#i need more nocturn content

[home-of-renn]

Just imagine Nocturn acting as Danny's older cousin.

Nocturn was the youngest Ancient till Danny came along and Clockwork had chastised him after his latest attempt to 'play' with the newly formed Half. Danny's still far too young and far too attached to his perceived mortality for Nocturn's games and Clockwork insists that he find a new way to bond. So he takes to visiting the Halfa's dreams and ensuring him a good night's sleep - and maybe throwing in a few wacky scenarios at the boy's expense and watching him fumble about in his own dreamscape where he's unable to hurt himself.

Just Danny having an annoying older cousin who plays games and cracks jokes/pranks that he's too young to get and the whole relationship is kinda one sided cause everyone forgot to cue Danny in that Nocturn isn't actually an evil meddling ghost. And now that Nocturn isn't the youngest anymore he likes popping in and checking up on Danny who's always ready to square up and Nocturn just finds it endlessly amusing. It's kinda like getting threatened by a toddler who's just learnt how to crawl.

Clockwork is so tired of the both of them.

[arthenaa]

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

[astaroth1357]

Demons in the Dark 

What if they have glow-in-the-dark eyes?

Contents: No warnings aside vague mentions of imminent danger. And bugs and snakes.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

Seeing Lucifer in a dark room is incredibly unsettling. You know those horror movies where the protagonist sees a pair of demonic eyes from shadows? You've found the inspiration.

His eyes burn with the color and intensity of molten glass and they that just loom ominously in the darkness, usually well above people's heads!

Lucifer knows exactly how haunting his eyes can look, which is why he prefers to sneak up on Mammon when it's dark and he's up to no good… 

The mental image of Lucifer's crimson eyes have long since burned their way into the secondborn's nightmares...

He tries his best not to scare MC with them, but it's undeniably unnerving to see disks of pure hellfire roaming around the kitchen looking for a glass of water…

Mammon

His eyes glow just the prettiest shade of gold you'll ever see. Think of a mound of ancient coins glinting away under a treasure hunter's torchlight.

Mammon knows full well how attention grabbing his eyes are, which is part of why he always wears sunglasses when out stealing. People can't see'em glow if they're all tinted up behind his frames!!

He's also pretty proud that his eyes don't give people nightmares like Lucifer's, but since they glow like little sundrops when he's out, moths fly into his face… a lot…

He is far too embarrassed to admit to MC that he also wears his sunglasses outside for bug protection, so he makes up some shit about it being part of "Devildom-style" they just wouldn't understand.

Sometimes, the MC swears that if they look close, his pupils look like Grimm signs. But has to be a trick of the light… Right?

Leviathan 

Levi's eyes glow a citrine orange but weirdly, his pupils actually slit instead of dilate in the dark.

Though he will never admit it, but he actually has pretty bad night vision in his normal form. (Which isn't that surprising given all of screens he stares at.)

It's a little comical watching Levi stumble around in the dark if he needs to go grab something. The MC can just follow his eyes as he smacks into a lot of walls…

His demon form can kind of make up for it, but only so much. If things get too dark, Levi can change into it so he can see his surroundings with the help of UV light.

"Snake Vision" makes the dark more manageable, but it's not very good for gaming at all so he rarely thinks to use it. Everybody knows that past a certain brightness in the room, don't expect Levi to be of much help.

Satan

Magically enchanted his eyes to look exactly like a green-eyed cat's in the dark. I'm dead serious.

Imagine just going about your business then two grown man-sized feline eyes pop out from behind a corner. They even have nocturnal eyeshine so feels like you're being hunted!

Sometimes he can't help himself and he'll sneak up on people with his eyes closed so he can open them over their shoulders or peeking around corners.

He has given the whole House about as many heart attacks as Lucifer has pulling those shenanigans, I swear…

Belphie is the only one generally unaffected and he always gets a big laugh from when Satan scares the others. The youngest boys just be like that, unfortunately...

Asmodeus 

His eyes look like a kaleidoscope in low light. Every slight tilt of his head makes them reflect a whole new wave of fractals and colors.

Asmo is just as aware as Mammon that his eyes are gorgeous, but unlike Mammon he wouldn't DARE cover them up!! Sunglasses are for sunny days, which they don't ever get down in Hell.

Asmo's eyes are integral to his charm spells, so he takes extra care to be sure that they are as healthy and bright as they can be! He won't even accept eyebags.

Seeing Asmo's eyes in the dark kind of like seeing a trippy optical illusion just... staring at you. It's less unnerving than the others but it's equally hard to ignore.

To this day, he brags that it was his eyes that caught Solomon's attention when they first met. (Solomon actually wanted to pluck them out to use as potion ingredients, but he'll let that stay a secret.)

Beelzebub

Beel's eyes are probably the most normal of all of the family unless you look at them suuuper closely.

In his normal form, his eyes will just glow a nice shade of purple with nothing fancy happening. But in his demon form, they get that glassy, compounded film akin to insects with his iris still trapped and moving around under the surface.

Thankfully, they do not bulge out of his skull. They even give him the ability to see and track objects in fast motion, which does wonders for his reaction time.

... Somewhat unfortunately, though, his line of sight is more narrow than an inscets so it can look like he's trying to look everywhere all at once to compensate. His eyes will constantly dart around the room as if he is trying to follow the flight pattern of a coked out fly.

At least he mostly only uses this during fights or sporting events where they really come in handy. Honestly, if there's anything more jarring than red eyes, it's stumbling across bug-eyes that they can practically see right through you.

Belphegor 

Belphie's eyes glow purple, but they don't shine nearly as brightly as his brothers'. In fact, they have a steady, calming pulse when stared at which is very unnerving.

Total darkness is really when Belphie gives off his best "sleep paralysis demon" vibes. His eyes are really relaxing to look at, but only in the same way that the little light on an angler fish would be enticing to its prey. It's a trap, don't fall for it.

Belphie CAN put people to sleep this way, but he hates doing it because it means he has to somehow not blink for ages. He really has to be motivated to want to see someone zonked out.

For a couple centuries, Mammon would send Belphie to talk to Lucifer if he was working too late in order to (compassionately) knock their brother out so he could get some rest.

Lucifer's since gotten wise to this trick, but sometimes if he's really been going too long he will forget until he wakes up on the nearest couch post Belphie "convincing" him to take a nap.

[satoruwiki]

Are you over stripper gojo?

i am… NOT 👹

☆▒ DOUBLE LIFE!➜ ★

minors, ageless and blank blogs dni.

cw: afab!f!reader; suggestive content; not proof read.

w.c: 2.3k

Satoru always had a cover response.

"So, what do you do for a living?" The blonde girl asked, sipping her cocktail— a little too bitter for her taste.

"I'm a teacher, a private teacher, to be exact," he replied, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

The possible reaction would be bemusement, laughter, thinking he was joking, followed by something along the lines of "didn't think you would be a teacher; you seem more like you work as a model or somewhere in the fashion industry," Satoru had it all memorized.

The most skeptical would narrow their eyes and stare at him like he just said the earth is flat confidently. Satoru would then pull out a white business card, with his name, phone address and 'job' written in Times New Roman font, all uppercase in platinum colour - because Satoru was cunning enough to order himself business cards for these occasions - and hand it to them.

People after that would not question him further; what is there to be asked? The teaching profession is not the most exciting of all— maybe ask him what he teaches, but beyond that, there is nothing; it's the perfect job to cover up his... nocturnal activities.

His cover-up was perfect, steady, almost unbreakable, almost.

Until you came into the picture.

—

"Now, I think I can kind of see you as a teacher, though I'm surprised no talent scout or casting director has ever contacted you to be part of a fashion magazine or commercial," you said, scanning him head to toe. The man before you was a total adonis, tall, handsome, charismatic, charming blue eyes with a smile that could melt any girl's heart; it was hard for you to believe he hadn't ever been the face of a brand or a high fashion's magazine cover, perhaps he worked as a high-end host as a side gig?

"Oh, believe me, I have," Satoru answered, taking a swig of the colourful cocktail, his face contorting into a slight grimace afterwards, "It's just not really my thing, y'know. I don't know if I'm ready to be People's hottest man alive."

"How humble," you snort, taking a swig of your drink yourself. Satoru chuckles in return; the sudden buzz of his phone interrupts your conversation, and he gives you a shy smile. He gestures with his right hand for you to hold on a second, to which you nod; holding his phone with his left, he gets up from his seat and walks away to take the mysterious call. 

After a few minutes, he comes back with a sorry look on his face. You get the vibe that something happened, and the date's probably over. "Sorry, as much as I'd like to stay longer, I can't," he says, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, "y'know, private teacher things, one of my students needs me for an upcoming competition, gotta teach him to master twinkle twinkle little star on the violin."

Now, you don't like to overthink; however, the thought that the phone call could've been a fake emergency call lingered in your mind after he left, even though he did apologize again through text and supposedly 'hoped' you guys could reschedule for another date, you still thought his sudden departure was weird.

—

"Oh, that sounds like he didn't like you and faked a rain check," Utahime said through the phone.

"You think so?" you replied uncertainly, sounding somewhat sad and disappointed, the corners of your lips forming a pout. "Fuck, this is why I don't go out with guys who know they're cute. They have it over their head and think they're the big deal."

"Well, I told you he looked like a prick when you first showed me his profile."

"All men look like idiots to you, Uta'," you rolled your eyes, putting the call on speaker as you opened your freezer, "That's why you're single."

You heard Utahime gasp through the phone, seemingly offended by your teasing, which made you chuckle a little. "I'm single because I chose to, in case you forgot- What's that sound?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm just going to drown my sorrows in ice cream," you replied casually, closing the freezer door and opening your ice cream, "and watch some mediocre rom-com to distract me from how mediocre my love life is."

"Girl, no. Put that back and start picking an outfit; we're going out."

"Uta, thanks for the invite, but I'm tired. I just had a disappointing date, I don't really feel like going-"

Utahime interrupted you abruptly. "No buts. We are going out. I heard there's a new club that does ladies' nights on Fridays, and it just happens to be Friday. Forget about that damn date, you'll have others coming. Let's go out, yeah?"

You thought about her proposal and, well, she was right, the failed date wasn't that big of a deal, not so much as to spend your night sulking on your sofa eating ice cream. You sighed, putting the ice cream back in its place, "Fine, at what time do we meet?"

—

"I heard the guys here are hot, so much so that some girl's blood pressure went up because of how sexy their dances were, or so I was told," Utahime said in your ear, her voice barely audible over the blasting music.

"You told me we were going to a club," you chided, averting your gaze from the scantily clad men. Geez, were they covered in... oil?

"Club, male strip club, what's the difference? You go to both at night, and there are men in skimpy clothing," Shoko joins and shrugs nonchalantly, not seeing the reason for your apparent embarrassment, "Come on, don't be such a prude, pick yourself a cute guy for a private routine. It's on me if that eases you up," she nudges you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You sighed heavily; Utahime wasn't wrong. Some of the guys were kind of... hot, you suppose. But how were you supposed to ask for a private dance? Should you just come up to them and ask them? You've never been to a male strip club, and you don't know the 'unspoken rules' when interacting with a stripper yet.

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted when the crowd surrounding the main stage got suddenly louder, a pair of lights pointing toward it. You couldn't understand what the DJ was saying; the mic was so close to his mouth that it sounded like he was eating it, making his words unintelligible. Or maybe you had a bad hearing. Because the crowd, including your friends, started to cheer, wooing and lifting their shots in the air.

A song started to play throughout the club; you guessed that whoever was about to do his routine was the 'star' of the club because of how lively the crowd of girls was. The lights coordinated with the beat of the music, creating a surprise appearance of the long-awaited dancer on stage with his back turned. 

Your heart stopped, jaw-slacked and speechless, as he turned around, unbuttoning the top of the fireman's outfit he was wearing one by one. Holy shit, that was—

"Uta'! It's him!" You nudged your friend frantically.

At first, she frowned in confusion, but it was only in a matter of seconds that it dawned on her. Having the same reaction as you, Utahime gasped and nudged you back, "Oh my god, you're right! It's the idiot from the date! Hell, I knew that 'teacher' thing was too weird for someone like him," she folded her arms, "and he sure does like the attention."

You looked back to the stage; the white-haired man had now fully unbuttoned his top, flashing his incredible, glistening abs on full display - you kept doubting whether it was oil or sweat that made them glint under the lights - and swaying his body seductively to the sound of the music. 

Even if you tried, you couldn't exactly hate him for faking an emergency call or lying about his real job. Not when he looked this fucking hot doing it.

Satoru (if you remembered his name correctly) took off the jacket, tugging it down excruciatingly slow, showing off his ripped biceps and tossed it aside. Your eyes were captivated by the sensuality of his movements, his muscles tensing and rippling, making you swallow hard at the eroticism that carried his routine. And hell, with that frown and that sly grin, he looked so fucking hot as he danced to the beat of the music.

The more you watched it, the more doubts came to mind. Satoru could be famous; he had the charisma and appeal to be, so what brought him to this? Was it out of necessity, or did he enjoy it? Questions that would never be answered because you would never see him again after this.

Or so you thought before you were given a push (literally), coincidentally while Satoru was looking for a volunteer to pull up on stage. 

Call it bad luck, but Satoru took your hand from all those who begged to be chosen, helping you onto the stage. Satoru couldn't recognize you under the dim lights of the club until he was face to face with you. He felt his heart work twice as hard, his eyes wide as saucers for just a second, masking his panic with a toothy grin.

In full view of everyone, Satoru sat you on a chair as part of his routine and stood behind you, the pad of his fingers skimming over the skin of your arms, trailing down to your wrists, his fingers wrapped around them and lifted them into the air.

"So you're not a teacher?" you murmured, feeling your heartbeat in your throat at the proximity of his lips against your neck.

"You got me, I'm not; sorry for lying to you," he whispered back, a small laugh coming from him as he took your hands to run up and down his beefy torso, feeling his every muscle rippling under your fingers.

A gasp escaped your lips as gasps of astonishment from the audience. God, it was a miracle you hadn't fainted by now. You swallowed dryly, falling prey to his erotic dance and his very presence, his hands guiding yours to rest on his hard-worked thighs and then roaming up your neck, the heat of his skin making contact with yours as Satoru pressed himself against you. You knew this was part of his dance routine, yet it felt so intimate, too much sexual tension and lascive, like a moment that shouldn't be shown to the public and kept taboo.

"Want me to tell you a secret?" he breathed, his laboured breaths blending with yours.

"Another one?"

"I was thinking of doing this to you on our second date," he confessed, a seductive smile to your eyes peeking out from the corner of his lips, "but it seems fate wanted to bring it forward."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"Nah, but doesn't it sound nice?" he huffed, tilting his head playfully, his white locks tickling your cheek, his hips sensuously grinding across your lap.

Satoru could sense your uncertainty in touching him and how much you wanted to do so. You moistened your parted lips and startled at every brush of his bare skin against yours, your hands tensed and trembling, refusing to explore any more of his anatomy. "Touch me," he instructed.

"What?"

Satoru pulled away from you, taking your hands into his, helping you to stand up and wrap your arms around his neck. With a firm grip on your thighs, you encircled your legs around his waist. "They want a show, and I know you're dying than just laying your soft hands on my body. Let me feel you all over me."

You felt your face burning, his innuendo going straight to your core. His words did things to you, like your skin prickling and leaving your mind blank. Bashfully, you complied; your shy hand travelled from his neck down to his abdomen, exploring every inch of his pale flesh as he carefully laid you down on the floor. He pried open your legs, easing his way between them, which made you wonder if this was still part of the routine or if you were about to get arrested for public indecency and be registered as a sex offender.

You finally understood why he was so popular at the nightclub; a routine by Satoru was like having clothed sex, the way his head dipped between your legs, alluding to him eating you out while moving every part of his lower body to the rhythm of the music or the way he acted out rhythmic sexual positions with you, made his touch feel igneous under your skin and sent a throbbing in your nether regions.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for you), the routine came to an end; beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he caught his breath and -painfully- said goodbye to you in front of the crowd, mentally grateful for the dim lighting of the place that hid his tented pants after his very sexual dance routine.

As soon as you stepped off the stage, your friends were all over you, bombarding you with questions, jokes and the occasional sly comment.

"So, are you going to meet him again?" Shoko asked you with a teasing -and very nosy intentioned- glint in her eyes.

"I... I don't know," you stuttered bashfully, still recovering from your heart rattling in your ribcage. As your friends kept teasing you to no end, you felt a vibration of your phone, forcing you to take it out of your pocket. Your breath hitched, and that sensation in your lower back became present again as you read the contact name.

"Next date at my place? ;)" —Satoru.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

okay, but I haven't seen EJ content lately and I miss him :(, could I request an angsty question with him?

https://www.tumblr.com/intimidating-fettuccine/728812046178811904/httpswwwtumblrcomintimidating-fettuccine6891?source=share

We're back in the fucking building again, another one for the series of 'Slender pulling the creep away from Y/N after Y/N died in their arms.'

Jack hasn't been able to breathe for what seems like hours. The second you took that fatal blow on your mission he'd rushed you home, blood dripping in a steady path the whole way as he rushed you to the medical lab. He'd tried just about everything he could think of, but the damage had already been done, and with how easily you accepted it, it just served to make him feel more dissociative. This couldn't be happening. It's not possible. He's worked so hard to learn how to apply and use medical techniques to keep everyone in the mansion safe, but he couldn't even save you, the person he loved most. By the time Slender comes down to the medical lab Jack is hunched over your body and clutching onto you, an animalistic look in his eyes as he hyperventilates, losing himself to his instincts to protect. Slender has everyone else cleaning your blood off of the flooring upstairs, wanting the lab to be empty for this. 

As Slender slowly moves closer to the two of you, Jack lets out a deep, vicious growl that would scare anyone else, but Slender keeps creeping forward. He speaks slowly, telling Jack it's okay, Slender isn't going to do anything bad, that Jack needs to calm down, that your body has to be taken care of, but he just bares his fangs and continues growling. Eventually, Slender gets too close, and Jack in a moment of weakness to his instincts latches onto him, sinking his teeth into Slender's arm, but the second he tastes Slender's blood he snaps out of it, weeping like a baby as he holds Slender's arm in his mouth. Slender gets him off of him, pulling him into an embrace as Jack begins to finally break down now that his senses are coming back to him. He clings onto Slender to ground himself, if only to prevent himself from clawing his his face and head as he feels increasingly angry at himself for not being able to save you. Slender stands with him for a while, getting him to calm down and be more stable, reassuring him that it's not his fault. Once that injury tore through your body it had already been too late, and you wouldn't want him blaming himself. Jack doesn't know what to believe anymore, but he tries his best to listen to Slender's words. 

The two of them work quietly together, getting your body cleaned up and ready to go into one of the morgue freezers. Jack wants to be the one doing it all himself, but he knows if he was left alone he'd lose himself again. Jack is shaking by the time they're done, and Slender grabs a damp cloth, tenderly cleaning your blood off of Jack's exposed skin, ridding Jack of the scent of blood keeping him riled up. He feels like a fraud. His medical talents were so good he was renowned for them in the Underworld, but he couldn't-- He inhales sharply to prevent himself from doing something rash to himself, and he stands there, flipping rapidly between ultimate despair and extreme self-loathing. Slender sits up that night, choosing to forego sleep so that he can keep Jack company, considering Jack is nocturnal and Slender doesn't want him unsupervised until it's time for him to finally get some rest he desperately needs. Slender's company is the only thing preventing Jack from breaking, and he doesn't know how to handle himself without you there to calm him down. Though, he bitterly thinks to himself as tears slide down his face, he's going to have to learn now, now that he doesn't have you to help him anymore. He's never felt more alone in his life, and that thought scares and distresses him.

[antimatterz]

haiiii!!! so ur recent post abt how hsr characters would take it if u didnt log in for a while got me kind of thinking,,,, me personally i always log in at the most ungodly hours. 2 in the morning farming planar ornaments for jing yuan....,, i have never played hsr at a regular time. this is not a flex this is a cry for help. what do you think abt hsr characters having to rise and grind at hours that no man should be awake at ? :3 every single day ? :3

late-night game sessions

dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, jing yuan x gn!reader

summary: you have a habit of grinding and farming and just being online at the most ungodly hours of the night. how do they react?

cw: fluff, humor, self-aware au

enyo's note: okay i absolutely loved this idea. also it's such a mood? i used to log in at the strangest hours in genshin hehe. with honkai i try to keep it normal but it was still so funny to imagine their reactions ^^ i might do a part two with the girlies !

content under the cut | masterlist

dan heng

it's been a few months since you started playing honkai star rail and nothing has changed about your habit of logging in late at night – or early in the morning. yet, dan heng has a hard time getting used to it. every time you awake him at four o'clock he gazes at you, dazed and confused, before he realizes it's that time again. "y/n, this isn't healthy for you," he mumbles every time, but he still gets up and accompanies you with no further complaints. give him a few minutes to adjust and he will be the sharp warrior he is by daylight! but as soon as you're done and log out, he'll pass out too lol.

gepard landau

he's definitely the most concerned out of everyone. and the most sleepy, too. he has a hard time waking up, and as soon as his eyes are open, they gaze at you with worry. "y/n, you should be asleep, don't you know what time it is?" he asks groggily, but he gets up regardless and readies himself to go out with you. i sincerely hope you're not at full 180 trailblaze power because this guy struggles to stay awake and provide shields, but he tries so so so hard for you and it's adorable. and he manages, just barely so, as he's super sleepy. please promise him that you'll go to sleep when you log out, or else he will remain worried.

blade

he might not show it, but you habit of skipping sleep and logging in at night to farm planar ornaments kinda worries him. he himself might not need much sleep so he isn't too bothered by having to work with you late at night, but he clearly sees the darkening bags under your eyes as you lead him through the simulated universe. but again, he doesn't really show it and silently does what you ask him to do. only when you're finished farming and are about to log out for the night, he makes you look at him. "go to sleep now, okay?" he sternly demands, but his eyes are softer than usual.

sampo koski

out of everyone, he would be the least bothered. he's practically nocturnal himself so it's not much out of the ordinary for him if you log in at three in the morning and ask him to join you on another farming trip to grind for relics and ascension materials. okay, maybe he slightly realizes that the two of you should be asleep but does he care? not really. he doesn't complain, is happy to spend time with you, and does everything you ask him to without spilling as much as a yawn or complaint. if any, he enjoys your nightly adventures!

jing yuan

well, this is an interesting combination. a sleepy general and a nocturnal being who asks him to grind at night, meaning jing yuan has to skip on his precious sleep. don't get me wrong, he doesn't complain and accompanies you without hesitation, but he isn't a night owl and it shows. he's waaay more quiet and not as smooth, yawns a lot and is pretty droswy in general. he's still a skilled warrior who clears the caverns of corrosion with ease but you can tell he is a tad bit out of it. please let him rest as soon as you're out of trailblaze power lol.

[the-art-of-ancunin]

Sweetest Sin [Part Two]

Pairing: Priest!Astarion x Female!Reader

Content Warning(s): SMUT, P-in-V, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Slight Corruption/Religion Kink, Slight Angst, Oral Sex (Both Female and Male Receiving), Blood drinking

Word Count: 8.1K

I did not proofread this, so hopefully it's not absolute trash. An effort was made - I hope you like it!

The forest hummed with the nocturnal symphony of crickets, owls, and other far-off, nameless creatures of the night, the gentle flow of a nearby stream blending seamlessly into the serene melody of twilight. It would not be long before those last, lingering flecks of sunlight would fade away, disappearing beyond the horizon until a new day was to be born. What light remained barely managed to pierce through the thick canopy of the trees, casting scant, dappled shadows against the forest floor where Astarion was doing his best to tread softly. After a rather long and unforgiving dry spell, the Almighty had at last seen it fit to bless these lands with much needed rains, though the precipitation and the violent winds that accompanied it had made a bit of a mess of his hunting grounds. The pale elf’s garnet eyes practically glowed in the darkness, though not quite as brilliantly as usual. He inhaled deeply as he moved carefully through the dampened terrain, mindful of the numerous twigs and branches that had been displaced during the storm. The cool air carried the pleasant, earthy scent of petrichor to the man’s attention and for a moment he felt a sense of guilt for not feeling quite as grateful as he should for this glorious blessing - he should be praising the Lord for answering the prayers of his congregation, for granting them this gift. He should have felt certain that this was some kind of divine providence and yet, standing there amidst the chorus of the night, Astarion felt only the discord within.

“Should it not be simple?” He murmured into the dark, his voice barely rising above the rustling leaves. “To rejoice with the others and praise the Lord for the mercy he’s bestowed upon us?”

But no answer came from the heavens - only the indifferent chirping of insects and the steady trickling of water. Still, he pressed onward, eyes searching while he desperately tried to ignore the incredible weight of the hot sin that had been bearing down on him for the past few nights. The knowledge that the sanctity of his vows had been so quickly torn asunder by a moment of carnal weakness had him reeling even now. After everything that he had been through, after all of the horrific things that Astarion had done, he hadn’t truly known peace until he had found his faith. He had never thought himself deserving of it, to be honest, but he had found acceptance among the faithful and after a while, he felt that the church had given him a much needed sense of purpose. He hadn’t thought twice about taking his vows at the time - hells, he welcomed the idea of having the perfect “out” should anyone try to coax him into their bed. It had taken centuries for him to work through what had been done to him, to feel comfortable in his own body once more…to believe that his body was HIS, even, and not just something for others to use as they please. But then, he had been called upon to shepherd the fine, faithful citizens of Emberwood…where he had met you. You, who were so unapologetically yourself. You, who were so unbelievably gorgeous that Astarion couldn’t decide whether you were sculpted by the hand of the Creator himself or if the Hells had sent you to test him. You lit up every room you entered, your smile and laughter were infectious. You were a bit…unpolished, certainly, and you had no qualms with voicing your skepticism when it came to matters of the divine and “other such nonsense”, as you had so delicately put it on more than one occasion…but oddly enough, both the former rogue and the priest within seemed to enjoy this about you in equal measure. His attraction to you had been immediate - the moment he had put eyes on you, he had felt it like a bolt of electricity weaving through his chest and spreading across every inch of his body. As time had gone on and you’d become familiar with one another, he had irritatingly found that your intelligence and personality had done nothing to defuse that initial spark. You had unknowingly become an almost immediate source of distress to the outwardly well-poised and soft spoken clergyman.

“Not even these beasts live in such torment,” He muttered to himself, his gaze piercing through the tall grass and thick trees, peering into the depths of the forest in search of prey.

Astarion continued onward, his movements graceful and silent as though he were but a phantom weaving its way through the darkness. How he was managing to carry himself with such finesse in his current state was honestly a mystery to him, but he was thankful for it all the same. He could certainly feel the toll that his fasting had taken on his body; his once vibrant appearance had begun to wane, leaving him a mere shadow of the dignified and well-composed preacher that he presented to the world. Three days had come and gone since that night, and he had remained locked away in the depths of his cathedral, deep in prayer and seeking forgiveness and guidance from the Almighty during that time. He had not risen from his knees until this night, the eve of the Lord’s day of rest. He would have to face his flock in the morning and he could not do so without sustenance - his eyes had noticeably dulled, the pallor of his skin had become so great that he looked every bit the walking corpse that, technically, he was…but they needn’t see him that way. They couldn’t…he simply would not allow it.

“Where are you?” He growled softly, eyes darting to examine every rustle, every slight shift within the underbrush. “Come on, show yourself…”

Tonight the pale elf was but a hunter - his status within the community temporarily set aside as he tended to his own needs, but even as he slinked through the night, every bit the predator stalking its prey, he found that no matter how he tried, you were never far from his mind. Images of you flashed behind his eyes - the way your soft, almost angelic face had gazed upon him pleadingly, your perfect breasts rising and falling with each labored breath as he claimed your body, robbing you of your virtue. He’d told himself countless times that he hadn’t known that you were still pure - and this was true, of course. It wasn’t as though it had ever come up in conversation, and from the confident way in which you held yourself, the comfortability that you seemed to possess in your own skin, it was easy to make the assumption that you had likely known the touch of another once or twice. Still, the act alone was damning in and of itself, but the added layer of knowing that he had taken your maidenhood added substantially more weight to his misdeed.

Astarion’s senses sharpened as a gentle rustling whispered through the tall grass, his pointed ears twitching softly as the sound reached him. The vampire’s ever vigilant gaze swept across the land and quickly pinpointed the source of movement. With preternatural swiftness, he lashed out and wrenched the unsuspecting creature from its hiding place. He wasted no time burying his elongated fangs into the badger’s flesh, pulling the animal’s blood into his mouth greedily and with greater force than necessary. The creature’s feeble struggle ceased almost immediately as the elf quickly drained it of every sip he could wring from the poor thing before allowing its lifeless body to fall unceremoniously to the ground. As the last drops slithered down his throat, Astarion's chest heaved with a weighted sigh. The small amount of blood that had smeared across his lips and chin was meticulously collected by his long, elegant finger, unwilling to forsake even that scant amount of sustenance. It was not enough, however - hunger still clawed at his insides, demanding more.

Determined, he moved on, each step carrying him further and further from the village. The forest seemed to breathe around him, alive with secrets and shadows, and then—he saw it. A stag, magnificent and robust, grazing in a moonlit clearing. Silent as the grave, he inched closer, eyes locked on his prize. He recalled countless nights like this since he had been freed from Cazador’s grasp. No more bugs or rats, and luckily he’d become quite a skilled hunter, which meant it was not terribly often that he went hungry. Tonight was different, however - he had neglected himself for far too long and as such the stakes of this hunt felt infinitely higher. As he approached, desire warred with desperation, and for one fateful moment, his discipline wavered. A foot misplaced, a twig snapped—a sound so minor yet thunderous in the stillness of the night.

“Godsdamnit!”

The stag’s head snapped to attention before it bolted, its powerful muscles propelling it towards salvation. But before Astarion could even attempt to give chase, the air sang with the deadly whistle of an arrow. It struck true, embedding itself directly into the stag's heart.

"Who’s there?!" Astarion called out, his voice firm and resonant as it sliced through the nocturnal symphony of the forest.

From the shadows, you stepped forth - a petite silhouette materializing with an ease that belied your lethal proficiency. The short bow at your hip seemed an extension of your being, as much a part of you as the determined set to your jaw. Your gaze swept over Astarion, taking in his pallor heightened by the moon's caress, his eyes a smoldering ember in the night.

"What are you doing out here so late?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the quiver that threatened to betray him, “It’s unsafe.”

"Seems I'm doing much the same as you," You replied, your tone matter-of-fact as you turned your eyes towards the carcass at the elf’s feet.

A tension, thick as the earthy scent of the rain-soaked foliage, hung between you before you gestured towards the stag. "Go ahead, feed from it if you want. It’ll make my job a tad less messy."

A soft chuckle escaped Astarion's lips. "Alive would have been preferable, but waste not, want not, I suppose," he murmured, almost to himself.

"That’s a bit fucked up, don't you think?" You prodded, your head tilting slightly, "Preferring to have your meals still squirming?"

"Perhaps…but blood is far from an invariable form of sustenance," he explained, his voice low and intimate with knowledge borne from centuries of necessity. "The blood of larger creatures is richer, more sustaining and the fresher the blood, the better, of course. But this is…fresh enough, I suppose."

"What about human blood?" Your question came softly, carried on by the breeze, “Is that any different or is it all more or less the same so long as it’s fresh?”

Astarion hesitated, his throat working a silent swallow. "To drink from a sentient being," He confessed, "is a vastly different affair. It is profoundly satisfying." His words were laden with a truth he seldom acknowledged. "Every individual's essence is unique, as if flavored by what lies within their soul," he continued, his gaze lifting to meet hers, searching for understanding.

You hummed in acknowledgement but pressed no further, knowing full well that there were certainly some things about his condition he’d rather not speak on and although conceptually you could understand his words, you were hesitant to pull that thread too much in fear he might get the wrong idea about your curiosity. You were not some lustful teenage girl reading filthy stories about sexy, mysterious, vampires taking young maidens in the night and ravishing them like beasts - no, you would not have him think that your interest for him began and ended with the effect he had on that most intimate part of your body. His voice cut through the quiet, breaking you free from your thoughts.

"Y/N, dear…perhaps you'd rather not witness this," he suggested, a subtle strain in his voice as you found him now kneeling before the deceased creature, the pale elf’s shirt removed and folded neatly beside him.

"Please," you retorted, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree. "And let some other beast come and snatch my kill? I think not."

Acknowledging your resolve with a nod, Astarion turned his attention back to the stag. His fangs found purchase in the creature's flesh, piercing deeply. The rush of warm blood filled his mouth, a vital tide that ebbed away the pangs of hunger with each greedy pull. He drank with a fervor that belied his usual composure, the primal act raw and unshielded under your watchful eye. The last of the stag's essence slipped down his throat as he detached, a visceral connection severed. He leaned back, neck arched in a silent reverie, blood painting a stark contrast on his alabaster skin. His chest heaved, a rhythm returning to his breath, as if life itself was restored with each rise and fall.

You watched in hushed awe, your eyes tracing the lines of his chiseled physique. Silence reigned but for the night's chorus and Astarion's steady breaths. Then, your voice sliced through the quiet, "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Astarion's grimace was hidden in shadow, his inner turmoil betraying him for a brief moment. As his eyes opened, they found you, crouched and busying yourself with rope and tools. "You know why," came his whisper, heavy like the moisture in the air.

You nodded, methodically uncoiling the rope as you pressed on, "Are you ashamed?" Your voice barely rose above the rustling leaves.

"Yes," he admitted, the word floating to you on the cool breeze. He watched your movements pause, your lips pressing into a line so firm it threatened to break. "I was weak," he continued, the confession scraping against his conscience. "It should not have happened. I'm sorry for any confusion. It was just…just sex. Nothing more."

The lie hung between you, thick and choking. It clawed at his insides, a vile betrayal of his true feelings.

The rope thudded softly on the damp earth as you dropped it. Fists balled at your side, you sucked in a shaky breath, your head bowed as if to gather strength from the ground itself. When your gaze lifted, the quicksilver flash of anger struck him harder than any physical blow.

"Well, that clears things up, doesn't it? Should I thank you for such a deep and thorough first fuck, then, Father?" Your words were venom-tipped arrows, and they had found their mark.

Astarion's throat tightened around a swallow, the sting of your words igniting something within him that he had no right to feel. His body reacted, traitorous and yearning. With a swift movement, you collected your belongings, standing tall despite the tremor in your stance.

"Y/N, wait!" Astarion's voice clung to the night air as he watched your retreating form, his damp shirt a shapeless mass in the grass behind him. You didn't halt your stride, merely tossed over your shoulder a reply that held a hint of disdain. "You can keep the meat - surely it’s tainted now."

A frustrated growl rumbled from within his chest, aggravation clawing at his composure. With sinewy grace, he vaulted over the stag's remains and closed the distance between you with determined strides. His hand closed around your arm, halting your escape. As he spun you, the soft press of your back against the tree's bark seemed to be the only sound in the otherwise quiet forest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes searching yours in the moonlight. "I never meant to cause you pain."

"Physically or emotionally?" Your words were sharp, probing.

"Either… both." His voice was a murmur steeped in regret.

"Well, you’ve failed spectacularly," you spat, your voice dancing around a bitter laugh. "I’m sure my heart will mend quickly enough, but my body…well, that’s been sullied forever, hasn’t it? Not that I believe in your almighty God and his ridiculous notions of chastity, but you could have been a bit softer with me, Father. I’ve been sore between the legs since last we saw one another.”

Astarion swallowed the low groan that threatened to escape him, a sound that would have certainly been laced with that forbidden edge of desire. He swept a hand through his silver-white hair, the internal battle evident on his features. Sin wrapped its tendrils around his thoughts, but doctrine echoed loudly in the hollows of his mind.

"Still," you eyed him, the concern in your eyes shining clear as day in spite of your furrowed brow, "you look like absolute shit."

He couldn't help the brief chuckle that broke free, raw and real. "I've been without for too long," he admitted. "I need more blood, but it would seem that the beasts that roam this land have caught onto me, I’m afraid."

"Mm, I see," You acknowledged, "You’ve never struck me as a master huntsman, but you’re right - I imagine the storms have many of the animals seeking shelter…hiding. But, if it’s blood you need…I suppose I probably have some to spare." The offer hung between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken tension.

Silence enveloped you, time stretching on for what felt like an eternity. He shouldn't; the very notion was madness. Yet, the temptation…

"Is that what you want?" His voice was barely audible, the weight of his yearning pressing down upon him.

You met his query with a soft nod. "As much as I’d like to punch you in that perfect fucking face of yours right now…you can't stand in front of everyone tomorrow looking like that."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile, appreciating your attempt to lighten the gravity of the situation. "If you’re certain, then let us find somewhere a bit more…comfortable, shall we?"

The forest floor squelched under your hurried footsteps, the air thick with the scent of petrichor as the evening shadows stretched like dark fingers through the trees. You shivered slightly, pulling your cloak tightly around your shoulders, but Father Astarion, shirtless as he was, seemed impervious to the chill.

"Quickly," He urged softly, his voice a low rumble that resonated within his chest. His vermillion eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, flickering with urgency as thunder rumbled off in the distance, the ominous prelude of yet another incoming deluge of rain.

You had almost arrived at the church when the sky broke open once more. Heavy raindrops fell, drenching you both within seconds. Your hair was instantly plastered to your skin and your clothes soaked through, leaving them clinging uncomfortably to your body.

"Shit," Astarion cursed softly, grasping your hand to pull you under the scant shelter of the church's rear doorway. He fumbled with the lock for a moment before you both managed to slip inside, narrowly avoiding as the downpour intensified into a torrential onslaught against the stained glass windows.

"Stay here," The elf instructed, the silver curls of his hair now heavy with rainwater. "I'll find something dry for you to wear."

You watched him stride away, his form a ghostly blur against the backdrop of flickering candlelight. You couldn't help the sarcastic quip that tumbled from your lips. "Oh? Do you just so happen to have a stash of women's clothing lying around, Father?"

His glance back was sharp, those intense eyes narrowing before he vanished into the vestry. Alone, you took a moment to admire the cathedral's grandeur: vaulted ceilings soared above, while Gothic arches whispered tales of reverence.

It wasn't long before Astarion returned, now clad in simple sleepwear that did little to disguise the contours of his body. He extended a folded shirt to you, his gaze carefully neutral. "I believe this should suffice."

"Thank you," you murmured, accepting the garment. It would indeed serve almost as a dress given how it would hang on your much smaller frame. You retreated into a side room to change, peeling off the wet layers with relief. Slipping into Astarion's shirt was like being enveloped in his essence—rosemary, bergamot, and the rich, heady undertone of brandy.

When you stepped out, the change in your appearance arrested the vampire’s restless fidgeting. His thumbs ceased their twirling, and his stare became fixated, drinking in the sight of you draped in his shirt. The fabric outlined your shape, hinting at the curves beneath, and you felt a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with finally being somewhat dry.

"Does it fit well enough?" He asked, his voice betraying a rough edge.

"Quite well, thank you. In fact, I’m rather convinced I wear it better," You teased, striking a playful pose that made Astarion's lips curve slightly.

"Undoubtedly," he breathed out, but there was a palpable tension between the two of you that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" He questioned, his voice low, brimming with concern.

"I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t," You reassured, your gaze steady as you took in his visage. "Seems the Stag’s beginning to breathe some life into you…your color is looking a bit closer to normal, but you’re still a bit hollow around the eyes and I fear you might cut someone on those cheekbones lest we find a way to fill out that face of yours."

A smirk played on his lips, a flash of vanity piercing through his usual stoic facade. "I've always had marvelous cheekbones, thank you. And the shadows beneath my eyes are nothing that a touch of powder can’t fix, certainly."

Your laughter, soft and melodic, filled the quiet space between you. "I think you’ve a touch too much faith in the capabilities of common cosmetics - we’ve nothing here remotely close to the manner of things available back in the city, sorry to say," you teased gently, brushing a finger along the stark line of his jaw.

"True…Very well, I suppose I shall just have to trust your judgment," he replied, inclining his head in mock defeat.

He guided you up a narrow staircase, the loft opening before you like a secret kept within the church's ancient walls. It was surprisingly homely—a single-room apartment with modest furnishings. His bed lay in the center, a pillowy island of solitude.

"Perhaps it would be best if you lay down," He suggested, gesturing toward the bed with a hand that held a tremor only he might notice.

You nodded, acquiescing, and positioned yourself on the mattress, lying with your back propped up atop the pillows. The linen was cool beneath you, lightly caressing your flesh as you watched Astarion circle around to the other side of the bed; you managed a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes…and the hesitation.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” You spoke softly, a nagging worry having crept in from the recesses of your mind, questioning whether or not he was comfortable with this arrangement, “If you don’t want to, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t. I just…I want you to be well.”

You regarded him closely, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he climbed into bed beside you. You’d never seen him look so…soft, so vulnerable - your words clearly had a much more profound impact on him than you’d anticipated. His eyes appeared round and misty, he refused to meet your gaze as he struggled to formulate a response.

“I do…want this,” He answered after a long moment of silence, “Quite badly, if I’m to be completely honest, I just…,” His words trailed off, quiet reclaiming the room before he forced himself to look you in the eyes.

“I know that I shouldn’t,” Astarion continued, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he spoke, “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t crave you the way that I do. Certainly, I shouldn’t indulge these feelings and I just know that…given every way in which I’ve failed you already, that if I were to take of your blood as well…it’s simply not fair of me to take so much of you when I cannot offer you anything in return.”

You bobbed your head softly, acknowledging his words though they stung at your heart. Reaching out, you brushed a loose curl from the man’s forehead and offered a small, warm smile.

“I’m not asking for anything in return, sweet man. But I can see you warring within yourself over it and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any torment…I hope you know that. I can be on my way if it will help.”

Astarion simply reached up and took your hand in his before guiding in down to cup the side of his face. “No, please..,” He murmured, planting a small kiss to the inside of your wrist “Stay with me. I…I’d rather enjoy the company.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at his request, the affection you held for him blooming like a flower within your chest. "Of course," you replied gently.

As you both settled into a comfortable embrace, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting presence of one another. You nestled together closely, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle as you found solace in the simple act of being near.

Wrapped in the priest’s arms, you delighted in this quiet intimacy, the soft rhythm of your breaths slowly lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

The room was cloaked in the stillness of the night, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing as you lay cradled in his arms. You, so tranquil and still in your rest, were a stark contrast to the insatiable hunger that once again clawed at Astarion’s insides.

As a sudden spike of pain tore through his stomach, the vampire broke from his trance, his senses assaulted by the familiar pang that twisted in his gut. He had prayed that he’d had enough…that what he had been able to consume would suffice, but in the back of his mind, he knew better. And he could not ignore the need any longer; the ravenous beast within him demanded more.

Gently, he brushed a lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet tinged with urgency. "Darling," he whispered, his voice betraying the desperation he felt. "I-I’m so sorry…I need to feed. Please."

You stirred at his words, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. Concern danced in your eyes as the hunger that gripped him was palpable.

"Where?," you inquired softly.

A look of worry crossed his features momentarily as he considered your question. "We must be careful," he cautioned, his voice tinged with apprehension. "The townsfolk cannot see."

You nodded in agreement, your mind racing as you searched for a solution. And then his gaze met yours with a sheepish look.

"I’ve an idea, if you’d be willing to indulge me," he spoke, his voice low and oddly strained.

You felt your skin flush…if you hadn’t already suspected that his suggestion would be less than gentlemanly, the way his eyes crawled down your body and settled near where your legs joined left little doubt.

After a moment of silent deliberation, you simply nodded in agreement.

Astarion's movements were calculated as he positioned himself on the firm mattress, settling on his stomach between your parted legs. His arms, lean yet powerful, slid beneath your knees and against the softness of the bed, securing you in place with a tenderness that stood at odds with his overpowering need.

"Are you absolutely certain?" His voice, usually commanding and confident during his sermons, now quivered with desire and concern

Your unwavering gaze met his as you nodded—a silent agreement sealed with the pounding of your heart against your chest, a rhythm that Astarion could feel echoing through his own being. With reverence and longing, his hands traveled up your thighs, inch by inch pulling up the fabric of your shirt until it bunched just below the curve of your navel.

He paused, inhaling sharply at the sight revealed to him.

“I’m sorry -they were soaked through from the rain. I didn’t think…”

You didn’t think you’d find herself so exposed with his silver-tongue a mere whisper away from your bare heat. Astarion was quiet for a long moment, completely enraptured by your glistening pink slit, the warmth that radiated from your core beckoning him closer. Your body sang of readiness, and the air around him thickened with the scent of your arousal.

"Forgive me," he murmured, not for what he had done, but for the hunger that clawed within him at the sight. Lowering his head, his cheek brushed against the silk of your inner thigh, a wordless vow made against your skin. His groan vibrated through the room as he inhaled deeply, reveling in the intoxicating fragrance of your sex.

"May I?" he asked in hushed tones, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he sought permission one final time.

Your response came not in words, but in a gentle caress, your fingers gliding through his hair, granting consent laced with a plea for moderation. "Only what you need…"

"Not one drop more," Astarion promised. With a tenderness that belied the ferocity of his yearning, he pressed his mouth to your skin in a gentle kiss before sinking his fangs into the delicate flesh. A small, muffled yelp escaped you at the initial sting, your fingers tangling in his curls a little more tightly until the pain faded into a strange, throbbing numbness. He drank deeply, each pull of your essence a sacrament, a communion of bodies and souls entwined in a sacred, profane rite.

Your heart pounded as you felt Astarion's lips on your skin, the sensation both arousing and terrifying. You trusted him - or at least, you thought you did - but the act you were engaging in was taboo, dangerous, and yet it felt necessary. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure that washed over you as Astarion's tongue danced across your sensitive skin. Soon - too soon, it felt - he pulled from you and gently lapped up the remnants of blood that oozed from the twin wounds that now marred your perfect skin. Astarion was thorough, not allowing a single drop of blood to go to waste.

Once again, his cheek pressed tenderly against the softness of your inner thigh, his breath a quiet rhythm against your fevered skin. The room was hushed, save for the intimate rustle of bodies shifting and the gentle beat of your heart. His hand, with reverent touches, drew nonsensical patterns upon your flesh, mapping out a wordless apology.

"How do you feel?" he murmured, his vermilion gaze lifting to meet yours. There was concern etched into the fine lines of his face, a vulnerability that belied his usual composure.

"Strange," you admitted, "but fine." Your voice wavered like a candle flame caught in a draft. You weren't sure if it was from the slight puncture where he had tasted you or from the memory of your bodies joining with sinful urgency.

The pale elf nodded, his eyes betraying him as they dipped lower, settling on your bare sex with an intensity that sent a tremor through your core.

"I hope it didn't hurt too much," he said softly, "I tried to be gentle."

Whether he was referring to the bite or the roughness with which he had claimed your maidenhood was difficult to decipher.

You reached out, threading your fingers through his silver-white curls, letting your touch linger by the shell of his ear, grounding yourself in the sensation. "I'll live," you quipped, attempting to chase away the weight of their transgressions with humor.

His laugh was but a ghost of a sound, a puff of cool air that danced across your heated sex, eliciting an involuntary whimper from your lips. He noticed the shiver that coursed through your body, and his expression softened.

"Would you allow me to kiss it better for you, sweet girl?" Astarion's request rolled off of his tongue with just a hint hesitancy, as if he feared overstepping bounds yet again.

Your breath caught in your throat, desire mingling with doubt. "Not if it's just sex," you whispered, unable to bear the thought of your connection being reduced to mere physicality once more.

In answer, he leaned forward and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your aching center. The contrast of his cool lips against your warmth was a mercy you hadn't known you needed.

"Please forgive me, Y/N," he murmured, his lips grazing your tender flesh with each word, "I am a miserable liar. What I said in the forest… it was cruel and it was false and I am so sorry."

"How do I know that you’re not lying to me now?" Your heart fluttered against your ribs like a caged bird, desperate for the sincerity in his words.

"Let me show you," he urged, his breath brushing against you as he placed another lingering kiss upon your cunt, tongue flicking out to trace your folds with languid tenderness. When he at last he turned his attention to your sensitive nub, he teased it gently, coaxing forth a rush of pleasure that made your toes curl.

"Will you let me show you, darling? Please." His plea vibrated against you, his voice thick with something that sounded achingly close to devotion.

"Yes," you breathed, surrendering to the promise in his eyes and the worshipful caress of his mouth.

The priest's groan vibrated against the sacred silence of the church, a sinful symphony that danced upon the expanse of your bare skin. Spread beneath him like an offering, you felt his hands coax your legs wider apart, his touch reverent and unhurried. The cool air of the hallowed space contrasted with the heat of his mouth as he lavished wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, inching ever closer back to the epicenter of your longing.

"Ah," you stifled a moan, your voice a ghostly whisper among the pews and stained glass.

His tongue found you then, a slow drag through slick folds that had you clenching the sheets beneath you. Each lap was a testament to the hunger that had driven you both here, to this sacrilege. He closed his mouth around you, his lips working your warmth, each pull drawing forth more of your essence which he seemed to worship with every fiber of his being.

"Please, Astarion," you gasped, your plea threaded with desperation.

"Let me hear you," he murmured against you, his breath hot on your skin. "I want to hear everything.”

You nodded, giving yourself over to the sensations he invoked, panting as he dragged his tongue along your slit once more. The tip of his tongue teased the pulsing button of your sex, teasing with a precision that sent sparks shooting through your veins. And then, without warning, he sucked it into his mouth, drawing forth a small cry that echoed through the cavernous church.

"Shhh," he soothed, releasing your clit with a wet pop, his vermillion gaze locked onto you. "Don't hold back, love. Please.."

"Gods, Astarion..," you breathed, your body trembling.

He resumed his ministrations, the skilled play of his tongue ebbing and flowing like a tide over your flesh. With one hand, the elf tenderly parted your lips, revealing the glistening promise of your entrance. He paused, pulling back just enough to meet yours eyes.

"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress.

"Of course," you assured him, your hips canting toward him in silent supplication.

Lowering his mouth to you once more, he placed a chaste kiss upon your mound, before his tongue ventured past the threshold of your body. Slowly, gently, he breached your entrance, each movement a delicate exploration that beckoned you closer to the precipice of rapture.

"Fuck, Astarion! P-please don't stop," you cursed through clenched teeth, your fingers weaving into the silky tresses of his hair, holding him as if he were your anchor to this realm. His tongue danced and plunged with an expertise that belied his vows of celibacy, and each stroke sent ripples of pleasure cascading through you. You arched your back, moaning unabashedly, your hips grinding against the warmth of his face, seeking more of that divine sensation he so skillfully bestowed.

"Ah, yes… just like that," He murmured between lavish laps, his voice vibrating against your flesh. His hand, broad and strong, cupped your ass, pulling you closer, while the other drew lazy, tantalizing circles around your clit, pushing you rapidly towards the edge of ecstasy.

"More, please… I'm—" The plea was cut short as your climax shuddered through you, swift and powerful, leaving you breathless and quivering.

As you lay panting, trying to gather scattered senses, Astarion rose to his knees, discarding his shirt with a flick of his wrist. Your gaze, heavy-lidded with satisfaction, couldn't miss the pronounced bulge straining against his pajama pants—a large, wet stain darkening the fabric. Confusion fluttered in your chest; had he truly found such pleasure in tasting you?

He winced, a soft hiss escaping his lips as he peeled the fabric down, revealing the imposing thickness of his erection. It stood proud and flushed, veins pulsating with the lifeblood you both shared, precum glistening at its tip. You sucked in a breath, your own arousal reigniting at the sight of his need.

"Come, lie down," you whispered, coaxing him onto the bed.

He obliged, stretching out on his back, his hand already traveling along his length, gripping himself with a desperation that bordered on agony. Furrows of pleasure etched his brow, and his moans, strained and urgent, filled the room. Your shirt joined his on the floor, and you moved to kneel between his legs, your naked form on display for his hungry eyes.

Your gaze traveled from his face down to the heavy weight of his balls, full and tight. Tentatively, you leaned forward and let your tongue trace along the seam, feeling him twitch beneath your touch. More precum wept from his slit, a silent testament to his prolonged abstinence.

"Gods, you're so full… so ready," you mused aloud, your breath hot against his skin.

Eager to taste him, you ran your tongue up the underside of his shaft, savoring the saltiness of his skin before swirling around the head of his cock and enveloping it with your mouth. The heat, the weight, the sheer intensity of him made your head spin.

Astarion groaned as your mouth enveloped him, his hips bucking involuntarily in search of relief. But your ministrations kept him anchored in place, your mouth dutifully coaxing his pleasure to the surface. His fingers tangled in the silkiness of your hair, pulling you closer.

As he neared his peak, Astarion's eyes screwed shut, his mind reeling with the realization that you were doing this, that you were once again bringing him to completion. He could feel the tingling sensation start at the base of his cock and rush upwards in waves of ecstasy, his body trembling with each surge of pleasure.

"Darling, I…" He gasped, his voice a strained whimper as the intensity of his orgasm washed over him. But you didn't stop, your mouth never losing its hold on him, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head as he spurted his release into your mouth with a primal groan.

You pulled back, licking the remainder of his spend from your lips. His eyes burned with a hunger that was neither sinful nor divine, but simply human. They were the eyes of a man who had just experienced one of the most exquisite of sins. Yet even as the taste of him lingered on your lips, his manhood remained hard and ready.

The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air as you gently crawled atop and straddled Astarion, his hard length still pulsing from the warmth of your mouth. You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that mingled the taste of your shared ecstasy. Your moans vibrated against one another's tongues, a delicious symphony to their heightened senses.

"Gods," Astarion breathed out as you teased him further, your slick warmth sliding tantalizingly along his bare erection. It was an exquisite torture, the friction sending shivers racing up his spine.

"Keep going," he growled, his voice a husky whisper laden with lust. "You feel incredible."

His hands found your hips, fingers pressing deeply into your flesh to guide your movements. Together, you found a rhythm, your hips rolling in an intoxicating dance atop him.

"F-fuck...more, sweet girl - I need more," The elf groaned, his eyes burning into yours as you shifted your position. The head of his cock nudged at your entrance, a silent plea for the union you both craved.

Locking eyes with him, you felt the ache between your legs intensify, a sweet pain that begged for relief. With breathless anticipation, you began lowering yourself, enveloping him slowly, torturously. Inch by inch, you took him inside, until at last you were fully seated in his lap, the crown of his cock pressed intimately against your cervix.

"Ah…Astarion," you panted, your voice a throaty cascade of need.

"Fuckkk….darling," he rasped, his gaze holding yours captive. "You are perfection."

His breath hitched as you withdrew until only his tip remained nestled in your heat only to sink back down onto him, your velvet walls gripping him like a vice. The sheer intensity of the moment had him gasping for air as if he actually needed it. His hands roamed over your hips, his mind enraptured with the image of his throbbing cock disappearing into the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

You rocked yourself harder, driving him deeper inside, and Astarion's eyes widened in awe.

He couldn't help but marvel at the way your curves seemed to be made for him, your body arching perfectly as you gently bounced on top of him. The incredible wetness of your arousal coated his shaft, the excess sliding even further onto his balls. He moaned quietly as you began to move faster, your hips undulating in a maddening rhythm that left him panting for more.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to drive himself into you from below, his hips finding a punishing rhythm that matched the ferocity of your lust. Sweat dripped from both of your bodies, mingling with the heat of your union.

"So good…so good," he whimpered, his hands pulling you closer, deeper.

You arched your back, head thrown back in a silent cry.

"Harder," you begged, your voice laced with desperation.

Astarion's hips surged forward, rutting into your cervix with a force that had your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You cursed softly as the walls of your pussy tightened around him, clenching as if to pull him in deeper, and the ragged cry that escaped you could surely be heard beyond the walls of the Cathedral.

It wasn’t long before you felt your entire body tighten like a coil, your climax rapidly approaching with each drag of his cock against your walls. Astarion's eyes locked onto you, and a knowing smirk spread across his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was reveling in the knowledge that it was he who was causing you to come apart so beautifully.

Bracing yourself on Astarion's chest, your nails dug into his skin, and your moans grew louder and more fervent. Your body began to shake, and your muscles tensed as your climax coursed through you. He continued to thrust into you, matching the rhythm of your orgasm until your body finally calmed to a quivering, your breath coming in soft pants.

"Astarion, I…"

But he didn't let you finish. He leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues tangling together. His hips continued to move, his pace having slowed slightly as you recovered.

The feeling of him inside of you - stretching you open around him- was indescribable, and still you craved nothing more than to feel him deeper, to have him claim you completely.

With a growl, he pulled back, his aching cock slipping out of your core with a wet pop. You whimpered at the loss, but he quickly wrapped his arms around your middle and flipped you. He now hovered above you, your legs resting atop his broad shoulders as he reached down and teased your entrance with the blunt head of his cock. With a single, powerful thrust, he surged back into your heat, driving himself into your center hard and deep. You cried out, your head thrown back as he claimed you entirely. Your cunt clenched around him, spasming in response to his aggressive invasion.

Astarion's eyes were fixed on where the two of you met for a moment, watching as he split you open…listening to the delicious sounds that fell from your lips as you took every single inch of him, before he returned his attention to you - watching as your face contorted with pleasure. The sight of you, lost in his grasp, was almost too much for him to bear.

"So good," he groaned.

Each thrust sent another wave of electricity coursing through him, that primitive desire to claim you fully taking over. His hands gripped your ass, lifting you and pulling you closer to meet each punishing stroke of his cock. He was close.

Pressing small kisses to his neck and face, you pulled back just slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored his own. "I want to feel you cum inside of me again," she panted. "I want to fill me - over and over- until you take root."

Astarion's eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this was wrong, knew that he was risking so much, but he couldn’t stop himself. More than that, he didn’t want to. He could feel the weight of so many years of unspent seed inside of him, begging to be released.

With a low growl, he plunged into you, his hips pounding against you with such force you were certain there would be bruises. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound lost in the passionate cries that filled the room. The muscles of his thighs strained as he pushed himself deeper into your wrecked little hole, his eyes never leaving yours.

His lips crashed against yours with a fervor that spoke of more than just lust as his movements became more urgent, each thrust pushing him to the brink of his own undoing. The sound of your union filled the room, an erotic symphony that grew with every gasp and moan.

"Ah..f-fuck," he whimpered between kisses, his voice vibrating through you. His hips drove forward one final time, burying himself deep within your warmth. The hot rush of his release flooded your tight channel, his seed spilling into you, claiming your flesh in the most primal way. Even as some of his cum seeped from where you were still joined, tracing a warm path down your thighs, you remained acutely aware of his pulsing presence still locked inside of you.

"Tell me," Astarion whispered hoarsely against your lips, his breath hitched with the aftershocks of his orgasm, "do you truly wish for this? To carry my children?" His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Your response came not in words but in action—a timid nod, an admission so genuine it burned. Embarrassment tinged your features, but the earnestness of your desire was unmistakable.

With a tenderness that belied the fervency of moments ago, Astarion began to rock, a gentle rhythm that massaged his essence deeper into your womb.

"And would you be mine…forever? My precious wife, sitting all prim and proper in the church, listening as I recite scripture and the teachings of our Lord?”

You could almost see yourself there, among the faithful, a serene smile masking the vivid memories of the carnal ways in which the two of you would worship one another after the pews had emptied.

You nodded again, carding your fingers gently through his curls. “I’d love nothing more.”

His smile was a rare gift, a gleam of shared secrets and unspoken promises.

"Then it shall be so," he purred, an oath that echoed in the very depths of your soul. And with that, Astarion pressed a gentle kiss to you lips, another to your forehead, and continued to hold you close, never withdrawing, as you both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Blanket” Jonathan Crane x Fem! Reader

(A/N: Another older insert reader from about two years ago that I finally got around to finishing. Here’s one where Jonathan and Reader were both celebrating that neither of them had crossed paths with Batman for a whole week. Then things kind of heat up from there. Jonathan still needs the reassurance that Reader is being true in their relationship because he’s not used to that. This is kinda related to my previous Jonathan Crane fanfics discussing Batman’s opinion on their relationship. Minors Do Not Interact with this. Warnings: Minor angst, romance, first time together, lovemaking, hand job (both), unprotected sex, and mentions of Jonathan having past heartbreak. Word Count: 2,124 words)

~~~

A celebration was in order. A disguised excuse to be together and leaving adult responsibilities for another day.

Neither you nor Jonathan had crossed paths with the Batman for over a full work week. No captured Crane and you weren’t wrangled into another lecture about being too close to Scarecrow.

Honestly, it was a relief.

Over at your apartment, Jonathan had prepared dinner. A little something warm, hot, and homey. You had insisted cooking was his secret skill. The meal and time together was lovely. Something you cherished.

Cleaning the dishes could had been worse, but at least the plate didn’t break when it slipped from your grasp.

You were lucky. Yet it was a firm reminder to Jonathan and yourself that you were capable of being distracted.

Drying your hands, you could see Jonathan pushing his sleeves just that much further up to expose his forearms.

Could it be the glimpse of skin when he was otherwise all covered up?

Was it the lean muscle that lead to Jonathan’s dexterous hands?

Maybe you simply missed holding his hand after a long week?

Probably all of the above. And then some. You did adore the man for all that he was and would be.

The towel stilled in your hands as Jonathan’s arms encircled your waist.

“Do you have any after-dinner plans?” Asked Jonathan, his breath tickling your ear.

“I was thinking we could watch a movie,” you said and hung the kitchen towel up to dry. “Maybe share that really soft blanket I got a few weeks ago.”

“Sounds very domestic.”

“And I’m hoping to keep it that way. You know.” You gestured towards the windows on the other side of the living room. Ones that had been covered with curtains all evening.

“He couldn’t be that irritating.” Jonathan tightened his hold around you.

“It’s been a week…”

The two of you grew silent. Lost in thoughts of the Batman dropping by to lure you away from Doctor Crane. Again.

So much for getting handsy in the kitchen.

Sighing, your shoulders lowered. “I just wanted a little celebration with a sprinkle of romance. No fear of nocturnal creatures.”

Jonathan’s lips met your ear. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

You tilted your head. “More annoyed, I think.”

Humming, he pressed a firm kiss to your exposed neck.

“More annoying still that we’re talking about him when I finally have you all to myself. A great feat these days.” You smiled contently as Jonathan continued giving slow, strategically placed kisses. “And…we could just shut off all the lights,” you suggested.

“Skip the movie.”

“Get under the blanket.”

“Share body heat.”

“And a few other things?” You folded your arms over Jonathan’s, hopeful.

His lips curved upward against your skin. Lean hips pressed closer to you from behind.

“I’ll get the lights,” he whispered.

“Meet you on the couch.”

You turned your head and gave Jonathan a long, generous kiss. One you two would surely continue.

Jonathan slipped out of your grasp and gave you a head start. Stilling his hand by the light-switch, he was patient.

You were quick to cross the floor. Unfolding the new blanket in a rush, you laid it across the couch cushions.

In the second it took you to glance over to your partner, the apartment went dark. Save for the candles on the dining table that flickered, forgotten as you sat on the couch.

“Hmm, this blanket is really soft,” you murmured.

“Debatable.”

His foot bumped yours on the floor.

“With what?” You reached up and gently tugged him on the couch beside you.

In turn, he grabbed ahold of your thighs and pulled you fully on the couch, legs draped over his lap.

“With what’s underneath,” he said and gave your thighs a squeeze.

“Sweet and suggestive words.”

“You suggested we share other things.” He inched his fingers further up your thigh.

Humming quietly, you took your time as you unbuttoned his dress shirt. Working your way up, you listened to the sound of his breathing subtly changing. Fingers skimming over his heartbeat. Strong and more noticeable in the position you two were in. Then, having found his neck in the dark, you leaned in to kiss his throat.

Jonathan sucked in a breath.

Sliding your fingers along his skin, you pushed his shirt passed his shoulders, soon discarding it over the back of the couch. You took your time caressing his shoulders and arms. Kissing your way down his slender neck.

His fingers dug into your nice clothes. A soft moan left him as your hands explored his chest.

“I’ve missed you.” You murmured. “All of you. Your mind, your eyes, your voice, your touch…” You kissed his lips slowly and whispered, “Undress me.”

Jonathan pulled at fabric feebly, too busy kissing you again.

Finding his hands, you guided Jonathan as he removed your clothes piece by piece. Slender fingers glided over your skin and eliciting small gasps from yourself as he touched with cold fingertips. Chills ran across your skin.

“Is this alright?” Jonathan asked softly and a little hesitant, hands stilled at your waist.

“I’m with you. Of course this is all right.”

Chuckling, he gave you a quick kiss. Then one more as you took his hands in yours once again.

The pair of you removed the rest of your undergarments before you straddled his lap. Jonathan’s hands rested along your upper back as he gazed upon you in the candlelight.

“Your body is as lovely as your mind.”

Pulling yourself in closer, you thanked your partner with a deep kiss. You felt his exhale as he held you to him. Chests warming between two quick heartbeats.

“I finally get you all to myself,” you whispered against his lips, running your fingers through his hair. “Just us.” You kissed a path down his skin.

“Yes,” he breathed out, “If anyone ruins this, I’ll give them three doses of fe—.”

His words were cut off as your teeth grazed his neck.

You pressed a kiss to his skin; likely reddening. “Good, but I think we’ll be,” you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, “just fine.”

“Agreed.” He swallowed.

Lifting up his hips and fussing around with more articles of clothes, soon Jonathan was as bare as you. Vulnerable and flustered with how close you two had become.

“You okay?” You asked, palm against his burning cheek.

“Sitting with anticipation.”

“You and me both.”

Jonathan placed a hand over yours on his cheek and smiled.

Held together by languid kisses and roaming hands, the pair of you took your time. No rush to get anywhere later nor hide. Lovers memorizing the slight curves of the other. Discovering beautiful imperfections and how it felt to give passionate affections.

You knew Jonathan had held so many doubts before either of you had seen the other’s apartment. To be wrapped around the other, bare and on your couch, was an enormous step towards ensuring each other’s deep adoration.

“Let me take care of you a bit, yeah?” You delicately pushed up his glasses before slowly dragging that hand down his body.

Jonathan shivered under your touch. Yet not as much as when your hand grasped around his member.

You smirked, moving your hand up and down repetitively. Gently, of course, for your dear Jonathan.

He relaxed onto the couch. Soft moans leaving his lips every so often.

There was no need to hurry. Everyday came and went with many tasks. The time alone together in your apartment did not require any of that.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” you confessed, feeling quite content with yourself.

To see your Jonathan comfortable and sighing in pleasure may have also given you a confidence boost. You were doing this with him. He deserved some time to unwind. To have his mind on something he never had before, not without lies at least.

You would never dare to consider the thought of hurting him. Seeing him burdened with his past was enough to claw at your own heart. You never wished to be the cause of it. Jonathan held a special place in your heart and always would.

Leaving the hold he had on your hips, one of Jonathan’s hands started exploring the wetness between your legs.

“Oh.” He breathed out.

You closed your eyes. Loosing yourself in his touch.

Jonathan Crane was indeed an intelligent man. Inventive as he was caring, in your experience with him.

So why did it surprise you that he was giving as much as you were?

Perhaps subconsciously you imagined leading him by the hand with encouraging words as you shared body heat in the most unrestrained form of connection. Perhaps you thought he’d be too nervous. Perhaps, in your anticipation, you forgot how Jonathan had grown to initiate affection with you, his partner.

Could you be that silly or were you in love?

What was the difference?

Kissing his chin, you removed your hands from Jonathan.

“Lay with me?” Reclining onto the cushions, the blanket was soft along your bare skin.

He nodded. Following after you and your body heat. Jonathan pressed multitudes of kisses across your shoulders and neck. All of them soft and barely hiding his rapid breathing. He kept himself propped up on his arms. Ones you gladly held onto.

A light gasp escaped him as you made room for him between your legs. In response, Jonathan laid an openmouthed kiss just below your ear. Delicately, he adjusted his hips to align with yours.

It was a wonder how close you could be and yet still not be close enough.

Rocking your hips, you aided his member to run along your folds. You closed your eyes at the pleasurable sensations that zipped through you. Between his kisses and his movements, it was beginning to consume your mind.

“I need you.”

Your whisper caused Jonathan to stop moving.

“Are you sure?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you properly.

“Very sure, Jonathan. And… Oh, please know I want this. You. Truly.” You cradled his face between your hands. “I want to be with you.”

Behind eyeglasses, emotions swirled in Jonathan’s eyes.

“Just us.”

Leaning down, Jonathan kissed you fervently. All lips and panting hot breaths. He released his emotions full heartedly.

You felt as he guided his tip to your entrance.

Your sudden moan startled him, if only for a second. He managed to see your smile. Amongst the semidarkness, he found one of your hands to hold.

“Easy,” you used your free hand to hold his hip as he eased himself into your warmth. A moan left you, mixing into a giddy laugh and back to a moan. “Good.”

“Good?” Jonathan asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Very.” You kissed his lips eagerly.

You almost came then.

Safe and adored, you could be in his arms forever. Just like that. In the quiet and peaceful night without a care of what happened outdoors. It was you and Jonathan. All you wanted.

A gasp shot out of you as Jonathan gave a particularly pleasant thrust. You tightened your hold on him.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

Could you both have more?

More time together to explore domestic bliss and passionate moments between work life would be an extended goal. One you were adding onto each day whether consciously or not. You would be with Jonathan because you both wanted to. No one could convince you otherwise.

“Darlin’, you’re—,” Jonathan inhaled sharply, “—so beautiful.” His words raced out as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

Your legs were squeezing around him, limbs locked tightly while you both met your pelvises together again and again.

“Don’t stop. Please… Jonathan.”

Sucking in much needed air, you shut your eyes. You let your body do what it craved, thrusting and quivering until it all came to a peak. It hit you like a wave.

Faintly, you could hear a ramble. A repetitive chant of your name.

You opened your eyes.

A loud gasp came from Jonathan as he quickly removed himself from you. His climax rushed through him quickly. Hands clasping the blanket as he came over you.

In a huff, Jonathan fell into your embrace. His hot breath fanned across your collarbone.

“We did it,” he whispered breathlessly, almost to himself.

“And it was amazing by the way.”

You could almost picture him flushing at your words.

Kissing the side of his head, you wrapped your arms around his back.

“Later, do you wanna take a shower, handsome?”

“A shower?”

“Yeah…” You ran a finger along his spine. “You’re welcome to stay over. Please?”

“I would not think to refuse.” Jonathan kissed your collarbone. “I’ll surely sleep well with you, darlin’.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[regulusrules]

Yo, I saw your post about orientalism in relation to the "hollywood middle-east" tiktok!

How can a rando and university dropout get into and learn more about? Any literature or other content to recommend?

Hi!! Wow, you have no idea how you just pressed a button. I'll unleash 5+ years on you. And I'll even add for you open-sourced works that you can access as much as I can!

1. Videos

I often find this is the best medium nowadays to learn anything! I'll share with you some of the best that deal with the topic in different frames

• This is a video of Edward Said talking about his book, Orientalism. Said is the Palestinian- American critic who first introduced the term Orientalism, and is the father of postcolonial studies as a critical literary theory. In this book, you’ll find an in-depth analysis of the concept and a deconstruction of western stereotypes. It’s very simple and he explains everything in a very easy manner.

• How Islam Saved Western Civilization. A more than brilliant lecture by Professor Roy Casagranda. This, in my opinion, is one of the best lectures that gives credit to this great civilization, and takes you on a journey to understand where did it all start from.

• What’s better than a well-researched, general overview Crash Course about Islam by John Green? This is not necessarily on orientalism but for people to know more about the fundamental basis of Islam and its pillars. I love the whole playlist that they have done about the religion, so definitely refer to it if you're looking to understand more about the historical background! Also, I can’t possibly mention this Crash Course series without mentioning ... ↓

• The Medieval Islamicate World. Arguably my favourite CC video of all times. Hank Green gives you a great thorough depiction of the Islamic civilization when it rose. He also discusses the scientific and literary advancements that happened in that age, which most people have no clue about! And honestly, just his excitement while explaining the astrolabe. These two truly enlightened so many people with the videos they've made. Thanks, @sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog

2. Documentaries

• This is an AMAZING documentary called Reel Bad Arabs: How Hollywood Villifies A People by the genius American media critic Jack Shaheen. He literally analysed more than 1000 movies and handpicked some to showcase the terribly false stereotypes in western depiction of Arab/Muslim cultures. It's the best way to go into the subject, because you'll find him analysing works you're familiar with like Aladdin and all sorts.

• Spain’s Islamic Legacy. I cannot let this opportunity go to waste since one of my main scopes is studying feminist Andalusian history. There are literal gems to be known about this period of time, when religious coexistence is documented to have actually existed. This documentary offers a needed break from eurocentric perspectives, a great bird-view of the Islamic civilization in Europe and its remaining legacy (that western history tries so hard to erase).

• When the Moors Ruled in Europe. This is one of the richest documentaries that covers most of the veiled history of Al-Andalus (Muslim Spain). Bettany Hughes discusses some of the prominent rulers, the brilliance of architecture in the Arab Muslim world, their originality and contributions to poetry and music, their innovative inventions and scientific development, and lastly, La Reconquista; the eventual fall and erasure of this grand civilization by western rulers.

3. Books

• Rethinking Orientalism by Reina Lewis. Lewis brilliantly breaks the prevailing stereotype of the “Harem”, yk, this stupid thought westerns projected about arab women being shut inside one room, not allowed to go anywhere from it, enslaved and without liberty, just left there for the sexual desires of the male figures, subjugated and silenced. It's a great read because it also takes the account of five different women living in the middle east.

• Nocturnal Poetics by Ferial Ghazoul. A great comparative text to understand the influence and outreach of The Thousand and One Nights. She applies a modern critical methodology to explore this classic literary masterpiece.

• The Question of Palestine by Edward Said. Since it's absolutely relevant, this is a great book if you're looking to understand more about the Palestinian situation and a great way to actually see the perspective of Palestinians themselves, not what we think they think.

• Arab-American Women's Writing and Performance by S.S. Sabry. One of my favourite feminist dealings with the idea of the orient and how western depictions demeaned arab women by objectifying them and degrading them to objects of sexual desire, like Scheherazade's characterization: how she was made into a sensual seducer, but not the literate, brilliantly smart woman of wisdom she was in the eastern retellings. The book also discusses the idea of identity and people who live on the hyphen (between two cultures), which is a very crucial aspect to understand arabs who are born/living in western countries.

• The Story of the Moors in Spain by Stanley Lane-Poole. This is a great book if you're trying to understand the influence of Islamic culture on Europe. It debunks this idea that Muslims are senseless, barbaric people who needed "civilizing" and instead showcases their brilliant civilization that was much advanced than any of Europe in the time Europe was labelled by the Dark Ages. (btw, did you know that arabic was the language of knowledge at that time? Because anyone who was looking to study advanced sciences, maths, philosophy, astronomy etc, had to know arabic because arabic-speaking countries were the center of knowledge and scientific advancements. Insane, right!)

• Convivencia and Medieval Spain. This is a collection of essays that delve further into the idea of “Convivencia”, which is what we call for religious coexistence. There's one essay in particular that's great called Were Women Part of Convivencia? which debunks all false western stereotypical images of women being less in Islamic belief. It also highlights how arab women have always been extremely cultured and literate. (They practiced medicine, studied their desired subjects, were writers of poetry and prose when women in Europe couldn't even keep their surnames when they married.)

4. Novels / Epistolaries

• Granada by Radwa Ashour. This is one of my favourite novels of all time, because Ashour brilliantly showcases Andalusian history and documents the injustices and massacres that happened to Muslims then. It covers the cultural erasure of Granada, and is also a story of human connection and beautiful family dynamics that utterly touches your soul.

• Dreams of Trespass by Fatema Mernissi. This is wonderful short read written in autobiographical form. It deconstructs the idea of the Harem in a postcolonial feminist lens of the French colonization of Morocco.

• Scheherazade Goes West by Mernissi. Mernissi brilliantly showcases the sexualisation of female figures by western depictions. It's very telling, really, and a very important reference to understand how the west often depicts middle-eastern women by boxing them into either the erotic, sensual beings or the oppressed, black-veiled beings. It helps you understand the actual real image of arab women out there (who are not just muslims btw; christian, jew, atheist, etc women do exist, and they do count).

• Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. This is a feminist travel epistolary of a British woman which covers the misconceptions that western people, (specifically male travelers) had recorded and transmitted about the religion, traditions and treatment of women in Constantinople, Turkey. It is also a very insightful sapphic text that explores her own engagement with women there, which debunks the idea that there are no queer people in the middle east.

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

With all of these, you'll get an insight about the real arab / islamic world. Not the one of fanaticism and barbarity that is often mediated, but the actual one that is based on the fundamental essences of peace, love, and acceptance.

[nanawritesit]

Trent Lane Boyfriend Headcanons! (SFW + NSFW under the cut)

(i just finished daria and have major Trent brain rot… but there’s like no content for him so i guess i have to write it myself :p)

SFW:

He writes songs about you all the time (they don’t always make sense but you still appreciate them)

Probably shows his love through physical touch or acts of service because he’s too broke to buy you gifts or take you anywhere nice 💀

He always has an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your waist, or is at least linking pinkies with you. If you’re next to him, he’s touching you in some way

And if you ever need help with chores or a project, he offers to do it for you or help you finish it (which is saying a lot because he’s usually lazy af)

Always gives you his jacket when it’s cold without you even having to ask him :)

Loves to lay his head on your chest and fall asleep after late night gigs… you struggle to roll him off of you in the morning because he sleeps like a log 😭

Calls you his “muse” occasionally

But he mostly calls you a cuter version of your name (like how he calls Jane “Janey,”) or just a simple “Babe” or “Hon”

Most of your dates are at the bars Mystik Spiral is playing at

You’ll hang out there for a while and get pizza afterwards, then probably smoke 🍃 in the tank

He asks your opinion on song lyrics, and you’ll help him brainstorm rhymes

The man is nocturnal so you have a ton of late night phone calls

You’re basically his sugar mama because again, he’s broke and unemployed

You have to reassure him that it doesn’t bother you all the time, in fact he’s *almost* considered getting a job just for you because he loves you that much 💞

(you can call him a deadbeat all you want. i would have no problem supporting my sweet baby girl 😤)

He also gets insecure sometimes that you’ll leave him for someone more educated or successful… you’ll have to explain to him that you don’t care about that stuff and that you love him regardless of it

His idea of a perfect day is just laying in bed with you all day long… he’s big on cuddles, either laying his head on your chest or nuzzling up into your neck :)

Although he also enjoys spooning you, or having you lay on his chest while he runs his fingers through your hair (He’s the best cuddler ever, try to change my mind)

Also loves going to the music store with you, and any other shops you enjoy going to

If you like piercings, you’ll go on piercing dates together :)

If you’re nervous, he’ll hold your hand and talk you through it 💞

Keeping him company while he gets his tattoos

He likes to see what you buy for yourself so he can save up his money to buy you something nice for your birthday or anniversary 🥺

LOVES when you sleep in his t shirts ❤️ He thinks you look so hot

He doesn’t strike me as someone who has a specific type, he just likes whoever he gives with. You could be alternative like him or have the total opposite aesthetic, he just likes you for who you are 🥰

Desperately trying to get him to take care of himself by getting a better sleep schedule and maybe eating a piece of fruit every now and again 💀

Watching Sick Sad World with Jane and Daria

The two of them look up to you because you’re one of the few people they think are cool, they mostly ask you for advice on relationships, school, and resolving their disputes

Jane asking you to help her dye her hair after Daria ruined it 😀

You always encourage her and compliment her paintings, she sees you as a really cool older sister (except not actually because all of her relatives besides Trent are insane)

You try to help them out around the house with cooking and cleaning and buying groceries since their parents are never home

The other guys in the band tease him so hard because he talks about you constantly and always gets so happy when you call :)

Jesse was actually the one who set you guys up, and it makes him so happy to see you together

He keeps a picture of you on the dashboard of the tank just to make him smile whenever he sees it 💞

NSFW: (18+/ MDNI)

Lazy morning sex (even though it’s at like 4 pm) because it’s the best way to wake him up ;)

Having sex in the tank right before a show because he’s convinced he plays better after he fucks you

He’s a switch for sure, mostly because he doesn’t always have the energy to be on top

Really likes long make out sessions where you’re straddling his lap and he can run his hands all along your body

Looooves watching you ride him

But he also enjoys pinning you down and dominating you 👀

The cold metal of his rings against your skin drives you wild, especially when he’s fingering you

Will give you hickeys in the most obvious places because he thinks they look hot

Conversely, he loves it when you leave scratches down his back like you’re marking him as your territory

Listen, this man knows how to EAT 😤 (you’re probably the most nutritious thing he eats tbh)

He loves overstimulating you by making you cum on his tongue and then fucking you immediately after

But he also loves it when you return the favor… he can’t think of any better sight than you on your knees going down on him 😭

He knows that his voice turns you on and uses it against you to turn you on in public (which leads to the two of you running out to the tank for a quickie)

He’s really good at talking you through it 😫

Not super loud during sex, but he does grunt and swear a lot

And when he gets close to finishing he starts letting out some airy moans, mostly saying your name over and over

He’s not *super* freaky but he certainly knows how to show you a good time ;)

[nick-nocturne]

Hello! I recently got into your content with Welcome home, and I scrolled on your blog for a bit. I saw that you have... some sort of rivalry/beef with matpat of the theorist channels, and I wanted to know your thoughts on his retirement. As someone who grew up watching his game theory videos, and having those game theory videos, particularly the fnaf theory videos, be the reason I was able to fit in and share common interests with my peers in middle and high school when the fnaf craze was still going strong? It was hard to hear your criticism of one of my beloved childhood figures. But you helped me realize that I had put matpat up on a pedestal because of his videos and because of my childhood nostalgia, and that I didn't need to do that. I do wonder if you think that matpat has gotten better, that he's not as bad or egotistical as he was before. There are many questions I would like to ask. But I'll stick with only one.

So, rivalry/beef/hatred or whatever feelings you hold towards matpat aside, how do you feel about matpat retiring from YouTube? Are you happy? Elated to see a rival or opponent gone? Or do you feel something else about seeing him leave the public sphere. I'd just like to know your opinion, considering your strong feelings on him before.

Thank you for your time, Mr. Nocturne.

An angel must've tapped you to ask this, considering how much I've been thinking about this lately. ::3 The majority of heat I've ever lobbed against MatPat in prior years can best be described as angst, a lot of it unwarranted. I've had issues with his business practices, his content practices, and a lot of his content approaches--but that never called for the kind of flippant sneering I used to exhibit towards him. I've had criticism of MatPat and can't say I saw Game Theory as favorably as I felt it could have been--and I wish I could tell myself from a few years ago to accept that feeling and chill, especially when I knew I still respected his passion, his dedication, and his impact. I feel really good about MatPat retiring and it's for exactly two reasons: he gets to leave on happy terms, on his own terms, after fulfilling a career of over a decade being a trailblazer on YouTube who legitimately has inspired hundreds, if not thousands, of people in a truly positive way; and he gets to pass his position to someone else and give them a chance at what is, for coverage in certain areas of art creation, the top of the mountain. I also thought while watching his goodbye video that he's clearly been thinking a ton about how he's done his work on YouTube, and the impact he's had through his methods, good and bad--I could hear it in his words and the nuances. He's been reflecting, that's for sure, and it informed the way he sat down to talk about the journey. I also felt a lot of resonating with things he said, and there were moments in that goodbye video that I truly understood him and know exactly how he feels. I felt I could have sat on that couch with him and had a conversation as a guy who gets it, because this many years on, I do get it. And while I don't have as much in common with MatPat as I do Jamie of Inside A Mind, or Jeff of Jeffiot, or Goose Boose, there's common ground he and I could talk very warmly over. Ultimately, I am happy he gets to leave in happiness, with what he's built in hands he trusts, and that he knows his first baby--Game Theory--is going to be safe. I wish him, very sincerely, so much happiness and all the fulfillment that opening his life and getting more time as a father, husband, and man will bring him.

[arthenaa]

nocturne (interlude) — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: it seems as if you've always managed to bump into your father's regular in untimely situations. it also can't be helped that you think he's absolutely handsome.

content: reader is a daughter of a medic and an apothecary, golden retriever x black cat trope, might contain historically inaccurate terms (not that well versed in the edo period or japanese culture. forgive me), mizu will be referred with he/him pronouns, mizu being emotionally constipated ig, slight mention of violence and gore, fluff, pre-relationship, meet cute, sfw.

a/n: heyaaa :D its been awhile since ive posteddd. considering this as a break from comms and sch!! ill try to be more active in posting as my xmas break is approaching hehe <33 current hyperfixation is mizu from blue eyed samurai. (I HIGHLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT !!!) enjoyy part 2!! (my love mine all mine)

You can still remember the first time you met him.

It was quite easy to recall the memory with ease. It was after all one of the nights where there weren't many customers fluttering about to avail your father's services in medicine due to idiotic accidents and miscalculated duels. You watched your father pull out herb after herb, vial after vial, stitch after stitch as more and more swordsmen of all ranks came in and out of the shop.

You were quite well-known around town as the daughter of the medic—often smiling and huffing about. Some say you were too naive to be comfortable and accommodating to your father's customers but others also claim you were elegant and a ray of sunshine due to your approachable and easygoing nature. None of that mattered anyway, not when the field of medicine was your only focus in life.

Your father doesn't like to call you his apprentice but you knew you were his. After all, with all the knowledge he's passed down unto you, you might as well run your own apothecary but alas, you still had much to learn.

It was also a quiet agreement among men that no one pays too much attention to the daughter of the skilled medic and apothecary. You suppose it's because of your father's standing and reputation that most men would rather cut off their arms than get on the bad side of one of the only medics who can actually do a decent job in life-threatening situations.

Which brings us to the current topic at hand.

It had been a cold winter that night. Your father had been busy making fresh medicine at the behest of a high lord in one of the rich provincial states up north. It was up to you to man the front and be alert in case any wanderers might walk in asking for help.

The harsh breeze of that winter night was your first cue. The doors had swung open which left you scrambling off your seat then a second later, a man with a lean stature stumbles his way through—arm clutching the side of his stomach.

Your breath hitches as he props himself against the wooden pillar. He looks up at you, blue eyes clear and intense that it left you speechless from where you stood.

"I-I," He gasps for air, eyebrows scrunching from the pain. "Help-I need—"

You wasted no time in aiding him as you took wide strides to his injured form, arms holding out to keep him steady as he began to wobble back and forth. You scream for your father, worried that the man before you would pass out at any moment.

Thankfully aware of the situation, your father prepares the receiving area. You look back at the injured patient with worry in your eyes as you further assess all sorts of damage on his figure.

However, you can't help but find yourself entranced by his clear blue eyes. Despite being on the brink of utter exhaustion, he has managed to keep himself awake perched up on your shoulder.

He locks eyes with you, blinking slowly, and just as you begin to get lost in those blue hues of his, his body begins to fall.

"Sir, wait—!"

Then he's out like a light.

The next time you met him had been purely coincidental.

After that night, the man left quietly like the leaves falling gently along the stream. He left quite a hefty sum of money on your father's desk and kept the bed clean at his departure. It's safe to say that your father was overjoyed by the payment.

Your father had sent you on an errand to town to gather some supplies from a supplier he trusts. He had been busy attending to patients and manning the counter to be the one to get the package himself.

"You have nothing better to do anyway, might as well be useful to your old dad," Your father scrunched his nose playfully as he placed a bag of money on your palms. "And if a man approaches you, remember to use that knife I gave you and make clean perforation at the jugular vein—"

You had stopped your father right there.

It didn't bother you that much and this also was an opportunity to get some leisure time. You did as you were told and saved a bit of money for window shopping.

Stumbling upon an artisan selling hair ornaments, your eyes immediately dart toward a golden hairpin with imitations of sakura leaves. Upon reaching out to inspect it, a hand collides with your own causing you to let out a gasp.

"Apologies—" Your eyes dart up to look at the stranger but is met instead with familiar blue eyes, this time under the disguise of orange tint sunglasses. "Oh! It's you."

The man furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you Mr. Gojo's—?"

"Daughter?" You perk up with a smile. You shift from heel to heel at the intensity of his gaze. Somehow, you're feeling quite nervous with this gentleman. "Yeah. I caught you that night."

"Ah," The man nods, awkward in his stance before turning back toward the array of ornaments in front of him. "Thank you."

"I-It was no problem," You stammered, hands smoothing out the fabric of your kimono. "It's what we do after all."

There's a hum of response coming from the man before silence ensues between the two of you. He had gotten back to analyzing other items that the vendor was offering and you could only stand there, discreetly watching his every move.

You didn't have the opportunity to take a good look at him besides his eyes that night. Your father seemed like he had recognized the man before you and ushered you out of the room before you could have the chance to offer help. Though, now, you could see that he had a proportionate height—a few inches taller than you but still tall nonetheless. His shoulders evoke confidence with every move of his body but his face talks of the mystery hidden under the guise of his kasa. He was pretty, yet... handsome. You've never come across a man who could embody both sides of the spectrum.

"Do you need something?" His voice had startled you out of your daydream causing your cheeks to flush. He raises his eyebrow with his ever-perpetual glare. You give him a sheepish smile.

"I've never gotten your name, sir." You purse your lips, tilting your head as he squints his eyes at your request.

"My name? Why?"

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at his response. Why? What does he mean why? This man was truly cynical, you think.

"Well, I saved you, didn't I?"

"Correction. Your father did." The man deadpans. You giggle at his tone, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Alright, no need to get so philosophical with me," You jest, trying to get him to lighten up to you. You take a step closer, trying to gauge his expressions as you give him a lighthearted smile. "Is getting to know people a crime now?"

The man sighs before looking at the array of hair ornaments to your right. He then grabs the hairpin you were looking at and tosses a bag of coins toward the vendor. He places it within your palms before adjusting his cloak. You flinch at the sudden gesture, unaware of his intentions.

"It's Mizu." He says before turning and leaving without further explanation. You stand, agape as the man further blends in with crowd with each step he takes away from you.

This man—No, Mizu, surely is interesting.

This next meeting was one you were thankful of.

Now, it wasn't as if your meetings were solely limited by chance. He became a regular after your father's incredible work on him. You watch him arrive usually at the end of every week, either looking to restock the medicine that your father gave him or get himself treated for an unwanted injury.

You tried interacting with him during his visits but Mizu always either cut the conversation short or grunted in annoyance. He never tried to entertain much of your whims and only left you grasping at straws for whatever possible chance of interaction he might give you.

Although, despite being cold towards you, he still has the heart to help you in mundane tasks whenever he encounters the chance. For instance, upon seeing you struggling with the basin, he immediately walked over and carried to where your father is with ease. He also grabbed your freshly bought basket of fruits and guarded you on your way back home. He even thumped the back of your head lightly with his hand on his way out while you were fixing up the front.

He was an enigma. A puzzle you desperately tried to solve but always failed.

The thought of his gentlemanly actions had always left your heart thumping faster and louder within the confines of your chest. Wanting to know him, get closer to him, see the corners of his lips upturned—anything to see a version of him only you can keep.

It also seems that your father is familiar with his master. You hear talks between them, asking about the well-being of a man named 'Master Eiji', the one whom Mizu calls his swordfather. You ought to know better than to eavesdrop but somehow your attention has always been led towards his very existence.

Your father had always been strict about you ever since you were but a wee girl. He had expressed the importance of having a fruitful marriage with someone who is of your deserving. He, after all, was in a true love marriage with your mother and was together for at least 25 years before your mother succumbed to her illness at the age of 45.

It also didn't help that you were deemed the sunlight of the town, often getting several interested looks from promising men. But all your suitors couldn't take the intensity of your father's expectations. It's safe to say that you won't be getting married for awhile.

"Just stay here, my daughter," Your father sighs as he serves you seconds of your favorite food. "Who the hell cares about marriage anyway."

You laugh, reaching out to pat your old man's hand. "It's going to look bad for you if you don't marry off your one and only daughter, y'know?"

"That's precisely why I don't want to do any of that," Your father grumbles, taking a sip of his soup. "Work here, eat, sleep, go have fun. That's what your mother would've wanted anyway."

You were grateful for your circumstances, yes, but you've always wanted to help out as much as you can for your dad. His reputation as a skilled medic can only take so much before others will come to expect more. So as long as you're in his care, you try to help out around his shop as much as you can.

Although you wonder if your father would allow him to—

Ah, forget it. Convincing your father was a lost cause.

Back to the current task at hand, your father had tasked you to gather some herbs from the forest near your humble abode as it is less taxing for your finances when you have easy access to one nearby. Gearing up for the coldness of winter, you stepped out of your house in pursuit of such herbs. With a hop on your step, you wish to finish your task sooner than later to prepare for a certain gentleman possibly visiting later at night.

The only you thing you didn't account for was the possible danger you'd be encountering.

"Listen, I-I don't want any trouble," You slowly backed away as a group of men began surrounding you. It was uncommon to encounter bandits around this area as this was situated near the town. You're not so sure as to what prompted this criminals to stage a robbery in broad daylight.

"Oh, c'mon little miss," One of the bandits chuckled. He twirled a knife in his hand as he approached you menacingly. "We just wanna know what you're up to."

Your breath speeds up as one of his companions playfully advanced with a jump in his step. You flinched back, heartbeat thumping as the crunch of leaves around you signified their slow advance towards your figure. You clutched the knife your father gave you within your hands, ready to use it in case one of them tries something.

Jugular vein. Neck. Neck. Vein. Keep it fast. Right side.

"Perhaps we could do something fun, darling? I'm sure you'd love it." Wide grins and loud laughter erupted from their lips.

Vein. Lethal point. Could head straight through the liver. Artery. Perforation.

Your head had begun to ramble, your father's words echoing within the depths of your mind. Just as you adjusted your grip on your knife and one of the bandits had began to finally get whatever they aimed for in the first place, a breeze of wind suddenly alerted you of a new presence.

You shut your eyes in fear as one of the men at the far back screamed.

"What the fuck?!" The leader bellowed as he watched his man crumple to the ground, holding what was left of his dismembered arm. The other bandits begin turning towards the new opponent, swords ready as they watched him step over their comrade.

You open your teary eyes, locking gazes with the familiar hues of blue hidden under orange tint. There's some sort of hardened glare as Mizu looked at you up and down, assessing your well-being within a matter of seconds.

"This is Takayama's jurisdiction," Mizu's deep voice bellowed as he placed his hand on the scabbard of his sword. "I suggest you leave."

The leader lets out a scoff as he widens his shoulders to appear more menacing to him. Mizu only looks at him under the guise of his kasa.

"You are outnumbered, samurai," The man smirks. It might've been intimidating with the number of men that surrounded Mizu but you were well aware of his prowess as a swordsman and completely had faith in his abilities. "Your talks of dominance do not affect me."

Mizu chuckles, one hand reaching up to push back his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We'll see about that."

"Thank you," You smile widely, eyes crinkling as you grab his extended hand.

The bandits groaned in pain as they crumbled to the ground. Some have even passed out from the harsh hits that Mizu had inflicted. You watched him twirl and move with elegance, slicing and hitting with precise angles that left you in awe at his performance.

It took at most 15 minutes for him to finish all of them and another 3 minutes for you to pick your jaw off the floor and fix yourself up.

"It's no problem," Mizu nods at your gratitude. He holds your hand firm as you wobble back and forth to stay back in balance. "Although, I advise that you venture towards areas within the town vicinity. This area is bordering outside of Takayama, thus the bandits."

"Ah," You let out a soft laugh. "There were more herbs here. I thought it was safe."

Mizu doesn't reply back as he gazes at you from the comforts of his glasses. You flush at his stare, still not being able to handle its intensity. You look down to busy yourself with, staring at your conjoined hands before finally taking notice of a scratch on the side of his hand to his wrist.

"You're injured," You whispered as you pulled his hand close to yours. You hear Mizu's breath hitch as he stumbles slightly at the pull of your hand. You look up at him as he furrows his eyebrows.

"I-It's fine, it doesn't hurt." He tries to reason with you but your grip on his hand remains steady.

"You saved me so I'll repay you by treating this. Alright?" You give him your best smile and suddenly the samurai doesn't have the heart in him to say no. At the sound of his reluctant silence, you enthusiastically pull out your satchel filled with medicinal tools. It was handy that you always kept your tools with you no matter where you went.

You applied antiseptic, brushing it with a clean cloth along the wound. Whether Mizu felt the pain or not, he only remained as still as a rock while you worked.

"You're early today," You try to make conversation as you clean his wound up. Mizu stays silent for a few seconds before replying.

"I had free time," He says. "I... was also out of medicine so..."

You hum, nodding along his words as you make gentle strokes to ease the pain (if he ever felt it).

"If you ever need to go out like this again," He picks up the conversation making your heart skip a beat. There's a pause of silence before he continues. "Let me—If I'm there, let me know. You don't need to endanger yourself like this."

You let out a quiet laugh as you finally wrapped his wound with a white strip of cloth. You look at him with softened eyes, reveling in his slightly flushed cheeks and gaze dulled by sincerity. There's a pause of comfortable silence between the two of you, only lost in each other's gazes.

You slowly reach out, hands pausing as you communicate a request for consent. Mizu only gives you a small nod before you reach out to pull off his glasses. Those same beautiful blue orbs stare back at you as you revel in their gaze.

"You're more handsome like this," You whisper as you take a step closer to him. Snow gently falls around you, cascading in gentle flow as you breathe out puffs of air. Mizu tilts his head with an upturn of the corner of his lips.

There it is.

You flush in his gaze as he reaches up to brush a stray hair away from your face. "You're jesting," He says with a quiet tone.

Your gaze at him doesn't waver. "I'd say yes if you asked me to marry you."

Mizu let's out a chuckle, eyebrow raised at your bold response. "You are one dangerous lady, Y/N. Does your father know that?"

You roll your eyes at him. "How could he know when all he does is keep men away from me," You tilt your head playfully, "Although, I do wonder why he often keeps you close. Perhaps, he's found you to be worthy of a man."

Mizu laughs at your praises, shoulders shaking as the two of you stand close to one another, basking in the soft breeze of the winter sky. He lifts his hand up and flicks your forehead. You flinch back, holding your forehead in pain as you give him a glare.

"Ow?!" You frown as he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. "What a way to turn off a lady!"

"You're too adorable to be a lady," Mizu teases as he crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head as he looks at you with squinted eyes in thought. "Kind of like a.... puppy."

Your jaw drops at his comparison causing him to release a few chuckles. It wasn't fair that he was out here causing poor things to your heart and raised by a father who was direct and determined to achieve the things he wanted in life, you didn't allow yourself to back down.

With wide strides, you easily reach where he stands before standing on your toes and grabbing his face as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-?!" His face flushes a deep red as he moves back holding his cheek. You flash him a cheeky grin as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"I'll be waiting for your proposal, Mizu," You giggle, swaying back and forth with your hands tucked behind you. You put on his glasses before leaning slightly forward with eyes squinted playfully. "Or shall I be the one to propose, hm? Seeing as your blushing from just a kiss on the cheek."

Mizu takes a few seconds before collecting himself. There's an unreadable look on his face before makes careful steps towards you. You watch him, curious as he stops in front of you—hand reaching out to pull his glasses off from your face. You expect him to start berating you for invading his space but what you received after was certainly something you never took into account.

He leans down and gingerly places a kiss on your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses himself close before pulling away all to fast. Your lips tingle as you watch him put on his glasses back with a smile.

"I'm no coward, Y/N," He adjusts your cloak as you remain speechless in front of him. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

And just as he enters, he walks off with quiet footsteps, leaving you grasping at whatever was left of your brain after what he just did. Your face flushes a deep red as your fingertips touches your lips with shaky movements.

Did this man just—

"Are you coming?!" He calls over from the dirt path back to your house. You stumble in your footing as you rush over to him.

"I-I'm coming!" You stammer as you gather your things and rushed towards him. He greets you with a smile and this time with his glasses tucked away. Blue hues greet your flushed form and suddenly an overwhelming realization washes over you.

Oh, I'm definitely not going to let this man go.

a/n: MY WIFE MIZU MY WIFEEE,,,,, planning to make a pt2 idk lemme guys know if u want one. will also fix my archive, tumblr's getting messy. NOT PROOFREAD but will fix if ever i do go back on this after my finals. HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS!

[rallentando1011]

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

rise Donnie x gn reader

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 4873

Content: movie night, fight scene, brief text messages (it was a doozy to write but still really fun!)

Chapter Artwork: Here

Waking up before noon was a chore. 

Not necessarily because you stayed up late, also not because you forgot to set an alarm, but the combination of the two made last night’s sleep enticingly prisonlike. 

You only awoke when your bedroom seemed suspiciously bright, your rest suspiciously long. Having work at noon and not wanting to miss it, you shot up in bed, frantically padding for your phone in its place beside you.

Checking the time revealed that it was a comfortable while away from when you had to be at work, not even eleven yet.

Checking your telephone also revealed numerous notifications filling up the screen.

Not that it was odd for you to wake up to a bunch of text messages, but yeah, it was.

When you opened your phone, you saw that the group chat that had been made at April’s birthday party was the culprit.

Shoot. You’d almost forgotten that it even existed. Outside of the pictures from April’s party and a few memes, not much had been sent.

That was, until last night, apparently.

You scrolled to the top of the new messages, getting to work on reading through the slew of them awaiting you.

Today 1:58 AM

Leo: so I recognize that we’re all busy people/yōkai/mutants/unspecified, but we’ve got some free time tonight if you guys would be game for a movie night?

Mikey: Yeah baby! I’m SO down!

Leo: …

Leo: we’re the ones inviting people over so this was more for everyone else, you know?

Mikey: oh. right. knew that.

Today 3:17 AM

April: I’m game! After like seven because your girl has work :))

Donnie: Aren’t you on your fifth job this week?

April: Isn’t your forehead on its fifth inch?

Raph: f

Leo: f

Mikey: f

Today 4:23 AM

Casey: HECK YEAH, I’LL BRING SNAKCS.

Casey: *SNAKCN.

Sunita: You can do it Cass

Casey: **SNACKS!!!

Sunita: It’s a yes from me btw

Casey: Your sarcasm is not appreciated, goopy one.

Casey: Junior is with me right now. I hope you find it suitable that I have invited him along.

Leo: wait, Jr’s not in here? lemme add him rq

Leo added an Unknown number

Maybe Junior: A movie night sounds great! I’m assuming we already have plans to get pizza? If not, I’ll gladly pick some up.

Mikey: You /know/ we’ve got pizza covered, baby! All you need to do is show up

Maybe Junior: Sounds great!

As you caught up on the conversation, you thought about your schedule for the day. Sure, you had work, but only until six, and you didn’t have anything the next day. Some social interaction sounded nice, even if all of the people you were hanging out with all seemed to stay up until ungodly hours.

Today 10:48 AM

You: gosh dang are all of you nocturnal?

You: also yes, I’m absolutely down for a movie night! where at?

April: Remember that one patisserie we ate at in SoHo? Just meet me outside of there and I’ll lead you the rest of the way ;)

You: bet

With that, you rolled yourself off your mattress, slapped on some jeans, a shirt, beanie, fanny pack, boots, snagged some breakfast for the road, and started off on your way to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day at work proved drudgerous.

Thankfully, nothing terrible happened, and you didn’t have many bad interactions with customers, but it was so painfully dull. It had been insipid, realistically, since April had left, but it provided a steady pay and got you by. Such is the life of a retail worker.

The boredom you experienced at work was quickly warped into excitement as your shift ended and your walk to meet with your best pal began.

After a brisk journey, you landed in front of the patisserie that you and April had visited only a few weeks prior. You scanned the area, grinning as your eyes landed on her leaning against the brick wall by the building’s entrance. No sooner than you noticed her, she did the same with you.

“Hey!” April waved you over.

“Hey!” you responded as you walked over to her, taking in the familiar area around you. Coffee shops, hot pot stops, standard commercial buildings and advertisements galore, but not many residences.

“Hey April, where do these pals of yours live anyways?” you asked, still surveilling the nearby edifices.

“Oh. About that…” she started, and you looked at her. 

She seemed nervous, almost.

“It’s fine if they live a while away. I could use the exercise.” 

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth anxiously. So it wasn’t that.

“What is it?” you asked, the smile you had slowly draining from your face.

“It’s nothing bad, just- let me show you.”

April slipped around the corner and into a dim, adjacent alley while you trailed her like a confused sheep. When she stopped abruptly and looked at the ground, you came up beside her and followed her gaze.

You started rethinking everything that had brought you to this point as you both stared down a slightly ajar manhole.

“The sewers.”

“The sewers,” she confirmed grimly.

“No, you’ve got to be kidding right now. Wherever the hidden cameras-slash-film crew are, they can come out now…”  You paused. You didn’t truly expect anyone or anything to happen, but it sure would’ve made you feel better if it did. However, after a moment filled with the distant sounds of cars and people, you met her eyes again. “We’re really going in there?”

“Yep.”

“Does it not smell like, I don’t know, sewage?”

April snorted. “Oh, no. There are measures put in place to spruce the lair up. We’re talking industrial-grade air fresheners. I helped Donnie put ‘em up years ago.”

“... So it did smell?”

“Man, just get in the sewers!”

With that impetus, you cautiously helped her kick the cover askew, then open, and tentatively placed yourself on the first rung of a ladder built in a wall. Before you continued your descent, you narrowed your eyes at your companion.

“If this is some kind of trick, I swear-”

This time April didn’t indulge you with words. One sight of her deadpan sent you carefully yet swiftly working your way down into the sewers.

Despite being underneath the ground, it was still bright enough to see in front of you, see the rungs methodically moving up as you went down. You attributed your ability to see to the light creeping in through the entrance above, so when April followed you down and worked the cover back in place, you were immediately plunged into darkness.

“Woah, it’s, uh, a bit dark down here,” you called, definitely not clinging desperately to the ladder.

“Oh, right! You’re not really used to this,” April laughed lightly.

“You could say that.”

“Here.” After a moment, a bright light shone from above you. April’s flashlight. In the now illuminated cement structure, you looked up to see her flash you a smile. You mustered up an uneasy one back at her and crept the rest of the way down.

You almost collapsed in relief at being back on solid, albeit sewer-water-dampened, ground. At least it didn’t smell like sewage, just like she had said.

April landed beside you swiftly, giving you a nudge before bounding down a tunnel. “Come on. It’s this way!”

You sighed before coming up beside her.

“Once again, I feel I just need to ask for legal purposes, this isn’t an elaborate hoax or scheme for my demise, right?”

“I promise! Look, just relax.This’ll be fun!”

“Alright.”

You two meandered through the tunnels in a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the echoes of your steps and the constant drips of faraway water. With how many chambers you had moved through, you contemplated confirming that she knew the way, but the confidence with which she walked convinced you well enough.

Eventually, a light came into view at the end of the passageway, and you could faintly discern the sound of indistinguishable chatter.

“Right here,” April exulted, jogging up to the exit and stepping out into the light. 

You tailed her. As you drank in the scene around you, it was drastically contrary to what you would expect of a sewer dwelling.

The room had the spaciousness and height of a gothic church, though the decor was certainly less ornate. In lieu of flying buttresses or stained glass, the architecture in the lair consisted of graffitied walls, string lights and drainage pipes, which presumably led to more rooms. For an underground home, it was very bright and comely. The most notable feature of the room, however, was the huge skate ramp in the center of the room, the deck almost reaching the ceiling.

“See? Not a slaughterhouse.” April grinned.

You playfully raised a brow. “The night’s still young.”

You took to surveying the ground floor for anyone else.

Off to the side of the grand atrium stood Raph, Casey, and some kid who you’d never seen before. You could only presume him to be that ‘Junior’ character from the group chat.

Well, maybe you weren’t giving him enough credit. He wasn’t a kid, per say, as his built physique and the stubble on his chin made evident, but his bright eyes and how exuberantly he spoke to Casey accentuated his youthful appearance.

“Hey y’all!” April called as you walked over to the three.

Raph and Casey both greeted you with enthusiastic grins, Casey additionally giving you a light slug on the arm.

The new one, however, had a much more interesting reaction. His eyes widened upon seeing you, but maybe he just wasn’t expecting to see a new person. Reasonable, you supposed.

You decided to put your best foot forward, offering a hand shake and your name.

After a moment of just staring at you blankly, he blinked himself back into the present and shook your hand firmly.

“Casey Jones. Nice to see- or, meet, you,” he smiled widely.

“So you’re Casey?” you looked Cassandra mischievously. “And you’re Casey? Are you two related or is that just a coincidence?”

All ongoing conversation stopped for all of them to exchange a look.

April cleared her throat. “Well, about that-”

They proceeded to tell you the craziest story you’d heard in your life. They detailed how when, a couple years back, the Krang invaded and ransacked the city, the kid before you had been portaled from the future by older versions of your current turtle friends. The icing on top of the cake? Casey, the new one, is Cassandra’s son.

“What in the back to the future- you’re from the future?! Dude, you are from the future. That’s the most- I don’t want to say ridiculous but- it’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard. Did you know me? Ooh, am I cool? I hope I’m cool. Also, no pressure to answer anything, just know that this is literally the most excited I’ve been all day.”

“Yeah, I knew you,” he nodded exuberantly with a bittersweet gleam in his eye. “The coolest commander I ever knew, aside from Commander O’Neil.”

“Commander?! Man, that’s wicked! Sorry if bringing this stuff up is weird or sad.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured. “It is odd seeing you, but I’ve gotten used to it. And it’s sort of nice.”

You smiled warmly at him just as the others’ conversation caught your attention. Casey mentioned something about everyone already being in the projector room, then April brought something up about getting this movie night on the road. You couldn’t agree more.

“So, should we head over there?” you proposed.

“We’ll grab the snacks and meet up with you!” Raph flashed you a toothy grin before smirking at Casey. Original Casey, not Jr. “Race you to the kitchen!”

“You’re going down, reptile!”

The two bounded off. You, April, and other Casey stood stupefied.

“Us too, future boy!” April challenged before breaking into a sprint after Raph and Casey. Casey Jr. shook his head lightheartedly before racing after them.

Just as you thought you’d be left standing like a deer in headlights until they returned, two giggling figures emerged from the sewer tunnel you’d come through, one blue, one orange.

“Hey Mikey, Leo!” you waved

“What’s up?” Leo smiled.

“Not much- woah!” you exclaimed. Mikey had already ran up to you and was currently squeezing your ribs in a tight hug.

“Hi,” he said, grinning widely.

“Hello.” You patted his back once, twice, awkwardly. “I think everyone’s either grabbing snacks or already went to the projector room, wherever that is.”

“We’ll show you the way!” Mikey was practically bouncing. “We’re gonna watch that new JJ movie! It’s a sequel to Pluto Vacation Part 77, but a prequel to Part 4,” Mikey explained exuberantly as he all but dragged you toward the projector room.

“Arguably the worst JJ movie, but let’s not delve into that right now,” Leo muttered.

“JJ?” you slanted your head.

“Jupiter Jim!” Mikey clarified. He let out an audible gasp and stopped walking when he saw you were still confused. “You don’t know Jupiter Jim! Omigosh! Wha- How? I thought I knew you!” The box turtle shook your shoulders.

“Easy, Miguel,” Leo moved Mikey’s hands off of your arms. “It’s not their fault they’re uneducated.”

Your stupefied expression soured. “I was about to thank you for coming to my defense, but I think you just made it worse.”

“Shhh, it’s alright. Don’t you fret, we’ll get you fixed up in about 800 films, reboots, and comics. Onward!” The two brothers started back up on their way to the movie.

“What? How many?” you asked, exasperated. You did not have the time nor attention span for that.

Leo and Mikey continued walking with you tagging along. The red eared slider just shrugged. “Chill, we’re not getting through all of them tonight. We’ll marathon as many as we can, though. I think the one we’re starting on works well enough chronologically.”

“I’ll take your word on it.”

You entered the projector room. The only person who was currently there was Sunita, though you almost didn’t recognize her in her yōkai form at first. You’d only seen it one other time at April’s, and you had lost your mind when she turned into a sludgy green puddle of googlyschmootz. You’d thought that she’d spontaneously combusted, but nope. That was just her insanely cool true form.

She was seated on the ground, eagerly staring at the projection of the menu screen of the Jupiter Jim movie on the wall. Behind her sat an orange, worn out sofa, and to the right of it was a gray bean bag chair.

“Sunita!” Mikey exclaimed, ran up to her, and took a seat beside her while Leo covered himself with a blanket on the couch and scrolled on his phone. “How long have you been watching the menu screen?”

“An hour,” she said nonchalantly, still not daring to take her eye off of it. “The score is just so good! I physically cannot look away.”

You squinted. “But you don’t need to look to hear the- nevermind.” You settled down in front of the bean bag, using the chair as support for your back.

Once you were seated, the sound of footsteps fastly approaching signaled the arrival of more people. 

Casey ran in first, bags of popcorn tucked under her arms, followed by April, with chips, Casey Jr., soda that certainly wouldn’t explode once it was opened, and finally Raph, arms full of candy. All of them were out of breath; you inferred they raced here like they had earlier. Casey boasting about her superior skills proved your hypothesis.

Raph muttered something about having the most to carry as he sulkily plopped down on the couch. Casey landed between him and Leo, still smiling victoriously. 

Casey Jr. set down the ticking time bomb that was the carbonated beverages he had sprinted through the lair with on the ground beside him as he took a seat by Mikey.

April clicked a couple of finger guns your way and sat beside you. She also decided to use the bean bag chair to rest against.

You were about to propose starting the movie before you realized someone was missing.

“Wait, where’s Donnie?” you whispered to April.

“Probably in his lab. Push comes to shove, we send Mikey to sucker him out of his room.”

“Is the lab here?”

“Yep. Just on the other side of the lair.”

“I might be reconsidering my whole stance on the whole ‘living in the sewers’ thing.”

April laughed lightly.

Suddenly, you felt the bean bag you two were resting against gain another commuter, the action bouncing you both.

You tipped your head back, meeting eyes with a nonchalant Donatello resting behind you.

“Personally, I recommend it. Technically not tax evasion if the government can’t find you,” he shrugged.

“It also helps that they don’t know you exist,” April jabbed lightheartedly.

“For legal reasons, I’m gonna pretend I heard none of that,” you averted your gaze jokingly, slowly tipping your head back down.

You heard your companions snicker, then joined them in their laughter. 

Soon, once Raph saw that everyone was present, he hit the buttons on the projector until the movie started playing.

While the movie opened up on, you guessed it, Pluto, snacks and drinks began to proliferate throughout the room and even eventually made their way to you three on the bean bag.

The movie was fairly obviously made on a low budget, as the shoddy camera direction and presence of a boom microphone for five minutes showed, but it was self aware about its campiness. Sure, the lore and character relationships were an absolute cluster, but it was still entertaining. Plus, the prosthetics used for the aliens looked phenomenal, and some scenes were genuinely eerie.

All in all, it was an enjoyable watch, made even more so by April’s occasional humorous comment and Donnie researching behind the scenes facts when something seemed intriguing to him.

As the credits rolled, you took a big stretch.

“That was a bit creepier than I thought a Jupiter Jim movie would be. Consider my timbers, shivered,” you admitted.

“I thought we reserved ‘shivering timbers’ for nautical excursions, same as ‘ahoy,’” Donnie commented. Man, he could really work sarcasm into any conversation. It was impressive, really.

“Hey, you can just drop it now, Don-Tron… That ship’s sailed.” Leo smirked.

“Wow. Boat puns. Stooping low today.” Donnie crossed his arms.

“Please, if we were stooping low, we’d bring up your internet history,” Mikey jumped in on the shenanigans. “But I’d much rudder keep this civil.”

“...” 

“Continuing on,” Raph changed the subject. “I guess Pluto Vacation IV makes the most logical sense?”

Donnie and April cheered. Mikey and Leo groaned. 

“Hey!” April exclaimed. “We agreed not to trash on each other’s favorites.” She then gestured to you. “Plus, they’ve never seen it, so we’re doing this. Got it?”

“Fine,” Leo and Mikey spoke unison, the former rolling his eyes as Raph placed in the DVD and started the film.

The film started, once again, with a killer score, just as Sunita had said. Maybe she had a point about not being able to peel your vision from the screen-

Suddenly, a horrendous beeping noise shrieked from right behind your head, causing you to snap your head around immediately. 

“What is that horrible- oh wait that’s me.” Donnie tapped on the tech gauntlet on his forearm and made the alarm cease. At the same time, someone paused the movie.

“What was that?” you exclaimed, cautiously uncovering your ears.

“Hmm,” the turtle hummed. “Seems like we’ve got a 2100-47 in progress.”

Somewhere in the distance, you could hear crickets chirp.

“Oh, right, no one reads the manual. Art heist, going on right now, Hudson Street.” 

You looked around the room, wondering what the heck any of that meant, but everyone else seemed determined, ready, like superheroes.

“Wait wait wait, what just happened? What was that look?” Silence met you. “Wait, you guys are trying to fight crime? Right now? Seriously?”

You looked to April, who only smirked in response.

“Dang you guys are not slash j right now,” you remarked, gaining a small laugh from the soft shell behind you. “Do I have to stay here or..?”

“I don’t think so,” April spoke up.

“There are plenty of us. What could happen?” Leo pitched in.

“Besides, in the future, you were always able to hold your own,” Casey Jr. beamed. Okay, if you had him backing you up, the guy who knew a future version of you, you couldn’t let him down.

“Alright. I’m ready. At the very least, I’ll be moral support,” you shrugged.

“That’s the spirit!” Casey shouted. “Now let’s go!”

Just like that, your peaceful movie night turned into all of you rushing through the main room of the lair, those with weapons and masks grabbing their respective tools, and climbing up to the surface.

Immediately, Raph, Casey, and Sunita began scaling the rooftops in the direction of Hudson. Leo used his blades to form an electric blue portal, leaving a tingling sensation in the air after he leapt through. Mikey took out a chained instrument and, after latching it to lampposts, swung through the night. The mechanical shell on Donnie’s back converted into a jet pack-adjacent piece of technology with a seat, allowing for him and April to whirl off in the direction of the fighting.

You stood still. You had nary a clue what to do or where to go or- just about anything, really.

You looked over at the only person still beside you and wondered how Casey Jr. planned to get over there.

He looked back at you brightly and stepped beside you.

“Hold on!” Before you could question why, the youth revealed a grappling hook-esque contraption on his wrist, tucked the other arm around you, aimed at a lamppost, and sent you two soaring through the air.

You instinctively clung to the poor lad, who was somehow managing his own and your weight. The wind lashed at your face harshly as you dipped and soared, swinging off of every suitable lamppost or rooftop you passed.

As soon as you started to feel ill, you two landed on solid ground in an alleyway. However, the dread from that was quickly replaced by what you saw there.

Numerous goons were there, some loading crates of presumably stolen items into a large vehicle. The others were already engaged in fighting off your friends.

Their faces seemed unnatural, borderline demonic, and the fact that all of the creatures  had the same exact face did not make it any less uncanny.

The Caseys and April were steadily beating them down with hockey sticks and a baseball bat respectively. Raph and Sunita had seemed to head straight for the truck to salvage the stolen art. Donnie, Leo, and Mikey appeared to be pure agents of chaos, distracting and fighting goons with any means necessary.

“Standard goons. We’ve so got this.” Leo confidently utilized his blades, trapping one of the enemy in particular in a loop of falling infinitely to dizzy them. You weren’t so sure. There were a lot of them, and you were almost getting taken out by your own side.

“Heads up!”

You barely had time to duck out of the way of Mikey’s weapon, a ball attached to chains that were literally on fire, as it whipped just over your head.

“Heads down would be more appropriate!” you called.

You stumbled forward in an attempt to catch your balance. You were barely able to prevent yourself from falling, but you managed to stay upright. No sooner than you steadied yourself, a low hum emitted from the space right in front of you. The air vibrated tensely; it reminded you of how Leo’s portal felt earlier, but that turtle in particular was already busy behind you.

Just as everything clicked in your brain, another portal tore through the air in front of you. This one was colossal, filling up the entire alleyway in its amber glow.

Your breath quickened as you cumbersomely took one step back, then another. Your wide eyes remained transfixed on the gateway in front of you.

Out of the otherworldly portal emerged a ginormous spider, about as tall as the portal itself, four legs acting as legs, the others similar to arms. Well, as similar as spindly spider limbs can be to arms. The arachnid’s six glowing red eyes bore deeply into yours, her jagged teeth curled delightfully into a wicked grin.

Perspiration permeated every pore of your being. Every limb went stiff, each muscle rendered taut. You probably would have screamed if not for fear of bile rising up your throat instead.

“Big Mama…”

“Oh, what a delectable surprise!” Big Mama delighted, her uppity, whimsical tone in such stark contrast with her imposing demeanor. “So many turtle-y boos, and- oh, this is pos-a-bubbly splendiferous!”

Her eyes narrowed in on you, but she didn’t take any action. She simply surveyed you, then the damage her lackeys had taken so far, then what all had been recovered, before they fell back on you.

“Come now, my minions!” The spider ordered coolly, almost excitedly. “We have far more pertinent prerogatives.”

Obediently, immediately, the identical servants ceased their fighting with everyone and filed through the portal behind Big Mama.

With one last nefarious smirk, she disappeared just as she had emerged: in a flash of auburn light.

All of you stood tensely. No one so much as breathed as if an action as insignificant as that would somehow summon the gargantuan spider and her lackeys again.

“So…” Leo’s lighthearted timbre cut through the atmosphere, “who’s up for Part 79?”

“Leo, not the time!” Raph corrected, and the two started to squabble.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you said shakily.

“You okay?” April placed a hand on your shoulder

“Yeah. I’m all good! Just had enough excitement,” you shrugged coolly out of her touch, hoping that you were concealing your panic better than you thought you were. “I’m right around the corner so I can just walk over-”

“I could walk with you.”

You paused, looked at who had said that. Donnie. You tilted your head at him, fairly certain that everyone else was just as perplexed.

He retracted about as much as he could into his shell at the attention. “For safety, of course. Because, you know, that was a really oddly timed exit and they could be waiting nearby and-”

“I get it, I get it,” you reassured, sparing him from digging a deeper grave. “I’ll gladly take the escort.” You turned to address the rest of the bunch. “Thank you very much for having me over, guys, it’s been real. A-A little too real, maybe, but fun either way. Goodnight, gang!”

You waved goodbyes and exited the alleyway, a purple-clad turtle in tow. You walked silently, still hardly processing what you had just witnessed. His presence was still pleasant, even if no words were exchanged.

Only when you were about a block away from your home did you speak. “So, do you guys experience stuff like that all the time or is the physical embodiment of arachnophobia a special occurrence?”

“Yeah, that was pretty much the usual, but Big Mama’s just about the worst of them. It used to be Baron Draxum, the warrior-alchemist-sheep man who made us, but he’s been rehabilitated.”

“Pardon? Your dad’s a sheep man?”

“No, my dad’s actually a rat. Draxum’s just my creator, father at best.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded along as if you grasped any of that. But if he was a turtle, then how would a rat or a sheep- oh, you were reading into it too much. It didn’t matter though, as you had already arrived in front of your complex. You walked up to the porch and turned toward him.

“Thanks for walking me back. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.”

You two paused. Were you supposed to walk away? Have more conversation?

After a moment of just looking at him, you gave him a small salute. “I’ll see you around, ‘Tello-”

“Wait!” he said before speaking more quietly. “I made a prototype of the technology I told you about at the library, if you want to come over and check it out sometime?”

“Oh, would I?” you beamed. “That sounds wonderful. I’m free tomorrow morning, if that works for you?”

“Y-Yeah, tomorrow’s great.” He smiled brightly back. “Great!”

“Does eleven sound good?”

“Eleven works.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” He clicked his tongue, rocked back and forth on his heels.

“I’ll see you then.” You did finger guns, internally cursing yourself for it.

“I bid you adieu.”

“Right back at you. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.” He finally made his way off the porch before shooting off into the sky with his battle shell, and you could finally head up to your place.

That was quite possibly the most awkward farewell you’d ever had. Very sweet, yes, but awkward nonetheless.

At the very least, you’d made it home in one piece. You couldn’t wait to see him- you meant, see his invention tomorrow.

Taglist~

@rottmntsimp

[taurgo]

For those interested in the Sandman series (or getting others to try and read/watch it)

[Image 1 ID: A black and white power point presentation with the text “so you wanna read some “the sandman” (but you have no idea where to start and comic orders can be confusing)”. “A handy flowchart/ power point disaster for the curious, peer pressured and suffering waiting for the August 5th TV release date, from someone who cares a fuck-ton about this series and needs to yogurt starter about it. This is just a fan PowerPoint I spent way too much time on”. There are two green circular characters with smiling faces and limbs. One has a bowtie and a pointer for instruction./.End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A flowchart that asks the reader if they are familiar with the story. There is the James Franco “first time?” image meme where there is a noose around his neck. A green path answering “yes” suggests “take a moment to reread anyways! (seriously it’s so good)”. A blue path answering “I am Jared, 19 (Don’t read) suggests “check out the Audiobooks (1&2). They cover volumes 1-6.” A circular green character with an open mouth says “James McAvoy voices the lead, what better reason is there?”. An Orange path answering “no” suggests “start with the original 10 volumes” and proceeds to the next page/.End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A power point slide of the original ten sandman volumes with pictures of each cover and the reading order. The top of the page lists volumes 1-5; (1) Preludes and Nocturnes, (2) The Dolls House, (3) Dream Country, (4) Season of Mists, (5) A Game of You. The bottom of the page lists volumes 6-10; (6) Fables and Reflections, (7) Brief Lives, (8) Worlds End, (9) The Kindly Ones, (10) The Wake. To the left there are bullet points with the following information: “They cover the original run of 75 issues since the 80’s. Read in order there is an A plot and a B to Z plot they’re all relevant. If it’s a genre of story it is in this series”. An orange circular cartoon with a smiling face, a bowtie and a pointer says “Now that we’re familiar with the dreaming, let’s look at the bonus content where order doesn’t matter (too much)”. An orange arrow continues to the next slide. /.End ID]

[Image 4 ID: A power point slide titled “additional stories and content”. A Flowchart prompt asks the reader “what’s your poison?”. A white arrow answers the prompt “give me more(pheus)”. The original poster suggests reading Sandman: Dream hunters, Sandman: Book of Dreams, Sandman: Midnight Theatre and Sandman: Overture. The original poster includes photos of the volume covers and two notes for Sandman: Overture. The cover of Sandman Overture is Morpheus standing in a flower field with his helm of power on. The first note says “WARNING: OVERTURE IS A PREQUEL FOR THE ORIGINAL SERIES” The second note says “THE ART IS ALSO INCREDIBLE LIKE IT’S NUTS Y’ALL they sell a gallery version I’d kill for”. A second white arrow answers “I want meta info on the development”. The original poster recommends the Sandman Companion and includes a picture of the cover which is yellow with a golden mask on the front. The original poster clarifies it was published in 2000, and says “this is a book and it is amazing (art, interviews, breakdowns)”. A third arrow answers the prompt, stating “I want more cosmic sibling drama and/or goth girls only please”. The original poster recommends Sandman: Endless Nights, Death: The High Cost of Living and Death: The Time of Your Life. The original poster provides images of each cover. Sandman Endless nights has two masks on the front cover one grey, one multicolored patchwork. Both Death comics have the image of a pale skinned, dark-haired woman on the front with a grainy picture overlay. An orange circular cartoon character with a smiling face says “wait that’s it right, I read everything now?” an orange arrow continues to the next page.  /.End ID]

[Image 5 ID: This slide is titled “Oops Even More Content, Welcome to the New Age of The Sandman Universe”. The elmo on fire meme is visible on the right side of the slide. There is an orange smiling character with a bowtie and a pointer saying “Start with the Dreaming #1, It’s like a teaser chapter for a choose your own adventure in picking a story you want to read. This all happens after the original ten volumes (ish) YOU ARE WARNED”. The orange figure is pointing to the first edition cover where Dream and six individuals stand on the cover. An orange arrow points to the next flowchart prompt asking the reader “What did you enjoy most in the original series?” An authors note in the corner states “There is also a little crossover between characters in stories within the Sandman universe”. A Pink arrow continues to the next slide /.End ID]

[Image 6 ID: This slide has predetermined answers to the question of “What did you enjoy most in the original series?”. The first directional arrow answers with “LUCIFER!” The original poster recommends Lucifer (2000) that is 75 issues in one volume and Lucifer (2019) in four volumes. Both images of the covers are included with lucifer on the front bent over and then holding a sign. A purple circular character with their mouth open says “Yes this series inspired the Netflix tv show”. A blue arrow answers with “That one John Constantine Cameo”. The cover is included with John Constantine smoking on the front. The original poster recommends John Constantine: Hellblazer (2019) in two volumes. A Red arrow answers “Actually you know what? Give me a better Harry Potter that’s not written by a TERF”. A red circular cartoon character with a bowtie and a pointer recommends Books of Magic (2019). The lead protagonist, Timothy Hunter is on the cover holding a large open tome. The red character says “Based on the 1990 miniseries written by Gaiman of the same name.” A Green arrow and a purple arrow with the options “Gods and Mythos” and “The Dreaming Inhabitants” are included and continue on the next slide /.End ID]

[Image 7 ID: This is a PowerPoint slide that continues to answer the flowchart question of “What did you enjoy most in the original series?”. A Green arrow answers “Gods and Mythos”. The original poster recommends House of Whispers (2019) in three volumes. The cover of the first issue is included where a beautiful black woman stands in and holds up a mirror with a man inside it an a house in the background. The original poster provides a note saying “This one has divine feminine ™, family drama and some great queer representation. If you liked the Gaiman book Anansi boys, you’ll like this story”. A Purple arrow answers the question with “The dreaming inhabitants” which branches into three white arrows. The first arrow leads to the original poster recommending the Dreaming (2019) in three volumes. An image of the cover is visible with Dream and many inhabitants of the dreaming on the front cover spread around him. The author leaves a note saying this series includes “dream hopping. Giant moth baby. Absolute chaos”. A second white arrow leads to the recommendation of The Dreaming: Waking Hours (2021) with one volume. The cover is included and has Dream in the background with Lucien and Merv, and William Shakespeare in the foreground performing on a stage. The original poster leave a note saying that the story includes “Shakespeare, Shakespeare and Shakespeare walk into a bard… grad student pain. mages, nightmare and macbeth.” A third white arrow leads to the recommendation of Nightmare Country (2022) an ongoing series with four issues as of July 2022. The cover is included and shows the Corinthian in an American flag colored mask with his glasses partially removed. The author includes a note saying “The Corinthian gets a spin-off. So do other nightmares. Ongoing.” There is a purple circular character with a smiling face pointing at the Waking Hours cover, and a green circular character standing next to the House of Whispers cover. /.End ID]

[Image 8 ID: The slide is entitled “Congrats! You now have a good idea about where to start and what to read”. Next to this title is a teal circular cartoon that is smiling. The original poster includes a note that says “I could go into so much depth about why you should read it and why its great but its either do that or work on my master’s thesis and only one pays bills and its already 3 a.m. (frowny face).” A white arrow leads to a note that says “TLDR: THE ART IS GOOD, THE CHARCATERS ARE COMPLEX AND VOLUME TEN MADE ME OPENLY WEEP BECAUSE OF HOW GOOD IT WAS. IMACULATE ANTHOLOGY-esque STORY TELLING” a sub footnote says “I like this series so much I paid a guy for an advertisement of a sandman themed chess set that I have framed on my wall cause theres like no merch”. A green circular character that is smiling with a bowtie and pointer is standing next to the “preludes and nocturnes”, and “the dolls house” covers saying “season 1 of the tv show will be covering volumes 1-2 ish”. A picture of Morpheus in a panel with his hand outstretched from the comics is on the slide next to the “graphic design is my passion meme”. A large yellow crying emoji is on the slide with its hands in the air /.End ID]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A current of anxiety ripples around you. Since that day Steve came to your home. That day you foolishly let him inside. A tension made worse by your avoidance.

You haven’t called him. You’ve thought of it. You even thought of emailing but that was just as intimidating. You just don’t want to ever deal with him again. So you’ll say nothing and hope he takes the hint.

That also means you need a new student to take his spot. In the meantime, you can make due with the reduced income. You’re always smart about finances. As mindful and scrutinous as every other aspect in your life.

A whole week goes by. You feel the dread whittling away little by little. It feels like any other day as you wait for Caroline to drop off Freddy for his lesson. Despite being prone to distraction, he’s one of your most naturally gifted students. You enjoy those days when he manages to sit still. It’s worth the extra bit of patience you need to get him to focus.

You put a new bouquet of carnations in the window. The scent adds another layer of warmth to the sun streaming between the open curtains. It takes you back to the summers you spent there with your grandfather and his antique radio. It makes you miss him even more.

The doorbell chimes and your skirt billows around your legs as you descend. Teaching helps keep your mind off the shadow that follows you around. Another ghost that haunts these walls and your dreams. Just last night, you woke at nocturnal vision of his tattooed hands reaching for you.

No. It’s fine. It’s fine. He has no reason to return.

“Carol–”

You open the door and your voice lumps in your throat. It isn’t Caroline, it’s someone else. It’s as if he’s been summoned by your denial. You grip the door handle tight as Steve greets you with a bouquet of poppies.

“What… are you doing here?” You eke out.

He grins, “I didn’t hear from you so I thought I’d drop in. Just to say hi. I figured you’re a busy lady so you must’ve forgot to give me a call.”

His tone is light but with a weight hidden between his words. Like he knows something you don’t. He’s so certain it fills you with doubt.

“Uh, well, er, Steve,” you stammer, “it’s nice of you to check in but I’m expecting a student.”

“I understand. I just am so excited to learn more so I wanted to schedule my next lesson and you said yourself that I should keep at if I want to get better so–”

“Look, I, erm,” your words are stunted, painfully as they rise in wispy breaths, “I’m sorry I didn’t call but I’m at capacity.”

He watches you. His cheek dimples and the silver patch in his beard, just along his chin, catches the sunlight. He holds out the poppies in the cone of brown paper.

“I brought you your favourite,” he insists.

“That’s all very nice,” you reply, “but I’m sorry. I can’t take on any new students right now. There’s a music studio I can recommend, I have their number. My cousin works there and he’s brilliant at piano–”

“No,” he says bluntly, keeping the poppies hovering before you. “I don’t want a studio. I want you.”

“Really, I can’t. The flowers are pretty but I…” your voice quavers as his gaze bores into you. You chew your lip as you try to muster the next excuse.

“Would you quit chewing your lip and tell me the truth?” His timbre takes on a new edge and chokes the air from your chest.

“I am,” you murmur, “I’m– I should’ve told you but I lost track of… time.”

“And yesterday? At capacity. You didn’t have a single student.”

“Wha– how would you–”

“Hey, sorry I’m running a bit beh–” Caroline’s trill carries up the walk as she rushes up with Freddy’s hand in hers. She gasps and stops short, “oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I got caught up at doctor’s office and I know we’re late.”

You notice how she eyes Steve from head to toe. There’s a line of disapproval in her forehead as she stares at his arms. He’s unbothered as he doesn’t even turn around.

“It’s fine,” you step to the left to see around Steve, “I have everything ready–”

“We’re not done, sweetheart,” Steve snarls as he forms a barrier between you and Caroline. “You’re going to stand here and lie to me. Refuse the gift I brought you.”

“I told you. I’m just one person and I can’t handle any more students,” you put on your most stringent tenor, for Caroline and Freddy. You don’t want to cause them any panic. “Thank you.”

“That’s not what your post said online.”

“It’s old. I forgot–”

“You keep forgetting a lot.”

“Please, go. I have a lesson now.”

He huffs and drops his hand, hanging the flowers petals down as he sneers and turns to look at Caroline. He squares his shoulders and descends the steps one at a time. He marches up to her as Freddy cowers and clings to her arm, mommy.”

“Be careful with this con artist,” Steve grits out, “she’ll take your deposit and run. Trust me.”

You frown and bluster forward. He carries on down the sidewalk and you babble dumbly. Caroline looks at you then at Freddy as he fidgets. She turns to watch Steve cross the street as he tosses the flowers on the road. You follow her eyeline and stand frozen at his angry display.

He puts his helmet on and straddles the large motorcycle by the curb. He kicks the stand up and starts the engine, the roar cutting through the air starkly. You quake with the rumble as he revs and tears out, running over the bouquet as he tears off down the avenue.

“I–” you begin, “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I don’t even know–”

There’s a sniffle and sob. You both look down at Freddy as he begins to cry, “mommy, I’m scared.”

“Shhh,” Caroline turns and squats down to comfort him, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “It’s okay, Freddy, come on.”

She draws him into a hug and you flit down the steps.

“You okay, Freddy?” You bend slightly as you try to get his attention. “How about you come inside and have a few cookies?”

“Please,” Caroline snaps at you, “I think we’re going to cancel this week’s lesson.”

“He won’t come back–”

“Look, I don’t know the type of men you hang around and frankly I don’t care,” she stands up and inserts herself in front of her son, “but when they scare my son, I have to be concerned about leaving him with you.”

“Really, I barely know him–”

“Please, keep your escapades to yourself,” she shows her palm dismissively. “You know, if you’re going to have kids here, you need to be careful who you bring around.”

“I don’t— I don’t know him.”

She scoffs and flicks you away like a gnat. She turns and tugs Freddy with her down the walk. You bring your hands to your throat in horror and sputter. Oh no, another empty slot. You might have to dip into your savings. Worse, you don’t know if they’ll even come back next week.

You drop your shoulders as you watch Caroline put Freddy in the car. As bad as the missing money, you looked forward to the company. You bite into your lip as doom stabs in your gut.

You wince and lean back on your heel. You reach out to lean on the pillar, your other hand falling to your stomach as nausea stirs. Steve’s words replay in your head. 

Yesterday? How did he know? You were so caught up in the moment, you hadn’t truly felt the impact of those words.

He has been watching you.

[five-rivers]

Dream Lantern Chapter 2

I said I'd work on something unreasonably ambitious.

AO3 link.

.

The boy had grown quiescent since leaving the serpent behind.  No doubt entranced by the exquisite untruths revealed by Falsehood's token.  With the connection Nocturne had forged between themself and his dreams, they could feel his awareness softening, memory unspooling, as he tended to something more akin to sleepwalking than waking dreams.  

With a delicate touch of power, they shaped the tone of his dreams into something more agreeable to them.  A veneer of cooperation that would, in Phantom's current state, seem completely solid.  They did not need another incident like that with Falsehood.  

Nocturne should have remembered what they had told themself earlier.  The boy wasn’t stupid.  Young, yes, naive, yes, ignorant, yes, uneducated, yes, yes, yes, and a hundred more things besides, but not stupid.  And he most certainly counted Nocturne as not only an enemy, but a dishonorable one.  

Correctly, of course.  At least from his perspective.  The rules of conflict Nocturne followed were not ones Phantom would consider fair, but they were still rules, and ones that had been codified long before Phantom was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes.  

Even so.  Nocturne hadn’t been planning on simply letting Phantom’s kin go.

Phantom was both useful and dangerous.  Hostages could help ensure he stayed the former while reducing the latter quality.  But now…  The child didn't have a reputation for vengeance, had never hunted down an enemy that wasn't a trespasser, rarely did more damage than was necessary for capture, and released all his enemies, even Nocturne.

But.  Phantom was still a ghost.  And ghosts could hold grudges for spans of time that far exceeded human lives.  

Nocturne would have to keep an eye out for both the mechanism through which Falsehood would twist reality, and a means by which they could effectively contain Phantom even without the threat of keeping his family asleep.  

Although, they could simply release Phantom’s family now.  Avoid whatever Falsehood might otherwise do.  

That felt like losing.  

Nocturne didn’t like to lose.  

There would be a way around it, of that Nocturne was sure.  ‘Letting go’ could have so many wonderful meanings, after all.  Who was to say it was Nocturne who turned to them?  It might as well be considered one of Falsehood’s many tricks as one of Nocturne’s.  

But that had to be left for later.  

Phantom mumbled something at them that was so indistinct even they could not interpret it.  They reached for Phantom's dreams and hesitated for the merest of moments.  

Manipulating a human's dreams like this - the waking dreams, the sleepwalking, the sleeptalking, not to mention the content of the dreams themselves - could have lasting effects on that human.  Permanent ones.  Lifelong bouts of sleeptalking and sleepwalking, recurring dreams, night terrors, sleep paralysis, insomnia, narcolepsy.  Who knew what it would do to a half ghost?

Who cared?

Old conventions were merely that.  Never had they been codified into any laws, only loose systems of ethics followed by those now long gone.  And even then, there had been situations where conventions had to be circumvented, or ignored entirely.

Perhaps Phantom would talk in his sleep for the rest of his unnatural life.  Perhaps he would be beset by night terrors so hideous as to make his waking life seem paradisiacal.  Perhaps his dreaming soul would leave his body every night to wander the Dream Wilds alone, tethered only by fragile silver cord.  What did any of that matter in comparison to what stood to be gained?

What did it matter, when the ones who had established those old conventions, who had maintained those old traditions, were long gone, less even than dust on the wind?

Nocturne teased Phantom’s dreams into a closer connection with his voice.  They were thick and rich, heavy, and becoming heavier.  Falsehood’s token had done what it was meant to, and even after such a short time, Phantom’s light was strengthening.  The colors around them were growing brighter, the distance they stretched before fading back into the Plains becoming greater, the complexity of the surrounding forms increasing, gaining layers.  

Phantom turned towards Nocturne and… didn’t look at them.  Not really.  

Falsehood’s scales were no longer visible on Phantom’s face, having long since sunk into his skin, but his eyes were firmly closed and would remain so, unless he woke.  Nocturne did not intend to allow Phantom to wake.

Despite that, Phantom most likely saw some of the features of their surroundings better than Nocturne themself.  After all, he was the one dreaming them up.  

“It’s so pretty,” said Phantom.  His words were slightly lisped, making their childishness stand out even more.  "It's pretty here."

“I suppose,” said Nocturne, rolling their eyes.  

"So pretty," repeated Phantom, and Nocturne sighed.  Of course it would be something inane, but, unfortunately, this type of dream manipulation wasn't something they could toggle on and off, so inanity it was.  

"We are searching for the sister of Falsehood," said Nocturne instead.  The child had likely forgotten already.

"Who's, hm, who's Falsehood?  Funny name…"

"The serpent."

"Ohhhhhh.  He has a sister?  Do you have like… a thing for snakes?"

"The sister of Falsehood is Longing," said Nocturne.  "Desire.  And if she should take the form of a snake, it is because you made her so.  Think on how to find her, and show me the path."

"Why?"

"We must collect her token to proceed on our path."

"No, I mean, why's she Falsehood’s sister, and not, like, truth or something?"

"There is no truth in dreams," said Nocturne. 

Phantom made a soft noise, one that even Nocturne couldn't interpret.  They glanced down at Phantom, then paused, their eyes drawn to where part of Phantom's tail had slipped free of the blankets Nocturne had wrapped around him.  

While Falsehood's scales weren't visible on Phantom’s eyes, charcoal black and pale silver scales were starting to appear on his tail.  Nocturne shifted the lantern to a better viewing angle.  Not only did Phantom have scales, but those scales were glowing, and growing brighter, brighter.  

Hah.  A little glow worm.  Or a glow snake.  The light in their lantern.  

Soon.  Soon, Phantom would be able to show them the path they must take to Longing.  They only had to be patient for a little while longer.  They only had to want it for a little while longer.  

.

Danny felt both very heavy and very light at the same time.  He supposed the heaviness came from sleep, from the dreams all around them, from the blankets that were chains, and from whatever Nocturne had done to him, and the lightness must just be because he was in ghost form, but that didn’t quite feel like the correct answer.

The tip of his tail lashed back and forth restlessly.  He didn't mean to form his tail, but sometimes it just happened.  The tail, that is.  When he was flying, and stuff like that.  

It felt different, though.  It felt… longer than usual, maybe?  More…  Maybe like he could feel more with it, somehow?  There was a word for that, he thought.  Tactile?

But he was supposed to be doing something.  Something important.  Helping.  He liked helping.  Helping was a good thing to do.  Everyone said so.  Today… tonight?  Tonight, he was helping Nocturne.  

He didn't like Nocturne very much.  Nocturne had done some not nice things.  But they seemed to be trying to be nicer today.  Sometimes, people did try to be different.  So.  Danny was helping.  He liked helping.  

It was very pretty here.  He was sure he'd told Nocturne this already, but just in case, he said it again.  

Nocturne did something that superficially looked like rolling their eyes, but that Danny was sure indicated approval of Danny's observations.  Deep down.  

Movement in the trees caught Danny's attention, and he shifted slightly, tracking it.  There were flashes of blue and orange.  Familiar blue and orange and– feathers?  No.  Fabric.  But– No.  No, it couldn't be.  Couldn't.  There was a feeling, in the back of his mind, that he knew very well why it couldn't be, but he couldn't touch it.  Not beyond his fear about what them being here meant.  

“We're so proud of you, Danny.”

His whole body went stiff, tense, alert.  He knew that voice, those voices, but how could they be here?  He whipped his head around, frantic, trying to spot their source.  The heaviness– he tried to throw it off, but couldn’t.  It slowed his movement, keeping him from getting up and searching, and finding.  

“You've done so much good.  You've done so well.”

He whined.  Too many trees, too many branches, too close together.  He couldn't see.  

“We're so glad you told us, so glad we can see you.”

This time, he caught sight of hazmat, and he lunged at the side of the cage, desperate to get even a little closer to his parents.  But… his tail dragged strangely at the cloth all around him.  

For a moment he paused, splayed out on his stomach, back arched by the curve of the pillows, one hand reaching up towards the bars even as he looked back over his shoulder at his tail.  It was longer than usual, and less transparent.  More solid, too.  Almost more snak–

"Of course we love you, no matter what.  You're our son."

He reached for the voices again, transformation forgotten.  He wanted.  He wanted so much that the want was practically a need.  It was deep in his stomach, and he was starving for its lack.  

“That way,” he begged Nocturne.  “We need to go that way.”

Nocturne, surprisingly, followed his direction.  Danny had been right, they were trying to be nicer today.  They strode quickly through the trees, after Danny's parents.  Soon.  They would find them soon, and they would tell Danny they were proud of him, and that it didn't matter that Danny wasn't human anymore.  

And– It wasn’t only his parents here.  

“You did very well on the last test, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer, as he moved through the trees with surprising nimbleness and speed.  “Keep up the good work, and there’s no reason you couldn’t become an astronaut.”

“See?  I told you that you were just as smart as any of us, little brother,” said Jazz, her feathers as vibrant as their parents.  

“You and Sam are the best friends I could have,” said Tucker, his hat oddly beak-like.  

“I think I’m ready to come home,” said Dani.  “For real, this time.”  

“You’re not so bad after all, Phantom,” said Val.  “I think… I’ll stop hunting.”

“You’re our hero, Danny,” said Amity Park, all together at once.  “We’re all safe, and we will let you help us, and you will reach the stars, we’re sure of it.”

“You’ve changed the future,” said Clockwork.

“You don’t need to fight anymore,” said the ghosts.  “Not if you don’t want to.  Not if it isn’t fun.”

“Earth and the Infinite Realms are at peace at last,” said calm voices Danny could not identify.  “Our heroes may turn their efforts to pursuits that will benefit all peoples, of all nations, everywhere.  We may turn our eyes to the future, and the stars.”

Danny wanted it so much.  He wanted it to be real, to be true.  He thought that if they could only catch up…

For a moment, Danny thought they were back under Falsehood’s tree.  Once again, he and Nocturne found themselves under the sweeping branches of a huge tree, but instead of ruby red apples hanging from the branches, there were brightly burnished birdcages, and inside them were dozens of birds.  Dozens more birds perched on the branches, and Danny realized that these were what he had been hearing.  His family, friends, teachers, classmates, and allies had never been there.  Only the birds.  

He held back a pathetic sob and let the blankets bind him again, herding him back into the center of the cage.  He felt his tail clench back at the blankets and pillows in turn, and–

His thoughts derailed in shock.  His tail was so long, weaving snakelike in and out of the pillows and blankets.  It was at least twice, no, three times as long as the rest of his body.  He could feel parts of it wrap around the bars of the cage below the great mounds of pillows.  

It also glowed brilliantly, every scale roughly the color of the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling at home.

“Yes,” said Nocturne, “and it will be very helpful.  Stop fretting.”

Danny looked up at them, hopefully, his heart and core again filled with that earlier, painful, want.

“Yes, but we are now in the court of Longing.  Curtail your babbling.”

Danny hadn’t realized that he’d been babbling, but how else would Nocturne have known what he was thinking?

He let his eyes drift over the birds and the cages as Nocturne stalked forward.  Was Longing one of the birds?  And how did that work, if Longing and Falsehood were part of the same thing?  He looked up as they passed beneath the boughs of the trees and gasped.  In the gaps between the leaves, he could see stars.  Stars– as they were seen in the best astrophotography.  Stars, as if light pollution and smog did not exist.  But then they were nearer the trunk, and the leaves were too thick to see anything but the tiniest of glimpses.  

The floor of the clearing was covered in decorative pillows and brocade throws, and tapestry-like blankets hung between the cages.  It felt… cozy.  Like a sleepover, like a blanket fort.  It made him want to snuggle in, and he did.  

They came to a stop in front of the largest and most beautiful of the cages.  Inside it was a small, drab bird.  

“Lady Longing,” said Nocturne.  “I greet you, and give you the regards of your brother-self, Falsehood.”

.

“I greet you as well, child of dreams,” said Longing, softly.  

Nocturne suppressed their frown.  It was difficult.  Even a ghost like themself was still a ghost, and therefore, fueled by intangibles like emotions.  Hiding what they were feeling came naturally only to a few.  

But why that voice?

“What price must be paid to receive your token?”

Longing fluttered her wings.  “I wish that you would not do this, child.”

“And I wish that you would not take that voice,” said Nocturne, not bothering to suppress his sneer.  “What is the price for your token?”

Longing fluffed her feathers, then smoothed them back down, movements agitated.  “Oh, I wish you would not do this, I wish you would not.  Not all things one desires are meant to be.”

What hypocrisy from the one who wore the very face of yearning, who spoke with that desire.  They knew some things were not and could not be, not outside of dreams.  But their current goal was not one of those things.  They would succeed.

“I ask a third time:  What price do you demand for your token?”

“Three things are wanted by all: one that is lost when it is given, one that increases when it is given, and one that cannot be taken, only given.  These things I desire.  These things I require.  These things I must be given, if you are to receive my token for which you long.”

“All from the boy, I presume?”

“As if you could give me any one of those things,” said Longing, haughtily.  

“A secret,” said Nocturne.  “Then knowledge, perhaps.  Or faith, or trust, or a thousand things besides.  There are very few things that cannot be taken.  Dignity, perhaps.  Trust again.  Does it matter which one you receive?”

“Only that they fulfill my conditions.”

“Well, then, go ahead,” said Nocturne, looking down at Phantom.  “You must–”

“What happened to my tail?”  

It had taken the boy long enough to notice, and longer still to react.  Nocturne wondered how long he’d been staring pointlessly at his own scales.  

“What– What happened to my legs?  Why can’t I turn them back?”

“Child,” said Nocturne.  

“No, where– What?  What’s happening?”

“We must have Longing’s token to move on,” said Nocturne, trying to soothe Phantom’s dream again.  

“I’m not doing anything without knowing what’s going on!”

Typical.  Nocturne had thought this might go smoothly for once.  Just once.  Hadn’t they already worked enough, suffered enough?

“It is what’s necessary to reveal our path.  Haven’t I already promised to let you go when we are done here?  When we complete our quest?  Give her what she has asked for, so she will let us go on, and so you can go on.”

Phantom looked up at him through the bars of the cage, a faint scowl on his face.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to give her.”

The boy could hardly be expected to pay close attention, as dream-soaked as he was, but still.  Nocturne had just said what he could give Longing.  “I can repeat my list–”

“No, no, no, I know what you said, I know what you said.”  He fell to muttering, even Nocturne’s earlier encouragement not enough to clarify his words.  “I know what you said, but you can’t just give people dignity or– or whatever the other things are.”  He sniffled.  “I’m in a– I don’t even have things to give.”  He grabbed two handfuls of blankets and waved them around.  

“I’m sure you have secrets,” said Nocturne.  They were so close, close enough for them to taste it on the air, and they would not allow Phantom’s reluctance to stop them.  “Don’t you want to help?  Is that not what you want?”  Phantom should be biddable, under the carefully crafted influence of their dream.  He should want to help Nocturne.  That was the point.  

Phantom ran his hands back and forth over a section of his tail and sucked in his lips.  “Don’t–  I don’t know.  I don't know.  I can help?”

Nocturne smiled down at him.  Finally.  Although the way his sentences were falling apart was not ideal, given the riddle-like nature of Longing’s demand.  They should take care to keep Phantom from spiraling further into sleep.  

“Yes,” said Nocturne.  “You can help.  By giving Longing what she wants.  Well.  What she has asked for in this case.”  

Longing turned her beak up in the air.  It was ridiculous.  Nocturne knew very well that she was the most powerful part of dreams, the greatest of the Beasts.  Desire could hold a dreamer better than little else.  Fear could not keep one nearly so well, and lies could backfire.  It was desire that he used to keep people in his dreams when he needed to.  Yet, this aspect of dreams chose to act like a silly little bird.  

“Well, you have refused to give me what I really want, which I can hardly help,” said Longing.  

Ridiculous.  What she really wanted.  As if she didn’t want everything.  

“I guess,” said Phantom, grudgingly, “I guess I could tell you a secret.”

Longing tittered, then leapt from her perch, slipping between the bars of her cage and coming to rest on Phantom’s shoulder.  “Whisper it to me, my dear.  Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

The boy sniffed, then lifted a hand to pet her.  “Trust is something that can’t be taken, only given, right?”

Longing whistled a few bars of music.  Phantom looked up at Nocturne out of the corner of his eye, then turned away and covered his mouth to whisper to Longing.  Whatever he said, it took only a moment.

“Very good, very good.  Only the one more.  Unless, of course, you think you can convince this brute to listen to the wisdom of his elders and let this go.  We do not deal much with time in dreams, but too much time has passed for him to chase this so ardently, and I say this as the yearning of dreams themselves.  What he wants he will not find.”

“You say it as a hypocrite,” said Nocturne, finally annoyed enough to voice their earlier thoughts.  “The third thing is something that increases as it is given.”

“I could tell you about the stars,” said Phantom.  “That’s knowledge.”

“I have seen more dreams of the stars than you have days in your life, little bird.”

“You’re a little bird,” said Phantom.  

“So I am, but so are you.”  She rearranged herself and tilted her head towards Nocturne.  “That one is a very big bird.”

Phantom had the temerity to laugh.  It was a little twittering, chirping thing, and Nocturne was disgusted to find that they agreed with Longing’s comparison of Phantom to a bird.  

A caged bird.  

“Isn’t knowledge…  Isn’t a secret a kind of knowledge.”

“And yet a secret is only one thing.”

“Maybe, maybe we could…” Phantom swayed slightly.  “Maybe we could be friends?  Friendship is good.  And we can gang up on Nocturne and make them…”  The boy trailed off as Nocturne smothered any thoughts of acting against them.  “Um.”

“We could certainly gang up on Nocturne.  They are a wonderful target.”

“Please,” said Nocturne. 

Longing looked at them through the bars of the cage, and Nocturne froze, ectoplasm cold and stiff.  When the Beasts of Dream were playful and petty, or when they were bound by old laws, it was easy to forget what they were, underneath, even when you very well knew.  

So, too, it was difficult to unlearn the habits of power.  Nocturne was used to being the one with power in dreams.  

And still…  

They sniffed, trying to recover.  “Could you even accept an offer of friendship, for him to truly give it to you?”  

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” asked Longing.

“Would you want to?”

“Why are you arguing about this?” asked Phantom.  “Don’t you want me to, um.  To get.  Um.  The thing.”

“The token,” prompted Longing.  

“Yeah, the token.  Are you dumb?”

“If your offer of friendship was sufficient, then you would already have the token.”

“Are you so sure of that?” asked Longing.  “Perhaps I was merely having a little fun.  Are you certain you want to offer your friendship to me, child?”

Phantom nodded.  “I like having friends,” he said, comically serious.  

“Then, little friend, do you see anything you would want to take away from my clearing here?”

Phantom tilted his head.  “Is it a trick question?  Like, a riddle.”

“Don’t overthink things,” said Longing.

“Could I take your cage?”

“A fine sentiment, but no,” said Longing.  

“Could I take you?”

“I am not a thing, child.”

“Then it’s really just a question?” asked Phantom.  

“This is going nowhere,” said Nocturne.  If fear of Longing’s displeasure could keep them from pressing onward, then they wouldn’t be here in the first place.  “She is not giving you her token, so your offering is unacceptable.  Give her something else.”

“Come now, big bird,” said Longing, as Phantom started giggling again, “a new friendship is a momentous occasion.  I am allowed to take my time.”

“Not if you are stalling.”

“Um,” said Phantom.  “I’d like… a pillow?”

“Very good,” said Longing.  

One of the other birds dove from their perch and picked up a pillow in their talons before bringing it to the cage.  Phantom picked it up and tucked it under his chin.  

“Thanks,” he said.  

“Yes,” said Longing, “well.  I am sorry for this next part, then.”

“Hm?” said Phantom, fuzzily.  

“It is an unfortunate truth that, sometimes, it hurts to want something.”

Phantom frowned.  “I know that, I–”

Longing moved.  She pulled a single silver feather from her wing, and held it aloft in her beak.

All at once, the rest of her flock took flight, swarming the lantern-cage and diving between its bars.  

A ruby-red bird built like something between an eagle and a peacock perched on Phantom’s left shoulder.  On his right shoulder, a cerulean owl with sparkling, faceted talons touched down.  Then, they slashed down, tearing through Phantom’s thin pajama top and carving bloody furrows into his back.  He shrieked, and squeezed the pillow in his hands so hard it burst, spilling soft feathers across the cage.

Nocturne hissed, and struggled to keep the boy under.  Pain did not always wake a person.  Indeed, smaller pains or chronic pains were often incorporated into dreams.  But this wasn’t small, ignorable pain or old, steady pain.  This was new pain, hot and bright and very present.  This was the kind of pain that broke dreams.  Beings that naturally slept through this kind of pain did not tend to survive.  

But if Phantom woke now, Nocturne may very well have to start again, and that would be unacceptable.  No, he would stay here, caught between dreams and reality.  Nocturne would make sure of it.  

.

At first, Danny didn’t notice that the birds were building him wings from the ruin of his back.  All he had the presence of mind for was the pain and the sense of being pushed underwater until he started to drown.  

But Danny wasn’t exactly a stranger to pain, and paying attention was frequently the key to escaping it.  So he noticed how the birds flew, how they circled, how they pulled feathers from their own wings or from his new-and-now-ruined pillow with their beaks before stabbing them into his back, or whatever it was that built his nerves and flesh out and out and out into ever-more-fantastical shapes.  

He noticed when one of the birds, the bird, Longing, jumped onto his shoulder.  

“I see my brother-self has given you an extra gift.”

Danny didn’t know what she was talking about.  

“Tell me, little friend, do you want a way out?”

“Out of what?” whispered Danny.  From the way things had been going, he thought it best to be specific.  Otherwise, he might wind up with something he didn’t want at all.  Like these wings.  

“This cage, the bargain you struck with Nocturne, this dream.”

Trust.  Friendship.  Those were supposed to be reciprocated.  Cautiously, Danny nodded.

“Then I will give you a gift, also, little friend, though my gifts cannot be touched so easily.  It is the nature of Longing, for things to be out of reach.”  She hopped to his other shoulder.  “Let my gift be wisdom.  Let my gift be a gift of memory.”  

She hopped down, in front of him, and among the twisted blankets, Danny saw the red, shining curve of Falsehood’s apple.  The bird jumped up on the apple, perching on the leafy stem, then lifted her head, and began to sing.  The song was long, and high, and mournful, full of yearning and desires unfulfilled.  Despite the birds flying all around them, and the pain of his growing wings, in the spell of Longing’s song, everything felt still and calm.  As it sang, a single tear fell from her eye and onto the skin of the apple, where it disappeared, either sinking in or evaporating.  

“When you, too, cry from wanting, remember this.”

And Danny was lost again, among the wings of the birds.  But not for long.  With Longing back in her cage, the other birds left quickly, settling back among the branches of the trees.  

“Was that truly necessary?” asked Nocturne.  

“Need is immaterial.  Want is the important thing here.”

Nocturne curled their lips.  “And I suppose you want me to fail badly enough to try and wake my dreamer?”

Longing adjusted her wings minutely.  “What was wanted for his wings,” she said, nodding towards Danny.  

Thus prompted, Danny looked at his wings.  The leading edge and most of their body was black as night, with flecks like glowing silver stars, but the long, trailing feathers were a pure, softly glowing white, like the tails of comets.  He moved slowly, feeling the weight of them.  

Nocturne poked at the pillows, arranging them to better support and display Danny’s wings.  Danny guessed the second part was important for the whole lantern thing…  Lanterns were supposed to glow.  He was being helpful, like this, surely.  Glowing, guiding, fulfilling his role…

He groaned as Nocturne pulled at one of his wings, spreading it out far enough to brush the bars of the lantern-cage.  Then, when it seemed as if Nocturne was done rearranging him, he let his head rest on the pillow in front of him.  Everything seemed so heavy, now, and the not-quite-metaphor of the blankets-that-were-chains was coming back to him, and their soft iron links were weighing him down.

He was so tired, all of a sudden.  Or maybe not all of a sudden.  A lot had happened, even if he himself wasn’t doing all that much.  But something pulled him back to a state of relative awareness.  

“I will not be delayed like this,” growled Nocturne.  “No more.  Do not forget that I, too, am a master of dreams.”

Danny hummed.  Not being delayed sounded good.  Leaving problems alone could make them bigger problems, and there was definitely a problem.  One he was helping Nocturne with.  Yes.  That was what he was doing.  Yes.  

He sighed and shifted.  If he didn’t think about it too hard, the wings felt more like a large blanket than something actually connected to him.  

“I can see that,” said Longing.  She hopped sideways on her perch.  “My token is not like my brother’s.  It will neither give you sight, nor take it.  But all who have wings must desire to fly, as those who have eyes must wish to see, and those who have voices must desire to sing… even if only the once.  This, therefore, is a token of memory and imagination as much as it is of myself.”

“Okay…?” said Danny.  He didn’t particularly feel like using these wings now, he was too tired, and when he woke up, they’d be gone, wouldn’t they? 

… There was something strange about that thought.  

Flying would probably be nice, though, wouldn’t it?  Well, yes, of course it was nice.  He flew all the time.  He…  Hm.  

Hmmm.  

He yawned and turned his head over.  It was the next best thing to rolling over.  

“You will understand in time,” said Longing.  She sounded awfully sure of that.  

“He does not need to understand,” said Nocturne.  

“I’d like to, though,” said Danny.  Sometimes you didn’t need to understand things.  Sometimes just experiencing was enough.  But it wasn’t for nothing that Danny was the son of two scientists and an aspiring astronaut.  He wanted more.  “What am I supposed to–”  He yawned again. “What am I supposed to understand?”

“The path.  Which way does it lead?”  Nocturne raised the lantern high, casting the clearing in pearly light.  

Danny gazed down, through the twisting trees.  “What are we trying to find this time?”  He was tired.  He wanted to go home.  

“You will not want to find them,” said Longing.  “And here, you need not do what you do not want.”

“We seek Fear.  The third of the Beasts of Dream, whose token we need to complete your light.”

Fear.  Longing had been right.  He didn’t want to find Fear.  Maybe, as a ghost, that was strange for him to say, but he didn’t like experiencing fear, and he definitely didn’t like causing it.  

He surveyed the paths out of the clearing.  It was quite obvious which one belonged to Fear.  The other paths all seemed to call to him at various levels, but this one made his feathers stand on end and his skin crawl.  It made his mouth taste dry and chalky.  Even his scales felt itchy.  His heart seemed to beat faster in his chest as he contemplated following it.  

It didn’t look all that remarkable.  It looked like nothing more than an old deer trail, narrow and shrubby, heavily shadowed by the trees around it.  Without the extra light from his new feathers, Danny would have missed it.  

“You may take any path you want, of course,” said Longing.  “Not merely the one you are told you should take.  Desires are not so easily dictated.”  

She spread her wings, and Danny couldn’t help but look around again.  The other paths did seem much more inviting.  They reached out to him, tempting him, scents of things he did want wafting to him across the air, whispering of their destinations.  Places he could fly, places he could play, places he could learn, places he could escape…  If he could lead Nocturne down one of those paths… it would be much more pleasant for both of them…

“We are taking the path to Fear,” said Nocturne, confidently.  “Unless you do not wish to help your family.”

Yes, that, too, was fear.  Breathing was suddenly very difficult, as if there were a great weight on his chest.  

Wasn’t there something about that, about a weight on your chest, and nightmares?

“That way,” Danny said, pointing at the proper, narrow path.  

Longing sighed.  “And so it always was, that the greatest ills come from people not being honest about their heart’s desires.”

Nocturne scoffed.  “You are as much a liar as your ‘brother.’”  They didn’t move on, though.  They seemed to be waiting for something.  

Longing shifted.  “Deliver my regards to my sibling, if you catch them.”

With a nod, Nocturne stepped forward, onto the path of Fear.

“Goodbye, little friend,” called Longing from behind them, voice sweet.  “May we meet again!”