majority of the crowd. “Did you guys want to say hi to everyone else?” Your body was still moving idly to the music. “Shoko actually bought us a shit ton of shots earlier,” you laughed. “She was telling us she found a hundred dollars on the ground earlier in the week.”

Gojo rolled his eyes beneath the shades. At least Shoko actually used some of the money for what she said she would. “I don’t mind catching up with them later,” Gojo answered. He wasn’t even here for them. “It’s just nice seeing you again, let’s dance!”

You threw your arms in the air excitedly as a song with a faster beat began to boom through the stereos. Gojo positioned himself behind you, first taking a moment to fully appreciate the way you moved. The way your hips swung was enough to put anyone in a trance, and the bit of your ass that peeked beneath your skirt was the icing on top of the cake.

Geto stood beside Gojo, equally transfixed by your movements. Your body in motion was truly a marvel to behold. There was no way he could stop himself from admiring the way your hips rolled. Eyes still on you, he nudged Gojo as discreetly as he could, and pointed his chin in the direction of one of the dark, empty alcoves. Gojo nodded at the silent message.

“How about I grab us some shots?” Geto suggested. “Seems like we have to catch up to you.”

The shots from earlier already had you feeling warm, but you always came out to have a good time. You turned to face Geto and nodded, a smile creeping across your face. “I could go for another shot.” Pausing, your lips formed a pout. “Oh, my wallet is over with the others, I can go get it really fast.” You squinted through the crowd to look for the best path to get back over to the table.

“That sounds good, Sugu,” Gojo agreed. He placed his hands gently on your hips, letting his fingers drum gently against the spot. “Oh, the drinks are on us. Don’t worry.” He averted his attention back to Geto. “How about you just wave us over when you get them? We’ll come to you.” 

He lowered his shades just enough so Geto could see where he was gazing. His eyes lingered at the portion of the bar closest to the empty alcove. 

Geto nodded in affirmation, and then scanned the sea of people surrounding the bar. “It might take a while, don’t have too much fun without me,” he chuckled as he started making his way through the crowd toward the bar.

“Just let me know how much the drinks are later, I’ll pay you back,” you insisted. It was hard to ignore the way his hands felt on your hips, flashbacks of being pressed against him in the closet quickly flooding into your mind. 

Gojo’s hands gripped your hips a little tighter, letting his thumbs press into the dimples of your back. He couldn’t resist letting his fingers squeeze at the flesh there, so soft and pliable under his touch. He moved in closer, letting his crotch press firmly against your ass. The little bit of fabric the skirt had to offer worked to his benefit with him being able to feel the mounds of your ass pressed against him. He didn’t bother suppressing his groan, letting the surrounding music drown out the sound.

He leaned his head so his lips were aligned with your ear. “The drinks are nothing,” he asserted. “Trust me, angel. ”

You shivered feeling his lips brush against your ear as he spoke, and felt desire quickly swirling in your belly hearing the nickname. Previously hearing the nickname in Geto’s sultry voice was one thing, but hearing the hunger in Gojo’s voice as he used it was just as arousing. Come to think of it, his voice was almost… teasing.

You turned your neck to face him, your lips curling into a smile as you saw the smirk forming on his lips. He removed one hand from your hips briefly to take off his shades and fold one of the legs into the front of his shirt. The hand quickly returned to your hip, his own hips starting to move in sync with the music.

“You’re far too kind,” you gushed, feeling the gyration of his hips against you. His body felt like a brick wall pressed against your back, firm, sturdy, secure. You faced forward and stretched your arms until your fingers were brushing the base of his neck. His pulse began to beat rapidly beneath your fingertips as you started moving your hips in sync with his.

Gojo wished he could help himself, but he already knew how your body felt beneath his touch, and yearned for that feeling again. One hand stayed on your hip and the other hand started to glide up the side of your body. His hand splayed as it appreciated your waist and passed over your rib cage before snaking beneath the material of your top. Racing at his touch, your heartbeat quickened, matching his own racing pulse that was still thumping beneath your fingertips.

Gojo was grateful you weren’t wearing a bra as his hand cupped the bottom of your breast, giving it a slow squeeze as he continued to grind his hips against yours. Your breath hitched and your hips stuttered at the touch. You could already feel the nipple of your other breast harden against your top, letting out a soft whine at its lack of stimulation.

He gave your breast another squeeze, this time moving his fingers to gently pinch your nipple. Your movements stuttered again as you tried to stifle a moan. “Aw, come on. Keep dancing with me, angel,” Gojo taunted, his voice breathy against your ear. 

“Satoru, ” you whimpered.

“Told you it would be better if I had more than seven minutes,” he chuckled.

He continued rolling your nipple between his fingers as his hips continued to roll against you. Using the hand that was still on your hips, he urged the movements of your hips against his. The sensation of your nipple being pinched and his hand taking control of your motions made you clench. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you submitted to his urges, once again moving your hips in sync with his. 

Grateful to have you gyrating against him again, the hand on your hip traveled south to grip your ass beneath your skirt. “Fuck.” He took a moment to give each cheek a squeeze, desperately pressing his stiffening length against you. After more greedy squeezes, his hand rested on your hip between your skin and the band of the skirt. His hand was a passenger to the circular movements of your hips. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, angel,” he groaned into your ear.

You were on the verge of panting as the hand on your hip slid up and made its way under your shirt, now gripping your other breast. You didn’t think your heart could start beating any faster. His hand squeezed your breasts a few times before he started kneading that nipple between his fingers. You couldn’t help the whimper you let out at the feeling of both of your nipples now being rolled between his long fingers.

You were a clenching mess, feeling his length pressing against you with each movement of your hips. Another desperate whimper left your lips as your fingers dug into the skin of his neck. Your eyes fluttered at the sense of euphoria, uncaring of anything else going on. Your back arched as your hips continued to move, thrusting more of your breast into his hands.

Your breasts were soft and warm in his hands, and Gojo expertly squeezed them while he continued to knead your nipples. Your eyes closed and your head lolled at his touch, a look of bliss crossing over your face under the strobe lights.

Gojo didn’t care who saw, but he glanced at the other club goers on the dance floor. They weren’t paying you two any mind, either too inebriated to care or engaging in their own form of dancing. Or some combination of the two, for that matter,  

He glanced towards the couches where he saw Shoko sitting when he and Geto came in, but only Nanami and Haibara were there. He shrugged and looked toward the bar. 

Geto was just receiving the order of shots on a tray when he glanced in Gojo’s direction. A playful smile danced across Gojo’s face when they made eye contact. He squeezed your breasts as he kept eye contact with Geto. 

Geto’s lips rose to a small smirk watching Gojo massage your breasts and roll against you. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare at your blissed out expression. His cock already seemed to jump to life just knowing how good you must have been feeling right now. He didn’t want to miss out on any more fun. He waved Gojo over, still watching as your head lolled with your eyes closed.

Gojo reluctantly removed his hands from beneath your shirt. “Sugu has the shots, come on.” He grabbed your hand as the two of you navigated to the end of the bar where Geto was. 

The smirk hadn’t left his face as he took in your flushed appearance. He took one shot from the tray and handed it to you. “Only if you want to,” he affirmed.

You took the shot from him, placing your other hand on your hip. “I’m not a baby, let's go.”

“That’s my girl!” Gojo chanted, grabbing a shot from the tray.

Geto grabbed a shot, and the three of you clinked the glasses together before quickly downing them.

Your lips pursed as it coursed down your throat, immediately setting your body temperature ablaze. You looked over to Geto and Gojo who were already downing another shot. Thinking about shots you took earlier and all the sips of everyone's drinks you had, you weren’t going to argue with them for not asking if you wanted another shot or not.

You put your glass on the tray as Geto glanced at you. He took a step forward and let his palm graze the side of your face while his other hand settled on your waist. His thumb brushed against your cheek. “You look amazing tonight, angel.”

His voice simply wanted to make you melt. “Thank you.” You tilted your head so your lips brushed against his when you spoke again. “You look great too.”

“Come here,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against yours. You both tasted like alcohol, but neither of you cared as your lips slowly moved against each other. You were putty in his hands as he kissed you, willing your body to mend to his touch.

With one final brush against Geto’s lips, Gojo was reaching for your hand. “Come on you two.” You let his large hand encase yours as he pulled you toward the empty alcove. Geto took a hold of your other hand, and you instantly felt your blood running even warmer.

Letting go of your hand, Gojo pressed his back against the wall. He circled his arms around your waist, pulling your backside flush against his front once more. Geto let go of your hand as well and stood in front of you, effectively sandwiching you between their bodies. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just your own desire, but being between the two of them had your heart beating rapidly yet again.

Geto stepped in closer, letting his hand rest under your chin. His mouth hovered over yours as yours as he spoke. “Were you having fun with Satoru, angel?”

“Oh, she was,” Gojo answered with a laugh, letting his hands travel beneath your shirt again. His hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing the mounds with more force this time. You let out a moan against Geto’s lips as Gojo’s fingers began to pinch at your nipples again. You clenched around nothing, pressing your thighs together desperately to ease the ache. “ God, Suguru. Do you hear her?”

“Mhm,” Geto answered, letting his lips graze against your parted lips before they started trailing down your face. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and trailed down lower to the skin of your neck. “You know, she sounds really pretty when she comes too.” His lips latched on to the base of your neck, sucking at the skin there. “Don’t you want to hear that?”

“Oh, for sure. Nice of you to finally learn how to share.” Gojo took his time letting his hands trail down your body once more, eager to become familiar with every dip and curve. His hand dipped down, easily lifting the soft fabric of your skirt and nudging your thighs open. “Let me take care of that for you.” You parted your thighs, and a finger was brushing over your clothed clit. Another moan left your mouth as another finger joined, rubbing your clit in slow circles over the fabric of your underwear. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this.”

Gojo eagerly bypassed the crotch of your underwear and pushed a finger inside of you, his erection still present from before throbbing against you as your wetness enveloped him. You whined, clenching around the digit as he wasted no time pumping it in and out of you. “I know you’re dying for more.You can take one more, be a good girl.” He let his middle finger join his index one, inching both digits deeper until they were seated fully inside of you. “Mhm, just like that.”

Geto continued ravishing the skin of your neck, taking his time to let his lips caress the spot before sucking it, wanting to mar the same spot from last time that had since faded. He shifted the hand that was on your chin to grip the back of your neck, his other hand shifting to massage one of your breasts. He moaned into the skin of your neck as he let his finger knead your stiffened nipple. 

Every part of your body was vibrating with arousal. “Fuck,” you whimpered out, continuously clenching around Gojo’s digits and desperately arching into Geto’s touch. It felt like you were being tugged in every direction; Gojo’s free hand on your hip keeping your backside pressed against him tightly and Geto’s hand securely on your neck, keeping you at an angle where you had no choice but to let him keep ravaging your skin.

Geto pulled the breast he was massaging out of your top completely, moving his mouth’s attention from your neck to your nipple. He let his tongue circle the peak, looking up to see your lips part and release another moan. “God, angel. You’re such a slut. ” He chuckled lightly before he closed his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth,

Gojo felt you clench instantly at Geto’s words, causing him to buck his hips against you. “Shit,” he murmured, curling his digits to reach your g-spot. “For a slut, this pussy is fucking tight.”

Geto pulled your other breast out of your shirt, moving his mouth across your chest to suck your other nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at the bud gently before his tongue flicked against it, alternating between hard and soft sucks. He moved the hand that was resting on the back of your neck to the front, gently squeezing at the sides. He sucked your nipple into his mouth harshly before coming off with a lewd pop. “That’s better for us, isn’t it?”

Gojo couldn’t stop the smile that was spreading across his face even if he wanted to. “Of course it is.”

Geto returned to your other nipple, rolling his tongue around it before letting his lips trail back up to your neck. The hand on your neck applied more pressure and he let his other hand begin to stimulate your nipple again. You were a moaning mess, opened mouthed and legs trembling. Geto’s length was practically a brick against his thigh. He pressed his thigh against one of your legs, groaning at the friction it provided.

“Ah, please,” you whimpered. It all felt like too much, but your body still craved more. Gojo’s erection pressed against your ass and Geto’s against your leg, your nipples being played with, being filled with Gojo’s fingers, the choking, the euphoria of the alcohol, it was hard to say what more could even constitute as, but you wanted it. 

“Please what?” Geto ground his leg against you, erection shamelessly throbbing. “You want Satoru to make you come?”

You nodded pathetically, tears threatening to spring from the corners of your eyes. “Please.”

“You hear that? Our angel wants you to make her come.” Geto peered up at Gojo, a smirk dancing across his lips. Geto’s gaze was back on you. “I think you should be more polite, angel. Ask him again, he wants to hear you.”

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded desperately.

Gojo steadily pumped his fingers in and out, plunging his fingers deep and keeping them curled against your g spot as your breaths became more ragged. “Come on, let it out,” he encouraged, letting his thumb rub against your clit. “I want to know how this pussy feels,” he mumbled into your ear.

Your legs trembled as you gave into his demands, body slumping against his as you spasmed around his fingers. Your voice was nothing but a string of moans as his fingers stayed inside of you, moving slowly as your juices coated them.

“Fuck, she does sound pretty,” Gojo groaned, making eye contact with Geto. “I want to see for myself how she tastes.” He slowly removed his digits from you, keeping you propped firmly against him as he slid his fingers into his mouth. He moaned around them, keeping his eyes on Geto. “Delicious.”

“Yeah?” Geto pressed in closer, his hips now slotted between yours as the hand that gripped your breast moved down to caress the skin of your thigh. He maneuvered the hand on your throat behind you, now gripping Gojo’s chin. “Let me have a taste then.”

Gojo grabbed at the back of Geto’s neck to bring their lips together. Your body was tight between them as both of their erections throbbed against you, and you could feel wetness saturating your panties again. You whined, gripping at Geto’s muscles under his shirt and wiggling your hips in any way you could to get more friction. Despite the overstimulation, you couldn’t stop, desperate yet again for more.

Gojo has never been a gentle kisser. As soon as their lips joined, he shifted his hand to grip Geto’s hair. His fingers clutched his tresses tight as he began pushing his tongue past Geto’s lips. Gojo let out a moan of satisfaction once Geto’s lips parted, letting his tongue roam the inside of his mouth.

Geto could taste you on Gojo’s tongue, and could feel you writhing between the two of them. If there was even a pocket of space between the three of your bodies, he closed it, letting out a moan when Gojo bit down on his bottom lip. “Fuck, she does taste good,” he gritted out, giving your thigh another squeeze. “Think I’m going to need another taste.”

Gojo let his tongue trace the shape of Geto’s lips before he shoved his tongue back inside his mouth. Geto moaned into Gojo’s mouth before letting his own tongue sliver into Gojo’s mouth. The familiar gesture was charged with arousal, the kiss growing sloppier the longer the two kept their mouths pressed together. The lewd sound of their lips moving against each other made you clench again. You panted, grinding yourself against Geto’s thigh, aching for another release.

When Geto pulled back, a thick trail of spit connected their lips together. “Oh angel, are you feeling left out?” Geto teased, feeling your pelvis against his thigh. “Can’t have that, can we?”

Gojo smirked, sucking the trail into his mouth as he peered down to see you humping Geto’s thigh. “Oh, Sugu,” he cooed. “I think she wants to come again.” Gojo released his grip from Geto’s hair and put a hand back on your breast. “Make her come, I want to see.”

“If you insist,” Geto snickered, stepping back only slightly. Gojo kept a hold on your hip while Geto pushed the fabric of your panties aside to pump his middle and index finger inside of you. They slipped in with no resistance, already soaked from your previous orgasm and more recent arousal. “Mhm, that’s it. Just as tight as I remembered.”

“Ah,” you moaned, throwing your head back as you clenched around him. You knew it wouldn't take much to bring you to another orgasm. Gojo’s hips thrusted against your ass, making your hips rock on Geto’s fingers. You let out another moan, tears prickling from the corner of your eyes as he pinched your nipple again. “That feels so good,” you breathed.

“Mhm,” Geto hummed. He slowly nudged a third finger at your entrance, his cock throbbing when you slowly started to envelop them. He watched as they disappeared inside of you until all three were knuckle deep and curling against your g-spot. The way your pussy started to clamp down on him would give a claw machine a run for its money. “Fuck, you can do it,” he praised. “Come for us one more time.”

Gojo swiftly moved his hand from your breast to beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him. The lust swimming in his eyes was evident. “Keep your eyes on him,” Geto instructed. “If you look away, I’ll stop.”

You whined, willing your eyes to stay open and keep your body upright. It felt good, too good. How could greed really be a sin when having more proved itself to be better, much better. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly at a curl of Geto’s fingers, a guttural moan escaping your lips. Gojo tsked despite his cock throbbing at your moan, letting his hand squeeze the sides of your chin. “Don’t be rude. You heard him, didn’t you?” Your eyes jolted open at his touch. “Keep those eyes on me, angel.”

Geto didn’t stop, his slender fingers still moving in and out of your heat. His eyes bounced between your weeping pussy and the desperation to please plastered all over your face. “Do I need to stop?” he taunted, slowing his movements. “Don’t tell me she isn’t being a good girl for us.”

“She just needed a little reminder,” Gojo chuckled lightly. His grip didn’t leave your chin as he looked down at you, eyes struggling to stay open and body writhing with pleasure. “Fuck angel, you’re so fucking pretty like this. Open your mouth.”

You didn’t have the capacity to ask any questions as you parted your lips. Gojo titled his lips downward to spit into your open mouth. You clenched around Geto’s digits as you welcomed his saliva into your mouth. “Fuck,” Gojo gritted out, keeping a tight hold on your chin to smash his lips against yours. Your lips were barely aligned as they moved against each other with little grace, but neither of you cared. You moaned into his mouth, hips grinding frantically on Geto’s fingers.

Geto quickened the pace of his fingers, every stroke only aiming to brush against your g-spot. Your moans turned into pants against Gojo’s lips as your body was reaching its peak. 

You cried out as your pussy locked down on Geto’s fingers, pulsing around the digits erratically. Your chest heaved as his fingers exited you. Between the alcohol and the back to back orgasms, you could barely keep your eyes open. 

Through fluttering lids, you saw Geto bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean with a smile. Gojo parted his lips, and Geto placed his fingers on Gojo’s tongue. Gojo sucked them diligently, moaning around his fingers and savoring your taste again.

Gojo wrapped his arms around you tightly while Geto put your breasts back in your top. He put a hand under your chin, leaning his own head to be eye level with you. “How about you come home with us, angel?” A soft small graced his face. “We can have some more fun.”

You were already exhausted and overstimulated, but there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your voice when you answered, “I’d love to.”

Joo did some lovely art that i appreciated sm!!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) more skin tones on the linked post!!

just ch 3 left to upload :p

[tangledinink]

Chapter Thirteen of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! The gang journeys through the Hidden City to investigate the Battle Nexus. They journey through and investigate old memories on the way. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

"BARON DRAXUM!"

Everyone in the room winced, including Baron Draxum, who awoke with a start, sitting stark upright and snarling in response as he swayed.

"Jeez, Recruit... Love the enthusiasm, but tone it down a bit, maybe," Lieutenant bit out, rubbing his ears, still reeling from the volume of her wake-up call. Casey flushed just the tiniest bit.

"My apologies, sensei!" She cried, immediately falling into a bow, but privately she thought to herself it worked, didn't it? Nothing else that they had tried had even begun to stir the yokai, who they had found tied up and in an unconscious heap inside his own underground lab. They had arrived expecting to help transport the Hamato children to their main hideout, certain they would be, of course, apprehended neatly by Draxum by now... but evidently this was not the case.

"What in the world happened?" The Lieutenant voiced Casey's own thoughts aloud, holding his hands out exasperatedly. "You said you were going to get the Hamatos."

"Yes, well, things were a bit more complicated than I anticipated..." Draxum hissed, gritting his teeth.

"You said you could handle them on your own! We offered to send you back-up, but you didn't want to wait! Surely four children didn't overpower you--"

"They did not overpower me," Draxum snapped, turning to snarl as he dragged himself back up to his feet. "Some damned witch placed a protection spell on them," he seethed, absolutely bristling. "I can't touch them..." He grit his teeth. "... I will simply have to account for this in the future..."

Lieutenant and Brute seemed somewhat unimpressed, Cassandra noted, glancing at them from the corners of her eyes as the two exchanged looks.

"Yes, well," Lieutenant mused, his hands on his hips. "I'm sure there will be other opportunities to kidnap children in the future. However, the Dark Armor remains our priority. Come on. We've wasted enough time here, and we have a new lead to investigate..."

"Don't worry. You'll get 'em next time," Brute tried to encourage, patting Draxum's shoulders, to which he snarled and batted his hands away, grumbling to himself as he stalked off after them, discussing as they went.

Cassandra sighed softly, rolling her shoulders back and forth a few times before she trailed after her three superiors.

Yes.... The Dark Armor was the priority.

---

The collective shriek of their group was cut off by a loud thud, immediately followed by a chorus of groans. Okay, so, travel by teleportation was... a little disorientating. The fact that most of them currently sucked at staying on their own two damn feet didn't help matters. Some more than others.

"Sorry!" Raph immediately bit out, wriggling from atop the heap, an awkward chuckle escaping him. 

"Raph, my wonderful brother," Leo grit out. "You know I love you dearly. But I'm really gonna need you to stop knocking us all over like bowling pins."

"Well, look, you try walkin' around with a giant tail you ain't used to! It's not as easy as it looks!" He defended, throwing his hands up. "I'm doin' my best over here!"

"Whoa!" Mikey effectively ended their squabble with his gasp, sitting up quickly in order to give a wild gesture. "Guys, look!"

And damn. Whoa was right.

Raph was a New Yorker, so he wasn't easy to impress. He wasn't immediately awed by big, sprawling cityscapes or towering skyscrapers, but this place was... something else. It looked somewhere between an actual city and some sort of mystic ruin, residing as 'neither' and 'both' all at the same time. The buildings themselves seemed to grow from the stone landscape, curving and sliding to match the terrain. Glowing mushrooms, crystals, and occasionally the eyes of massive statues provided brightly colored lighting, leaving the various neon signs and backlit advertisements of the city seeming pale in comparison. Street vendors, kiosks, and tents lined the bustling streets, and each and every creature making up the massive crowds was something completely alien that Raph had never seen nor imagined before. Yokai, he thought to himself. That's what April said they were called.

Rather than sharp, straight lines and confident corners, this place seemed built from jagged outlines and curving bends, looping and winding around itself as if the entire city were hanging on, clinging to itself, holding hands, nestled in between the hulking forms of unmoving stone creatures that Raph was unsure how to categorize. He didn't feel confident saying that they weren't alive after the day they had had, despite their frozen forms and their dead, unseeing eyes.

"This must be the Hidden City," Mikey said, and Leo let out a low whistle as the five of them took in the view.

"Good job, little guy. Knew you could get us here," April hummed, giving the little yellow creature they had rescued a squeeze. His tail wagged wildly in reply, snuggling up in her embrace.

"Alright, now we just gotta get to the Battle Nexus from here," Leo said with a sigh, shifting his weight onto one leg, hand on his hip as he glanced over at the yellow critter. "Any idea where that is?"

The creature chirred in response, nodding excitedly and scrambling down from April's arms in order to lead the way. Leo grinned. 

"Okay, I take back all my earlier doubts and hesitations. Bringing this guy with us was a great idea," Leo declared as the group set off.

Though the acquisition of weapons, all tucked or stowed away in backpacks or belt loops or pockets, had helped a bit, Raph had still been, admittedly, pretty nervous about entering the city, a pool of anxiety swirling around in his gut. Given the day they had had so far, he couldn't help but imagine a hoard of devious yokai dogpiling him and his siblings the moment they set foot into unknown territory. But, to his quiet surprise, no one spared them even a second glance, all seeming far too occupied with their own errands and lives to glance over at their ragtag group.

Somehow, this made Raph feel a bit better. For several reasons. He supposed that, at the very least, they didn't seem to be freaks here.

"Don't worry, Dad, we're on our way," Mikey chirped, and despite his current relief, Raph still couldn't quite understand how his little brother could be so cheerful. Mikey always amazed him with his emotional resilience. Wished he had some of that.

"Eugh, is he even gonna recognize us when we get there?" Leo said with a wince, wrinkling up his face a bit. "We look, uh... a little different than when he last saw us."

"I'm pretty sure he knows, Leo," Donnie remarked. "He's the one who put the bracelets on us in the first place. He knows." 

Raph glanced dimly down at the little golden bracelet still encircling his wrist, the red gem now seeming a bit duller somehow, and he frowned. So this little trinket was mystic all along, huh? Now that he knew, it seemed stupidly obvious. He wondered anxiously if they still worked anymore, or if they were broken forever.

"No wonder he didn't want us to take these things off," Leo muttered, looking over his own, holding his arm up to examine it. "Jeez. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us. How did we not know?"

Mikey gave a thoughtful hum. "Do you guys remember when we were really little? Before we moved? And we used to pretend we were turtles all the time?"

"Somehow I don't think that was pretend, Mikey," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey insisted. "But you guys do remember that, right? I just... I always thought that that was just us playing a game or something, but it must have been real! So we knew at some point!"

"And then we forgot..." Donnie mumbled, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, already obviously doing calculations in his head. 

"You guys were pretty weird when you first moved here," April remarked.

"Oh come on. How do you just forget that you're a turtle?" Leo argued, glancing over his shoulder at the others. "That seems like the kind of thing that'd stick with you."

"I dunno," Mikey shrugged. "But obviously we did!"

"You're not implyin' that Dad did somethin', are ya?" Raph questioned, narrowing his eyes, and Leo immediately huffed.

"No! Of course not!" He frowned. "It's just... I dunno. It's weird, is all. It's crazy to think about how much stuff that we just... forgot."

"Well, what do you remember?" Donnie nudged. "Like, from before the move."

"Not much," Leo admitted, scrunching up his nose. "Everything from back then is fuzzy. I don't even know where we moved from."

"I think..." Donnie hesitated a moment. "I think we moved from there."

"Where. The Hidden City?" Mikey questioned.

"No, no, back there. I mean. The sewer we were in before," Donnie pressed. "Didn't it seem... kind of familiar to you guys?"

"Well..." Raph frowned.

"Mikey! Wait!" Raph laughed, stumbling as he chased after his littlest brother. He still didn't walk with a terrible amount of grace, but he crawled like a madman, and Raph took great joy in chasing him around. Mikey did, too, giggling maniacally as he attempted to dodge the other.

Raph could feel, reaching back into the memory, that the bottoms of his feet were cold. The ground was hard beneath them, like stone. Like concrete. He remembered worrying about Mikey's knees. And, thinking back on it now, he swore he could almost hear the sound of running water in the background.

"I go’chyu!" Raph declared, grabbing Mikey, who squealed in response, wriggling against him.

Everything from back then was blurred; cobbled together like pieces of glass glued into a mosaic, appearing in his mind’s eye as a series of blotted, wrinkled images. Were they turtles or people back then? He wasn't sure. Where were they?

"I remember it was dark..." He said. "And cold a lot. The ground was stone or somethin.’"

"I remember that, too!" Mikey gasped.

"Whoa, wait!" Mikey squirmed his way out of Raph's arms again, attempting an escape, and a flare of panic flashed through him for a moment. He dove for Mikey for real this time, not playing anymore, grabbing his brother before he could get too far.

"We can't go that way, Mikey. Daddy said 's not safe yet," he explained when his brother whined in complaint, hoisting him back the way they came, his footsteps clumsy while trying to drag his brother along. "We gotta stay in these tunnels."

"And... I think I remember there being… tunnels," he continued. "Or somethin' like that. It was really big, wherever we were, but we could only go into certain places. And the rest was off-limits, ‘cause Dad said he hadn’t checked them all to make sure they were okay yet. I remember keepin' Mikey from wanderin' off."

"I remember tunnels!" Mikey exclaimed. "I remember yelling into them when we were little and listening to them echo. I remember doing it until Leo made me stop!"

"I don't remember that," Leo protested, crossing his arms.

"You did!" Mikey insisted. "You said I had to play something else because it was bothering Donnie."

"That would be in character for you," April remarked with a tiny grin. 

"Sounds like sewers to me," Donnie said with a shrug.

"Maybe," Leo conceded. "But why the hell would Dad keep us in the sewers?"

"There’s probably limited options when your kids are literally part-turtle," Raph reasoned with a grumble.

"Yeah, but abandoned sewers?" Leo pressed. "Come on. Was that really the only choice? Couldn't he have just... kept us inside or something?"

"I don't think so," Donnie said, frowning a bit, shaking his head. Leo sighed.

"Why not?"

"Leo, Dad has one of these bracelets, too," Donnie said. "Remember?"

---

The rest of their journey through the Hidden City went about the same way. One of the boys would bring up some old memory, and they'd discuss for a while, before the conversation would peter out and they'd walk in silence for a bit before the cycle started all over again. April pointed out that they had all regularly chirped and clicked and made other odd noises when she had first met them, but eventually, they grew out of it (mostly.) Raph discussed his memories of watching his younger brothers when they were very little, waiting somewhere dark and quiet for their dad to get back from wherever he was going. Donnie and Leo both remembered sleeping together as toddlers, somewhere very small and curled up, like a nest of some kind, both agreeing that it didn't quite seem like a crib or a bed. Mikey mentioned how many times he got in trouble for painting or drawing on walls when they first moved into the apartment, and how much it had upset and confused him in the beginning-- was that because their dad hadn't bothered to correct the behavior when they lived in the sewers? 

"When we first started swim team," Donnie mused, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. "I remember sometimes, we would have contests with the other kids to see how long we could hold our breaths."

"I remember that," Leo agreed. "And we'd always win!"

"Yes, but..." Donnie hummed. "I think we probably could have won by a lot more if we wanted."

"What do you mean?" Raph questioned.

"Well," Donnie explained. "I recall, or, at least, I think I do, that… that when we first started partaking in those contests, it was... it was easy. Everyone else would have already come up to breathe, but I'd feel completely fine. I'd only come up because I had won and the contest was over. But after a while, people started being weird about it," he frowned. "To be fair, people were weird about a lot of things I did. And I will admit I didn’t always catch on, but I noticed this one,” he said, laughing dryly and giving a wave of his hands. “And at the time, I just wrote it off as one of many! Just another thing that I did that made me different from my peers. But I started coming up earlier so I'd be more... normal," he confessed. "And I'd pretend like I was out of breath when I wasn't, so people would stop looking at me like that. Or, well. People stopped looking at me like that for that particular reason. And I guess eventually I just... I got so used to pretending that it just became second nature, and I didn’t even realize I was pretending anymore."

Leo nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds… that sounds right, actually…”

"I remember thinking the same thing!" Raph exclaimed, his eyes wide at the realization. "Except I felt bad that all the other kids kept losin' so bad! I started pretendin' 'cause I didn't want everyone else to get discouraged, and I just did it for so long...!"

"But you're the best swimmer, Dee," Leo remarked, nudging his twin slightly with a tiny smile. "So I wouldn't be surprised if you can hold your breath the longest, too. I mean, christ, you literally have webbed fingers now."

April glanced down at her brother’s hands, noting quietly to herself that it was true. If she was being totally honest with herself, it was a bit alien to look at, so she drew her eyes back away after a moment.

"That does make sense," April hummed. "And it'd explain why you guys are so good at swim meets and stuff, too."

The other three paused, and Leo frowned a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean. If you're turtles, then... obviously you're gonna be good at swimming," she reasoned with a shrug. "It makes sense. Of course you’re gonna win!"

"Mikey doesn't swim," Donnie pointed out.

"Maybe he's a different kind of turtle who doesn't swim?"

"A terrestrial turtle..." Donnie hummed, resting his chin in his hand, brows furrowed. "Maybe a box turtle or something..."

"You think I'm a box turtle?!" Mikey gasped, his eyes lighting up.

"But obviously the rest of you would be good at swimming if you're, like, aquatic," she continued. "So I'm not surprised you all always kicked so much butt at swim meets and stuff!"

"... Yeah. I guess so," Raph said, but he seemed kind of... dejected, almost. Like he was upset. The conversation shifted shortly after, focus shifting to Mikey’s new identity as a box turtle, but April's mind lingered.

 Why did she feel like she had just said something wrong? 

---

“This is the Battle Nexus?!"

 Raph gawked slightly, suddenly feeling a lot less confident. He could feel the various winces and mumbles around him. "It's a goddamn fortress! We're never gettin' in there!"

"Oh, come on. What were you expecting? To just walk in?" Leo scoffed. "It's not that bad!"

"Not that bad?!" Raph squawked, turning to gesture wildly to the massive walls, the towering, heavily guarded entrances, the watch towers perched on nearly every corner... Christ, was that a blimp overhead!? "Are you crazy?! There’s no way!!!"

"Well, not with that attitude," Leo said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Yeah! We're basically ninjas, Raph, we got this!" Mikey cheered, ever optimistic.

"We’re not ninjas, Mikey. And there's no way in hell we're sneakin' in there. You two are out of your mind," Raph said with a scowl. 

"We don't gotta sneak!" Leo insisted, waving away the other's concerns. "Don't worry! I'll talk us in there, no problem! Leon's got this. I'm an actor, remember? I just gotta charisma our way past one of those guards."

"You wanna talk your way in?" April questioned, raising a brow. "Leo, are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure! This'll be a piece of cake. C'mon-- watch and be amazed!"

They were not amazed.

"Seriously, Leo?" Raph hissed, no more than five minutes later, the group slinking back into the same alley they had started from with a few new bumps and bruises and their metaphorical (literal?) tails between their legs. "Caravaggio? The awards show host? From the Bloodsporties?"

"I thought it'd work!" Leo cried, throwing up his hands. "Everyone likes to be flattered! People love it when you bring them awards!"

"Why do you need four assistants to drop off an award?" Donnie hissed.

"It's a very important award!" Leo insisted.

"That no one's ever heard of?!"

"Yet," Leo huffed. "Okay, look, it's fine. Leon's still got this. We just gotta switch over to plan B."

"Plan B had better not be at all similar to Plan A," Raph said, crossing his arms. "Or involve any of us being strong-armed off the premises by a massive yokai guard!"

"It won't, it won't, I promise!" Leo assured, getting to his feet again. "Okay. Watch and be amazed! Again!"

Leo shook out his limbs, straightening his posture, rolling his shoulders back, and setting his feet apart. And then, for just a moment, he was completely still. His chest didn't even twitch with a single breath. All at once, he inhaled sharply--

 ... And nothing happened.

"Wow. Amazing," Donnie said dryly.

"Well, just, gimme a minute! You're breaking my concentration!" Leo snapped, repeating the motion-- and then again, and then a few more times, until he was basically flailing in place, repeatedly thrashing in the same spot. "Come-- ON! Work already!"

"Leo, what the hell are you doin'?" Raph sighed. Leo groaned loudly in frustration.

"I am trying to use my mystic teleportation powers! Obviously!"

"Your what?" Donnie scoffed.

"I'm sorry, you mean the weird mystic things that we've been doin' completely against our will for the past two weeks and have absolutely zero control over? That one?" Raph grit out.

"Well, I'm starting to get the hang of the pattern..." Leo muttered.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me!!!"

"Well, maybe he can really do it!" Mikey chipped in with a bit of tentative encouragement. 

"So, let me get this straight," Donnie said, rubbing his temples. "You are trying to teleport all six of us inside of the Battle Nexus... using your mind. Is that correct?"

Leo scowled. He shuffled his feet at the dirt, his lower lip poked out.

"It could happen," he huffed.

"You're an idiot."

"Leo, there's no way this is ever gonna work! We barely even know anything about these powers!" Raph insisted. "What if it's dangerous?!"

"I'm getting the hang of it!" Leo repeated. "I could do it! And how would you know, anyway? You don't even have any powers yet!"

"Guys!" April yelled over the chaos, and the rest of the group paused to glance over.

Scowling, she gestured wildly to the little yellow yokai creature that had led him here.

Oh, right. The one who teleported.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Yeah, that's probably a better plan," Leo reluctantly conceded, though he was still pouting. 

"Thank you," April said, scooping the yokai up, who purred and waved his tail, seemingly happy to help. "Okay, come on guys, huddle up. And try not to fall over this time!"

The whole group obeyed, scrunching up around each other and grabbing onto various hands and elbows to make sure everyone would make it to where they needed to go. But something Leo had said nagged at the edges of Raph's mind, gnawing at him even as a bright flash of cyan light overtook them, the world going out from under their feet as they teleported once again.

Why didn't he have any powers yet?

---

Donatello wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting the inside of the Battle Nexus to look like, but it wasn’t ‘literal sports stadium.’

Though they stumbled a bit, they all managed to keep their footing this time once they teleported inside the halls of the Battle Nexus, thankfully in a quiet, unoccupied corner just outside of a stairwell. Perhaps it had been naive of him, but he hadn’t expected the inside of this place to so closely resemble the inside of a modern football arena. 

“Nice job, little guy,” April whispered to the little yellow yokai, who looked just a bit more tired than he had before, Donnie noted, panting softly. “We’ll take it from here. You rest,” she instructed gently, tucking the critter into her jacket. 

“Anyone have any idea where we’re going?” Leo questioned, looking around suspiciously.

“No,” Raph admitted. “But everyone stick close. And… act casual. This place has gotta be crawling with yokai!” Donnie concurred; he could hear the roars of the crowd from here. “If we don’t call any attention to ourselves, we can just blend in. Dad has be around here somewhere.”

“You got it, bossman,” Leo hummed. “Come on. I think the main stadium is over there. Let’s check that out first and see what the deal is.” 

Now, Donnie may be a theater kid, but he was not exactly an actor the way Leo was, (or claimed to be, anyway,) and so ‘acting casual’ was a bit of a demand. He was very focused on trying to make his body language ‘casual,’ in keeping his muscles untensed and his expression neutral, to the extent that he was not especially paying that much attention to their surroundings as the group trailed after Leo. He followed his siblings’ lead into the main seating area of the arena, adjusting the settings of his headphones slightly as they moved to join the edges of the crowd, hoping to keep out the excited screams of the fans.

As a result, he was a bit taken aback when he did look up to take in the scene of the ring below them.

And oh. Oh my god.

This really was fucking bloodsport, huh?

“Jesus christ--”

He was vaguely aware of Raph’s hand hurriedly slapping over Mikey’s eyes before he could get a good look at the scene not just in the battle ring below, but also projected onto the massive jumbotron, and the younger immediately gave a yelp of protest.

“Hey! Raph--”

“Mikey, I know that you don’t wanna be babied and you’re gonna complain, but I really need you to just trust your big brother on this one,” Raph hissed out, his voice tight. “Don’t. Look.”

April had her hands over her mouth, and Leo bristled, mumbling a few curses. Donnie really, really didn’t want to be watching this, but he couldn’t quite take his eyes away. There was a wet, crunching noise, so loud that they could hear it even from up here in the balconies (were they mic’ed up? Sweet baby Galileo--) and the entire party winced around him as the crowds roared in delight.

“What happened?!” Mikey cried from behind Raph’s hands.

“Donnie?” April said, glancing over at him.

He swallowed hard, his stomach flipping. No, no, no. Come on. Keep it together, Vomitello. Not the time, not the place, not at all casual…! 

Leo, to his credit, caught on pretty quickly, paling a bit at the realization and jumping forward to bodily whip Donnie away from the scene, beginning to herd the group away.

“Okay, well, Dad’s definitely not down there!” He bit out with a nervous laugh. “Thank fucking god… Look. Obviously, we’re up super high. Let’s find the stairs, start heading down, and see if we find anything on the way,” he said hurriedly, not slowing his pace until they were basically back out where they started, in the near-abandoned outside hallways. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Raph said, finally releasing his grip on Mikey’s head. “Uh. Don…?”

“I’m good,” he squeaked out, leaning over slightly, his hands on his knees as he coughed a few times. “All good, no problem…! Just… gimme a second…!”

“Donald,” Leo said through gritted teeth, clapping his hands together decisively. “I am literally begging you not to puke right now.”

“I am doing my best, thank you!” Donnie snapped in response, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh my god, why was it so lumpy? It looked like cottage cheese!”

“What are you doing!? Stop thinking about it!” Leo cried. 

“Think about something else instead! Like… the periodic table! You love that thing,” Mikey suggested brightly. “Like, uhhh, what’s the symbol for chlorine?”

“C-L,” Donnie bit out, flapping his hands a bit and letting out a slow breath through a clenched jaw. “Come on, Mikey, that’s way too easy.”

“Okay, uhhm, what’s the atomic number for iodine?”

“Fifty-three.”

“Yeah! And what’s the atomic mass of titanium?”

“Forty-seven-point-eight-six-seven.”

“Yep! And uranium?”

“Oh, uranium, my beloved, my white whale…! Two-hundred and thirty-eight-point-zero-two-eight-nine.”

“AHHH!” Mikey imitated a buzzer. “Wrong!”

Donnie’s head snapped up. “What?!”

“Just kidding!” Mikey chirped happily. “I don’t actually know the answer. You’re probably right.”

“Oh, you evil genius,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “I’m never helping you study for science class ever again.”

“Pshhhh, yeah you will. Plus you feel better now, don’t you?” Mikey pressed, grinning wide.

“Yes, okay, fine. I owe you one,” Donnie sighed deeply, offering just the smallest of smiles and rubbing the other’s head as though tousling hair, (not that he had any anymore. Ugh, don’t think about that, either,) eliciting a giggle from the other. At least the nausea had backed off now. “Okay. Come on. Leo’s right, shockingly enough. Let’s head downstairs and see if we can find anything.” 

“Oh thank god,” Leo whispered, yanking the door to the stairwell open and gesturing to his siblings. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go! Vamanos!” 

The trip down through the Battle Nexus was long and boring, but admittedly, calming. Donnie had always been a fan of repetitive actions, and so far, every new floor they investigated they found much of the same, not uncovering much save for more seating for screaming, cheering yokai along with the occasional food court or souvenir stand. Any guards they found they made sure to steer clear of, slowly working their way down through the stadium.

“This is going nowhere,” Raph hissed softly, leaning into Leo as they did a lap through yet another floor of stadium seating. Quite frankly, Donnie was beginning to wonder if all these floors were exactly the same. “Where the heck do you think they’re keepin’ Dad?”

“I don’t know! How would I know?” Leo questioned, bristling a bit.

“This was your plan!”

“Yeah, ‘cause no one else had a plan!” He bit back, scowling. “Look, we’ve just gotta… uh… we’ve gotta…” He looked around for a moment, floundering for just a second before he lit up, pointing.

“We’ve just gotta follow one of those guys!” 

Everyone glanced over, and April frowned a bit.

“Follow one of the guards?”

“Yeah!” Leo nodded excitedly. “Look, if anyone’s gonna know how to get into the secret, spooky parts of the Nexus, it’ll be an employee! There’s no way Dad’s just in the stands somewhere or in any of the other public bits of this place. And we’re just walking in circles.” He said with a roll of his wrist. “But I bet if we tail one of those dudes, they’ll lead us straight to him! We just gotta be sneaky.”

“He does have a pretty good point,” Mikey reasoned.

“I dunno. It seems kinda dangerous,” April said, raising a brow. 

“Yeah, but we don’t have any other ideas…” Raph said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The three of them glanced over at Donnie, and he sighed, tilting his head back and forth for a moment to do some rapid calculations.

“I do agree that the risk associated with this plan of action is… significant,” he said, frowning a bit. “Butttttt… just wandering around aimlessly isn’t going to get us anywhere. Following someone has a much higher probability of success.” 

“That sounds good enough to me!” Raph said, giving a nod. “Alright. Let’s do this then. Everyone’s just gotta be ninja-level sneaky. Got it?”

“Got it,” the group agreed, giving a nod.

Would this go horribly wrong? Only one way to find out.

Finding their target was easy enough. This place was crawling with guards, quite frankly, they just had to pick one. After rejecting the first few targets, as they were all rather beefy, they settled on a slightly smaller, less-deadly-looking Nexus employee to follow.

“Okay,” Leo said. “We’ve just gotta tail him for a while and see where he goes. Everyone stick close, and be quiet.”

“Obviously! You don’t have to tell us to be quiet!” Donnie hissed back.

“Both of you shut up!” Raph whispered. “Look, come on, pay attention! He’s on the move. Mad Dogz, roll out! We can’t lose this guy.” 

Donnie huffed and grumbled a bit, resisting the urge to hipcheck Leo as the group began picking their way through the halls, taking care to stick to the shadows. At first, Donnie thought that this was just another waste of their time, and they would end up doing even more laps around the stadium. He dared to get his hopes up, however, when the fox-like yokai paused in front of an unassuming wall. It looked about the same as any other portion of wall in this place, but once the Yokai placed his hand (paw?) to it, it lit up white, and suddenly, there was a door that wasn’t there before.

“Whoa! Lookit that!” Mikey gasped.

“We’re all already looking at it, Mikey, be quiet,” Donnie hissed. 

“What’d Raph say!? Shut it! And come on! Quick and quiet, before the door closes!” Raph whispered with a hurried wave of his arm, and the five took off, closing the gap between themselves and the guard in order to slip inside the secret panel, quiet as ninjas-- just like Dad taught them. Even April was surprisingly quiet, and Donnie was privately impressed. It took them years of lessons with their dad (and ill-advised shenanigans that they wished not to face consequences for,) to get this good at sneaking.

All five of them made it in, and the guard was already halfway down the hall by the time they joined them, seemingly none the wiser. Donnie didn’t make a sound, but silently, he fucking whooped and cheered. Yes!!! He had been really fifty-fifty on whether or not this was going to work out. 

At the end of the hall, the fox guard clicked a button on the wall, and about five seconds later, the wall opened up like an elevator.

The elevator had about eight other yokai inside. These yokai did not have their backs on them.

“HEY!” One of them immediately shouted, pointing at their group, as they had not yet managed to find a proper hiding space in the long, but sparse hallway. Every single other yokai snapped around to look at them. “What’re you doing in here!? This is employees only!”

Fuck.

“Uhhh…” A pained smile spread on Leo’s face. “We’re looking for the bathroom?” 

 “Sure,” the fox scoffed, turning to face them properly now, beginning to make his way back down the short hall to meet them. “Alright, lemme see your tickets. I’ll escort you back to your seats.”

“Our tickets? Uhhh… Sure…” Raph spluttered for a moment, laughing nervously. “Let’s see, uh, where did we put--”

April yanked her club from her backpack and promptly slammed it into the yokai’s head with a loud thunk.

“APRIL!” Raph screamed, jumping in surprise. “What the hell!?”

“Well, there’s nowhere to run!” She shouted in response, and, ah, welp, there she went. Full charge ahead, then? “Come on, we gotta get into that elevator!”

Donnie sighed deeply. Well, he had predicted fifty-fifty. 

He set his jaw, rolling his shoulders a few times before whipping his bo staff from his back. “Alright, well. Here we go.”

“COWABUNGA!” Raph shouted as he charged forward, and Donnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They were gonna have to work on battle formations and plans later.

But he was prepared this time. He wasn’t gonna freeze up and back down.

Yes, this was a fight. An actual, for real fight, which he had never been in before! But he hadn’t trained for nothing. 

He got this. They’d be fine. They got this.

Leo laughed, sliding forward with quick, practiced ease, his odachi flashing forward to smack the blunt of the blade against the ankles of the nearest yokai and send them tumbling to the ground while he darted past them. April was right on his tail, beaning anyone who got too close and following her younger brother’s lead. “Come on, guys, keep up!”

 “Right behind yah!” Mikey cheered, both him and Raph rushing forward at a matching pace. Despite the size difference, the two easily kept up with one another. Where Raph elbowed his opponents out of the way, clearing himself a path by bodily throwing their enemies to the side, Mikey darted and danced his way around them, a zig-zagged ballet to Raph’s straight, unyielding path. He whooped loudly as he went, always just out of reach with each step.

“Hot Soup!” Donnie noted their eldest brother howled out another battle cry (wasn’t that copyrighted?) Mikey’s kusari-fundo whipped about to fling him forward, tackling the largest of the guards to the ground and sending them both tumbling down the hall. 

Like… Both of them tumbling.

Also, Mikey was in the mix too, still attached by the chains of his kusari-fundo.

Well, at least it was still forward momentum! 

Donnie inhaled deeply, his muscles coiling.

Couldn’t get left behind. 

He darted down the hallway, jumping over and dodging around anyone already on the ground. At one point, a hand flashed out, grabbing at his ankle, and Donnie bit out a series of curses. He wrenched himself out of their grip, stumbling slightly, and nearly ran straight into one of the other (quite large) yokai in the hallway. A rapid equation darted through his head, however, and he just barely managed to correct his footing at the last second, turning sharply on his heel to transfer the momentum into his staff. The weapon curled around to slam into the guard with a heavy, satisfying thawk, sending them sprawling to the ground, and the entire hallway shuddered at the impact.

Well, that was a close one. He hopped over their fallen form and surged ahead, reaching down to grab Mikey’s hand as he went, dragging both him and Raph to their feet behind him, “Come on!”

The two found their footing quickly with the assist, falling back into a sprint-- smacking and dodging enemies as they went with about a seventy-five-percent success rate. Jesus, had this hallway always been this long? It felt like it was taking a stupid amount of time to get to the other end of it! Out of the very corners of his eyes, Donnie just barely spotted one of the larger guards rising back up to their feet, lunging at him from behind-- only for a neon green club to come whipping out of nowhere at the very last second, colliding with the side of his assailant’s head and throwing him right back to the ground.

“Hey! Only I get to hit my little brothers!” April shrieked, her face set in a furious scowl. The guard, a huge, stocky, lion-like creature snarled in reply, lashing out with his legs to send her sprawling to the floor with a yelp.

“Oh, you did not just do that to our friend!” Mikey snapped, flashing forward to stand protectively in front of their sister, his kusari-fundo whizzing around them, filling the air with a barely-there whine. “Back off!”

He lashed out with the weapon, his arm whipping forward with the movement-- only to blink in surprise when physics failed to behave as expected. Which, uh, was pretty unusual for physics. Physics were typically pretty reliable. But the weight at the end of his weapon spun wildly in place, suspended in air for several long seconds, before it promptly lit up in a blazing flame.

“Ooh!” Mikey shrieked in delight. “Magic weapon! Guys, loo-- ACK!”

And there they were, Donnie thought dimly to himself. 

The uncontrolled variables.

Donnie gasped, immediately ducking down and covering his head as his brother flew about the room like a deranged bird, still hanging onto his (seemingly demonic) mystic weapon. He all but pinballed off the walls, screaming the whole time. The lion just barely managed to leap out of the way before Mikey crashed into the wall, flopping down with a small squeak on impact, luckily seeming shaken but not injured.

“WHOA! Mikey! That was awesome!” Raph gaped, his eyes widening. “Dude, how did you do that?!”

“I dunno!” Mikey said, stumbling to his feet and kind of wavering a bit with dizziness. “I was just swinging my weapon around and it just-- did it!”

“Let me try!” Raph said, shaking his tonfas about like they were goddamn maracas. “Come on, magic weapon, magic weapon, magic weapon-- OOH!” He yelped in surprise as one of the remaining guards crashed into him, snarling as they all but whipped him from his feet. But Raph held his ground. “Okay, alright-- magic weapon tests later! Fight now!”

“Can’t wait to see what mine does!” Leo laughed as he leaped over the group, diving towards an oncoming yokai. He swung his blade forward, slicing through the air with a loud crackle of near-electric energy--

A bright blue circle of mystic energy promptly opened up beneath Leo, and he yelped in surprise as he went plunging downward.

And downward.

And downward.

And downward.

And downward.

“Hm,” Donnie remarked. “I guess he can teleport.” 

“GET! ME! OFF! THIS! RIDE!” Leo howled, flailing as he plummeted endlessly through the two parallel portals he had sliced through reality, one below his feet and the other up above his head, only picking up the pace the longer he fell. 

Donnie sighed loudly. He was sure someone else would get him. Eventually. In the meantime, someone was gonna have to take care of the remaining yokai guards. Luckily, this one was suitably distracted by his twin brother’s infinite falling.

“And that’s why I like fighting the old-fashioned way,” Donnie hummed, slipping past the yokai’s side and into his blind spot, watching their eyes widen in surprise as he jabbed sharply at them with his bo staff. They were just barely able to dodge out of the way of Donnie’s attacks. “Though the portal does make for some quality entertainment, I must admit--”

They jumped out of Donnie’s range, swiping forward with a clawed arm, and Donnie’s body immediately, instinctively moved in response, his bo staff flashing upward to block the move and force them off-kilter. He hardly even had to think. His body already knew what to do when he needed it.

It’s just like a tournament. No different from a tournament. You’ve won thousands of fights. This is exactly the same thing. Just keep your head, do the math-- You’re good at this, remember?

Bouncing off the yokai’s arm, Donnie’s staff whipped back around to ricochet into the side of their head, earning him a frustrated and perhaps pained snarl in response. See? Donnie grinned, just for a second, ducking easily out of the way of the guard’s counterattack and leaping to the side, finding himself the space once more to adjust his stance and run rapid calculations. Numbers danced in front of his eyes, and he quickly zeroed in on the equation with the best probability of success, building his plan of action around that.

The yokai snarled, leaping after him-- exactly as he expected. Donnie’s entire body instantly snapped downward and out of their path in response, ducking away from their attack. At the same time, they pitched themselves to the left, whipping their bo staff around as they went to find their mark. The guard made a short, strangled noise of surprise as the weapon collided with their throat, sending them reeling in the opposite direction. They were almost immediately on their knees, choking and spluttering as Donnie darted away, just the tiniest bit breathless as he went.

“Just like I planned it--!” He had laughed, quietly delighted that it had, in fact, gone the way he planned it, and why had he been worried? He could do this, he knew how to do this!-- when his youngest sibling went flying into his side with a yelp. 

The pair of them tumbled across the hallway before slamming into the wall, bringing their unexpected trip to a sudden and grinding halt. Donnie groaned softly, wincing as he slowly forced himself back up, stars all but dancing in front of his eyes, Mikey flopped over beside him and seeming just as dazed. Ow. Okay. That hadn’t been in his calculations.

He just barely caught sight of the lion yokai diving for them, catching on about half a second before the attack landed. 

He didn’t run any numbers this time. He didn’t have the chance.

His muscles moved quicker than even his brain could, throwing himself bodily over top of his baby brother to shield him from the coming impact.

[ next ]

[see-arcane]

I figured I should interrupt everyone's dash for some notes on current real life things.

This is a hefty one, so I'm tucking everything below:

A little good news. As of this writing, I’ve sold 74 copies of The Vampyres, in eBook and paperback! That’s 74 more than I thought I would ever sell! Thank you to everyone who picked up a copy or asked your library to grab some. Especially when I know I haven’t been the most stellar self-marketer. I can’t remember the last time I opened the septic tank formerly known as Twitter, so it’s all been down to this little corner here and a skinny appearance in Goodreads. Which means I owe any attention this short and sinister tale has received to you all and plain old word-of-mouth.

That said, thank you x100000 to you and any new readers yet to take a look. (And doubly so for those of you who go out of their way to leave comments and reviews around for me to reread ad infinitum.)

For those not in the know, all the info on The Vampyres can be found here, and all my author odds and ends can be found on my website here.

On a less heartening note…

As I’d already expected, the market for career writers is…rough. Copywriting—and writing in general—is technically a big open field (full of caveat descriptions about having to work with/teach AI programs to eventually swallow your job)! Tons of open positions! Most of which either pay you in pocket change while you’re working full time or expect you to singlehandedly run the entire marketing of a business for slightly more pocket change. Everything else is bloated with contract and/or freelance work*.

*Read: Gig economy schlock trying to pass for an actual job position with payment being a coin toss. I’ve also seen one too many listings on the job boards that are volunteer positions. Plenty of exposure to rake in though, right? Ha. Ha ha.

I’ve still been applying like clockwork, same as the rest of my fellow creators trying to get by in a field that seems to actively punish trying to be a professional in said field, and still no bites further than an interview. I have years of experience and a degree, but everyone’s chasing the same crumbs, so. Yeah. I’ve got to start padding things out.

Reminder that I do have a (barely peddled) Ko-Fi. It’s there for art commissions and chucking a few spare bucks at. Which is an increasingly big ask these days, I know. You can’t scroll two posts down without hitting someone else’s Ko-Fi, Patreon, GoFundMe, Kickstarter, et cetera. We’re drowning in arting starvists here. And although I have been asked before whether I would consider going full Freelance Storywriter on top of selling art, I’m still a little hesitant on it. I do occasionally send out story submissions and have even gotten published a few times, but I get nauseous thinking about:

1) Putting up a paywall on the scribbles that assail me like a baseball bat wielded by an unmerciful Muse. 2) Putting up a ‘Stories for Sale!’ sign only to wind up disappointing prospective buyers because I didn’t do their blorbos justice even after researching X background for the piece. 3) Getting duped into being a nonconsenting ghostwriter and discovering someone else has published my work under their own name.

So, still a bit iffy on that. I’ll chew on it. But what else is left?

Before you click the button!

Stop!

NOT YET!

Before you click, please know that I am being serious about this as something to potentially make 1) something of good quality and 2) earn more money than it loses. Looking around at the merch-making/selling options, there are fees involved with making an account just about anywhere in the online store game, give or take the price tweaking needed for shipping and manufacturing blah blah blah.

With that in mind, please do not automatically hit ‘yes’ because you want to be nice. I appreciate it, but this isn’t the same thing as the Ko-Fi where there’s no real loss in just leaving it up and drawing something once every few months. This will take new designs, another subscription to pay for, more logistics to untangle for quality and pricing and all the rest of the mess. Only hit ‘yes’ if you, personally, genuinely, would like to purchase some nefarious See Arcane wares beyond a book or a digital drawing.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 27 - Change

@jegulus-microfic February 27 Word count 575

Previous part First part

James walked into Dumbledore’s office for the second time in a week. This time, Regulus followed him in. Sirius had begged to come, but more than two of them and it would be hard to get in and out unseen. 

All the spindly tables and delicate instruments had been moved to the sides of the office, most likely on James’s account. He managed to walk to the chairs next to Dumbledore’s desk without tripping over anything once. 

‘Mr Potter, Mr Black,” Dumbledore started in his calm voice. “I believe you have come to ask me questions pertaining to Lord Voldemort’s true identity?” They both nodded. “In that case, I shall start from the beginning. His birth name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

He continued, giving as much detail as he could, and answered all of Regulus’s questions. Their pasts and relationships were put aside with the importance of what needed to be done. 

“So he’s a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin?” Regulus asked, unable to hide how impressed he was. 

“Yes, his mother was a Gaunt,” Dumbledore answered as Regulus furiously wrote notes in his notebook. 

“And he worked at Borgin and Burkes after he left Hogwarts?” Regulus wasn’t really looking for a confirmation. He was musing out loud, but Dumbledore answered him anyway.

He had a lot to go on now and already had a few ideas of where to start looking for the Horcruxes. “Is there anything else you know that could be important?” Regulus asked again as he finished his note-taking. 

“During his childhood, the orphanage where he lived took the children on a seaside holiday. There was apparently a cave that he lured a couple of his fellow children into. Something happened there that they both refuse to talk about.”

James and Regulus left shortly after that, walking across the grounds under James’s invisibility cloak.

“Why do you think he’d mention the cave?” James asked. “It’s a bit odd. Don’t you think? I mean, a cave? It’s weird, right?” James looked at Regulus as he tried to digest the information swirling around his head. 

“I think we should look into this cave. It’s such an odd thing for Dumbledore to mention. I think he kept something back from us. But at least we’ve got some actual leads to look into now. Slytherin, and Gaunt, these are big names. We’re bound to find something out about them that’s useful.” 

Regulus suddenly stopped, and James had to do the same quickly, or he’d walk out from under the cloak. 

“Hey, you okay, Reg? Regulus spun and put his hands on James’s shoulders. 

“I think we might actually have a chance, James. We might actually win this.” 

“We’re going to change the world, Reggie.” James wrapped his arms around Regulus’s waist and drew him closer.   

They said their goodbyes on the outskirts of Hogsmeade under the cover of the cloak. Regulus hadn’t wanted to let go of James. But eventually, James mentioned Sirius and Regulus let go. 

Regulus apparated back to Grimmauld Place and breathed a sigh of relief as his hand absentmindedly wandered to the secret pocket in his robes that held his notebook and the mirror. 

“Welcome home, Regulus. And where have you been so late at night?” Walburga Black stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall. 

All the warmth Regulus had been carrying around with him evaporated, replaced by thick shards of ice. 

“Well? Where have you been?” 

Next part

[ghulehunknown]

And He Sees Nothing Wrong With That

Terzo x F Reader

“You know you need to be punished for being too seducente”

Flashback Friday! Bringing back one of my first ever fics from AO3 and posting it here

Summary: Jealousy plagues Terzo’s mind after an unproductive and frustrating clergy meeting, and he sets out to prove you are his.

CW/Tags: sexual innuendo and humor, dry humping, oral sex (F receiving), public oral sex, vaginal fingering, light dom/sub, light degradation, light possessive behavior, spanking, established relationship, porn with plot

Word Count: 2.5K

On Saturday you headed into the chapel for a large meeting with Papa and several members of the clergy. You would finally be discussing the details of the next ritual installments.

During the first meeting of the day, Copia and one of the bishops kept staring at you and whispering to each other. Copia stole quick glances in your direction over and over. You quickly straightened the veil of your habit, feeling self conscious. Maybe they weren’t talking about you? You weren’t wearing anything revealing that day, your veil wasn’t out of place…So what could it be? You never had much interaction with the Cardinal before. You didn’t intend to return the looks but you couldn’t help your eyes darting back and forth through the pews to make sure if he was actually looking or not.

Terzo noticed this right away, and looked between you two while he was at the pulpit speaking. He paused momentarily, as he caught Copia’s eyes, then resumed speaking. “Ah sì, the fucking tour…” he trailed off, flipping through pages. “It’s going to be called the…” he traced his fingers along the paper and tapped it once he found the words. “Ah dio mio who wrote this shit?!”

You saw Copia frown a little and cross his arms. Slightly disgruntled, Terzo continued. “It’s the fucking Popestar Tour.” He gestured to himself, almost sarcastically showing off his full Papal regalia, and giving a little curtsy.

“I’m sorry, the Fucking Popestar Tour - are we fucking the audience now?” one of the other cardinals called out, garnering a few snickers from the clergy.

“What?” said Terzo.

Omega crumpled up his papers into a ball from the back pew and threw it at that cardinal’s head, nailing his target perfectly. The cardinal turned around to the ghoul, making foul gestures with his hands and cursing Satan’s name at him.

“Actually that’s a good idea!” piped up Copia for the first time in an hour, leaning forward in the front pew. That smart fucker, you thought. Pretend to sing praises of your Papa in front of the whole clergy while tearing him apart. He continued to glance towards you. You instinctively looked in his direction, now trying to warn him off from going any further, but he continued. “Papa Emeritus, we can barely afford these garments,” he said gesturing to Terzo’s robes. “Accounting is stretched thin, so we really should be thinking of ways to generate profit.”

Terzo shot a dark look in Copia’s direction, quickly shutting the Cardinal up. “Sì sì, like we have the time to line them up outside in the parking lot,” Terzo mused sarcastically. “You know,” he quipped, pointing his finger at Copia, boasting, “the shows have gotten bigger since I became Papa.” He glanced back at you and then to the audience.

“That’s perfect!” exclaimed one of the bishops. “Take a ride on the Pope - we’ll add it to the meet and greet experience!” (“Cazzo, that’s not what I meant,” said Terzo, though it fell on deaf ears.) The bishop clasped his hands together. “Hey, get HR on this immediately. Tack on an extra fifty euros to the regular meet and greet,” he murmured to the sister sitting next to him, who began scribbling on her clipboard. The rest of the audience murmured in agreement.

“Fifty…?” you could see Terzo mouth the words incredulously.

“Yes but how do we implement the fucking?” the sister asked. “Imperator will want to know the details.”

“Do we provide the condoms or does the audience?” someone else asked.

“Who said we’re using condoms?” shouted Rain, who sat in the back pews with the other ghouls. The younger ghouls whispered excitedly to each other and laughed boisterously. Alpha and Omega each took a turn to smack the younger ghouls on the back of the head, nearly knocking their masks off.

“We should definitely provide them,” said Copia. “You can’t trust any of these motherfuckers nowadays.”

“Who’s in charge of branding?” asked one of the cardinals. “They’ll be able to come up with something clever to put on the wrappers.”

“Cum Together!” said the sister, wagging her pen in the air, and continued writing furiously on her clipboard. Several clergy members nodded in agreement.

“Sì, just make it one big orgy,” added Copia, smiling sneakily, looking at you again. He chuckled. “You know, one time I went to an orgy - ”

“You shut up,” Terzo said, pointing a finger at Copia. Copia looked back at him offended but immediately snapped his mouth shut.

“Yes but HR will want to know the details - we need waivers a-and STD screenings - ” chimed in the sister, worriedly counting on her fingers before Terzo cut her off.

“No, no one is fucking me!” Terzo shouted. The room fell silent and he paused for a moment. “Not that cheaply anyway,” he added dryly, looking back through his notes to get back to the topic at hand. He scoffed and muttered under his breath, “Not since college…incredible.” He rolled his eyes and continued.

He finally calmed the audience down and finished speaking, then dismissed the clergy in a hurry to reconvene in fifteen minutes.

Copia leaned across the aisle to your pew before he left. “It was a good idea, no?” He shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the back pews to strike up conversation with the others.

Feeling annoyed, you turned back to him and started to say something but thought better of yourself and turned to face Terzo. Your eyes met his, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Oh shit, you thought, knowing just how this looked to him. You gathered your belongings and headed to the altar to start setting up the communion for mass later in the evening.

Terzo remained where he stood, gripping the sides of the pulpit as the clergy milled out of the front doors, tapping his fingers on the sleek mahogany. You could hear the gold nails on his leather black gloves click rhythmically against the wood. You gazed along his profile; he wore a frown and raised an eyebrow, looking straight ahead.

Once most of the clergy left, he walked over to the altar where you stood. “Come here, Sorella!” You tried to look busy to avoid the intensity of his gaze. His papal face paint looked even more menacing in the light of the chandelier, the light only picking up the white paint and his white eye. He seemed taller when he wore his mitre and full papal robes.

He grabbed the large silver Grucifix next to you and clutched your hair, forcing you face down and bending you over the altar. “We talked about this, Sorella. You understand the consequences, sì?”

You yelped. “Papa wait - ”

“Silence,” he commanded, pushing up your skirt and paddling you square on the ass with the metal cross. You let out a small moan. Fuck, why did that feel good? Your skin stung, mostly from the cold of the metal, as he wasn’t intending to mark you - only making a metaphorical point of who you belonged to.

“Yes, Papa,” you said, resigning while feeling your heart beat with excitement.

He tore down your panties to your ankles, spat into his hand, and shoved two clawed, gloved fingers into your pussy, unrelentingly moving them in and out. You moaned louder this time.

The two cardinals who were still in the back of the hall murmured and quickly shuffled out the front door.

“Sei mia,” he whispered menacingly quiet in your ear. He groped your left breast as he dry humped your thigh from behind, his golden nails still gripping you inside. “You know you need to be punished for being too seducente, si?”

You whined, the pain from his slap still stinging and his gold nails prodding your soft interior flesh. “Yes Papa I was so stupid,” you choked out, clinging to the cold marble altar for support. You could feel his rock hard erection prod into your thigh through his robes. He lifted up your leg to go deeper inside your cunt, now raw from his claws pounding into you feverishly.

He sighed contentedly. “You’re so tight, Sorella. I can feel you getting wetter with every touch, these gloves are sliding in so easily now. Cazzo!” he exclaimed, rubbing his clothed erection on your thigh in fervent passion. “You’re going to be moaning when the next session begins - just like my goddess should. Sei così futto bellissima. You are mine, and I am yours. I want the whole fucking clergy to see you’re mine, and show that idiota Copia his place. He thinks I’m some joke? I’ll show him.” He grabbed your jaw with his free hand. “You hear me?”

You nodded in his hand. “Terzo, my beloved, there’s nothing going on there! Please, believe me - ”

He pulled your hair back so you could see into his eyes. “I know bella mia, he’s just a prick. And he’s been making eyes at you. And how could he not - sei la più bella qui.” He relinquished the grasp on your hair, your hairline aching from his tight grip, and he swung your head back down to the marble. He continued fingering you from behind, pinning you down with his other arm to keep you from moving wildly by his frenzied, almost desperate touch. He kept looking towards the door. “Where’s your phone?” he asked.

You whined, barely able to utter another word.

“Your phone, your phone, principessa!” he urged.

You wanted to ask where his was but could only manage a few guttural moans and pointed to the floor, where your phone flew out of your habit moments earlier.

He bent down and picked it up to look at the lock screen, never breaking his rhythmic thrusts with his hand. He grunted and mumbled, “He knows better than to text you when I’m right here.” You leaned over to see 12:53 - seven more minutes until the next meeting was supposed to reconvene. “We can figure out how to kill time,” he said, finally easing up on you, now slowly entering you with just his index finger. “That’ll teach that stupido uomo ossessionato dai ratti not to covet what does not belong to him. Voglio assaporarti.”

Fuck, he really was going to one-up Copia.

He flipped you over so your back laid against the cool marble. He hovered over you and stared deep into your eyes as he slipped his gloved fingers out of you and into his mouth, moaning, tasting you. “Deliziosa,” he said. He slid two fingers back inside your dripping wet pussy, rolling his thumb over your clit. You grinded your hips against his hand, clutching the edge of the altar, hoping to hurry up your encounter before anyone else came back in. Small, wet sounds echoed along the stone walls.

You both glanced back at your phone - 12:55. The Cardinal was usually annoyingly early.

“Who makes you feel good?” he asked loudly.

“You do, Papa!” you screamed.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded.

“You, Papa!”

“You would never leave me, not for him?” This last question sounded wounded, not a command. He broke your gaze briefly, looking at the floor, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He quickly flicked his eyes back to yours.

Why would he ask these questions? “Never my love,” you whispered, whimpering at his touch. Your clit quivered under his thumb, and your wet cunt contracted around his digits.

“Good girl.” He spread your legs apart, and ravished you with his tongue, flicking wildly around your clit and motioning a come-hither inside you with his index finger. You grabbed the sides of the altar in euphoria. Your body convulsed around him, your thighs wrapping around his neck. You lost control as your body tensed and released, Terzo moving expertly in rhythm with your hips, and you cried out in ecstasy, your ardent moans for your lover echoing through the chapel walls. Your arousal came flooding out of you, and Terzo latched his lips around your labia and sucked deeply, drinking you.

He gulped and chuckled, as he continued to finger you while he looked up. You followed his gaze to the front of the chapel, where Copia and several cardinals and bishops stood, mouths agape at the sight before them.

You quickly shoved him off you and pulled down your habit to cover yourself, but it was too late as they likely walked in just as you were wailing like an animal for your Papa.

“Are you quite finished?” one of the bishops asked, annoyed.

Copia was red in the face and glanced away as Terzo stared at him. He brought his arousal soaked fingers to his mouth again, exaggeratedly sucking them clean. “Oh sì, ho concluso il mio lavoro,” he said, answering the bishop but grinning at Copia, his face paint smeared around his mouth and chin.

You blushed, embarrassed; yet you tried to hide a grin yourself, because that was one of the most thrilling experiences of your life. You slid off the altar and stood beside Terzo, trying to conceal putting your underwear back on by standing behind his vestments. You held onto his shoulder for support, your legs shaking like mad.

Copia slowly made his way up the steps, papers and Unholy Book in hand, eyeing the altar where you just laid. You had left behind a small pool of your arousal - and probably some of Terzo’s saliva as well. “I see,” he muttered, a disgusted look on his face as he tried to find a clean surface to place his things. The remaining cardinals and bishops took their seats, eyeing Terzo with trepidation. It looked like everyone - Copia especially - had several words to say, but their place was beneath Papa.

Terzo grabbed you by the shoulders to whisk you away, and you both broke out into laughter as you made your way to the pews. As it was the Cardinal’s turn to lead this meeting, Terzo happily took his place in the second row pew, propping up his feet up on the back of the first row and leaning back contentedly with his hands behind his head. He proudly wore his smudged paint and the scent of you like a badge of honor. You took your place beside him, still stifling laughter.

Copia flipped through his Unholy Book, trying not to look at the two of you entwined in an embrace. Terzo kissed you on the temple, looking at Copia. “Cardinal, I know it must be hard for you to imagine such a passionate embrace, seeing as you’ve never pleased a woman…but this is how it’s done.”

Copia slammed his book shut and started to speak but suddenly fell silent. “Sister Imperator,” Copia said, bowing his head slightly in respect.

Imperator came entering the chapel and took her place a few rows behind you, on the opposite side of the aisle - almost as if to keep a close watch on you.

Terzo sank down into the pew, pulling up his robes to cover his face, as if that would make him invisible. You looked behind your shoulder, and caught a glimpse of her stern face.

What trouble would you be in now?

Italian to English Translations

- dio mio (my god)

- Cazzo (fuck)

- Sei mia (you’re mine)

- seducente (seductive)

- Sorella (Sister/Nun)

- Sei così futto bellissima (You are so fucking beautiful)

- Idiota (idiot)

- bella mia (my beauty)

- sei la più bella qui (you’re the prettiest here)

- principessa (princess)

- stupido uomo ossessionato dai ratti (stupid rat-obsessed man)

- Voglio assaporarti (I want to savor you)

- Deliziosa (delicious)

- Ho concluso il mio lavoro (I’ve finished my job)

[messrmoonyy]

Tess catching reader touching herself? 🤭

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

Wc- 1k | 18+

Navigation | Tess Masterlist

Your fingers moved over the slick folds of your cunt with ease, almost struggling to find friction against your clit. Your eyes were clenched shut, focusing completely on the images flashing on the backs of your eyelids.

Her.

Tess.

You’d woken up feeling like an animal in heat, only to find to your utter dismay that Tess wasn’t home. You’d had a shitty night time shift in the loading bays, not returning home until the early hours and had slept the majority of the day. So it made sense she wasn’t there. She’d still be doing whatever assigned work she had pencilled in for the day.

But god did you wish she was home.

You needed her like you needed air, practically feral with the idea of her fingers replacing your own.

But she wasn’t there. So you had to make do. Had to settle for the memories of every other time she had her way with you. You knew what it felt like to be touched by her so well that you could almost feel the ghosts of her fingertips on your thighs if you thought about it hard enough.

You knew what every part of her body felt like against yours. How her lips felt against your neck, her fingers in your hair and on your face. Curled up inside of you or pinning your wrists above your head. You knew how her own soft skin felt sliding against your own.

You couldn’t even pick a particular memory to replay. Too many to choose. Too many bliss filled moments in time to sieve through and pull out a favourite. Nights and days spent coming apart on her fingers, on her strap, or the times where she refused to touch you at all and made you get off by grinding against her thigh. And there had been that one time with her boot…

You’d do anything for any of those moments to manifest themselves into reality right now.

But unfortunately they couldn’t. And all you had were the memories. And your fingers. Fingers that were moving quickly, desperate to find some relief from the almost suffocating tension in your body.

Your wrist was starting to ache but you didn’t care, you had one end goal. And that was coming with your girlfriends face on your mind. You were focussed. Determined. Desperate.

“ well. Was gonna ask you if you had fun whilst I was gone but… I can see you did “ you startled as Tess’ voice filtered into your ears, turning your head so quickly your neck cricked with the movement. She shed her jacket as she walked towards you, smirking slightly as she looked you up and down

“ Tess “ you couldn’t quite work out if the sigh of her name was out of embarrassment or pure and utter relief.

“ you know I could’ve been anybody right? I came in, locked the door and got half way over here and it wasn’t until I spoke that you knew I was here “ she said as she stood beside the bed, leaning over you and nudging her fingers under your chin “ so caught up in touching that pretty pussy weren’t you hmm? “ you practically melted under her gaze, muscles and bones turning to mush and pooling into the mattress beneath you “ well don’t stop on my account, I know that pretty face you were making. So close weren’t you? “

Words failed you for a few moments, too caught up in admiring her face above yours and the sultry tone of her voice. There was something about her voice. Maybe it was the low tones, the way she always spoke so slowly and precise. How every word felt almost… dangerous. You loved it.

“ yes “ you managed to whisper, mesmerised by her utterly.

“ then keep going “ you didn’t need telling twice, fingers returning to their previous motions as she moved to sit beside you on the bed. Watching, intently as your hand moved underneath the fabric of your sweats. Which she didn’t seem too pleased about “ such a shame to hide away” she mused and patted your hip lightly as she grabbed at the waistband, pulling your sweatpants and underwear off with a smile “ there we go. I know you’re not shy “

Her fingers grazed over the newly exposed skin of your legs as she went, her eyes hungry as she admired you in front of her. She moved up beside you, resting her elbow in the pillows beside your head to prop her up, ensure she still had a good view. Maybe you should’ve been embarrassed having her watch you like that. But you weren’t.

In fact quite the opposite. You let your legs fall apart, let her see the mess you had created just by thinking about her.

“ tell me what got you like this? “ she said softly, her spare hand ghosting lazily over the exposed skin of your stomach “ exactly. I want every detail “

So you told her. Every single thing you had been recounting. How it felt to have her fingers inside of you, her tongue on your clit. How it felt to have her teeth grazing over the skin of your neck or the sensitive buds of your nipples. You told her it all, watching her face carefully as you did so and trying your hardest to ignore the burning need to come.

Her eyes practically sparkled as she watched you, even more so when you couldn’t hold on any longer and let your orgasm flood your vein. Not even needing to exaggerate your movements or sounds because you knew she’d see right through that. You knew she knew you looked and sounded like. She’d see it often enough.

You went slack as the afterglow washed over you, the blissful warmth of your orgasm still thrumming in your blood, bones made of jelly. Tess made some small sound of approval, her fingers suddenly tracing over your hot skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake, tracing down your arm to join your fingers that were still wet and sticky against your cunt.

“ now “ she said with another smirk “ let’s see how many more times you can make that pretty face for me “

[kjack89]

Say Don't Go

E/R, canon era. Some light angst for your Friday evening (or whatever your timezone equivalent). Implied canonical character death, blood mention.

The candle in the back room of the Musain flickered with increasing unsteadiness, its melted wax having long since overflowed from the holder. Shadows cast by its inconsistent light danced along the walls, accompanied solely by the sound of Enjolras’s pen scritching across paper and the methodic dull thud of Grantaire’s wine bottle as it was lifted to lips then returned to its place.

Without warning, the candle spluttered out, plunging the room into darkness.

“I suppose we should take that as a sign,” Grantaire said, a moment later, and Enjolras sighed.

“You may,” he said shortly, standing and fumbling to light another candle. “Would that my work ceased with the absence of light.”

He successfully lit another candle, lighting the room once more, and Grantaire just shook his head. “But does your work not bring light into the world of its own accord?” he mused.

Enjolras glanced at him. “Coming from you, that is almost a compliment.”

Grantaire laughed. “Only if we are in the business of considering drunken rambling to be complimentary.”

“Again, from you…”

Enjolras trailed off and Grantaire laughed again, a somewhat gentler sound this time. “That I suppose is the most potent sign yet that I should take my leave, before my words somehow bring offense, intended or otherwise.”

He stood and Enjolras glanced up at him. “You need not leave on my account,” he said.

Grantaire paused, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Truly?”

“Grantaire, if I made a point of removing you every time you caused offense, you would never again attend another Les Amis meeting,” Enjolras said patiently, already looking back down at his papers.

But still Grantaire hesitated. “There remains a difference between my presence at one of our meetings versus my presence here, after hours, with just you as company.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth before blurting, “Would you permit any other attendee of our meetings to stay late into the night with you in this way?”

“No other attendees are brave enough to attempt it,” Enjolras murmured.

“Or fool enough,” Grantaire countered.

Enjolras glanced up with a small smile. “That too,” he agreed.

Grantaire hesitated for a moment more before shrugging. “Very well,” he said, taking his seat again. “If you truly do not mind.”

“I have far more important things to concern myself with than how you choose to spend your evening,” Enjolras told him.

“Yes,” Grantaire said, reaching automatically for his bottle of wine. “I imagine you do.”

— — — — —

“Sit,” Grantaire ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument, pointing at a chair as he crossed to the washbasin, rolling his shirt sleeves up. 

To his surprise, Enjolras sat without complaint, which in and of itself was evidence that forcing him to sit and stay still was the best move. Joly might have additional advice, but he had been swept up in the crowd after the National Guard had interrupted their assembly, leaving Grantaire alone to close his hand around Enjolras’s wrist and bodily drag him from the scene.

But not before Enjolras managed to get himself hit in the temple by the butt of a musket.

It was with slightly shaking hands that Grantaire managed to wet a cloth in the washbasin, and he took a deep, steadying breath before turning back to Enjolras, and the blood that matted the entire right hand side of his face. “I’m certain it looks worse than it is,” Enjolras murmured, though he didn’t quite meet Grantaire’s eyes as he said it.

“And I am certain that you do not find yourself in a position to determine as such,” Grantaire said, reaching out to tilt Enjolras’s chin just slightly with two fingers before finally reaching out with the wet cloth.

Enjolras winced at the touch and would have flinched away were it not for Grantaire holding his head steady. “I can do that,” he protested, his voice little more than a mumble, as Grantaire began washing the blood from the side of his face.

Grantaire made a small dissenting noise, his eyes not leaving the gash at Enjolras’s hairline. “You certainly can,” he murmured. “But I have little faith that you would if left to your own devices.”

“To be fair, you have little faith in just about everything,” Enjolras returned evenly.

A smile twitched at the corner of Grantaire’s mouth. “Well, save for—”

“Your full glass, yes,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. “Do you ever grow weary of making the same jest?”

“Haven’t yet,” Grantaire told him, straightening to return to the washbasin and rinse the cloth. As he did, Enjolras stretched and made the tell-tale signs of beginning to stand, and Grantaire whipped around instantly, scowling. “Did I say you could stand?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes once more. “I am fine,” he told Grantaire, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Grantaire pursed his lips. “I did not say otherwise.”

“Well enough to stand, at the very least,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Now that remains to be seen.” He pointed again at the chair before ordering, for a second time, “Sit.”

Enjolras sat, scowl firmly in place. “I think you are enjoying this,” he said, a little sourly, and Grantaire’s shoulders tensed as he hunched over the washbasin, the water in it pink with blood.

“You think that I enjoy tending to your wounds?”

Grantaire’s voice was quiet but Enjolras still flinched as if he had shouted. “I did not mean—”

Again Grantaire turned to him, his face impassive as he took his previous spot at Enjolras side, pressing the cloth once more to Enjolras’s head. “My preference would be that you not be harmed seemingly every time you get it in your head to set foot out your door, but my vote, it seems, does not carry much weight.”

Enjolras winced, though it did not appear to be from the pressure Grantaire was applying. “I—”

“What?”

Enjolras sighed. “I apologize.”

Grantaire blinked, his hand not moving. “There really is a first time for everything.”

For a long moment, they sat like that in silence before Enjolras rolled his shoulders and tilted his head, trying to catch Grantaire’s eye. “I do mean what I said earlier, though.”

“Which part?” Grantaire asked.

“That I can do this myself,” Enjolras told him, reaching up to rest a hand on top of Grantaire’s and the cloth still pressed to his temple. “You need not stay.”

Grantaire just made a small humming noise of what could have been agreement or dissent in equal measure. “I shall take that under advisement,” he murmured, making absolutely no move to pass the cloth to Enjolras or otherwise move.

Enjolras sighed, his hand dropping to his lap. “You shall be the death of me,” he said sourly.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Grantaire’s face. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

— — — — —

Grantaire sat upright, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed but making no attempt to stand. He glanced back at Enjolras, sprawled next to him, the light from the moon filtering through the window casting Enjolras’s usually golden curls with a silver sheen. “What?” Enjolras asked, something languid and almost sleepy in his tone. 

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, his fingers twitching against the bed sheets.

A frown puckered Enjolras’s forehead. “And yet you look as though you are waiting for me to say something.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Perhaps I am.”

Enjolras sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Would it not be easier to tell me what you wished to hear?” he asked, something like frustration coloring his words. “I am—” For the first time that evening, even more so than when he had asked Grantaire to accompany him to his bed hours earlier, Enjolras hesitated. “You know that I am not experienced in this regard, so if there is any set of usual platitudes I should be offering—”

Grantaire let out a noise like a snort, shaking his head. “After all this time, you think I seek mere platitudes?” he asked, his voice low.

Enjolras rolled onto his side to face him. “Truth be told, I know not what you seek,” he said, matching Grantaire’s tone. “From me, from this, from any of it.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “All this time, I have sought only one thing.”

He said it simply, evenly, and Enjolras frowned, looking away. “That is what I feared most of all,” he said quietly. “That you should seek the one thing that I cannot offer.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just looked at him, something unreadable in his expression. Then he sighed and drew a hand across his face. “I know what you presume I wish to hear, but you are wrong,” he said. “Never have I expected to hear those three sweet words from your lips in this or any lifetime.” He leaned over so that his lips were practically against Enjolras’s ear. “I would settle instead for two.”

“Two?” Enjolras breathed.

Grantaire nodded. “Don’t go,” he murmured.

Enjolras shifted away slightly so that he could frown at him. “You wish for me to tell you to stay?”

Grantaire shook his head. “No. I wish for you to ask me not to go.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “I see no difference—”

“I suppose you wouldn’t, so used are you to having every request treated as an edict,” Grantaire mused, straightening once more. “And that is what telling me to stay would be: a command. You and I both know I have had no great success at following commands, even the ones given by you.” He paused, his eyes searching Enjolras’s for a long moment. “But while you have commanded many things of me, all of which I have failed, never once have you asked anything of me. So if there are only two words I could hear fall from your lips, it would be that request alone.”

Enjolras looked away. “Must I ask for something that is offered freely?”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression, but his voice was even as he replied, “Only so that the person offering knows that it is not he alone who wants it.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment, broken only by Enjolras’s eventual sigh as he rolled over onto his other side, his back to Grantaire. “If you wish to stay, stay.”

Grantaire swallowed and nodded with unspoken understanding. “And I think it best that I go.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “If that is what you wish.”

— — — — —

Enjolras ground his teeth together, frustration palpable. “Go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire just smirked, lifting the bottle of wine in his hand but not drinking from it. “Give me one compelling reason why I should,” he challenged.

“You are drunk.”

Enjolras said it flatly, his disappointment clear, and Grantaire’s smirk sharpened. “That has never hindered my staying in the past.”

“Fine,” Enjolras said impatiently. “You are drunk and you are annoying me.”

Still Grantaire looked amused. “Again, never before have you found that a hindrance.”

“Well, I find it one tonight.”

Grantaire set the bottle down, propping his chin on his hand as he looked thoughtfully at Enjolras. “I don’t believe that you do.”

Enjolras scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard what I said, unless you have suffered yet another injury, this time to your ears,” Grantaire said, before repeating, enunciating every syllable, “I don’t believe you.”

“You think that I speak falsely?” Enjolras asked, with a dangerous sort of calm.

Grantaire just shrugged. “It is less that I find your words false and more that I understand your meaning to differ from what you speak.”

Enjolras scoffed, looking down at the pamphlet in front of him. “I don’t believe even you know what that means.”

Grantaire’s smirk became brittle. “It means that you say one thing, knowing that I will understand what it is you truly wish to say but cannot allow yourself to.”

Now Enjolras looked up sharply, his lips pressed together into a flat line. “You know not of what you speak,” he said, the same dangerous edge to the words.

A dangerous edge that Grantaire did not heed. “Don’t I?”

“No.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s face and he leaned forward, urgency in every line of his body. “I, who have spent every day of the past few years deconstructing every sentence you have ever uttered?” he asked quietly. “I alone who has spent uncountable hours at your side to hear what words you do not share with even your closest friends? You think I know not of what you speak?”

His volume had risen considerably by the end, and Enjolras just lifted his chin, meeting his glare coolly. “You have deluded yourself into believing this is more than what it is. You may lace your words with hidden meanings and double entendres, but that does not mean—”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “And now you accuse me of not saying what it is I think!” He stood abruptly, taking only a few automatic steps toward Enjolras. “My God, man, I could not be any more transparent with my thoughts, with my feelings, if I tried. I ruminate and I ramble and every thought that has ever existed in my head has seemingly also passed my lips, but you—“

He broke off, shaking his head, equal parts admiring and grudging. “Every word that passes your lips is weighed, measured, considered,” he said. “Each sentence as carefully constructed as any of your plans. And so I have taught myself to read between your pauses just as surely as your words, to find meaning in each breath and every hesitation. Call me deluded if you must, but do not sit there and tell me that I do not know of what I speak, in this instance at the very least.”

Enjolras said nothing, and Grantaire took another step towards him, reaching out for his hand. “There may only be two words I have ever wanted to hear, but it does not mean you have not said them in every way that matters. And that is why I do not believe you find my presence a hindrance, on this or any night.”

But Enjolras just pulled his hand away, his expression carefully neutral. “Go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire’s hand fell to his side. “So be it,” he said. “But returning to my home will not change the meaning of any words said here tonight – or anything left unsaid.”

“I know,” Enjolras said quietly, so softly that Grantaire almost could not hear him. “I only wish that it could.”

— — — — —

There was no moon in the sky, and the only candle in the room had long since extinguished itself.

Still, Grantaire moved with practiced ease, finding his clothes where he had flung them a few hours earlier. He shrugged into his shirt, doing up the buttons with long, nimble fingers, pale against the stark blackness of the room.

Enjolras watched with hooded eyes as Grantaire tugged his trouser on and then stood, disappearing a little at a time under each additional layer, the hastily buttoned waistcoat, the sloppily tied cravat.

Neither man made any attempt to speak.

Perhaps all that needed to be said had been.

Or perhaps both feared breaking the tentative, unspoken truce that had led Grantaire again to Enjolras’s bed that night.

In any case, Grantaire turned to the door without sparing Enjolras an additional glance, and only then did he hesitate, his hand on the doorknob.

Without warning, he turned, crossing back to the bed and reaching for Enjolras, his hand gentle against the back of Enjolras’s neck as he pulled him up just enough to press a single long kiss to Enjolras’s forehead, the kiss like a benediction, a sacrament.

Penance and absolution in one.

His fingers carded through the wispy curls at the nape of Enjolras’s neck, but still he made no attempt to speak, or otherwise break the moment.

A moment that was not enough, and could never be enough, but the only moment that Enjolras had ever granted.

He held onto the moment as though he could somehow force it to be enough.

Then he straightened, and this time, when he left, he did not turn back.

— — — — —

Grantaire, roused by the silence, stumbled forward, his eyes fixed on Enjolras and only Enjolras. Just as always.

He brushed past the National Guard as though they were no more than mere specters, for in that moment, they were. One final impetus for the unspoken conversation that had ruled what little he had forged with Enjolras over the years.

“Do you permit it?” he asked, the simple question that defined their entire existence, that narrated the way their lives were forever entwined and hurtling towards this moment no matter what either man had tried to wrought along the way. 

Enjolras’s answer to the question was as immaterial as ever, because Grantaire had always known what the answer was, or would be. Had known it as certainly as he knew that it would end like this.

His answer was in the soft smile Enjolras gave him there at the end of all things. It was in the gentle press of his palm against Grantaire’s, just as it had been in every kiss, every touch, every gasp wrung from Enjolras’s body. Grantaire had heard what he so longed to hear in every way that mattered, in the end.

He only hoped that Enjolras knew it, too.

There was no time now to ask, no time to speak, but so much of them had lived in the unsaid that it mattered not.

The final volley of gunfire sounded, but Grantaire did not hear it. His eyes were still fixed on Enjolras, and he heard but one thing, one final time:

Don’t go.

[junosmindpalace]

dangerously yours

☾ ft. osamu dazai

☾ dazai sees you to your dorm. 640. pt 1. 

inspired by the dialogue from the “dangerously yours” radio show.

“look, y/n! a shooting star!”

you walked toward dazai following his gaze into the night, only managing to catch a glimpse of light streaming across the sky before it vanished into the darkness as suddenly as it had appeared. 

“did you wish?”

“oh,” you sighed dejectedly, settling your arms on the metal railing in front of you. “i didn’t have time.”

the two of you stood on the second floor of the armed detective agency dormitory, gazing onward at the night time yokohama scenery. it was late when the two of you left the office, exhausted from the mountains of paperwork you had to attend to. dazai, ever the hard worker, hardly touched his stack, yet insisted he stay behind with you out of courtesy. you had no qualms with it, but now you think you’ll be a bit more insistent on sending dazai on his way in the future after he nagged at you the entire time, even having the audacity to complain about the workload. 

he turned toward you with a faint smile, the cool, gentle night breeze blowing through his hair. 

“and there is something you wish for?”

you felt oddly naked without a curtain between you and dazai’s attentive gaze, as if the wind revealed your deepest secrets simply by pulling back the hair around your face. you sensed no malice in his question however, his voice uncharacteristically soft and curious. you paused, staring down at the ground a story below you, and then answered quietly. “yes.”

“what did you wish?”

that we were two other people. two people who need not to say goodbye.

but of course you wouldn’t tell him that. 

so instead you turned toward him and stuck your tongue out. “if i were to tell you, it wouldn't come true.”

dazai groaned exasperatedly, throwing his head back. “don’t be like that, y/n!”  

“shush. you’ll wake all of yokohama.”

he grumbled as he pulled himself up, leaning his hips back and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, staring out at the city lights with an expression you just couldn’t place. 

you watched him out of the corner of your eye, trying yet again to get a read on what he’s thinking. he wore an almost sad sort of expression, though you highly doubted it was because you refused to tell him your wish. the voices of your fellow port mafia members chanted in a whisper in your head: monster. 

though joining the detective agency only a mere month ago, none of the accounts you had of osamu dazai have aligned with the man you had come to know. though it wouldn’t have been far-fetched to apply those accounts to how he treats his partner at the agency. he slacks off on his work, rarely attends meetings and randomly disappears without word of excuse. he truly was the mystery everyone said he was. 

“it’s late. you should be heading inside.”

your shoulders tensed at the sudden comment, his words slightly muffled from his chin in his hand. his eyes never left the city lights. 

you nodded. “you should head inside, too. get some sleep, alright?”

at that, he smiled, turning his head to look at you with a dopey grin. “how can i deny a request from a beautiful lady?”

you rolled your eyes, but weren’t able to suppress your own smile. “goodnight.” 

he waved you off as you climbed down the stairs to the ground floor. before letting yourself into your dorm, you peaked over the roof. dazai was still staring off into the night, wearing a lighter expression than the one you observed only a minute ago, a tired smile spread across his face. 

if only we were two different people, you mused, something you had been catching yourself doing all too often in regards to dazai as of late. maybe one day i’d get to know what goes on in that head of yours. 

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Elain was brought to Nesta, standing in a little alcove that offered them the illusion of privacy. Nesta looked exhausted, eyes ringed with dark circles and her face paler than Elain remembered. She watched Elain approach, nostrils flaring and lips thinning.

“I don’t know which of you is worse,” Nesta hissed when Elain reached her. “Tell me the rumors aren’t true.”

Elain should have known Nesta hadn’t come to hug. “What rumors?”

There were so many possibilities, and Elain didn’t dare to admit to anything. Nesta narrowed her eyes, but said, “You killed a High Lord?”

“That was Eris Vanserra,” Elain said automatically, just like Cadmus had instructed. Nesta looked like living flame just then, like she might combust entirely. “I was only in the room.”

“That’s not what Killian has said. He’s frantic.”

“Why?” Elain genuinely could not fathom what would have Killian so worked up. If Eris wanted to hold Elain accountable, surely he would have called in the troops by now. 

“Because you assisted in killing a High Lord,” Nesta hissed, speaking slow as though Elain were simple. “Why aren’t you more concerned?”

“Because Eris Vanserra isn’t going to share any of the credit,” Elain replied snappishly. “And this is just another attempt on Killian’s end to drag me home. I’m not going.”

Nesta stared at her for a moment, blue eyes unreadable. “Feyre said the same thing,” she mused, more to herself than to Elain. “No one wants to return.”

“Why are you here, Nesta?”

“Because the rumors circling you are concerning. Shacking up with a Day Court Prince—” Nesta’s nostrils flared again, lip curling in triumph when she realized that must be true.

“Assassinating High Lords. Three of them are dead in the span of a day, and our family is at the center of all three. Not to mention Hybern is in Spring—”

“What?” Elain breathed, trying to recall if Lucien had told her that.

Nesta’s amusement died again. “Tamlin is a fool. His father had some bargain with their king—one that was broken when he died, and should have remained broken. But Tamlin…Tamlin invited their general in anyway, and has been giving them tours of the wall.”

“Why would he do that?” Elain demanded, heart frantic in her chest. There were defenseless humans on the other side of that wall. Not to mention, her family was centralized in Spring, left to the whims of Hybern. Maybe her father would be fine, but would everyone else? Nesta waited for Elain to have the same realization she must have had. 

“Because he truly believes Rhysand has kidnapped Feyre and is holding her mind, and nothing short of a thousand years married to her will convince him otherwise. Lucien Vanserra’s assertion that she was not spelled and quite herself didn’t matter. Tamlin is willing to sacrifice everything to get her back.”

“So what do we do?” Elain asked, stepping a little closer. “I could talk to the High Lord—”

“We need to go home,” Nesta said, reaching for Elain’s shoulders. “All three of us. We need to go back, and I can’t convince Feyre this is the right thing.”

Elain blinked. “You want me to…”

“To talk to her? Yes. I want you to tell her that Tamlin isn’t listening to reason. He needed to see her, hear it from her own lips.”

“And what then? What if he doesn’t?” Elain demanded, pulling from Nesta’s grip. “What if you’re right and he won’t believe her unless she marries him. Are you asking me to convince Feyre or that, too?”

“No. There will be no convincing her, not when—” Nesta pressed her lips together tightly, arms crossed over her chest. “If Tamlin can’t be convinced, there is still one brother who could rule. Killian has some sense, at least. He hates Amarantha.”

“You don’t need me for that,” Elain murmured.

“You’re the only one who has seen a High Lord die,” Nesta disagreed, eyes pleading. “And I can’t do this by myself. I don’t want to go back either, Elain. We have to. Spring has been our home and the thought of letting it fall…I…”

Elain knew if she told Lucien this plan, he’d intervene. He’d come up with a hundred reasons for her to wait, or for him to accompany her. She thought of her promise—she wanted to make things permanent between them. 

“How much time do I have?”

“I’d like to leave right now,” Nesta said gently, as if she guessed Elain’s thoughts. “It’s not forever. That mate of yours will survive a week without you.”

Elain didn’t bother asking how Nesta knew. Of course she did. She must have scented it the moment Elain walked into the room. 

“A week?” Elain questioned, sliding the ring on her finger in circles. Nesta nodded her head, though Elain thought it was smart not to make any promises. A week could become a month, or even a year if they weren’t careful. 

“What happens if Feyre says no?”

“Then we go back and you can explain to me exactly how you ended up in a room with the High Lord as his son murdered him.”

Nesta’s eyes glittered with promise—she knew Elain was lying. Elain didn’t bother to correct her, even as she thought the plan was awful. Beron had been seduced by a younger, prettier female and put in a compromising position. Elain very much doubted she or Nesta could tempt Tamlin into the same.

He likely would have heard the details, besides. The only person who was going to ever get close enough to Tamlin was Feyre. And if Feyre was smart, she wouldn’t agree to go back. She’d say no and stay safe in Night with the new High Lord and whatever friends she’d made. 

“Did mother write to you?” Elain asked, thinking of her things dumped wordlessly into Lucien’s bedroom. What kind of welcome was waiting for her at home?

“She did,” Nesta said, her voice laced with pity. “She is…unhappy, but not unswayable.”

“She’ll never approve of him,” Elain insisted, her voice thin and reedy. 

“It’s not her life,” Nesta said fiercely. “She made her choices with father, and you get to make yours, too. What male wants another male’s mate, besides? Killian thinks he will but the scent coming off you makes my hair stand on edge. Mother had a life planned for us all, and we’ve wrecked it.”

“Sorry about Atticus,” Elain murmured. Nesta had always been slated to marry him just as soon as she finished her studies.

Nesta smiled—a genuine thing that made her far more beautiful than she already was. “Why? The High Lord of Night did me a favor. Atticus, too, if we’re honest. I don’t think he ever wanted me as a wife, either.” 

“If we’re going to leave, we should go now,” Elain murmured, looking behind her sister toward the window and the rising sun. Lucien would eat breakfast and meet with his father before coming to look for her again. 

He’d understand, she reasoned. Lucien wouldn’t like the deception, but he’d understand. And he’d be careful, too. Rationalizing that if things went so wrong, Elain could take refuge in nearby Autumn, she reached for Nesta’s hand and began leading her through the palace. Her home. 

I’ll be back, I’ll be back, she chanted in her head. Careful to keep her heart rate steady so she wouldn’t alert Lucien that anything was amiss, Elain managed to get Nesta through the palace without much notice. Courtiers and scholars still fluttered through the halls, glancing her way before returning to their conversations. She was nothing interesting anymore—a princess, so commonplace most of them just barely inclined their heads. 

Later, when Lucien was looking for her, this moment would be cited. He’d know she left intentionally, that she avoided him to keep him from convincing her to stay. It would take no effort on his part—Elain didn’t want to be parted from him. Not today, not ever. Her vision still loomed heavy in her mind. Was she walking straight into it? Or had she derailed just enough that Lucien would honor their marriage vows, deception or not?

Elain simply had to trust that whatever Lucien swore he felt, he meant. That it would take more than one small act of defiance—one made to try and save her home from utter ruination—to sour his feelings for her. Lucien had said he would want her, bond or not.

And though it was so deeply unfair to make him prove it, there was no other choice. Elain stepped into the humidity and the bright light, tilting her head against the warmth while Nesta hissed in disgust. Elain closed her eyes against the cold wind of Nesta’s winnow, wishing that when she opened her eyes, she’d be back in bed with Lucien.

That she’d find this had all been a dream. 

Elain opened her eyes to a city made of moonstone and marble. If Day was burning sunlight, this place was glittering starlight. Elain had never given much thought to the Night Court, and never truly considered what it might look like. This, though, with its shining, clean streets and neat buildings lined up in elegant rows, was beautiful. 

There was no screaming, no pleading or rivers of blood. There was even sunlight, hazy up above and far colder than Elain was used to. She wished she’d grabbed a cloak on her way out. Nesta smiled for a moment, unbidden and bright before she caught herself and replaced that smile with a scowl. A male was striding toward them. He was handsome with his thick, dark hair that fell in waves around truly massive shoulders. Elain didn’t think she’d ever seen someone as broad and muscular as this person. Tattoos crawled up his neck, vanishing dark leathers conforming to his powerful body. Red gems glinted in the light, flaring with what Elain suspected to be excitement when he saw her sister. 

His massive wings, once tucked tightly against his back, flared out for a moment. “Hey, Nes. She came.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nesta snapped as Elain turned to look at her elder sister. Nes? 

“I’m Cassian,” the large, impossibly tall male told her as he extended a hand. “Elain?”

“Elain,” she agreed with a broad smile. “How do you two know each other?”

“We don’t,” Nesta insisted as Cassian, still holding her hand, replied, “I’ve been training her.”

Training her in what? Judging from the flush staining Nesta’s cheeks, it wasn’t just a sword. There would be time to untease all that later—maybe when Elain had Feyre to herself and they could giggle like they were children again, far out of Nesta’s earshot. 

“We’re here to see Feyre,” Nesta interrupted, spine impossibly straight. Cassian’s grin merely widened, as though he were used to these sort of displays and enjoyed them immensely. 

“Lucky for you, she’s at the town house with Rhys. I’ll walk you to her.”

“There’s no need—”

“Oh, I insist,” Cassian interrupted smoothly. “It’s my job to welcome your sister into our court.”

“Well. Welcome her, then,” Nesta snapped. Cassian’s grin was just as sharp, just as lethal as Elain’s eldest sister. Had Nesta met her match here? 

Cassian turned to Elain, sweeping into a half bow. “Welcome to the Night Court, Elain Archeron.”

LUCIEN:

“You wanted to see me?”

Lucien’s father turned from his place in front of the window, his study in disarray. “I did. Elain is with her sister for the day, and I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

Anything to pass the time, he thought to himself. Lucien was unreasonably excited that when he returned to his bedchamber later, Elain would be waiting with food. She was going to accept the bond and they’d have a private celebration. No one could take her from him, then. No matter where they went, no matter how they were separated, she would always belong wholly to him.

Lucien needed something else to think about while he waited or he’d be too tempted to track her down. 

“Of course.”

“I need you to meet with your brother.”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. “What has Eris done this time?”

“Nothing,” said Helion, turning to face his son. “That’s the problem. War is on the horizon and Eris has all but closed his borders. I thought we could count on him…but…”

But Eris was self-serving above all else. And if he felt the risk was too great to himself personally, he’d stay out. Just like his cowardly father. Lucien was trying so hard not to hate his half brothers, especially after what they’d done for Elain. He owed them for that—Eris and Cadmus could have locked Elain up and held a trial, could have used what she’d done as an excuse to march into Spring or Day, depending on their mood. 

And instead Cadmus had brought her home while Eris gleefully announced to the world that he’d killed his father and then pardoned himself for crimes of treason, all while sitting with a Day Court courtier on his lap. Presumably. Lucien couldn’t picture Eris putting Arina on his lap—that’s just what he would have done if he’d killed Beron and had his mate with him.

Eris probably had Arina stand at the foot of his throne in one of those dresses that buttoned to her neck, penciling in when they ought to have sex based on some ridiculous calendar of her courses so he was certain to get his precious heir. 

“I’ll go. I want to see Arina, anyway.” That was true. Lucien wanted to offer her an out if she’d changed her mind. He knew how overwhelming the mating bond could be and how heady an experience it was. Surely the fog would be clearing, her senses returning. Assuming she hadn’t done anything stupid—like accept the bond and married his brother—Arina could still come home. 

Even if she hadn’t, Lucien might try and smuggle her out anyway. He could always lie and say she’d run away. His parents would kill him for it, but Lucien thought it would be quite fun to steal Eris’s wife right from under his nose just as his father had done to Eris’s father. 

“Take your time,” Helion instructed, unaware that Lucien was itching to get back to Elain. Or maybe he did, given his eyes slid to the mating band on Lucien’s hand. “Keep that from your mother. You’ll break her heart.”

“She’ll get her big celebration,” Lucien promised, though he ducked his hand behind his back all the same. Disappointing his mother was one of the worst things he could imagine. “This was just for us.”

A soft smile slid across his father’s face. “I know the feeling well. Keep it to yourself.”

Lucien nodded, making his way back into the palace. He did go checking after Elain, unable to help himself. He wanted to tell her he was leaving without her, and that it had nothing to do with her abilities or skills. A servant informed him she’d taken her sister into the city and Lucien thought it was best not to bother them given how sad she’d been about her mother and father’s rejection. Maybe Nesta Archeron could smooth things over for Elain’s family so by the time he visited, everyone was on better terms.

Lucien dressed himself, unable to take his eyes off the still rumpled bed in the center of the room. Elain’s trunks were still scattered about, half opened with clothes spilling out. He knew when he arrived, all her things would be neatly stored, the trunks put away. Maybe, having spoken to Nesta, Elain would feel better about where she’d left things with her parents, too.

Assuming, of course, Nesta hadn’t come to drag Elain back home. Lucien wasn’t willing to entertain that possibility, twisting the mating band around his hand nervously. She was his wife—he could go into Spring and bring her back, kicking and screaming if he had to.

And Lucien suspected he would. If Elain went home under some misguided belief she needed to do right by her family, Lucien would flex his muscles as heir of the Day Court, bring that signed scroll with Elain’s uncoerced signature on it, and put her right back in his bed.

Shaking his head, Lucien shoved the thought out of his mind. Elain wouldn’t—she’d wanted to get married, and she wanted to accept the bond. She wasn’t going home, barring some unforeseen disaster. She was safe in the city, likely showing her sister all the best parts of Rhodes. He’d meet them for dinner if he was home in time and hopefully charm the eldest Archeron into loving both his home and himself, and then have Elain moaning beneath him before the night was through. 

It was too hot to have a jacket buttoned to his neck. Lucien opted for a hunter green tunic with a white shirt beneath. Lucien used gold sleeve garters right above his elbows in lieu of his usual armband, and picked out his nicest pair of trousers and a gleaming pair of boots. That ought to satisfy Eris and his ridiculous court would be looking for anything to pick apart—Lucien didn’t intend to let them find it in his appearance.

Still, for the moment he stood outside, the outfit was unbearably hot. Itchy, too. Lucien winnowed quickly before sweat could cling to his skin and make a mockery of him, landing on crunchy leaves just outside the Forest House. 

Beron is dead, he reminded himself. It did little for his crawling anxiety, especially when the guards surrounding the palace watched him, arrows pointed straight at him as he walked to the entrance. 

The smell of cinnamon and wet soil slammed into his senses, far stronger than it had ever been outdoors. Lucien frowned, already missing home. A guard was waiting in a crisp red and white uniform, beckoning for Lucien to follow after him. The palace seemed thinner than Lucien remembered—fewer courtiers meandering the winding halls, watching for something to gossip about later.

Absently, Lucien wondered if Eris hadn’t culled them. It was possible they’d also fled for another court, though Lucien wouldn’t fathom who would want Autumn’s set living within their walls. 

Familiar golden doors were thrust open when Lucien approached, though there was no Beron Vanserra sneering at him as he entered. No open insults, no hateful eyes. Only Eris, casually positioned in that wooden chair made of twisting branches. Arina was propped on his knee, crowned in a burnished laurel leaves and draped in a pretty, burgundy dress that cut far lower than anything Lucien had ever seen on an Autumn Court female. Rubies adorned her throat, a match for the pretty ring on her finger.

She shot upward the moment she saw him, gathering her skirts as she jogged the four steps to the wood floors. Lucien kept his eyes on his brother, waiting for that flash of anger his father would have given.

Eris merely seemed amused. Indulgent, even. Lucien didn’t know what to make of that.

Arina flung her arms around his neck, and Lucien, still testing her brother, hugged her back with a little too much intimacy. He caught Eris’s expression shift to irritation, lip curling over his teeth before he smothered it.

“Where is Elain?” Arina demanded, pushing back just enough to peer around him.

“Busy, unfortunately,” Lucien replied, scanning his friend for any tell-tale signs of bruises or other harm. “How are you?”

He expected Eris to jump in, furious at the insinuation. True, his brother stiffened on the throne, gripping the arms so tightly Lucien heard the wood creak beneath his grip. But he kept silent so Arina, bubbly and vivacious as ever, could say, “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like that—Eris could only dream of getting one good hit in.”

“I don’t dream of that,” Eris said, his first words since Lucien had arrived. “I am content to let my wife speak for me.”

Arina rolled her eyes with affection, looking over her shoulder as Eris stood. 

“He had to make such a show of it. Did you know he’s High Lord?” she teased as Eris rolled his neck before slowly making his way toward them. “He reminds us all no less than ten times a day.”

An affectionate smile spread across his brother's face, so at odds with the male Lucien was accustomed to seeing. What had Arina done to him? It was impossible to consider that Eris may have always been this way.

“Brother,” Eris said by way of greeting, sliding one arm possessively around Arina’s waist. Was Lucien also that obnoxious? Arina reeked of Eris’s scent, the bond between them nearly overpowering. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a warning not to get too close unless he wanted his throat ripped out.

But Eris was keeping it together, given Lucien had just been rubbing his hand up and down Arina’s spine. 

“Have you come to ensure I’m not mistreating my mate?”

“Among other things,” Lucien replied, not bothering to deny it. 

Eris exhaled. “Spend as much time with her as you like.”

Lucien didn’t think he could stand to, though it certainly put some of his fears to rest. If Eris had things to hide, he surely wouldn’t hand her up on a silver platter. Not when the mating bond was still riding him so hard, at any rate. “It’s tempting. A sleepover, like old times?”

Lucien relished the growl that slipped past Eris’s throat. It was too easy to rile him up now. Arina poked Eris in the ribs, leashing Eris before he could do or say something that might start an incident between Autumn and Day.

“Why are you really here, brother?’

“You know why,” Lucien retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “This potential war. Father wants to know where you stand.”

Arina looked up at Eris, eyes wide. “War?” she asked. 

“How poorly you inform her,” Lucien sneered, earning a smack in the chest from Arina.

“Knock it off,” she warned, looking between the pair of them. “What war?”

“Maybe war,” Eris interrupted, pushing the words through his teeth. “As far as I can tell, Tamlin is merely giving Amarantha a tour of his home.”

“Of his borders,” Lucien clarified. “Why would she possibly need to know that? And ships are pouring in from Hybern in the dozens. I doubt it’s all goods for trade.”

“What do you want, then? A promise I’ll march with Helion if Amarantha decides to invade?”

“Yes,” Lucien replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Eris held Lucien’s gaze. “Fine. I’ll agree—on one condition.”

Gritting his teeth, Lucien replied, “What is it that you want?”

“For you to stay two nights. Here. With your brothers,” Eris clarified, perhaps guessing Lucien would merely waste his time hanging out with Arina. “Otherwise tell Helion he can get fucked.”

“Are you serious?” Lucien seethed, well aware his father would not be so forgiving if he returned home without securing this alliance all because he wanted to sleep beside his wife. Eris must have guessed, eyes sliding to the band on Lucien’s hand. 

“It’s time to put the past behind us,” Eris said, slinging his arm around Arina’s neck. She beamed, clearly loving this plan and wholly unaware of what a bastard her mate was. 

“Oh, Lucien, you should. Things are so different—you’d love it. Invite Elain to spend some time here, too.”

“I’m sure Cadmus would love to see her,” Eris added. Lucien swallowed the urge to beat Eris to death with his fists.

“Fine,” he gritted out. He’d write Elain and explain himself. “Two days, and you agree to support Day if Spring lets Amarantha use their territory as a base.”

Something dark flickered over Eris’s face. “And Day will agree to house any refugees from my court should she come over our borders.”

Lucien would need to talk to Winter, too, but it was reasonable enough. Extending his hand, he nodded.

“Deal.”

[freesia-writes]

Chapter 2: Indignation

During the Clone Wars, the Bad Batch is tasked with a variety of missions across the galaxy. An unexpected addition to their team throws a wrench in the mix, particularly for Tech, who finds a particular connection with this disillusioned Padawan-turned-mechanic named Vel throughout the events in this action-adventure romance.

COVER ART BY @zaana!!

Master List of Chapters

Vel's eyes cracked open, confused by the brilliant display of colors and buttons on the panels above her. She opened them fully, rubbing her forehead with her hand and looking around. With a start, she scrambled to her feet, realizing where she was. Or rather, realizing that she didn't know where she was.

"Good morning," came a velvety smooth voice, "Would you like some caf?" Crosshair chuckled at his sarcastic offer, not pausing his careful weapon inspection. "Hunter, your friend is awake," he called, practically hissing the word "friend". Casting one last scrutinizing look at Vel, he got up and retreated to the bridge.

Hunter passed him on his way from the front, stopping in the doorway to maintain a distance between himself and Vel. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Vel stared back at him, standing awkwardly like a cornered animal whose fight or flight response was still buffering. "Why were you after Lank?" Hunter asked, wasting no time in getting right to the point.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Vel responded evenly, feeling her head clearing up. "You interfered with our mission, and you fired a live round at a target that we needed to bring in for questioning. Who sent you after him?" "Bob," came the pert reply, as Vel stood taller and crossed her arms, matching his stance. "You know Bob, from Dantooine? The human, with the eyes and the hair?" Hunter furrowed his brow for a second before the realization dawned on him, and he fought to keep the corner of his mouth from curling into a smirk. "Ah yes, Bob. The notorious crime boss," he replied sardonically, "And what did he want with Lank?" "Ugh, just give it a rest," said Vel, turning away from him to sit on the floor facing the hatch, "You know I'm not going to tell you anything." "Fair enough," Hunter replied, "We'll just bring you in and let them figure it out then." He shrugged and turned back to the bridge. A million questions raced through Vel's head, having no idea who these people were or whom they worked for. She knew it would not go well for her to have botched the job so badly, but she had confidence that she had proven her worth so far and it wouldn't be the end of the world. *** The Batch was instructed to try to return her to the Bounty Hunter Guild, which could give them a lead on her assignment. So they set off for The Rig, the outpost of Crimson Nova. 

"You'd better have a lot of money or firepower if you think you're going to walk in there and ask questions or demand anything for my return," Vel snapped from the back of the bridge, angry that they had somehow narrowed down her employer so quickly. "Stroth knows what I'm worth, even if I got captured."

"We'll see how it goes," Hunter returned evenly.

"We can be pretty persuasive," Wrecker growled, cracking his knuckles and grinning from the side seat. 

***

They entered a dark chamber, an odd mix between a bar and a conference room, and approached the table where a few sordid characters were gathered. A Trandoshan hissed a warning as they got closer, and Hunter stopped the group. 

A human stood from the group, walked around the table, and leaned on the front of it, regarding them with mild interest. If this was Bob, "with the eyes and the hair", Hunter mused that Vel could have used some more prominent descriptors in her account of him, such as the fact that he was bald on top of his head but had long hair all around the back and sides, and was missing one entire arm below the elbow. 

He noted Vel standing among them and a smile broke out across his face. He beckoned toward the service droid, who immediately began pouring a tray of drinks and quickly rolled it over to him. 

"Well look who we have here," he said congenially, taking a drink from the tray and motioning the droid toward the Batch. Wrecker grabbed two from the tray, Hunter politely declined, and Crosshair took one but held it without drinking. Tech and Vel remained motionless. 

"You've brought back my newest bounty hunter." He looked at Vel, "And how was your endeavor?" She stayed silent, staring at the floor in front of his feet, unsure how to reconcile her utter failure with his apparent warmth. 

"Ah, I see," said Stroth, "Perhaps we began with a target a bit out of your league." He gave a big sigh, taking a long draught from his glass mug. Wrecker looked from Stroth to Hunter, then downed one of his mugs in a few sloppy gulps. Hunter's senses prickled in the seemingly-casual atmosphere, and he lowered his eyebrows as he spoke.

"We will return her in exchange for a small piece of information," Hunter said. "Why were you trying to kill Senator Lank?"

The only sound in the silence was a poorly-concealed burp from Wrecker, followed by a sigh of distaste from Crosshair. Stroth raised his chin, regarding the crew from his jaunty lean.

"Kill Senator Lank?" Stroth said, with theatrically feigned surprise, "I would never. The Separatists surely wouldn't appreciate that."

Hunter didn't believe a word, and his silence made that clear as he continued to wait for a real answer. 

"But what kind of other reward could I offer you, for the wonderful return of my asset here?" he asked, motioning toward Vel. She looked up at him, feeling her confidence rise at his positive mention of her. He smiled at her again before returning his gaze to Hunter.

"Who wants Lank dead?" Hunter repeated, resting a hand on his hip in apparent ease yet intentional proximity to his blaster. 

"Mmm," Stroth mused, finishing his mug and setting it on the table next to him. He clapped a hand on the shoulder of one of the figures at the table, a Rhodian bent over some schematics, and looked at the motley crew gathered there. "I can see you've got your mind made up. I don't want to make a mess of things, you know," he said, with an air of surrender. 

He signed, standing to his feet, and gestured carelessly. "Kill them all."

Vel's mouth dropped in shock and horror. 

In one solid blur, blasters were pulled from every holster in the room. Wrecker threw his empty mug at the nearest bounty hunter as Hunter flipped the table to their right, throwing Vel down as he dove to cover behind it. Crosshair flipped himself over the bar, crouching behind it and leveling his sniper at the group. 

Lights flashed on all sides as blaster bolts flew. The Rhodian hit the ground as a couple Trandoshans continued shooting from behind him. Stroth pulled his own blaster and fired a few careless shots as he ran out of the room. Hunter threw a knife after him, but it landed in the door just as it slammed. 

Tech fired evenly with both hands, leaning out from behind a pillar to stun another human. Crosshair's perfectly-placed shots dropped two more, and Wrecker met some reinforcements at the door with a huge arm to clothesline them into oblivion. It was over as quickly as it began.

"Stroth will undoubtedly be back with more," Tech surmised.

"Let's go," Hunter said, grabbing the schematics from the table and tucking them into his belt. 

"What about her?" Crosshair asked, nudging his sniper barrel toward Vel, on her knees behind the table, still in complete shock at the turn of events. 

"Leave her," Hunter responded, peeking out the doorway and beckoning to the others.

"She will be terminated," Tech pointed out, "Perhaps her knowledge could be of use to us as we determine the motive for Stroth's bounties."

"Fine," Hunter agreed, his sense of urgency outweighing his disdain for extra baggage, "We've got to go." 

***

The light turned blue around them as the Marauder jumped to hyperspace, and Vel sat on the floor on the back of the bridge once again. Her mind was reeling. She was abandoned, again. No matter what she did, she was never enough, never worth keeping around. She fought from spiraling into despair, sinking her head into her knees. 

She barely heard the hologram on the front panel, assigning the crew to a new mission on a planet in the Abrion sector, and offered no resistance as she was shown to her new quarters -- a makeshift prison built into the corner of the cargo hold on the lower deck of the ship. 

There were larger matters to attend to.

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[creative-frequency]

Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.4

Summary: Finally you get someone around the camp who can cook. It's a shame that he can't take special diets into account. Word count: 2081

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 4: Sunbathing

After pulling the mighty Gale of Waterdeep from his self-imposed predicament (and slapping the wizard’s dangling hand before helping him, much to Astarion’s delight), your party of now five members takes a moment to rest and prepare in camp.

Everyone was quick to forget their initial shock of a daywalking vampire spawn and you think Astarion seems to be in a better mood with the heavy secret off his chest. Unfortunately, better mood in his case seems to correlate to being a pompous, exuberant and decidedly flirtatious asshat.

At least Gale seems to be the perfect gentleman, much to Astarion’s chagrin. The wizard is also quick to make clear his love for cooking, essentially volunteering to become the group’s designated cook.

You get to know each other in the midst of preparing supplies for a late lunch with Gale and Shadowheart. Lae’zel is out hunting. Astarion hangs back, pretending to read one of his books but you just know his ears are perked up, waiting for the moment the conversation turns interesting.

“Gale, do you know how to make potato scones? We have some potatoes left in one of these bags,” you say and rummage through a box to find the said bag.

“Oh certainly!” Gale perks up with a smile. “It would be my pleasure to cook them for you the next time we camp, my lady.”

He bows. You giggle in a manner that your noble-born parents would be proud of. Astarion sneers from behind his book.

“It was about time to have someone eager to cook here,” Shadowheart quips, reminding you how none of you have had a proper meal since being taken by mind flayers. Or well, maybe Astarion has.

“Say no more, Shadowheart. I shall take care of all your culinary needs henceforth,” Gale boasts, “But first, I’m going to fetch one of my favourite recipe books. Ladies, just a moment, please.”

Gale runs back to his tent. You and Shadowheart glance at each other with faint, accepting smiles. The wizard is a welcome addition to your group and his arcane knowledge will surely come in handy in the adventures to come.

Unfortunately, not everyone is as delighted about your new companion.

“What a charming fellow that magician of yours is,” Astarion says dryly, as if he has not been waiting for the chance to say a couple of choice words about Gale.

“Yes, if by ‘charming’ you mean polite, funny and very much helpful,” you reply and motion towards the ingredients.

Astarion’s eyes narrow and he slams the book shut.

“Don’t be so crestfallen, Astarion. You got, well…” Shadowheart shrugs and counts her fingers. “I guess one out of three depending on the circumstances,” she says coolly.

“I would’ve used ‘over-enthusiastic’,” Astarion continues, unamused. He turns away to retire inside his tent with the book.

You heave a sigh and rub your temples. Apparently vampire spawns could die from being co-operative and kind.

“Everything alright?” Gale questions as he returns with the recipe book. It looks well-loved and surprisingly thick.

“Yes. What would you need today for cooking? I’ll pack the rest away and seal it so it doesn’t spoil.” You glance one last time at Astarion’s tent and decide that trying to force him to be included in camp activities isn’t worth it. At least not yet.

“An excellent idea. Let me see…” Gale muses and opens the book.

His claims of being a wizard in both the occupational sense and in the kitchen prove themselves true when you finally taste the stew he created from whatever you had laying around. It’s a miracle you even happened to have cooking utensils and a pot at camp.

“Gale, this is the best meal I’ve had in this camp,” Shadowheart praises and promptly proceeds to devour the food, disregarding all lady-like manners.

“Even though the standards were exceedingly low,” Lae’zel reminds her. “Eat quickly, we will still need to move before nightfall.”

“Yes, yes…” you hum in reply and weep at not having time to enjoy the lunch properly.

“Astarion, please, help yourself,” Gale says and motions towards the almost empty cooking pot.

Astarion scoffs at the offer and his turned up nose scrunches. “No, thank you.”

Gale’s brows furrow, but Astarion is not done. You strive to chew the food faster in case an intervention or a polymorph is needed.

“Such culinary delights are not exactly for me,” Astarion continues in a derisive tone.

“You look like you could use a hearty meal, though,” the wizard points out with a shrug. He seems more confused rather than irked at Astarion’s unfriendliness.

“Might I say, when I choose to have a meal, rest assured – it won’t be of your making,” Astarion says.

Gale’s brows furrow. “And might I say you’re ill-mannered and rude for refusing even to give it a taste, but to each their own, I guess.”

Astarion sneers at Gale and just as the wizard notices the suspiciously protruding fangs, you intervene. You step up in between the men and shoot a decimating glare at Astarion.

“Apologies, Gale, we forgot to tell you about Astarion’s special diet: he is a vampire spawn,” you explain.

“You can’t just go around telling people that,” Astarion screeches and glares back at you.

Gale takes in the revelation without so much as a blink.

“Oh. In that case, Astarion, I’d like you to know that I taste extremely bad. Also apologies for what I said about your manners,” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, he did deserve it,” you add in a huff before Astarion can graciously forgive Gale.

“So the tadpole allows you to walk in the sun. How curious.” Gale taps his chin, examining Astarion.

“Apparently yes, now if you’ll excuse me, I shall go enjoy the day up the hill where it’s less crowded.” Astarion turns on his heels dramatically and stomps away.

“Dramatic as always,” Shadowheart mutters.

“Excuse me,” you say to Gale and Shadowheart, pick up one of the food baskets and hurry after the petulant vampire spawn.

Astarion plops down on the lush grass at the top of the hill. The sky is cloudless and the sun casts its warming rays on his pale skin. Looks like he is almost glowing as he takes in the sunshine. It must be unimaginable to be able to leave the shadows and bask in the daylight. He reminds you of the cat that used to enjoy resting on top of the warm baking oven back at home. Though the cat didn’t have the tendency to try and bite you.

The hill is steeper than it seemed, so Astarion can definitely hear you trudging after him, trying to catch a breath.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted your secret out like that.” Carefully, you sit down next to him. “But you could’ve been nicer to him.”

Astarion sighs and leans back on his hands, turning his face upwards to the sun. “No matter. At least Gale took it unexpectedly well.”

“Mm. Our next companion might not,” you continue.

Astarion glances at you.

“True. But we still have bigger issues,” he remarks.

Your tadpoles hum in recognition, but you’re quick to block out the connection. Since the initial meetings after the crash, you’ve done your best to stay out of your companions’ heads.

“What do you have there?” Astarion asks to change the subject, nodding towards the basket.

“Dessert. Sugar buns, bananas, pomegranate and sunmelon.” You glance at him, unsure. “I’m assuming you don’t want any?”

Astarion’s lips curl into that wicked half-smile and you brace yourself.

“Oh there is something far more tastier than bread and fruits.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, slowly, with ample time and opportunities for you to draw back. His touch is cool; his body temperature is clearly lower than yours. You can see the small quiver as he inhales the scent of your skin; your blood.

“I’m not your afternoon snack, Astarion,” you say quietly, but at the same time realise how weak it sounds.

The corners of his lips curl up and he looks directly into your eyes. “No, darling, you are a five course meal.”

Your heart speeds into such a rapid pace that you feel faint. For a fleeting moment you think he is going to bite your wrist, but he only presses his lips on your palm and lets it go. The spot tingles after his touch.

You turn away and busy yourself with the contents of the basket to hide your burning cheeks. Astarion’s behaviour seems to be getting bolder with each passing day. Biting at the slightly stale sugar bun, you sit in silence under the sun. Astarion’s eyes are closed, face angled to welcome the warmth. Like a cat indeed.

“What does it taste like? Compared to actual food?” you ask to break the silence.

“What, blood?” Astarions brows furrow in thought. “I… would not really know. One could compare it to wine tasting, but that misses the whole macabre point of it.”

He turns to look at you. The underlying sadness in his eyes makes you regret asking in the first place.

“It’s been so long,” he adds solemnly.

You nibble at the sweet dessert with your appetite lost. “How long has it been since you were turned?”

For a moment you think he won’t answer.

“Almost two hundred years,” he utters softly, but you gather that he doesn’t want to discuss the subject more.

Another silence falls and you’re left pondering Astarion’s answer. As a human, two hundred years is a timespan you can’t even begin to fathom. When you’re done crumbling the rest of the bun for the birds, Astarion speaks up in a sly tone: 

“Well, princess. I was honest with you, what do I get in return?”

You pick a pomegranate and a knife from the basket and start cutting the fruit’s top off. “What would you like to know?” you reply dubiously.

“Would you like some help with that?” he asks, eyeing the blade.

“No, thanks– Hells!”

Of course the knife slips and makes a clean cut to the pad of your thumb. The pomegranate rolls to the ground. Your first instinct is to look up at the vampire spawn in horror and wrap the hem of your blouse around your hand.

“Clumsy, are we?” Astarion asks and tuts, eyes glinting ominously.

“Don’t even start,” you grumble and apply pressure to the cut for it to stop bleeding as fast as possible. “What did you want to ask me?”

“To speak the truth, your life does seem rather tedious, but I could be persuaded to partake in your picnic,” Astarion remarks with a smirk.

Before you can ask what exactly he means, he grabs the wrist of your injured hand and yanks you towards him so hard that you have to clutch his chest to steady yourself. His other arm curls around your waist, pulling you intoxicatingly close to his side. The whole swift manoeuvre is expertly performed.

“Astarion! Quit joking,” you hiss, but he hushes you.

You watch as your own hand is lifted in front of your eyes. Astarion’s mouth opens just enough to reveal his fangs, hovering right above the bleeding cut. The blood is quickly creating a trickling course down your wrist. Astarion’s piercing red eyes hold your gaze and you can’t help but stare back, almost mesmerised.

“Stay very still,” he purrs.

You feel how the tips of his fangs touch your skin and his lips press around them. His tongue skims generously across the wound and a jolt shoots through your body.

A feeling is set alight in you and from somewhere in the back of your mind springs an explanation that you don’t wish to hear: It’s exciting.

You gasp in horror and pull your hand back.

“You–! You can’t bite people without asking,” you cry, full well knowing that his fangs barely touched you. The cut is still bleeding and making a mess of your favourite camp shirt.

“‘Bite’ is a bit of a stretch here,” Astarion notes and makes a show of licking his lips clean. “You taste absolutely divine, darling.”

You grab the basket and promptly shoot up from the grass. So much for a nice afternoon chat with Astarion.

“I was only trying to help.” He has the audacity to throw a smirk at you.

“Asshole,” you mutter and stomp back to camp, half-wishing he would even try to stop you but it doesn’t happen.

-

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

[north-blue-hearts]

Heart of Gold

CisFem Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: ptsd, trauma, depictions/implications of suicide and suicidal ideation, language, violence, blood, canonical character death, mature themes and events 18+

Chapter 16: Well in Hand

Not much changed in the day to day of life on the Polar Tang. Your hand found Law’s when the two of you were near enough, and he’d kiss the top of your head in passing, no matter who was around. It was a little embarrassing at first, but the ease with which the crew accepted it, and the frequency of his small actions helped.

Your usual duties continued without interruption. You aided with making meals, learned more about the functions of the sub, and spent what spare moments you could with Law in his office. There was a different tension that built up between you two during these times, but you kept each other on task with continued research, reading and musings.

News from the gulls came in when you’d surface for air or laundry needs. One of the Warlords had been imprisoned for trying to take over a desert island nation, but aside from one of them, the Warlords weren’t your concern. The news had irritated Law, but only in passing, and you imagined, not because of Sir Crocodile.

“Doflamingo was credited with having brought the plot to light for the marines to handle.” You glance over at Law. “The move doesn’t make any sense.”

“Part of a plan that’s mostly obscure?” Law prompts and you shake your head.

“If Donquixote had complete control over who the next two Warlords were going to be, then sure.” You say, brows furrowed. “You could argue he was moving the pieces off the board that do him no good while trying to tighten a hold on all the Warlords for his own gain. But he’s in a business relationship with Kaido, as you’ve said. The other Warlords would do him little good. Duplicitous partnerships like that would only implode on him in the end.”

You consider the news for a few more moments, taking into account all you knew about Doflamingo and the other warlords from what Law and the crew had taught you.

“Is it… I mean.” You groan in frustration, setting the paper aside, and leveling a disbelieving look at Law. “Did he truly make such a move purely because he could?”

“He does enjoy setting off distractions for no reason other than the chaos they could cause.” Law explains.

“… What a chaotic little gremlin.” You mutter and Law nearly snorts.

“We’ll be at the next island tomorrow, are you ready?” He asks, shifting the topic to something more important.

“As I can be.” You admit with a heavy sigh. “Being preemptively anxious does no good, but I can’t stop it.”

Law puts a hand over yours, standing a little closer. “No matter what, we’ll get it figured out.”

You twine your fingers between his and smile. “Is it too much to ask that you kiss me even if I can’t leave the ship?”

He raises his brow inquisitively. “I wasn’t aware I was going to kiss you if you could leave the ship.” He teases.

You turn toward him with a smile. “It was a bit more that I expected I would kiss you, if I was successful.”

He leans down toward you, and you can feel the blood rush to your face. “You don’t have to earn a kiss.”

“Yes, well, no, I know, but in – in front of the crew.” You stammer, eyes focused on his lips.

“Even then.” He asserts, his free hand cupping your face gently as he leans down the rest of the way and kisses you softly.

“We-we’re getting off,” your words are halted by another soft kiss, this one ending in a sly smirk. “Task.” You finish softly. He kisses you again and you can feel a need bubbling up in you.

“I do believe you’re trying to seduce me, Mr. Trafalgar.” You say teasingly.

His golden eyes find yours, and there’s a shift in the gaze, a change in the air, and you can feel tension pull taut through everything.

“Do you want me to honestly try?” He questions in a voice sweet, and low, and dangerous, and terribly, terribly tempting.

“I, um, that’s – I mean.” You press your lips together and look away.

Law kisses you on the forehead before leaning back and giving you space. “No for the moment then.” He answers for you, giving you time to step back and straighten up on your own before he lets go of you entirely.

You excuse yourself long enough to make some tea, giving you both time to cool off a little, and providing a small break from all the research. The rest of the evening goes well, and the next day the Polar Tang is anchored in a cove on the new island.

The whole crew is on deck as Jean Bart and Bepo set up the gangplank from the ship to the shore. Law’s holding your hand as you watch the two work.

“The crew’s here for support, but if you want privacy, I can order them below deck.” He says quietly.

You shake your head. “I appreciate the support.” Your hand tightens against his. “We’re going to do this the same as before, yes?”

“Almost.” Law says, nodding toward Jean and Bepo who are waiting on the island. “Jean will lift you up if you can’t make it and see if that helps. If not, he’ll bring you back up here. I will only ever be a word away, okay?”

You nod taking another few deep breaths to try and keep yourself calm.

“I’ll head down first, then.” Law says, leading you forward gently as he steps over the railing, guiding your descent as he had on the other island.

The hardest part about trying a second time, was that you weren’t sure what was effecting you. Was your heart racing because you were nervous about things going wrong, or was it racing because things were going wrong? You focused on your breathing, and on Law, knowing that even if he had to risk you throwing up, he wouldn’t let you suffer trying to reach the island or the ship.

Halfway down the gangplank you stop. Law takes a few more steps, and then waits quietly. You take things one step at a time, assessing how you’re feeling with each step closer to the island you get. You want to know where the line is, more than anything else, but you also don’t want to assume your baseline anxiety isn’t covering that line up.

Law covers the rest of the gangplank, stepping onto the island and giving Jean Bart space to go get you if needed. You take each step slowly, eyes on the gangplank. You don’t want to look at the island, you don’t want to know where it is in relation to you, so you just keep your eyes on the path beneath your feet.

Each step feels like relief. Each pace forward is another small victory, and you can feel yourself slowly relaxing. You start to look up from your slow movement forward, glancing at the island, and glancing at Law. Another step. Another. It was slow going, but you couldn’t risk rushing it.

Your foot set down on the gangplank again and a zing hit your chest like a small jolt. You nearly gasped, and you knew your face betrayed you when you heard Law call out your name. You took another step despite it and the small jolt tightened, gripping your heart like it had before and making it hard to breathe. Frustration and confusion are painted across your face as Law orders Jean to get you.

The large man clears the distance between you and the island easily and picks you up, steadying you against his shoulder.

“Bell?” He asks, waiting for you to tell him to go to the ship or the island.

“T-toward the island,” you manage. “One step.”

Jean takes a step toward the island and the fear that comes over you tenses your entire body. He doesn’t even ask after that, heading toward the ship as quickly as he can, and setting you on your feet on the deck.

You put the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Dammit.” You swear in frustration.

There’s a tentative hand on your shoulder and when you don’t shrug it off, Ikkaku gives you a hug. “Sorry.” She offers quietly, and you can feel the rest of the crew around you. Different hands squeeze your shoulders, a few people pat your back. You can feel Jean Bart’s massive hand rest on your head for a moment before Bepo hugs you along with Ikkaku.

After a few moments you hear Law’s voice.

“(Y/N).”

“I’m okay.” You reply quietly, and Ikkaku and Bepo step back. You sigh deeply and move your hands away. Your eyes are red, but only a little, as you managed to keep your tears in.

“You don’t have to do that anymore.” Law assures you, running his fingers over your hair before you lean forward and set your head against his chest. He strokes your hair a few more times as you let your tears fall. They don’t fall to the deck, instead soaking into his shirt, but it wouldn’t matter.

Frustration only comes out as salt.

“It doesn’t make any sense!” You shout your frustration into his chest, muffling the sound of your raised voice a little before leaning back. “I traveled a lot, even before I was on the run, even before everything went wrong! I never, ever, had an issue with being on an island.”

“We’re not done experimenting.” Law says evenly. “We’re no where near exhausting all our options.”

“… Yeah. Yes, you’re right.” You say flatly.

Law leans down and kisses your forehead. “It’s okay to be frustrated.”

You nod. “It’s just… I was okay with the idea of staying on the submarine for as long as I could, but now that I know I cannot leave it, I want to.”

“That sounds pretty normal.” Shachi says, and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Bell.”

“He’s got a point.” Ikkaku adds. “Like when you injure a leg or your back and the captain tell you not to walk around-.”

“-unless absolutely necessary.” The entire crew chimes in with Ikkaku and Law grunts, a frown on his face.

“The second he says that I swear I remember a dozen things I need to do that require walking.” Uni admits.

“Bed rest is the worst.” Clione adds. “Especially if you don’t adhere to it.”

Hakugan snorts, smiling at you before he clarifies, jerking his thumb at Clione. “He got caught walking around so much Cap’n made him sleep in his office so he could keep an eye on him.”

The crew laughs and you manage to smile easily.

“Thank you.” You say as the laughter dies down. “I feel better, and I appreciate everyone’s help.”

“Do you want to try it without your heart now? Or later?” Law questions.

You look off the ship toward the island, and then back to Law. “Now’s fine.” You agree and smile. “That’s quite the way to put it.”

“You have a bad reaction to Shambles, have you had a bad reaction to anything else?” He asks as he takes a step back and creates a room.

You shake your head. “No, but I also haven’t had any of my internal organs removed by the fruit, either.”

Law nods. “You’re going to feel a little weak, but if you feel any pain let me know.” He explains. “This shouldn’t hurt at all.”

“Certainly.” You nod as Law puts his hand out toward you.

“Mes.”

The sensation of being cut, without the pain of being cut, slipped through your body like a hair across your tongue. Uncomfortable, and a little unsettling, but not painful. You could feel the shift in your body as it felt like you had to stretch to connect to your heart, but there was nothing alarming.

Your hand goes to the new hole in your chest before you look up at Law. His eyes are wide, focused on the cube in his hand.

Everything stops.

The heart in Law’s hand is golden.

[lostonehero]

Tma x Malevolent

More father Kayne shit.

"I am eons older than these creatures and certainly..." kayne stops as Tim interrupts.

"So? I mean your eons years old, so what? You think us as ants, but you literally weren't cautious enough to get rid of a living person, and you have a son who is getting stronger." Tim motions to Martin, who was sitting next to Arthur. "Just because you're bored, you drop in and have fun be dammed of the consenqueses. Which fine your an elder god or whatever that doesn't really matter."

"Tim?" Martin raised his brow.

"No, let me finish. Your father has been faced with an issue he didn't account for because he thinks he's above everything and that things are just in his way for fun. Just because your life is infinite and you find join in pain, suffering, and madness doesn't mean he's incapable of learning. I highly doubt he even understands the full extent of having a son with powers to match him. He plays with humanity like dolls which again he's a fucking god so I guess he has the right but like doesn't that get boring? Like you said, John is a fragment of another elder god, but he's learning and developing morals and actually cares about the future, even if it's just sheer curiosity. What do you even have, Kayne? Bloodshed and a son who wants nothing to do with you. You can shake an ant farm all you like, but when everything is dead, what, then? Make more ants? Repeat the process? Just pick a different bug?" Tim huffs.

Kayne breaks out in a wide, inhumane smile. "I like you."

"Fucked up god of madness praise, you need therapy." Danny sips his soda.

"And you need self-preservation." Tim rolls his eyes. "You don't have to go through puberty a second time, nor having to deal with fear gods and now other gods on top of that a second time."

"The boy has a point. Madness does get boring after an eternity. You tend to run out of fun ways to drive others mad. Your fun becomes a chore... which I'm not saying I want to do that now. I'm just saying he's wise for his age and mortal status." John muses.

Arthur huffs and mumbles into his hand. "They can't hear you."

"I can." Martin pauses as Arthur whips his head to Martin's direction.

"What?" Arthur raised his brow.

"You can hear me?" John sounded nearly excited.

"Unfortunately, it seems I get that ability from my father." Martin narrows his gaze at Kayne, who is just smiling at him.

"I think the more you tell your dad you hate him, he enjoys it." Danny raised his brow.

Martin sighs. "Already figured that out." He pauses, then smirks. "Tim, remember Micheal?"

"The one who got struck by lightening or the one with the doors who then became Helen." Tim shrugs. "The lightning one would be around our age, but the freaky door one would be working under Gertrude."

"Yes and no." Martin hums. "Micheal would have already become Micheal."

"You want to find one of the freaky yellow doors and find a different version of madness to interact with?" Tim sighs. "I mean it would piss Jon off so might as well."

"Another being of madness?" Kayne tilts his head.

Martin only smirks wider. "Ah yes, Micheal, git tricked into becoming an avatar of the Spirial, deception and misdirection, and fear of going mad in a sense. But you're already the God of madness. Why would you want to meet a puppet of another one?"

Kayne sputters. "Well, to obviously kill it. I'm the only one who matters and my prodigy as well, not some new fear madness."

"Kill it?" Martin knew he got his hooks in. "It would just find a new host. We don't have a way to their world like your world or the outer realms. Who's to say it's not compensating for you killing all other versions of yourself? Besides these fears, they love to use madness to cultivate their food from mortals. It's not a wonder that you are only able to get here because of me." He hums softly, picking up his can of soda and taking a small sip. "Shame, really. I've actually explored the corridors you haven't."

Kayne's fingers twitched, and he stared at his son. "I don't enjoy being mocked, Martin."

"Who says I'm mocking you? I'm merely stating facts that I've witnessed. Just because I'm your son doesn't mean I'm not able to see the bigger picture. I've walked the hellscape of the apocalypse, I've seen what the fears have done once they come to this world. Although they aren't the brightest, they never figured out a way to renew their feast."

Kayne was hooked. "What do you mean?"

"A gods feast, gorging on all the fear and madness, but what do you do when they stop being afraid, when they expect the pain? No new humans or animals are born, and they are unable to die. Father, surely you can see the issue in that." Martin smirks as Kayne vanishes with a rush of words to find the Spirial.

"Jesus fucking christ." Tim stares at Martin.

Martin chuckles. "If I knew it was that easy to distract him, I would have told the truth ages ago."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 14 - Choice

@jegulus-microfic March 14 Word count 665

Previous part First part

Because Regulus didn’t need to get Remus back to the pack, they found themselves with a bit of free time. When Evan offered for them to all stay over if they wanted, his father was apparently in Romania for Voldemort and wouldn’t be back until the following week. 

Sirius and Remus instantly took him up on his offer and barely had time to say goodnight before Sirius dragged Remus out of Evan’s room and into another bedroom.

Barty looked at the clock on Evan’s bedside table. 

“They do realise it’s only 5 o’clock, right?” 

“I don’t think they care.” Evan snorted. 

“Well, anyway, what information have you found?” Regulus asked, trying to steer the conversation away from what his brother might be doing in the other room. James saw the grimace that had crossed his face and slipped out to put a silencing charm on their room as yet again Sirius and Remus had neglected to do so. 

He slipped back into Evan’s room just as Evan began telling them what he’d discovered. 

“Thank you,” Regulus whispered as he slid his hand into James’s and squeezed gently. 

“So, I managed to find out where he went after he left Hogwarts. He went to work at Borgin and Burkes for a while and then completely disappeared.”

“We went to the shop and basically charmed the pants off old Borgin, and he told us something very interesting.” Barty took over.

“Riddle, by all accounts, was a model employee, but then one of their best customers was found dead, and her house elf blamed for it.” Regulus had opened his mouth to complain about that. House elves couldn’t hurt their masters. It was all a part of the magic’s that bound them. “Yes, Regulus, we are well aware of House elf rules. However, the same day she was supposed to have died, Riddle handed in his notice and disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“But, Burgin also mentioned to us just as we were leaving that a priceless artefact went missing at the same time, and he’s convinced that Riddle took it.” Barty was grinning now. 

“Go on, what was it.” James had taken a step towards Barty, completely drawn in by their story.

“Helga Hufflepuffs cup.” Barty finished with absolute glee in his eyes. “Slytherins locket and Hufflepuffs cup. I bet MV turned it into a Horcrux as well, and my money’s on he found something of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors as well.” 

“What’s MV?” Regulus asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to work it out. 

“Mouldy Voldy!” Barty cackled at them. The other boys ignored Barty and looked at each other excitedly. They might not know where the Horcruxs were, but at least now they had an idea of what they were looking for. 

“I wonder what Ravenclaw has,” James said. “Gryffindor had a sword, but Ravenclaws a mystery to me.” The others turned to James.

“A sword?” Regulus said. “How do you know that? Do you know where it is?” 

“He has it in his portrait. But it’s been lost for hundreds of years.” 

“Just like Slytherin’s portrait in our Common room. Perhaps Ravenclaw has whatever her thing is in the Ravenclaw Common room.” Regulus mused aloud. He had a choice to make now of which artefact they tracked down next. Pandora came floating in, coming to stand beside her brother. 

“Ravenclaw had a diadem.” She said breezily.

“Pandora, how is it that you always turn up just when we need you?” Evan sighed. It had been the same story his entire life.

“Because I’m smarter than you.” She smiled as she kissed his cheek. 

“Do you know where it is?” Regulus asked, watching Pandora closely. 

“You might want to talk to the grey lady.”

“The ghost?” James looked confused. “Why would we want to talk to her?”

“Because,” Pandora rolled her eyes as she stretched out her hand and patted Barty’s hair flat. “She’s Helena Ravenclaw. Rowen Ravenclaw daughter.” Four mouths dropped open.  

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