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delicateflowerss · 7 months

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Dark Paradise

You try to adjust to a new life, married and living in a manor. But you quickly realize that not everything is what it seems, including your mysterious and devilishly handsome husband, Michael Langdon.

Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, violence, murder, demon!Michael, blood kink, pain kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia

Word Count: 4.2k

You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the dark corridors where shadows dance in your periphery, or the damp smell that makes you feel like you’re underground. It smells of rotting fruit, a slow and lingering decay, almost like death surrounds you.

As long as it doesn’t reach you.

You’re also not sure if you’ll ever get used to the man that haunts these grounds. This tall, dark manor that sits in the middle of nowhere.

He’s not dead, he’s just your husband.

His appearances to you are scarce, only really seeing him at mealtimes and occasionally passing him in hallways.

He’s elusive, mysterious to you in ways you cannot comprehend. Ever since you arrived at the manor, all you’ve had are questions.

For an unknown reason, you can’t remember your life before this place. All you know is you were married off to a man named Michael Langdon.

Sometimes, you have the strangest dreams with a house that feels like the complete opposite of here. One filled with love and light and white walls, and not this frigidness that wraps around you now.

The days almost feel like they go on forever, blending together as nothing surprising happens.

Until one night, you’re pulled out of a peaceful slumber by a piercing scream.

It takes you a moment to blink away the sleep, wondering if it was real or part of a dream.

It doesn’t take long before another one echoes throughout the manor. It’s shrill, a seemingly female scream.

You clutch the soft sheets under you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

You think about whether you should lie back down, ignoring it and going back to sleep. But you don’t think you could even if you wanted to.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you leave your bedroom, with only a candle lighting your path through the dark hallways.

Your white nightgown sways as you step between walls covered in paintings. The dim candlelight casts shadows on the faces, giving them a particularly ghoulish look.

You keep walking, hoping to find some sort of sign of what it is that woke you up. You’re not even sure where the scream exactly came from.

Before you can reach Michael’s room, a chill sweeps past you, extinguishing your candle, leaving you shivering in the dark.

A disembodied voice calls out your name in the form of a question.

“What are you doing out of your room?” he asks.

You instantly recognize the voice, and it stops you in your tracks. You swallow as he steps closer to you. Michael is holding a candle, illuminating the glare on his face.

“I thought I heard something. It woke me up,” you say nervously.

“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his brow furrowing.

“It sounded like a scream. I thought someone might have gotten hurt.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?” he asks in an almost mocking manner, a cruel smirk growing on his lips.

“No-.” You sigh, stopping yourself. “No,” you say again, this time quieter.

“Come on. I’ll tuck you in and look under your bed for monsters,” he says, trying to step past you with a teasing grin on his face.

“I know what I heard, Michael.”

He stops, mere inches from your face and he can see the seriousness that settles in your eyes.

It doesn’t stop his own icy blue eyes from growing colder.

His gaze rakes over you before he leans in closer, warm breath fanning over your lips as he says, “you didn’t hear anything, Y/N. Time to go back to bed.”

You think your own breathing has stopped before he leaves you, going back to his bedroom.

That’s when your goosebumps return, Michael taking all warmth with him.

You’ve sat in the library all day, reading by the window as rain hits the glass. You decided that you’ll read every book in this place since you don’t have much else to do. You’re on 28 out of 11,200. Thunder rumbles above you as you turn the page.

Nothing has happened since you heard the scream, helping you to believe that it was either a dream or your sleep-addled imagination. You tried asking your handmaid if she heard anything that night, but she said no, giving you a strange look like you might be going mad.

You quickly shut up about it.

Michael hasn’t brought it up, which you’re somewhat grateful for because if he did, it would probably be to make fun of you some more.

Even if he has been polite enough about it, it’s been difficult to be around him. He’s always had an intense gaze but something about it has changed. It lingers for too long.

You think that’s always been the case. But now you react differently, a heat growing in your cheeks and a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach.

“Are you hiding from me for a reason?”

You practically jump, startled by the deep voice near your ear.

You close your book and look over your shoulder, finding Michael standing behind you. Amusement lights up his face and his hands are clasped together behind him.

“Do you normally spend your time in here?” he asks, eyes scanning the room, finding books from floor to ceiling and a fire raging, keeping you warm.

“Sometimes.”

You stare at him, still confused as to why he’s bothering you. Shouldn’t he be busy with something?

“So why do you seem to be in here more than you used to be?”

He steps over to the chair you’re sitting in, wood creaking underneath him. He looks over your shoulder, reading the title of your leatherbound book.

You swallow, able to smell the rich scent he wears. It’s musky with a dash of sweetness, like a piece of fruit being harvested from the earth.

“Just reading more, I guess,” you finally answer his question.

“Hm, well I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He pauses, like it’s hard to get the words out. “You were obviously shaken, and I could’ve been nicer.”

Even if his apology could be more genuine, at least it’s an apology.

“I also want to give you something,” he says before placing something on a side table near you.

You pull your brows together as you take in the gift.

“A pomegranate?” you ask, moving your gaze to him, eyebrows raised.

He picks the piece of fruit back up, mischief dancing in his eyes. In one motion, he cracks the rouge skin open, revealing hundreds of little seeds.

He gathers exactly four seeds in the palm of his hand, setting the rest of the fruit back down.

Without saying anything, he brings his hand closer to you, offering it as if you have no choice but to accept.

You hesitate for a moment before reaching to grab them from the palm of his large hand.

But when your skin brushes against his, a gasp falls from your lips, an image flashing in front of you.

It’s Michael, but he looks different…wearing different clothes than he wears now, almost like a school uniform.

The pomegranate seeds fall to the floor before you look up at him.

There’s a question in his eyes that almost matches yours. But it’s just a flicker of confusion before it disappears, turning into irritation.

He clasps his hands together again before leaning down to you and saying lowly, “if you make a mess, you must clean it up. Remember that.”

You keep your eyes away from him, not able to look at him. You can faintly hear him walk away, but your mind is too focused on the words that seem to have another meaning to them. A meaning that makes heat swirl inside you.

The sun is out today, but just barely. It peeks slightly behind gray clouds. You’ll take it over nothing, deciding it called for a stroll in the garden.

Except, as you look around, you realize there isn’t much of a garden. The flowers seem to be withering away, drooping without life and leaves almost crumbling to dust.

It must be the lack of sunshine, you think as you frown.

It’s so hard to find beauty in a place like this, instead only finding death and tragedy.

Without intending to, your mind wanders to a certain someone. You suppose not all beauty is lost.

You still have been avoiding Michael to the best of your abilities, still unsure what happened that day in the library.

You’re also unsure of your growing feelings for him. He is your husband, but it’s also true you two never consummated the marriage.

He never wanted to, and at first, you were grateful. But now, as you think of his golden curls and sharp jawline that could have been crafted by the gods themselves, you wonder if it would help ease the tension between you. Maybe it’s what you need to do in order to have a normal conversation with him.

But nothing about him is normal. He might be beautiful, but you can’t ignore the darkness that lies in his eyes and makes up his entire being.

You stop, finding a faded yellow flower sprouting from the ground. You bend down, pulling it up. Standing up, you stare at it in your hand, and you can’t help but wish it was alive.

You sigh, eyes closing, almost in defeat. But when you open them, you can’t believe what you see.

The flower is now a bright yellow, looking like it belongs in a vase full of fresh-cut daffodils.

It’s like the flower was resuscitated right between your fingers, finally getting the oxygen it so desperately needed.

There is no way you did this, so how is this possible?

Dinner is mostly eaten in silence. Some small talk is exchanged but you can tell Michael can barely bare it, gritting his teeth as you ask him how his day was.

Michael enjoys more intellectually stimulating conversation. It just so happens that usually means arguing with you or teasing you about something. So, you’re not very fond of it.

Once the plates are taken away, you think you can finally breathe, ready to take your leave to your room.

Just as you’re getting up, Michael stops you.

“Sit down. You haven’t had your dessert yet.”

“Dessert? We only have that on special occasions,” you retort, sitting back down.

“Well, you didn’t get to finish it the other day.”

You part your lips to question him again, but it’s answered when a maid places a plate in front of you.

A pomegranate split in half sits before you.

Michael seems to be waiting for your reaction when you lock eyes with him.

“What is with you and pomegranates?”

“They’re in season. I just want you try it.”

He leans back in his chair, giving a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. Instead, you find a glint there instead.

You nervously look down at the fruit, mulling over what he wants you to do.

You blink and you suddenly see that the red fruit has turned into a human heart, bloody and still beating.

You gasp, eyes widening as you push back your chair.

You look back to Michael, wondering if he sees it too. You’re met with a cold stare, his finger impatiently tapping on the table.

You frown, your eyes going back to the plate only to find the pomegranate.

Tears spring to your eyes as you consider the real fact that you’re losing your mind.

You don’t notice Michael getting up to stand next to you, your broken mind too caught up with all the peculiar things happening in the last couple of weeks.

He gently puts his hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the torment you’re putting yourself through.

By the time you turn to look at him, he has a few pomegranate seeds on his fingertips. You can smell the sweetness as he brings them closer to your lips.

“Don’t think about it. Just eat them,” he says as two of his fingers move past your lips and into your mouth.

You hum lowly in your throat as you taste how delicious they are, lips clasping tighter around Michael’s fingers, your tongue swirling around them.

He breaks the seal, removing his fingers before you swallow. He watches your throat move up and down, taking his offering.

You don’t miss the satisfied smirk on his plump lips.

It’s a night of tossing and turning. You’re able to sleep but it’s restless. Thoughts of Michael still lingering hours after he fed you the pomegranate.

When you’re finally able to sleep for more than an hour, you’re woken up by a scream similar to the one that woke you up weeks ago.

You know you heard it. It’s not in your imagination. No matter what Michael wants you to believe.

You don’t even think about it as you leave your bed, practically storming down the hall, deciding to leave behind a lit candle for light.

You pass Michael’s bedroom, getting closer to the faint sounds of cries and screams.

At the end of the hallway lies a singular door painted blood red.

You’ve never dared to go through it because when you arrived at the manor, you were told it is off limits.

Every time you would look at it, the hairs on your neck would stand up, giving you reason enough to never investigate it.

But now, you know you have to, tired of not knowing the truth.

When you step through the doorway, the air feels heavy, like all the light has been sucked out, only leaving a darkness that sits on your chest, making sure you cannot take a breath.

It’s pitch black, stairs going down to seemingly nowhere or possibly the pits of Hell. So, it’s either idiotic or suicidal why you decide to go down them.

Once you go down the stairs, a sweltering heat is the first thing you feel, like fire blistering your skin. It’s so bright down at the bottom of the stairs that it reflects in the irises of your eyes.

Hundreds of candles are lit with a few fires alongside them. The walls seem to be made of the earth, like a cave.

You don’t exactly understand what is going on, crouched at the bottom of the stairs spotting Michael walking toward a man sitting on the ground.

Cries and screams of “no” fall from the man as Michael brings a small knife to the man’s throat.

He slices it open, like a bleeding smile, his cries ceasing.

A sadistic smirk paints Michael’s lips, a satisfied one that is so similar to the one he had when he fed you the pomegranate seeds.

That’s when you notice everyone else. Bodies littered around the room, both alive and dead. Blood seeping from their various wounds. The ones who are alive seem to be chained to the floor or the walls, like they’re being tortured.

You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves your mouth, your stomach churning, thinking of the horror that the man you’re married to has been enacting.

You catch yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth. But it’s too late. He heard you.

Michael meets your gaze, and it only takes you a split second to get up and run back up the stairs.

You rush through the house, finding the front doors that keep you trapped inside this prison from the rest of the world.

You fling them open, running barefoot past the garden into the trees that border the manor.

Except just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you’re entering another door, one that goes right back inside the manor.

You look around with bewilderment, your mind racing to try and figure out what is going on. But you just end up hitting a brick wall, wanting to collapse into tears while nothing makes sense. You feel like the floor is moving, like your world has been tilted.

“Don’t cry, little witch.”

You turn to find Michael at the top of the main staircase, looking at you with a sort of curiosity and feigned sympathy.

“What?” you ask, voice cracking.

He continues down the stairs, stepping closer to you.

“Stay away from me,” you yell, voice still thick with tears. “I’m getting out of here.”

“You can try as long as you want to get away. But you’ll always end up back here.”

His looming figure is blurry as you blink away the tears.

You let him get closer, his thumb wiping your tear-stained cheeks.

“You poor thing.” You hear him mutter like you’re some naïve little lamb that needs to be protected.

“You’re stuck here,” he explains. “Those seeds you ate bound you here forever. With me, little witch,” he adds with a grumbling chuckle.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You don’t remember,” he observes, tilting his head at you, like you’re his science experiment.

He thinks for a moment before continuing, “I suppose it would be better if you remembered. Then we really can have fun.”

Before you can protest or say anything, everything goes black.

Certain details are still fuzzy when you regain consciousness, but you remember it all.

You were a powerful witch in a coven. You remember your sisters and your Supreme, Cordelia.

You also remember him.

Cordelia made a deal. She knew who Michael really was, so she did anything she could to send him away, lock him up within the gates of Hell.

She had to make a sacrifice, and it just so happened to be you.

She came up with a loophole for you. The problem is that you couldn’t remember what it was when you arrived here.

You look around at your surroundings for the first time, finding yourself inside a circle of lit candles.

You try to move outside of the confines of the circle, but it’s like an invisible barrier is up.

You lie back down in defeat.

There is no fighting him or getting out. You ate the seeds of the pomegranate.

If enough time had passed without you eating them, you could’ve gotten away from here like Cordelia wanted.

Now you’ve sealed your fate. You’ve been promised to The Beast.

It’s not long before a door creaks open. The man you’ll be forced to spend eternity with, walks through the door.

“I imagine that was an enlightening nap,” he says, fighting off a mocking grin.

You swallow, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

“I was right that it would be better if you remember. I can feel the hatred coming off you. I like that more than indifference.”

He pauses, his eyes raking over your body, like he’s hungry and you’re his next meal.

“Of course, other feelings haven’t changed. You know, it was so hard not to say anything that day in the library when I could smell how wet you were.”

You finally turn to look at him, eyes widening at his casual vulgarity.

“Or any of the other times you were clenching your thighs together. And all because of me,” he adds, eyes full of mirth.

“You’re lying,” you argue, but you can’t deny how warm your cheeks are getting.

“Am I?” he challenges. “It really wouldn’t matter. You’re mine to do as I please with.”

You try to hide the waves of heat you feel, but you can’t successfully hide anything from him.

“What would your Supreme think if she knew how easily you gave into me? If she knew how much of a whore, you are?”

He walks around you in circles like you’re prey that he’s just playing with until he’s ready to feast.

It’s dizzying.

“Maybe I couldn’t stop Cordelia from trapping me here, but I knew I wasn’t going to let you go. Her silly plan with the pomegranates,” he laughs. “I was going to pull you down to the depths of Hell with me. Which is where you’ll be for the rest of eternity.”

You shake your head, wanting him to stop taunting you.

“You’re a monster, Michael,” you harshly say. “I’m sure you feel more at home here.”

He just gives you a humorless laugh, something cruel settling in his eyes.

“Cordelia doesn’t care about you. Her hatred for me outweighed whatever love she had for you. She’s probably forgotten all about you.”

You try to pretend that his words don’t claw at your chest.

“But if I’m going to have my little witch by my side,” he continues. “She can’t be an insolent one.”

You instantly regret hurling any insults at him.

“I think it’s time you learn how things are going to work around here.”

He steps inside the circle, barely giving you time to move out of his way.

“On your knees. Now,” he says, his voice sounding gravelly.

You scramble to kneel at his second command.

“Tell me, little witch. Who’s your God?”

You look up at him, confusion in your eyes.

“What?”

The palm of his hand meets your cheek, moving your head to the side. A slight sting burns your skin.

“Let’s try that again. Who is your God?”

You just shake your head, trying not to let the tears fall from your eyes.

His palm slaps your other cheek, the same biting feeling spreading through your face.

“We can keep doing this until you get it right.”

At least when Michael walked the earth, he had many people to subject his torture too. Now, he just has you. And any other sorry soul that might cross his path, you think. The image of crimson pouring from that man’s neck is still burned into your mind.

“You, Michael. You’re my God,” you defeatedly say.

“And how should you worship your God?”

You catch his gaze, unsure how to answer.

All he does is move his hand to undo his pants, unzipping them until you get what he means.

Your eyelashes flutter as you move your face closer to his cock.

He’s already hard, so you give a small lick to his tip, tasting the salty evidence of his arousal.

He watches you start to put his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

A groan falls from his lips as you begin to fuck him with your throat, spit spilling out of your mouth as you choke on his size.

He puts a hand to the back of your head, helping you to take almost all of him. You can feel your own arousal coating your inner thighs.

“I knew you were good for something,” he says as you gag a little.

He surprises you by pulling you off him, letting you fall onto your ass while your drool hits your chin.

He’s quick to grab you, pinning you to the floor as he puts his weight on top of you.

“I want you to feel me cum inside you.”

He doesn’t waste any time before he rips your white nightgown off you, seeing your naked body for the first time.

His own clothes come off and you hate that even if you know how much of a monster he is, all you can think about is him fucking you.

His hands have your wrists underneath them, pushed into the cold hard floor. You can’t move if you wanted to, but you don’t think you would anyway.

All you do is blink, and his face has changed. His skin is paler with cracks running through it, almost like cement. And his eyes have gone black, no light or emotion to be seen, just darkness, an overwhelming evil you’ve never seen or felt before.

It frightens you. His body is colder as he pushes inside you, a growl coming from deep in his throat.

He doesn’t care to wait for you to adjust, he’s rough in his thrusts, setting a pace that already leaves you gasping for air.

“Michael,” you cry out. “It hurts.”

You know you sound pathetic which is almost worse than how full you feel, your cunt stretching to accommodate the size of him.

“Good,” is all he says.

He licks and bites at your breasts, playing with your nipples between his fingers. It’s both pain and pleasure and it drives you insane. You can feel him deep inside you, the tip of his cock hitting that soft spot nestled in you.

You wrap your legs around him, your walls clenching around him.

He kisses your cheeks, wet with tears from the pain you have felt. He just licks it up, finding your pain to be delicious.

His lips drag against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin.

He whispers, “I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby. Evidence of how you belong to me.”

You can feel your pussy squeeze him at the thought, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.

He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he moves his hand down to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

It’s enough for the coil to snap. It’s only moments later when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He bites down on your shoulder, and you cry out in pain as he laps up the blood that seeps from the wound, soothing it with his tongue.

He’s breathless as he collapses on top of you, his skin going back to its usual color.

Your mind isn’t clouded with pleasure anymore, but you bring a hand to the curls on his head anyway.

He moves his head slightly to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips.

“If only Cordelia could see you now.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 4 months

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Hello lovely!!

I very humbly request decorating the christmas tree with peter and for some mysterious reason he keeps finding reasons to kiss you

the holidays and peter, a perfect combo

-🔮

Hi gorgeous, thanks for requesting!!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 982 words

“Peter.” You’re doing your best to sound firm, but it’s an impossible task to keep the laughter from your tone. “Be careful.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Peter holds up the ornament he’s just knocked off the tree, placing it back in its spot. “I’ve got it, babe, don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your stuff.”

“That one’s yours,” you remind him. “May got it for you last year, and she’ll totally know if you break it.”

Peter makes a sheepish face, but the facade breaks as soon as you laugh. He surges forward to kiss you, your smiles a mirror. He tastes like almonds.

“You’ve been eating my cookies,” you accuse.

“They’re really good when they’re warm.”

“Peter!” You try to push him off you, but he bands an arm around your waist, freakishly strong. You’re forced to make your complaint against his lips. “Those are for my coworkers.”

“I’ll leave enough for them.”

“What, like two each?”

“Maybe three. I might be feeling generous. Season of giving and all.”

You scoff, setting your hands on his chest to push him off. “You’re awful,” you say, no small amount of fondness seeping into your tone, “and I know exactly why.” You head for Peter’s ipod, sitting in a mug to amplify sound. “It’s this song, it makes you feral.”

Peter tracks your trajectory and chases after you, snagging you by your belt loop. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not be so hasty. This is the song of our city!”

You give him a deadpan look. The song of your city has been on repeat for nearly a half hour now. “We’re not celebrating Christmas in Harlem.”

“Queens is close enough!”

“Sorry.” You reach over, pressing skip despite Peter’s hold on you.

He groans, releasing you.

“Now can we get back on task?” You give your half-bare tree a pointed look. You’ve been trying to decorate for a couple of hours now, and your boyfriend (adhd personified, bless him) keeps getting sidetracked.

But Peter’s listening to the intro of the new song, a smile unfurling across his sweet face. He dances his way over to the tree, singing the lyrics.

Well, you think, at least he’s putting on ornaments.

You join, and for a minute, you’re wonderfully productive. You join in on the duet, picking your favorite ornaments out of the box Peter had hauled out of the back of your coat closet and placing them delicately on the tree. It hasn’t snowed yet in New York, but you’re feeling so giddy with holiday cheer you’re thinking of going to the corner store after this for hot chocolate mix.

When Peter whisks you away from the tree this time, you’re a bit more amenable to it, though you roll your eyes for show. He spins you across the living room, his hands warm around yours. He croons the lyrics to you, and you play along, batting your eyelashes up at him when he pulls you close to his chest.

“The neighbors might think,” you sing in an overly coy voice.

Peter’s overlaps with it at the end. “Baby, it’s bad out there.”

“Say, what’s in this drink?”

“No cab’s to be had out—whoa, this is kind of messed up, huh?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise as he pays more attention to the lyrics. “Are they saying he roofied her?”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “You’ve never noticed?”

“Jesus.” Peter looks so shell-shocked you can’t help but run your hand along his stubble, a comforting touch for him and an indulgence for you as a bonus. He breaks from his reverie to smile down at you, kissing the tip of your nose. “Just for the record,” he says, dipping lower to capture your mouth, “that cider I made earlier was one hundred percent fruit, sweetheart. No alcohol here.”

“Mmm, guess you won’t be getting any then.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” You smile, and Peter kisses the corner of your mouth quickly. “I seem to do just fine without shady tactics.”

“I don’t know—” you start to tease him further, but then he nips at your bottom lip and it’s pretty difficult to carry on speaking from there.

Your hands have minds of their own, one gripping his shoulder while the other tunnels its fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Peter all but sucks you in, devoting his attentions to your bottom lip while he pulls you closer by the waist. He gives the soft inside of your lip another gentle nibble, and the sound that escapes you is so humiliatingly needy that you force yourself to pull away.

“No,” you say, trying to catch your breath. Then, more firmly, “No. We’re never gonna finish decorating tonight if we keep…doing this.”

“We can finish tomorrow,” Peter suggests helpfully, one hand coasting up your back while he noses at your cheek.

“Peter,” you chide, laughing. “We’ve already put it off for too long. At this rate, the tree’s going to die before we get ornaments on it.”

Your boyfriend heaves a great sigh, pressing a final, consoling kiss to the skin beneath your eye before stepping away from you. “Alright, alright. We’ll get it done.”

“Thank you,” you say weakly, tucking some string lights more securely into the tree’s branches while Peter stoops over the box. You do your best to calm your heart rate and try to get back into the flow of decorating.

A second later, there’s a thwick, and you look up to see a green and red sprig webbed to the ceiling above your head.

You look over at Peter, who is also staring up at the mistletoe.

“What?” His brow wrinkles, and he looks between you and the ceiling with his palms tipped guilelessly upward. “How’d that get there? Damn, sweetheart, I really wanted to stay on task, but you know, rules are rules, so…”

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fredwkong · 8 months

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Virgo Season: Shane

Today, Virgo is associated most with the astrological sign. Virgos are rigid, conscientious, prudish, stubborn. It is often forgotten that Virgo is the sign of the harvest, when inedible grass turns to edible wheat in a yearly miracle. This plenty inspired the ancients to name innumerable mother goddesses for the harvest, to remind all people that, with patience and care, even the most stubborn ground can be tilled to bear fruit.

When Virgo rules the heavens, it is a time for things that have been growing to ripen and let loose. This is especially true at the Astra, a hotel and conference centre somewhere in central Florida. The cornerstone houses an ancient, mysterious artifact that resonates with the desires of the hotel’s guests, bringing out the things they have been hiding deep within. It is especially powerful in Virgo season.

At 3:32 AM on August 23, 1 hour and 30 minutes before the Sun entered Virgo, Shane Blanco walked out of the elevator and across the lobby, nodding to the dozing receptionist. He tried to act normal, but every few seconds he smoothed back his short blond hair or dried his hands on his conservative black slacks as he stood waiting by the automatic door, belying his nervousness.

Shane and his father, the famous evangelical pastor Adam Blanco, had arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon. Pastor Blanco was the guest of honour at a month-long conference for his reactionary evangelical organisation, which was to host a parade of noteworthy men from the far right over the next month, including media personalities, politicians, and other evangelical speakers like Pastor Blanco.

His throat dry, Shane checked his Tinder messages again. Nothing yet. Shane was here… well, Shane was here because all of his brothers and sisters had said “not it” faster. He was meant to be the perfect young Republican, his father’s “success story.” It showed in his fresh blond Ivy League cut, his well-tailored suits, his handsome face, and his white, perfect smile. Shane was going to have an aneurysm.

Even entering his twenties, Shane was still terribly repressed. He’d kissed a boy once, under the bleachers during a school football game, and immediately had a panic attack. This trip was the farthest that he had travelled from his little midwestern hometown, and it wasn’t like Pastor Blanco was keeping close track of what he did. If Shane wanted to get the taste of gay life he was desperately craving, now was the time.

He had matched with Rodrigo while sitting in the back seat of the rented SUV Shane and his father had ridden in to the Astra. He was a Latino hunk, his Tinder pictures showing a tantalising carpet of chest hair on his thick chest. There were pictures of him bearing rainbow flags at pride parades, hanging out with other equally undressed guys of all shapes, sizes, and colours, and one where, just at the bottom of the frame, Shane had seen the top few inches of a pair of leather pants. They had been messaging all night.

Rodrigo was at some other nighttime event in town, but he had begged off early and had texted that he was on his way to the Astra. Shane shifted from foot to loafered foot, trying to pretend he didn’t have cold sweat dripping down his back. What if he got stood up? What if Rodrigo was actually working for his father, waiting to catch Shane in an act of temptation? What if Rodrigo had decided that he actually didn’t want to have a hookup with an inexperienced, repressed white prep?

Just as Shane was about to scurry back upstairs, the front door opened and a man in a long leather jacket stepped inside. Rodrigo looked even bigger in person, and even more out of place, a burly, bearded, tan hunk in big combat boots standing in the opulent foyer of the Astra. Shane hurried to his side, trying to look like something other than a gangling prep.

“Hey man.” Rodrigo took Shane firmly by the wrist and walked deeper into the hotel. “Good to see you again. It was a total bitch to find parking around here.” He sounded so natural, like it was perfectly normal for two people as different as them to meet in a hotel lobby at 4 in the morning. He held Shane tight, forcing him to walk briskly, but not urgently. Shane felt leather at his back, and the smell of cigarettes tickled his nose, emanating from the jacket. Rodrigo took a turn into the richly carpeted hallway leading past the conference hall. “You know where we’re going?” he murmured in Shane’s ear. He had to lean down to get close enough, a sensation which made Shane shudder with lust.

“Y-yes,” Shane breathed. While Pastor Blanco had organised the conference hall to his exacting needs, Shane had scouted the whole first floor, and he’d found a mysterious, unlocked door that opened to a set of stairs. He directed Rodrigo there, and the two men stumbled down the dark steps into the sub-basement of the Astra.

Using his phone flashlight, Rodrigo found a light switch. They were in a disused storage room with unfinished cinderblock walls, some of which had some kind of strange carving on them. Shane assumed that they must have been leftovers from the ornate facade on the Astra’s front. There were sinuous patterns, some twisted together to form some kind of indiscernible script.

Grabbing Shane by the shoulders, Rodrigo spun him around, and Shane found himself pressed against the concrete, surrounded by leather and man. “Can I kiss you, cutie?” Rodrigo asked.

Shane nodded desperately, and Rodrigo surged forward, catching Shane’s mouth.

Shane could barely think about anything but the feeling of Rodrigo’s moustache and beard against his face, and the electric sensation of firm, confident lips on his. Then Rodrigo’s tongue was in his mouth, and Shane could taste his saliva, made a little smokey by the cigarette he must have smoked in the car. Shane could feel his cock straining against his briefs as Rodrigo flattened his body against the wall.

“Hold on.” Suddenly, Rodrigo was gone. Shane opened his eyes to see him efficiently stripping off his leather jacket. Underneath, shockingly, was not a shirt, but a leather harness.

Rodrigo caught Shane’s shocked stare. “Sorry,” he said, looking less than confident for the first time. “The other event I was at was a, uh, kink night at a local club. Didn’t have time to change. I know it’s not a lot of people’s, you know, thing…”

Shane swallowed. Marshalled his thoughts with an effort. “I’m just surprised,” he said. “I think I, uh, like it.”

Rodrigo’s gaze followed Shane’s down to the visible bulge in Shane’s slacks. Rodrigo suddenly grinned. “Wow, you are repressed.”

Shane nodded. “Can I touch it?”

Still grinning, Rodrigo stepped forward, back in range of Shane’s hand.

With shaking fingers, Shane reached out and stroked the supple leather. “God,” he said, “I wish—”

What he was about to say was lost as Rodrigo crowded back against him and kissed him, but he had already said more than enough. A spark arced from the heel of his spare hand, pressed against the wall, into the magical channels carved into the cinderblocks. Shane’s mind suddenly let loose the desires he had repressed for all twenty-two years of his life, half-formed thoughts of leather, rubber, and lycra gear filling his mind as he tugged on the harness’s handle. Newer ideas of hair, dark skin, and the masculine scents of sweat and smoke flowed in too as Rodrigo gently slid Shane’s feet out of his loafers.

The magical artifact responded, and a soft orange glow filled the room, unnoticed by Shane or Rodrigo as Rodrigo’s slick fingers entered Shane’s virgin hole. Shane’s offering, of a mind grown and strengthened by repression suddenly ripened, harvested by sexual experience, unleashed an unexpected magical effect.

Shane lay on his back on Rodrigo’s leather jacket, his polo shirt rucked up under his shoulders as he continued to maintain his grip on Rodrigo’s harness. He moaned as Rodrigo’s fat Latino cock entered him, his own cock rock hard against his belly.

Along with Rodrigo’s dripping cock came some of the power building in the air. Rather than pain or pressure, Shane experienced only blinding pleasure as his hole relaxed, and Rodrigo easily bottomed out. With each thrust, Shane’s skin started to smooth out and darken, first around his hole and across his ass, and then up his belly and down his legs.

When Rodrigo grabbed Shane’s cock, a foreskin suddenly grew from the shaft, and Shane’s eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of Rodrigo’s firm hand on his newly sensitive cockhead. Shane’s darkening balls tensed, then relaxed lower, growing slightly to match a slightly larger, darker cock. The thatch of sparse blond hair around his cock and balls shrank away, as if shaved with an experienced hand.

Shane’s slight belly dissolved, revealing a toned, but not huge, set of abs, and his pecs became flat and firm, wrapped tight on his toned chest. The blond hair in his armpits vanished like the rest of Shane’s body hair, leaving sparse black stubble. The polo shirt shrank and hardened into a black leather harness.

At the same time, the transformation reached both Shane’s darkening feet and his long, lithe fingers. Only partly aware, Shane watched as his fingers darkened and his feet, up on Rodrigo’s shoulders, flexed just a little larger, with mobile, sensual toes. The nails of both darkened with black nail polish. That was bad, Shane thought, trying to organise his mind through the blinding pleasure of Rodrigo's fucking combined with the magic coursing through his changing body. His… His someone would be upset.

With a thrust that brought Rodrigo’s cock straight home on Shane’s now extra-sensitive prostate, Shane threw back his head and the magic followed. All his thoughts dissolved. His jaw sharpened and his lips filled out as they darkened, matching both the nipples he was using one hand to twist and the cockhead peeking out of Rodrigo’s big, callused hand. His eyes darkened, his brow lowering to give him a hooded, seductive gaze.

Finally, the magic entered Shane’s hair follicles. Beginning from the roots, blond became black, and the strands tore free of the gel Shane had carefully combed in yesterday morning. Tousled curls fell across Shane’s forehead.

Like a flick switched in his mind, Shane suddenly looked up at Rodrigo with a cocky, lustful gaze. “That’s it, you big bear,” he said in a deeper, slightly smokey voice, pulling harder on Rodrigo’s harness to make him gasp. “Fill my slutty boyhole. Take this virgin hole.”

Rodrigo gasped as he was pulled closer to Shane’s torso, the fucking becoming somehow more intense. He suddenly felt close to the edge. “Gonna… cum,” he gasped, trying to pull out. No way this virgin bottom was gonna outlast an experienced guy like him.

Shane pulled harder. “Cum in me,” he growled, dragging a ragged sob from Rodrigo’s throat. “C’mon, I need your load in me.”

At Shane’s command, Rodrigo let go, filling Shane up with his load. He knew he’d put on a condom, but somehow he found himself bare, painting Shane’s insides with cum. At precisely 5:02 AM, as the Sun entered Virgo behind the bulk of the earth, Shane let loose too, painting his lean new torso with a huge, runny load of cum.

Both men made the most powerful offering a living being can make at the exact moment that Virgo entered its greatest power. The power slammed into the magic filling the air, and the unformed wish Shane had inadvertently made was recast into a powerful spell.

I wish… a rush of images and words… cock, leather, sweat, gay, mask, Slut, Rubber, Daddy Latin Fag Stink Gear African Ass Cum MuskSexArabFagJockSlutLeatherAsianCockCockCockCockCOCK.

Shane had ripened, what had been repressed now ready for harvest as he worked his ass to milk Rodrigo’s cock. In a burst of warmth and unseen light, the magic of the Virgo artifact, confined for decades to the small sub-basement room, surged to encompass the Astra hotel.

As Rodrigo pulled out, still gasping, Shane dragged his fingers through the rivulets of cum coating his torso and started to lick it up. He remembered who he had been an hour ago, but that Shane felt like a distant dream. Why bother being so stressed, bound up in what other people thought he should be? The new Shane was a creature of sensuality, totally free to do whatever he desired.

“That was… Were you always…” Rodrigo struggled to articulate himself as he tugged his jeans back on.

“May as well have been.” Shane rolled off Rodrigo’s jacket and grabbed his slacks. The instant he touched them, the cotton flexed and morphed, becoming supple black leather. Shane loved the feeling as his new pants slipped up his hairless legs. “Want to go get breakfast?”

“But your… dad, right?”

Shane didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but the magic was in him, filling him up and reassuring him that his will would be done. “My father’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll come back to pick him up on September 22. He’ll be fine here.” Shane's fingers were itching. "Lend me a cig. I'll pay you back."

Pastor Blanco and all his far right guests would be more than fine. Shane only had twenty years of repression to fuel his transformation, the youngest of the attendees. Some of the men coming to the hotel, like Pastor Blanco himself, had spent at least fifty years in denial of their basest urges. With the help of the magic permeating the Astra, they would soon be letting it all loose.

This concept was inspired by @octuscle.

Welcome to Virgo Season! Every three days until September 22, 2023, I will tell the story of another of Pastor Blanco's guests at the Astra Hotel being transformed into a slutty gay kinkster.

This series is my way of celebrating my birthday. If you feel inspired, feel free to write a story set in the Astra Hotel this Virgo Season. Post it @ me and I’ll reblog it.

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #reality change #race change #male tf #virgo season #leather tf #smoking tf #uncut tf #all fwkong

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1000sunnygo · 5 months

Text

One Piece Academy chapter 40: Cora san (Quick translation)

[source] [translation index]

Lucci: Donquixote Doflamingo's younger brother, Donquixote Rosinante. Codename: Corazon.

He used to be an executive staff of the Donquixote Family. However, for the last two years, he's 'missing.'

[New world Middle school, Student council]

Lucci: Tell me what you know about this man,

...Trafalgar Law.

Law: I hear you, but what's with the stupid costumes?

Luffy: Y'all sure got style!

Kalifa: To dispel the "scary, unapproachable, unfriendly" allegations against the school council, this.. is the "student council image improvement campaign" proposed by our advisor.

Law: .......... Oh.

Sanji: So, Doflamingo has a brother?

Kaku: Yeah. While investigating him, we came to learn the existence of Corazon, and,

The fact that a former member of the Donquixote Family was you, Trafalgar Law.

Usopp/Chopper: EEEEH????!

Luffy: So you're friends with Mingo?

Law: I get the full picture. I was indeed a part of this Family in the past, and Corazon, no...

...Cora-san is my benefactor, and I got my Life and my Heart from him.

Bepo: Captain, you're okay with speaking about that?

Law: Baseless suspicions are bothersome, that's all.

Kaku: Mind sharing the rest of the story?

Law: Yeah. When I was seven..

I developed an incurable disease that stumped even the doctors.

Without warning, my body caught a sickness that was supposedly eradicated long time ago.

My father, even though he was a famous doctor in the city - couldn't determine its cause.

Vivi: And then, the three remaining years you had according to your father...

Chopper:...was spent on moving to large hospitals that refused to treat you? Was there so little literary background of the disease?

Robin: Prejudices from lack of knowledge in unknown cities, the government's isolationist, unjust instructions.. it must've been terrible.

Law: I cursed the world for it. I didn't want to bother my parents anymore and fled from home, wandered by myself,

then I arrived in front of him. The man who wants to destroy everything, the man I wanted to be like..

I was at the doorsteps of Doflamingo.

Zoro: Just like that, you could've become one of the thugs like him, but that didn't happen...

Nami:.. because you met a certain other person?

{Flashback: Law, look! It's the op-op fruit!

It's a fruit that can save your life! So, eat it! Hurry up, swallow down!}

Brook: So, with the medical knowledge from your parents and the fruit's ability, you treated yourself...

Franky: From Doflamingo's point of view, it happened to be a fruit he wanted for some reason.

Sanji: and he felt out witted by his younger brother...

Usopp: So, a raging Doflamingo appeared before Corazon -

Nami: And at the end, you saw a mysterious light from behind the lockers. What was that?

Blueno: An explosion?

Lucci: That sounds reasonable...

Jabra: A last resort move from Corazon, huh? Well, Doflamingo couldn't just give up.

Coby: After regaining consciousness, Law-san, you held the words of Corazon in your heart, to "meet him at the next town" and kept walking...but the man never appeared....

Law: A person that's gone, is gone. Any other question?

Lucci: None.

Usopp: Who knew Traffy had a past like that...

Luffy: AAAAAH!

Usopp: MAN, THAT SPOOKED ME!

Coby: Luffy san! What happened.. OH RIGHT!

Luffy: I FORGOT TO TOLD TRAFFY THE THING!

Nami: Ah, you're right! We got side tracked by the student council...

Luffy: Where's he?

Zoro: He left.

Lufffy: Then let's go to Traffy's place.

Usopp: Do you even know where he lives?

This nerd

Corazon: WELCOME BACK, LAAW!!!

Law: I'm back... Cora san, take off your coat while cleaning -

Luffy: THERE HE IS!!

TAFFY!! WE'RE THROWING A RICEBALL PARTY!

Nami: Luffy! You should ring the doorbell first!!

Luffy: n?

< end, part 2 comes out on December 15th!>

Update: Part 2 translation

#man I missed doing manga translations #one piece academy #one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote rosinante #donquixote doflamingo #one piece corazon #monkey d. luffy #i need Luffy's traffy tracker #one piece bepo #one piece translations #straw hat pirates #heart pirates

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waywardstation · 6 months

Text

Fair Trade

Akari shares with Ingo a bag of candy she found while distortion diving, though Ingo more appreciates the familiar feelings that sharing candy brings back than anything.

Happy Halloween!! I wrote this off a request an anon gave me about Akari sharing Halloween candy with Ingo. Hope you enjoy!! This is my first bit of writing that I’ve actually published in a while, and it feel like this writing in particular is a lot of nothing, but it was fun just to get something out again!!

OR read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

————

“I am finding it very hard to believe that you dislike chocolate this much.”

“Come on,” From where she sat on the dojo bench, Akari held her hand out to Ingo, the shiny, brightly-colored wrapper in her palm already unfoiled to reveal the candy inside. “It’s not that I don’t like them, I just like other candy more. And I can’t eat all of these myself, so I gotta pick and choose. Also, you have to take it, I already opened it.”

Looking back at her from his position by the dojo, Ingo’s expression was one of discernment — she could certainly just wrap it back up and save it for later. She also could have done that with the last six candies she had handed to him. But eventually, he relented and took it. Popping it into his mouth with an obligatory “Thank you”, Ingo returned to casting his glance at the training grounds’ gate.

Unlike Akari, he had not realized how sorely he had specifically missed sweet, modernized chocolate until she had first given him a piece several minutes earlier, when she had come by the training grounds to see him with a big mystery bag in her hands.

“Look at this, Ingo!” She had called out to him, holding the packaging up against the sunset sky for him to see — orange and purple, it was full of colorful wrappers, and seemed to be decorated with ghost pokemon (some silhouettes he recognized much more clearly than others). “I found this in one of the distortions! Help me eat it!”

A moderately-sized, unopened bag of cheap assorted candies, wrapped in shiny foils that obscured the flavor and kept its brand a surprise until it was opened. No doubt it had been pulled from some store shelf, if not an unfortunate person’s cabinet. Akari had been unwrapping the candies one by one; if it was revealed to be a fruit chew or something of the sort, she ate it herself, but the chocolates were handed off to Ingo.

Reaching her hand back onto the bag, Akari fished out another wrapper and twisted it open, revealing a green gummy inside that vaguely resembled a cherubi’s shape.

“Gummy.” She announced to no one in particular, chewing on it and stuffing the wrapper into her satchel. Picking out and unwrapping another before she had even finished her candy, she held it out to Ingo. “Chocolate. Here.”

“Ah, thank you,” Ingo received it with waning enthusiasm, but dropped it into his mouth regardless. “Have you perhaps considered sharing with your friend Rei as well?”

“Yeah, but last time I did, he got sick the next day. He said he doesn’t want them anymore.”

“How many have you had?” Watching Akari pull out yet another candy from the bag, Ingo was beginning to wonder if she was planning to stop at some point, or keep pushing through until the bag was empty. Knowing her, he believed it would be the latter.

“I don’t know, maybe… Nine? Ten?” The teen did not look up from the candy she was currently unwrapping. “I haven’t been counting.”

Ingo looked away, back towards the dojo’s gates as Akari peeked through the small opening she had made in her wrapper. He was acutely aware of how anything as processed and sugary as candy would not mix well with a digestive system that had become accustomed to a Hisuian diet — concerning both Akari, and himself.

“I advise taking these tracks a little slower; there is no need to rush towards the end of the line in just one night, lest you end up like Rei.”

“Oh man, if you think I’ll get sick off of this, you should really see all the junk I eat that I don’t bring back to share with you,” Akari brushed it off with a laugh as if his recommendation was a joke, before holding another unwrapped candy out to him again. “Chocolate. Here you go.”

“...Thank you.” Ingo echoed once again, tentatively receiving the bite-size candy bar. He chewed it with a look on his face – hard to discern, but appearing to be guilty for appreciating it. He waved Akari off preemptively with a hand before she could even unwrap another candy. “But please, no more; Miss Zisu is supposed to return back from the hall at any moment to accompany me to The Wallflower. I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“Well all you have to do is stop taking them, then!” Akari’s voice was tickled with amusement. Plastic crinkled as another wrapper was opened; thankfully for Ingo’s sake, bright, soft pink was revealed under the shiny covering. “Ugh, Taffy.”

Ingo cleared his throat as Akari bit into it anyways, having nothing to say at being called out – he certainly could refuse, but a part of him didn’t want to. And it went beyond the plain craving for the processed sweetness after such a long period of going without it.

Something about the flavor was obviously familiar to him, but that wasn’t exactly what kept nagging him to repeatedly want just one more. In fact, there really was much to be desired from cheap, waxy chocolate.

It was more so the simple act of Akari specifically handing a candy to him that she didn’t want, but knew he liked. It felt like it was tugging on a dormant cord still connected between his heart and his memories.

There wasn’t a lot there, but it was attached to something, deep down.

( )( )( )( )( )( )

It was just like when he and (Emmet went trick-or-treating together as children. The two of them) would always return home with enough candy that (could have lasted them several months, but) would probably only survive a week or two (between themselves and their Pokémon). They would always take turns trading (their candy between each other at the end of the night. Emmet) enjoyed the sour variety of treats and gummies (that would oftentimes end up leaving him with a sore mouth,) while he preferred the sweeter chocolates and (candy bars).

And (when Elesa had come into their lives during their teenage years,) the group would continue the tradition (of trick-or-treating together, and then) swapping at the end of the night. (Chocolates were not willingly traded to him nearly as easily anymore, and) he often ended up being traded the things neither (Emmet or Elesa) wanted. But he didn’t mind (because he liked them well enough, more so than the other two).

And even (into adulthood, when going trick-or-treating from door to door) was swapped out for (late-night scary movie marathons with friends, He found a habit had formed where) he was often handed (the candy bowl near the end of the night, in order to finish off the bit of) untouched candy no one else wanted. (Emmet and Skyla) would lightheartedly jab at him (for functionally being their candy disposal bin, but Elesa would defend him while he himself just laughed,) taking it all in jest.

( )( )( )( )( )( )

…It was just like when he and someone else would always return home with enough candy that would last probably only a week or two. They’d take turns trading, the other enjoying sour candies while he preferred the sweet ones. And when their group continued swapping candy, he was often traded what no one else wanted. But he didn’t mind. And even when things… changed, he still was given the candy that no one else wanted. They would make jokes about him for it, but it was all in jest.

There was so much missing, Ingo knew there was, and it made things confusing as to what actually happened. But he certainly didn’t feel bad about any part of it, when he lingered on the feelings that were left behind.

The fragments were horrifically shattered and spread apart over many, many memories, he could tell. But something about it was comforting. Perhaps it was the fact that so many memories seemed linked together; it implied that this was something that had never changed even while time went on, something that had been continued over a large span of his prior life. He had done something with friends very frequently. And it was something he enjoyed very much.

They were happy memories of people he couldn’t quite remember, and while that was not a novel experience for him at this point, it still dimmed the warmth around the edges. But he could not ignore that it was also cathartic, in an aching, lonely way, to feel that they were so worn and repetitive.

The phantom memories gradually retreated back out of reach, keeping their distance as the sweet aftertaste of the cheap chocolate faded. Something about the fact that an action as seemingly insignificant as being handed unwanted candy, and how it was able to dredge up only emotional remnants of so many hazy recollections… it was a little frustrating for Ingo, if he was being honest.

The complete picture was always just out of reach, it felt like.

But he had lost his entire previous life to the foggy nowhere that used to be his mind. There were a lot of pieces to pick up, and he supposed a substantial amount of them would be small and insignificant — when something shattered like this, there were usually many more small pieces than big ones.

“Another chocolate.”

Ingo blinked, his thoughts giving way to the view of the training ground’s dirt beneath his shoes, then to Akari as he turned to her — she had leaned forward to nudge his wrist with her own hand. Of course, a chocolate nestled within an opened wrapper was held between her fingers.

“Ah-” Ingo hesitated for perhaps a moment too long with a look that may have been a bit too piercing, as Akari’s hand began to retract.

“Right, sorry,” Akari sat back, leaning against the dojo wall behind her as she situated the bag back on her lap. “I know, I shouldn’t keep handing you these when you’re about to go have dinner.”

“No no, it’s alright,” Ingo hastily attempted to correct the misunderstanding. “I apologize, I was not rejecting it; my mind simply drifted elsewhere for a moment.”

“So…” With the usual spirited look returning to her features, Akari held the candy back up. “You do want another piece?”

One last glance over at the gate, but of course Zisu was still nowhere in sight. Only the autumn sunset past the village buildings, and a distant collection of drifblim mingling with the clouds over the fieldlands.

Ingo huffed through his nose and turned to join Akari on the bench, taking the empty spot next to her as the wood creaked beneath him. “…Perhaps just one more; Miss Zisu has not arrived yet, after all. She did say it would be a quick stop by the Commander’s office, but I’ll be honest; knowing her appreciation for conversation, I could be waiting here for her for another half hour.”

Akari held the candy back out to him, and this time, Ingo accepted it. “Thank you.”

Placing the chocolate in his mouth, Ingo sat back as he chewed on it. Mulling over the warm feelings of familiarity that briefly returned once again with the flavor, Ingo wondered if the memories themselves would return at some point as well.

#happy halloween!!!!#I projected onto Akari a lot with this I like chocolate fine enough but I like non-chocolate candy so much more #and will give chocolate to others #submas #ingo #warden ingo #akari #pokemon akari #Pokemon legends arceus #Pokemon legends #pokemon #pokemon fanfic #pokemon fanfiction #halloween #candy #waywardstationfanfic

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buckybabesonly · 1 year

Text

Come Home

Summary: Bucky interrupts your date on Valentine’s Day, asking you to take him back.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!reader, slight Oliver Queen (Green Arrow - hello DC!) x Female!reader

Genre: Slight angst, slight fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: Thought I’d write a little Valentine’s Day one shot in the spirit of 💕 feat. Oliver Queen (I had a slight obsession with him and the actor who played him in Smallville, Justin Hartley back in the day - enjoy this little gif below)

You raised the cocktail glass in your hand, the smile on your face not quite reaching your eyes as you knocked your glass against Oliver’s with a clink. You had no idea what you had ordered, but it was a mysterious shade of pink and gave you the buzz you needed to convince yourself this was a good idea.

This was only your fifth date with the man, but you had agreed to spend the universal day of love with him when he had asked. Just a dinner and drinks - nothing could go wrong, and maybe you’d finally start to replace the bitter taste in your mouth left by your previous relationship.

“Cheers,” he hummed, his eyes surveying you. Oliver Queen was handsome, intelligent, insanely rich, and you’d been set up by Tony a few months ago. However, you were starting to suspect that he wasn’t just a billionaire playboy as he portrayed himself, much like Tony, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. You’d had enough of dating superheroes for the time being.

Your reply was stopped in its tracks when a waiter settled another drink down next to you, your eyebrows quirking in confusion.

“Oh, sorry - I didn’t order this,” you said quickly.

“This is from the gentleman at the bar,” the waiter replied, gesturing over to the other side of the restaurant.

Your eyes wandered in the direction he was pointing. The first thing you noticed were the leather-gloved fingers waving at you, then his cocky smirk.

“Shit.”

“That’s a bold move,” Oliver commented, amusement lacing through his voice. “Wait a minute - is that Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky raised his glass of whisky to his lips, downing the amber liquid all at once. You faintly registered how good he looked, his dark hair slightly tousled and his sharp jawline covered in a light stubble.

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, turning back to Oliver and trying to keep your scowl at bay.

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” That asshole.

“Maybe you can introduce us. He’s coming over,” Oliver said coolly, leaning back in his seat, unfazed as he watched the approaching super soldier.

You could see him in your peripheral. His swagger, his leather jacket and dark jeans, totally out of place in this hotel restaurant with its crystal chandeliers and piano music.

You panicked internally, wondering what the hell you were going to say and, more importantly, what the hell he was doing here.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice rumbled over your head. You pasted on your phoniest smile and looked at him, head tilting back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yes. What a coincidence,” you said dryly.

Oliver stood up, extending a hand which Bucky grabbed. Hard. The wince in Oliver’s face was well disguised as they shook hands.

“Oliver Queen.”

“Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky plucked the stick of cherries out from your drink as you gaped at him in shock. He slid it between his teeth, rolling the fruit around on his tongue before chewing obnoxiously. You took a deep breath, watching Oliver’s completely neutral expression.

“Just thought I’d come over and say hi.” Bucky rested a hand on your bare shoulder, his touch ever gentle, squeezing softly. His thumb stroked your skin, making you shiver. Every movement was purposeful, deliberate.

“Well, hi,” you said pointedly, your lips pressing together firmly. “We’re kind of on a date here, so…”

“Right, right,” Bucky said, though he made no motion to leave. “So, Oliver.” The way he spoke his name was almost mocking, the syllables rolling slowly off his tongue. “What are you doing with my girl?”

At that, you pushed your chair back with a screech, ignoring the looks that came your way as you gave Oliver an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry. Give me five minutes.” You clasped Bucky’s wrist and marched away - he could have easily resisted, but he followed anyway like a scolded puppy, letting you lead the way outside of the restaurant.

Once you’d entered the hotel lobby and away from the hubbub and diners, you whirled to face him, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What the hell are you playing at?”

Bucky’s cocky smile had disappeared, a look of disapproval combined with longing on his face.

“You can’t be serious, going on a date with him?”

“Quite frankly, whoever I date is none of your business.” You tried to keep your voice down to avoid attracting more attention, though it was hard when Bucky was testing the boundaries of your patience.

“It is my business.”

“I’m not your girl,” you said, his words echoing in your ear. Once upon a time, you would have melted at hearing Bucky make a proclamation like that, but things had changed.

Bucky shook his head, swallowing hard. “Please don’t do this.”

“Do what, Bucky?” The exasperation was clear in your voice. “We’ve been broken up for six months.”

“I miss you,” he whispered, the vulnerability suddenly clear on his face. It stopped you in your tirade. He'd always had the ability to make your anger dissipate with just a single look.

You faltered, his blue eyes gazing at you pleadingly.

“Bucky. You know why we broke up. It’s unfair of you to just turn up whilst I’m on a date and expect me to - what? Get back together with you?”

The way he looked at you now told you that was exactly what he wanted.

To some extent, that was what you wanted, too. God, you missed him. You loved him, even if you weren’t together - that would never change. But you had to be mature and remember the real issues that caused you to break up in the first place.

“This won’t work, Bucky,” you said softly. “The reason we separated is because the things we want in life just aren’t compatible. I got tired of always waiting for you to come back from missions, of you going away for months at a time, of seeing you get hurt and in danger.”

Bucky looked at you with guilt in his eyes. He could remember clearly all the arguments you’d had about how you felt he was always putting his work first. He had never wanted you to feel like a second priority, but that’s how he made you feel.

“I felt like we weren’t going anywhere. We’d been together for three years, but I couldn’t see any growth,” you said somberly. “I want marriage and a family. If that’s not what you want, then fair enough, but you can’t stop me from trying to find someone who does.”

Bucky's eyes narrowed, taking a step towards you. “You’ve got it all wrong,” he insisted, his voice rough. “I’ve told you. I want that, too.”

“Do you?” you challenged. “I don’t see that you do. You always put the team first.”

The vulnerability was clear on Bucky’s face as he exhaled shakily, his eyes darting in uncertainty now. You recognized another emotion: fear.

“I miss you,” he said finally, looking like he wanted to cry. “After you left, I thought that it was just one of those things, and we would be able to fix things. But then more and more time passed, and now it’s been half a year. I'm scared."

Your breath hitched as you saw actual tears start to well in Bucky’s eyes. You rarely saw him cry.

“I just want you to come home,” he said hoarsely. “Please?”

You felt yourself waver. You had always considered Bucky to be the love of your life - when you had broken up, you’d told yourself that he would simply just have to be the one that got away. You told yourself that sometimes, love didn’t trump all. You wanted different things in life.

Even if it felt like cutting out a piece of your heart, you had told yourself that breaking up was for the best.

“Don’t ask me that,” you whimpered, feeling your heart clench with guilt.

“I want you back. Please give me another chance,” he said earnestly.

“Our problems haven’t gone away,” you reminded him. Bucky took a step closer, his hand raising to cup the back of your head softly. You didn’t pull back, giving him a bout of hope.

“I will do anything for you. If I have to leave the team, I’ll do it. I’ll give you the life you want.”

You felt selfish, greedy after hearing his words.

“No,” you said, even as his head tilted closer so that his nose brushed against yours. “I don’t want you to give up something that means a lot to you just for me. You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“I thought it meant a lot to me,” Bucky clarified. “I thought it gave me purpose. But when you left, I realized that my purpose was you. To make you happy.”

“Bucky…”

“I don’t care if I have to give up doing all that super soldier shit,” he said. “I don’t care. I want you. Nothing else matters if you’re not with me.”

Your eyes traced his face, every fine line, every crease in his forehead, inhaled his scent. You felt the tether between you tighten, and you let it pull you in.

You placed both palms against his chest, leaning in to kiss him. He gasped into your mouth like a drowning man looking for air, his tongue rolling between your lips as his fingers tightened in your hair.

It had been so long, yet neither of you had forgotten the sensation. It was as natural as breathing.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confessed as Bucky held you, both of you slightly breathless when you pulled away.

“Does this mean -”

“We can try,” you interrupted. “But we have a lot to talk about.”

Bucky nodded, his hand sliding down to intertwine with yours.

“Fuck,” you cursed, remembering the man waiting for you inside the restaurant. “Oliver.”

“He’ll get over it,” Bucky said, a scowl settling on his lips. “You’re not going back in there.”

“Don’t be rude, Buck.”

“Stay here,” he ordered, placing both hands on your shoulders for emphasis before he swiveled round and walked back into the restaurant.

He approached Oliver where he was still sitting with an expectant look on his face.

“Your date’s coming home with me. Sorry.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, heaving a defeated sigh and reaching over for your unfinished drinks.

“Fine. Tell her I had a good time.”

Bucky grunted, making a beeline for the cloakroom where you were already collecting your jacket and purse. He wrapped the jacket around you, finally appraising the slinky red dress you had on, swinging your purse onto his shoulder.

"C'mon, darling," he said, his fingers threading through yours, where they'd always belonged, "let's go home."

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky fanfic

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onigirio · 8 months

Note

Hi! I love ur workk!! :) Could i request percy x child of apollo where hyacinth flowers bloom where they walk and they can summon them? (Yknow, bcz of apollo)

🐝: TYSM! i really liked this concept but i feel like this may be too short...lmk if you want a part 2!

camp half blood was no stranger to miscellaneous flora. after all, it was a camp in a forest, so there was bound to be a lot of plant life. however, recently, percy noticed a drastic increase of a new kind of flower, especially around the apollo cabin.

normally, he would ignore these things since flowers weren't his forté (he left gardening to the demeter kids) but the way the flowers were popping up seemed...too intentional. they formed intricate pathways from cabin 7 to the dining pavilion, or to the shooting range. hades, they were even popping up during capture the flag games!

damn his curiosity, but when percy noticed a new path, how could he not follow it. it's like someone was leaving a trail of bread crumbs for him to follow. the flora went from cabin 7, to the big house, to the dining pavilion. sometimes he would get mixed up with the different paths, but keen ocean eyes noticed that the colours differed from day to day, and today they just so happened to be blue

of course they had to be blue.

it was like the gods were poking fun at him. now everyone was wondering why percy jackson was walking around camp with his eyes glued to the ground. as far as he knew, he was going to get duped. this seemed like the perfect set up for a youtube prank video. fortunately for him, that wasnt the case

the trail of blue flowers led up to the edge of the strawberry fields, and right at the fringes sat someone overlooking the fruit as they baked in the summer heat. percy didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned, because yay! he wasn't getting pelted by eggs or falling into a pit of snakes, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what exactly this meant.

before he could ask the mystery kid about it, they turned around and immediately started blushing and rambling about cleaning and distractions. the ocean eyed boy only caught something about a "stupid sun god" followed by a significant amount incoherent mumbling. when they finished, percy just looked at them with a confused expression and they sighed

"my bad, i thought you were coming to complain about the flowers" they said sheepishly.

percy could only smile, "no, I'm not here to complain I just- decided to follow the weird trail of blue flowers".

this caused them to laugh, a sound that clearly had the ability to make flowers bloom considering the reason he was there. it made his heart run laps in chest.

"they're hyacinths" they clarified, unable to hide their amusement with him, "they bloom wherever i walk, because apollo had a crush on this guy named hyacinthus or something. either way, it's not exactly the best combat ability" they said with a small laugh, and it seemed that today percy's heart decided to be a track star

"If it's any consolation, I think they're very pretty" he took a seat next them, sitting criss cross applesauce as they overlooked the strawberry fields

"thanks bubble brain"

percy quirked an eyebrow at the new nickname they had given him. usually he'd feel a little bit offended, but after seeing the smile on their face, he couldn't help but smile too.

"what? you're that poseidon kid right?"

percy laughed, "well, yeah. does that make you buttercup?"

"they're hyacinths, bubbles" they reminded him with a playful nudge, "and my name is (name), but buttercup is also accepted"

'note to self ' percy thought, 'stop and smell the hyacinths more often'

#pjo #hoo #rio writes 🐝#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #asks! 🌼#pjo headcanon

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fashion4standusers · 2 years

Photo

Nintendo heels by Helen Red Richards (via)

#nintendo #game boy #shoes #accessories #helen red richards #looks for breaking out of prison #looks for tracking a mysterious fruit #MUSE: kakyoin noriaki

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whatyadrawin · 2 months

Text

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 9-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 4,872 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Sexual language, foul language, scary moment. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: This chapter took me so long to complete! I had to read over it and edit like four times. I took 48 hrs to make all the art pieces starting from 3pm march first until 6am march second, took a nap, started back up to finish the art at 2:30pm and finalized EVERYTHING for upload at 6am March 3rd. I'm tired bro, I got so carried away with the art I really should have cut it down to just 3 images but artists always suffer for their passion, it's our curse. Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa

Chapter 9

The days at the Hewitt house went by slow as molasses, within these dragging days a construction crew had arrived and began repairing your home. They worked quickly and made a lot of headway which is unusual for contractors, the team seemed eager to leave for some unspoken reason. The foreman said that in one month, you would get your home back; you were excited to have your life get back on track despite enjoying your time at the Hewitt house. You made sure to water and trim the fruit trees so that they didn’t overgrow or die, since Dover was still missing, all the responsibility was left up to you. There was so much work to do but you were happy to be able to contribute your time to the property. In the passing days you didn’t see much of Tommy, he seemed preoccupied and was frequently away from the farm which only made the days last longer for you.

Half past 4pm, the day was really wearing on you and the sun was getting low in the sky so you decided to leave the orchard and head back to the Hewitt house to rest. On your walk back, you think about Tommy’s room and what it must look like, when you saw the door under that menacing red light it was simultaneously both frightening and intriguing.

The basement was such a dark and quiet place, so spacious and empty; You remembered that room with hooks that Tommy swiftly prevented you from exploring, your curiosity grew when he spun you around and slammed the door shut. This family has a mysterious history to you, the mention of them allegedly eating people weighed heavy on your mind -can I really get past the fact that they might have been cannibals? – it felt easier to gaslight yourself into thinking everything was fine, so you ran it out of your head.

When you arrived at the house, you make your way through the parlor and see Luda Mae sitting on the couch in the living room. She was reading a romance novel with a muscular, golden-haired man on the cover, it was reminiscent of the classics you had seen in your grandmothers closet as a kid. She sees you and places the book down to the side hurriedly as if she was ashamed of what she was reading,

“I-uh-ahem” She stuttered,

You smile politely “Reading anything good?”

She laughs, “Yeah, this one’s real saucy too. Thought I might get lost in it for a while.”

You felt bad for interrupting her, “Well don’t let me stop you, I’m just heading over to my room for some rest before dinner.”

she replies, “Oh, shoot that reminds me, best get dinner started now.” Luda Mae gets up with a groan and starts walking towards the kitchen.

“Time really does fly by when you find a good book.” She laughs as she passes.

You go to your room and get yourself changed and freshened up before dinner, you didn’t want to be around everyone while having the sweat of farmwork still lingering. You put on a comfortable pair of black tights and a white tank top which matched the white walking shoes you slipped on your feet.

When dinner was ready, you left your room to meet with the Hewitts at the dining table. The scent of roast chicken and baked corn wafted into the room, you were starving from having worked all day. Charlie was already sitting at the table when you arrived, he looked at you and said,

“Didja see the progress on the house?”

You take a seat, “Yeah, it’s coming along really fast, I’m surprised.”

He laughs “Don’t be, that crew probably knows this area ain’t so safe for ‘em. They’re smart, gonna get their paycheck and fuck off.”

You furl your eyebrows, “Why isn’t it safe for them?”

“Ah- Uh...” Charlie stopped himself when he caught a glare from Luda Mae from the kitchen,

“Well, what if they were to get hurt hm? Ain’t no hospital nearby or nothin’” he looked pleased with his answer.

You reply, “That’s a good point I guess.”

You know there is something more to what he said, but you didn’t want to push him. Luda Mae brought in the food, placing it all on the table followed by a big jug of ice-water, she groaned as she sat down; Tommy however, was missing tonight and you were worried,

You ask, “Where is Tommy? Is he not eating?”

Charlie laughs “That boy not eat? Maybe when hell freezes over after pigs fly n’ the fat lady sings.”

A devilish grin forms on his face before he turns to Luda Mae and says,

“Hey Luda, get the ball rollin’ n’ start singin’, then when the pigs grow wings Satan’s ass’ll turn to ice and the boy won’t be eatin’ us outta house n’ home no more.”

Luda Mae just rolls her eyes, she turns to you and says,

“Don’t worry hun, Charlie brought somethin’ to him so he don’t starve out there.”

You push for more info, “He’s been so busy lately; I feel like I never get to see him anymore. Where is he anyway?”

Charlie grabs a chicken leg and bites into it, he starts speaking with his mouth full,

“He’d shred us in half if we toldja. He’s been workin’ real hard though, wants to show you what all he’s been doin’ tonight”

Charlie swallows his food and continues, “He’s got a big ole’ hard on for you girlie, you better not be trailin’ him along fer nothin’, or he might lose it.”

Luda Mae whips her dishcloth at Charlie, who just smiles and winks at you. Luda Mae looks at you and says,

“Hope you get used to this foul-mouthed pig here, I might die from having to apologize on his behalf all darn day.”

She shakes her head at him and follows, “Thomas wants to meet up with you after you’re done eatin’. He wants to show you what he’s been workin’ on.”

Charlie pipes in, “Yeah, I bet he wants to show you somethin’. Probably whip out the fuckin’ anaconda he’s hidin’ down there. For an ugly motherfucker he sure was blessed. God is a real shit heel for that one.”

You squint your eyes at him, and he continues,

“He used to bathe outside when he was a youngin’ but once he grew up a bit the bulls started feelin’ emasculated.” Charlie starts laughing hysterically.

Luda Mae hides her face in her hands, she yells out,

“Why’r you talkin’ bout my boy’s privates like that!? You tryin’ to make us all upset?”

Charlie is now red in the face from laughing, he gets a sick pleasure in making people uncomfortable, but if anything, it just made you unbearably curious. You caught a glimpse of his erection when you watched Tommy run from you at the pond, it was greatly obscured but from what you could see, it was huge; You were able to feel the size and firmness of it in the laundry room, which factualized Charlies words.

He looked over at you, his eyes were watery from laughing so hard, he says,

“I’m sorry honey buns, but you need to be warned before you let him stick that goddamn two by four in ya.” He continues to laugh while he shovels corn into his mouth. You were still not used to his outlandish way of conversation and it made you blush.

The rest of dinner was mostly just Luda Mae trying to keep the subject matter light and Charlie giggling to himself. Once you cleared the table and packed away the leftovers, Luda Mae guides you to the door and says,

“Go wait for him by the silo, he’ll take you to his surprise. I hope you like it dear.”

The sun was now deep on the horizon which was losing its rosy hue, twinkling planets were already visible and the moon was following the dark part of the sky. You see Thomas leaning against the silo, he had one hand in his pocket and the other was fiddling with some wheat from the field to check the progress of the crop. He was wearing a very loosely fit tank top that looked old and worn, his pants were a pale blue jean with dirt and other stains scattered all over, he was still wearing his working boots which means he must have completed this surprise only today.

He looks up from what he was doing, when he sees you, he stood up straight, dropping the wheat to the ground. You could tell he was smiling, his deep blue eyes squishing upward gave it away, this made you smile wide as you felt knots form in your stomach. You felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever, time away really does make the heart grow fonder, it was agony not being able to spend time with him. He extended his hand to you and when you placed your hand in his and realized how small you really were compared to him, you felt like you could only hold onto two of his fingers while he could easily cover more than just your hand with his.

He looked at you and carefully pulled you toward the forest,

“Where are we going? It’s dark in there, sort of scary, isn’t it?” You were hesitant to be going into a dark forest as the sun was rapidly losing its light, he looked at you and tilted his head to the side,

“I’m here” he said calmly.

His voice was so deep and reassuring. You rarely ever hear him speak, so it felt like you won the lottery whenever he did utter out anything. He was walking slowly, he made sure to accommodate the vast difference in gait you both had by staying behind you, he guided you by gently moving you in the right direction with his hand on your shoulder. Even though you were nervous about the darkness of the forest, you felt safe with Tommy close to you. He was so large and unbelievably strong that there was no way harm could come to you.

Suddenly, Tommy stopped and turned you around to face him, he took your hands and covered your eyes with them, you couldn’t help but smile. He put his hand on the middle of your back to guide you further in, you trusted that he would ensure you don’t trip and fall. The ground went from dirt and crunching leaves, to soft grass, then a hard flat surface. Each step you took made a hollow wooden noise as if you were at a harbor. Tommy stopped you and moved your hands from your eyes. You looked around and gasped, you were on a dock that sat on top of the pond.

The moon was already shining a bright light on the water making it look like glass, the stars that now shone in the night sky were reflecting off the surface and turned the pond into what looked like a portal into space. The gentle croaking of frogs created a peaceful ambience, and as you walked further onto the dock you saw some wooden chairs to relax on, one was much larger than the other.

“Did you make all this?” your voice was exasperated with awe.

Tommy nodded again and pointed at you,

You smiled “You made this for me?”

He nodded again and went to sit on the largest chair, he tapped his hand on the other chair to get you to sit with him. You sat down and the deep seat forced you to recline which was relaxing.

“I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me. Thank you, Tommy, you’re such a thoughtful man.”

Tommy looked at you and nodded slowly, he made an approving ‘hmph’ noise, he felt good about pleasing you. The heat tonight was thick, it made your skin sticky with sweat, and you could see a slick shine on Tommy’s arms and chest. You get up from the chair to put your hand in the water, testing its temperature, small fish reveal themselves as they flash in the moonlight. You stand up and remove your shoes, Tommy stands up nervously and you giggle,

“Don’t worry, I won’t take off my shirt or underwear. It’s too hot to just sit down when we have the most immaculate natural pool right under our feet.”

You slowly take off your tights and fold them neatly on top of your shoes, the black thong you had underneath did nothing to conceal your feminine shape; Tommy turns away from you, staring off into the sky in an attempt to avoid gawking at you. It was amusing to you since he already saw most of your body the first time you were in the pond. You slowly lower yourself into the cool water of the pond, its cooling temperature feels like heaven.

Tommy heard you get in and slowly turns around to see you on your back, floating gently with the moon’s reflection circling your body, you looked like a goddess. You saw that he was just standing there watching you, you swim up to the dock and put your arms on the edge, you say,

“You know, you don’t have to just watch me.”

Seeing him act so shy was strange, a polar opposite of the last time you were both in the laundry room where he made no qualms of pushing himself up against your clothed pussy with his dick begging for entry. You watched as he took off his clothes, throwing them sloppily next to your neatly folded pile. You were annoyed that he was wearing black boxers which concealed the shape and size of his package too well, but being able to see his body almost completely unclothed was still enough to have you biting your lip in excitement.

Tommy had very long legs which were complemented by his thick thighs, his butt was muscular from having to haul his hefty body weight all over the farm. His torso was exactly as you pictured it, he had heavy muscle underneath a layer of fat that softened any sharp edges and did nothing but add mass to his already impressive size. His pecs were large and heaved with every breath he took, a smattering of soft hair covered the base of his chest and ran down his abdomen leading towards his groin, getting less sparse the lower it went.

Seeing him so exposed was odd, most people would look vulnerable, but he only looked more intimidating and fearsome especially since his arm muscles were well defined despite his soft torso. His size was not a mirage from thick clothes or padded jackets like most men you encountered, he really was authentically a behemoth of a man.

He lowered himself into the pond and let out a sigh of relaxation when he submerged his torso under the surface. You smile, and swim over to him,

“You deserve to relax after working so hard. I hope we could make this a frequent thing, something we could do together.”

You waited for a response, he looked at you and then up to the sky, he let out a positive ‘hm’ and nodded. You felt like you were in a dream, nothing you experienced was ever this beautiful, and no man was ever as generous as Tommy, you wanted to live in this moment forever. Tommy stands up in the water, he turns to you and grabs your hand to pull you to another part of the pond,

“C’mere” he says.

He pushes past some thick reeds and you end up in a tiny alcove where the water comes up to your chin and tall grasses circle you both which made the area very intimate. Tommy sees you struggling to keep your head out of water, he bends over you and grabs the smallest area on your waist under your ribs with both hands and he lifts you out of the water effortlessly. You let out a short-excited scream as he pulls you up and holds you close to his body. You’re barely able to straddle him, your chest was now just under his chin, your tank top clung to your breasts exposing your now hardened nipples. You placed both arms over his shoulders to prevent yourself from smothering his face with your bosom. He was so strong that you were able to sit comfortably on just the one arm, he looks out towards the grass and says,

“Watch”

Tommy used his free hand to splash water across the grass around you and it erupted with whirring, a horde of fireflies sprung out from their hiding places and lit up the night. You were stunned,

“I’ve never seen fireflies before, this is… this is magical.”

Tommy laughs and slowly turns to let you take in the full effect of the display before you, the glow of the fireflies created a warm soft light that was bright enough to let you see his eyes clearly, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked up at you, his eyes half lidded and glossy, he drank in every inch of the enchanting sight before him. When he looked into your eyes it was like projecting his soul into your mind, you could feel his emotions and you felt a deep comfort from it, like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

You reach up and move his hair away from his face, he took your hand and held it to his cheek as he pressed his face into your touch, his eyes closing and letting out a deep breath. You smile at him and decide to be brave; you begin to slowly remove his mask but he abruptly stops your action with his hand, you could see his expression was full of worry, you say,

“If I keep my eyes closed will you let me take off your mask? I promise not to open them.”

Tommy looks off to the side thinking, he wasn’t scared of anything except losing you and he was worried that if you saw his full face, it would disturb you. He wondered what you were going to do, but the fear was stopping him from finding out. You see him deep in thought and speak again,

“Look” you close your eyes tightly, “I can’t see a thing, I promise I won’t peek.”

Tommy trusted you, and despite the anxiety running through his system, he removed his mask and let it hang down on one ear. He took your hand and guided it up to the left side of his face, which had no significant damage compared to the other side. You feel his stubble and softly move your hand down to his lips, they were smooth and parted slightly. You smile when your fingers reached his mouth, despite not being able to see his face, from what you were able to feel, you knew he was handsome. You slowly lower your head down and pause, hovering your lips over his and testing to see what he would allow. He didn’t resist.

You pressed your lips onto his and immediately felt a jolt of hormonal chemicals race through you like an electric shock, he let out a muffled sound of surprise. He pressed back and slowly lowered your body so he could kiss you on a more equal level. You extended the kiss by opening your mouth slightly, parting his lips only to press in on them again passionately, Tommy reciprocated the motion and was now breathing heavily through his nose, you could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest as he groaned with arousal, it was so deep that it vibrated into your chest further exciting you.

You could feel some strange deformation on one side of his face, your lips didn’t quite connect with his fully on his right side. You stayed closer to his left side since it felt a little bit more intact, you wished you could see how unique his face was. Imagining the damage done to him at such a young age was upsetting, it only emboldened your feelings for him.

The kiss was long and passionate, you both couldn’t get enough of each other, it felt like a sin to stop. Every time you pulled back from his lips, he leaned into you to catch them again parting and closing your mouths to enhance the connection you both so desperately craved. You could smell the air from his nose washing over you, it was strangely intoxicating almost like it was fresh mountain air which aroused you further. His free arm was now trailing up your spine until his hand found a resting place on the back of your neck.

You wanted more of him; your emotions were getting so intense that you moaned each time the pressure of the kiss increased. You placed your left hand on his shoulder, and your right on his collarbone. You ran your fingers over the thick muscle tensing on his neck, his carotid artery was pulsating with his heart beat, you continued feeling upwards and reached his jawline where his thick stubble prickled your fingertips. His features were so far above a stereotypically masculine ideal, it made you feel a cautious excitement, as if you encountered the final product of evolutionary success aimed to create a monster of man.

You finally pull away, making sure to keep your eyes closed. You are breathing heavily, letting out a soft moan as you lean your head back to get more air. Tommy covers his face back with the mask and gazes at you still drunk off the kiss and feeling lighter than air. The fireflies have now dispersed to the point where it was very dim around you both. He carries you back to the shallow area of the pond so you could stand up.

You smile, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Tommy nods and smiles under his mask. You wade in the water around him as he sits in the water so his torso is once again submerged, his head leaned back and eyes closed. You look around at the leftover fireflies lazily floating over top the glassy pond surface, the water gently laps at your hips.

A feeling of unease creeps into your body and raises the hairs on the back of your neck, you stop moving and a sudden wave of anxiety rushed over you. In this moment you freeze and quiet your breathing, you felt an instinct to try to listen to the world around you very carefully but you couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. The feeling of something being…off was now overwhelming and setting you on edge. You quietly move closer to Tommy to create a sort of protective border from the surroundings and hold onto his arm, he opens his eyes and looks at you with concern.

“Somethings wrong” you say in a hushed tone.

Tommy immediately got up from his sitting position and stood alert, he closed his arms around you and searched with his eyes to see what spooked you;

He breathed out slowly and moved you back towards the dock. You were confused and frightened, a tense gut feeling was like an ancient ancestral alarm which you knew should never be ignored. He helped you up on the dock and followed behind after you walked toward your clothes. You quickly put on your tights and shoes and as Tommy got his clothes on you looked around, trying to find the source for this sudden dread. You slowly panned across the forest, until you see it.

In the distance, and shrouded in the shadows of night, a silhouette of a person stood still. It was too dark to make out any features and just as you saw them, they disappeared into the bush as if they were nothing but a hallucination. You get closer to Tommy who just finished pulling his shirt down over his body, you press your back into him to feel a sense of security. Tommy looks at you and bends his upper body over you as he looks around,

“Where” he says firmly,

You point to where the shadow was and whisper, “There was someone there, watching us.”

He didn’t need to see what you saw in order to know that the energy outside had shifted, all he wanted to do was get you to safety. He lifted you up into his arms and held you tightly, he took one look around to ensure the exit was safe and bolted; His movements were agile and fast, it almost felt supernatural. The trees whip past and you quickly lose sight of the pond, his footsteps reverberating thuds as he moves through the woods with expert agility. Your eyes are wide with fear as you watch the forest behind you darken the further away you get; How Tommy was able to see things in the dark was a mystery to you.

Finally, you are out of the wooded area and coming up to where the silo was, the feeling of dread dissipates and Tommy slows his pace down, he wasn’t even huffing and puffing like most people would be doing after running so fast with a grown adult in their arms.

You hug him tightly, “Thank you for carrying me.”

You give him a kiss on his neck and continue to tighten your grip. Tommy brings you into the house and shuts the door behind you both, he gently lowers you to the floor, you keep hugging him as you stand on your tip toes. He felt very protective of you and was mad that someone scared you so much. His rage was building the more he thought about someone being on his property watching the two of you. He wondered how they would have been able to evade the multiple traps he set up around the pond perimeter.

Tommy grabs your shoulders and pushes you back slowly, he lifts your chin to have you look up at him. He sees the worried look on your face and it fuels his rage of the intruder,

“Go sleep, I gotta do somethin’.”

His voice was rich in baritone, you could hear anger in his words. You didn’t want him to leave, but before you could tell him to stay, he was out the door. You made your way to the washroom to shower off the pond water and get ready for sleep, Luda Mae and Charlie were already asleep upstairs, unaware of the situation. You were disturbed by what you saw, but as long as Tommy was out there, you felt safe in the house. You went to bed that night worried, who was that shadow and what will happen if Tommy catches them? The morning couldn’t come soon enough.

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slasher thirst #slasher fandom

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

When you took the job, you knew working the night shift at your local convenience store would be boring. That’s fine; you’re here to make enough to pay rent, not to smile for strangers who don’t care anyways.The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all.

wc — 3k

tags — mafia au but not really, implied but never addressed, is he or isn’t he, Gojo is Weird, blood, guns, this is not meant to be a serious gorey fic, its just a fun little way for me to branch out and stretch those writing muscles

They don’t pay you enough to keep guns under the counters, but it’s cheaper to teach you to shoot then it is to pay for security cameras. It would be cheaper not to show you to protect yourself at all, actually, but you’re the sixth cashier they’ve burned through in as many weeks. Even in a town as down as this one is, rumors spread fast.

The wages are shit, but it’s all you’ve got, and college is expensive for a degree as useless as yours is. Four months away from becoming a junior, and you’ve only held unpaid internships and this position as a cashier at a dirty, old convenience store on the wrong side of the train tracks.

You think the owner is hiding something, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking for a job as boring as this one. People come and go, make rude comments, pick up beer and slide you IDs you weren’t trained to check. It’s quiet enough to convince you to let down your guard, then your fingers brush the cold metal underneath the register and you remember the long line of unnamed, unknown girls who came before you.

This is the bad side of town, and you’re stuck here for at least three months, two weeks, and five days more. Lucky you.

At least the work is easy. It’s so far out that management can get away with the grime on the walls and pulsing, fluorescent blue lighting that gives you headaches. Even though they’re supposedly focused on keeping costs low and profits high as possible, the air con is always on blast.

There are no regulars here, not until him - the one customer you get past 3:00 am. The witching hour, if you believed in that sort of the thing.

You’ve taken to calling him ghost, your stranger. He’s just like one - as faded and pale as a memory, hard to discern between reality and the imaginary.

You had just thought he was another one of your kind, a student down on hard luck and keeping ungodly hours. This town would do that to you - strip you of any shimmer in your irises from before you came here and beat you into the ground. There was a little bit of sympathy for him, then. Sometimes you offered him a piece of candy in the bowl by your left hand.

He never took it. Just as well, it probably wasn’t safe to eat.

The bell on the door rings. On instinct, you lift your head, your hand going back to the comforting holster underneath the counter. It’s just him, however - piercing blue eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses and bone white hair. At first, you thought he was just high constantly, cause no one needs sunglasses when the moon is already rising in the sky, but the one time you caught him looking, the whites of his eyes had been clearer than milk.

The temperature shifts subtly when he comes in. It’s hot outside. Summer nights in July always feel disgusting. This town can’t pay for maintenance, so during the day, the asphalt cracks under the sun. Heat waves shimmer off the concrete side walks. It’s cooler at night, but not by much. When your tall, mysterious stranger comes in, he always brings the heat in with him, even if only for a moment. The thermometer’s red line goes up a few degrees.

He has a routine, like a clockwork doll. Heads for the back first, pulling the strings of his black hoodie down as he makes a beeline for the fridge. You think he might be diabetic as you ring up his order: same old, same old. Sugary blue pop, a packet of fruit chews, five hour energy. Something new, this time. You’ve never seen him grab actual food before, though this should barely count. You add the chips to his total. The money’s in your hand before you can ask for it.

Strange man.

Strange men are preferable to scary men, however. Customers come and go, often silent, always in and out like they were never here, but every so often, someone comes in who’s clearly looking for trouble.

And sometimes, there’s someone who’s so clearly dangerous it stops your heart.

He’s wearing a balaclava. It’s a trend now, you try to convince yourself. It’s fashionable.

No one cares about fashion in this town (no one but your ghost, that is).They’re too focused on staying alive. The balaclava wearing man is clad in all black. But the bad news is that he’s coming towards you with a plastic bag in one hand and a flash of silver in the other. The knife twirls over his fingers, over and over, rhythmic and steady like he knows how to use it.

You grip the holster of the gun. To be honest, although you were trained, you’re not sure you can do it. It’s only a comfort, like a child’s favorite blanket.

He thrusts the bag on the counter. “All the cash you have, bitch. Hurry up.”

You’re just a part-timer. You’re not risking your life for a dumb convenience store. Right as your hands move to unlock the cash register, however, the door rings again.

It’s him.

Black hoodie (a new one, with white and blue lettering down the arms), black oval sunglasses, hair bleached brighter than the corona of the sun. Warm air blows into the store, a miniature heatwave.

He doesn’t notice the man who’s currently hustling you for all the money in the store, but the man notices him.

“Get lost, kid! We’re busy here.”

He looks up, surprised. Then he ambles closer, as casual as if it’s a normal day, picking up his usual on the way: a packet of chips, blue pop, candy.

“Nah,” he says, voice calm and cheery. A lunatic, then. “I’m busy.”

“Do you understand what’s going on here?” The potential thief looks like he might be preparing to do something you’ll all regret. You wonder if you could use the gun to save someone else’s life. You don’t think so.

Your ghost let’s his sunglasses slip down his face. His eyes, as they always are in the rare instances he’s let you see them, are startling and preternaturally blue.

The man jumps. He seems confused, vacillating between fear and disbelief. It’s as if he recognizes him, just by the eyes alone.

“What don’t you get? Scram.” His blue eyes flash with restrained heat. “I’m not a patient man.“

Still, he hesitates. You wouldn’t. The words don’t seem like an empty threat.

Casually, your ghost throws his items on the counter for you to bag, pushing the man aside. In one motion, he has the knife. “I’m keeping this as a reward for my generosity. You have five seconds before I decide to take your spleen with it.”

The man with the balaclava looks at his eyes again, flicking between them and his white hair in fear before he comes to a decision. He bolts out of the store. You understand the sentiment a little. When you first met your ghost, with his hair like hoarfrost and eyes like the summer sky, you had felt the strangeness of him shake you too, as if something about him was fundamentally at odds with the world.

Your ghost snaps you out of your frozen stupor when he gestures for you to get on with checking his purchases out. This time, as he throws down his bills, you catch the flash of a shiny watch on his wrist, inked sleeves. His arms writhe with patterns of dragons and koi fish, characters for honor and glory and strength. He has money that people would kill for in this town.

He raises an eyebrow when he catches you looking at the symbols of the kind of wealth that shouldn’t exist this close to the outskirts of nothing. You guys didn’t even have a train that came reliably most days, the tracks scattered with litter and graffiti.

He’s cocky. The way few can afford to be. Real arrogance too, not borrowed, the kind that can make threats at the blink of an eye because they can follow through on them.

“Are you in the fucking mafia?” You ask in disbelief, remembering only too late that the two of you are strangers.

All of the fantastical stories you’ve made up in your head to explain away his strange appearance and late nights are just that: fantasies. Idle fairytales to pass the time. Ways to make your job less boring, soothe the ache of being a washed up nobody in your shithole of a hometown.

You are suddenly very aware of the presence of danger, the hair rising on your arms as your body reacts like an animal.

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you to me.”

His voice is slightly higher than you’d expect from someone in the mafia. For some reason, you’ve always imagined mafiosos would have a deep baritone, but his is smoother, even if it has a rasp to it, like he smokes as a hobby. You’ve never seen him pick up cigarettes.

Even more dangerously, you can feel the thread of attraction between you two, pulling taut. You want to know more, desperately, even when you’ve seen him threaten to gut a man as calmly as he picks out what flavor of pop he wants.

There’s no room for risk when you live here. All the perilous thrills you could want are already imbedded in your daily life. There’s nothing left for any more.

“That doesn’t sound like an answer to me,” you retort.

You shouldn’t be so comfortable with him - you aren’t, really, you’re aware of the fact that you two are technically strangers but if he wanted to hurt you, he could’ve done so already.

He laughs. Blatantly. A snickering kind of laugh, one that’s clearly directed at you, not with you.

“No,” he says, between wheezing for breath. “Not mafia. What, you read too much manga or something? I’m just an insomniac. Oh, that means I have trouble-“

“I know what that means!” You snap, humiliated, warmth burning on your cheeks.

Sue you for wanting a little excitement in this boring job, boring town, boring life. You were an idiot for thinking this lunatic could be the one to provide it.

He taps his cold bottle of pop to your forehead as he leaves, making you flinch. “You’re a weird girl,” he says. “I like you.”

I like you.

The words run through your head relentlessly, little greyhounds with too much energy yapping at all hours of the day. A little chorus of “I like you”s at all hours, making you replay the moment over. Stuck.

This town drives you mad. You haven’t had anything to love in a while in this cold, deserted place. It must be why you’re fixated on him. You’re imagining the obsession because you miss the feeling. The heart is a muscle like any other - it grows atrophied with disuse.

That doesn’t stop you from looking forward to seeing him again.

The next time your beautiful stranger walks in, he’s with a friend. That’s how you learn his name. His buddy looks like even more of a delinquent than he is - gauges, tattoos, piercings, all of it.

He’s gentler, though, more soft-spoken. Voice like a running stream, smile as soft as warm butter. This is the first time you’ve seen your ghost laugh, when too-many-piercings-to-count cracks some joke by the ice cream freezer. He catches you looking, long black hair flipping over his shoulder as his head whips around to face you. Ghost hasn’t noticed. He gives you a smile, but something about it feels wrong. You avert your eyes, and the boys are in the next aisle, hidden from view, a moment later.

“Hey,” Ghost says, his smile genuine. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“You know her?” His friend questions. “I’m so sorry. Gojo’s such a pain in the ass, isn’t he?”

You smile faintly. Something about his friend is terrifying. His eyes seem dead inside, pure black tar, sticky traps.

Ghost shoves him. “Back off. You’re the annoying one, she’s so much more spunky when it’s just me.”

You’re so focused on trying to keep yourself out of danger you don’t even realize the tidbit of information you have until you’re in the grocery store after your shift. As you’re picking out produce you realize - now you know his name.

This town and it’s stupid transit system has you waiting in the biting cold for hours. Your groceries are heavy and the bus petulantly refuses to come.

A motorcycle roars in the distance, dying to a purr as it stops in front of you.

“Hi, stranger,” says your beautiful ghost. “You want a ride?”

“Are you stalking me?” You blurt out.

Gojo wrinkles his nose, offended. “Who’d have time to stalk you? You can just say you don’t want the ride.”

“Wait!” This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea. This is the worst idea you’ve had in a long time. You should listen to your mother when she tells you not to be reckless. “No, I do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

His lips curve into a brilliant smile. “I was just teasing. C’mere.”

He pulls a helmet out of nowhere - it’s clearly not for him, because his white hair is messy and windswept. He buckles it under your chin carefully. Under further consideration, he shucks off his black leather jacket and tucks it around you.

“Trust me,” he says. “It gets cold when you’re riding. You’re going to hold on tight, right?”

You wrap your arms around his waist.

“Nope,” he says, taking your hands and pulling you closer so you’re pressed right up against his back. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. “You’re going to fall off like that. Address?”

He doesn’t just drop you off, he carries your groceries inside for you and makes you laugh as he helps unpack them.

Too late, you realize you might’ve given your address to a mafioso. Just because Gojo says he isn’t, doesn’t mean it’s true. He’s just hard to resist. You’ve always been weak for beautiful things, starved of it in this concrete city.

That’s when the flowers start showing up.

Did you mention you were weak to the beautiful things?

Massive bouquets of riotous color, flowers that aren’t even in season, that cost a fortune to ship.

Maybe it’s payment for his absence, because Gojo hasn’t shown up for the past week. The flowers keep coming - lilies with creamy white petals, extravagantly expensive roses, massive hothouse orchids. The flowers don’t compare to him.

It’s bad, but you’re addicted. He gives you a thrill like nothing else.

The next time you see Gojo, you hear him first. You’re closing another shift where you haven’t seen him and heading out the back door when you hear a noise like a wounded animal. A soft hiss of air escaping through clenched teeth.

“Gojo!” You gasp. He’s leaning against the bottom of the stairs, chain smoking and clutching his side. Red spills between his fingers, staining his normal white shirts a startling rust.

“Hey, stranger. Fancy seeing you here.”

“This is no time for your little jokes! Let me see that, oh my god-“

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “No need to fret, it’s not serious.”

“You’re going to bleed out.”

“Nah. I know what that looks like.”

“Just- stay here, okay?”

“Not going anywhere, princess.” He smiles up at you, still fatally charming as his life bleeds out of his side. “You going to take care of me?”

“Against my better judgement, yes.”

Hauling out the massive first aid kit your boss keeps in the bathroom cabinets is a bit of an ordeal, but nothing compared to pulling Gojo’s shirt up and seeing the slash in his side.

“Worse than it looks.”

Well, at least he’s right about that. It doesn’t look like he needs stitches, but he’ll need to be very, very careful for the next few days. You dig through the kit for salve, bandages, and wipes. Gently, you set to work cleaning, then bandaging.

His head tips back, revealing the column of his throat, as he moans in pain. There’s a tattoo right between his collarbones, a stylized eye. Watchful. “Hurts,” he says.

“Serves you right, you big baby. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be nothing for you?”

“I’m not a mafioso,” he says with a smile.

You eye him disbelievingly as you pack his wound.

“There, all better.”

“Not quite.”

“What now?”

“Doesn’t a kiss fix everything?”

You know he’s expecting you to push him away, so just to be contrary, you lean in and gently peck the bandage covering his side.

His hand snakes his way into your hair and gently brings you back up, face to face with him. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”

And then he’s kissing you like you’re his nicotine. He tastes like smoke and ash - not particularly enjoyable, but the more time you spent licking his bad habits from his mouth, the more you’re staring to enjoy them. Gojo is everything that’s wrong for you - secondhand delinquency, but he’s such a good kisser. He pulls away and mouthes down your neck, leaving bruising kisses all over your carotid artery.

“Pretty thing,” he murmurs against your neck. “Wanna take you home.”

You think he might be delirious and check him for a fever. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he whines, forehead against your shoulder now. “Want you all to myself. Don’t want share with the convenience store anymore.”

He’s in no state to go anywhere, by the way he’s babbling. Just this once, you let him come with you.

The streets are quiet these days. Maybe they can smell the spilled blood on the doorstep, a warning flag to anyone who comes into the convenience store. Or maybe the man who waits for you outside is the warning.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

He’s come to pick you up again, black helmet already outstretched to you.

“No. You have anything to do with that?”

He smiles and leans in to brush his lips against your temple. “Everyone knows you’re off limits. You’re mine.”

#sera writes #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n

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castrian-amore · 3 months

Text

Bitter, had the Heart

Dead Tired (Tim Drake x Danny Fenton), Tim Drake-centric, unfinished, the author is plotting, temporary death, please check out ao3 for full tags list.

4/46 Chapters | Word Count: 5751

Chapter 4: You Stole my Fuckin' fruit snacks

Tim and Dick snuck into the warehouse through the upper floor window. The one they normally entered though. Jason was cleaning his nails with one of his knives waiting in the warehouse which had a few small collections of boxes stacked around the area. The lights flickered above making the scene eerie. The walls were creaking in the autumn Gotham wind.

This entire thing had been last minute, but it had been

Decided over a silent breakfast and staring at Dick. They had to go and meet this mysterious vigilante who had stayed so far from them for so long. It was better they do it now than let B be the one to meet. Both rescheduling their plans for the evening.

“Heyo Little wing!” Dick greeted a smile plastered across his face as Jason glanced off. His helmet set off to the side just wearing the red mask over his eyes for the moment.

“Hey,” Jason greeted back giving them a nod as he gave a spin to his knife before sheathing it.

“Where is Mr. Distortion?”Dick asked with a smirk crossing his arms as Jason shrugged.

“Fuck if I know, he comes and goes as he pleases. I’m not the boss of him.” Though Tim wouldn’t pick up on what Dick did. He could only read so much into a person. Dick was really good at it. While Tim could tell if people are lying Dick could tell you what about and could direct the conversation where he wanted it a lot easier than Tim could.

“So what made him change his mind? Getting caught in action by us?”Tim raised an eyebrow at Jason.

“You two are really just working on the same case but trying to tackle it from different sides. He has valuable information and wants this case closed as much as you do.”

“And how long has he been working on this case?” Tim was pressing.

“3 years.”

“The murders didn’t start until 6 months ago.”

“That’s what you think Replacement. It’s his case I’ve just been making sure he doesn’t get himself killed by my men,” a nonchalant shrug came from Jason’s shoulders. The tenseness in them though told him something else was going on. “Don’t know why he’s fucking late though.”

“Guess he got held up,”Dick chuckled until an empty cardboard box hit Jason in the head and bounced off towards the bats.

“YOU TRAITOROUS BITCH.”

They looked towards the voice and dropping from a small spot in the roof was the masked figure they’d seen running from the crime scene 5 days ago.

He wore no respirator this time but his goggles remained on. He was angry, that was for sure. He landed with a roll unsheathing a fucking batarang?!?! Oh yeah wait. That tracked. He had thrown one at the guy. Hit him actually.

Jason merely smirked as if this kind of response had been expected. Dick moving to pick up the cardboard box. Tim watched as the kid(?). He was short, okay?

The man with black hair whom they could Assume was distortion began his onslaught onto Jason. A swipe to the man’s arms as Jason blocked and moved to punch the kid who ducked underneath slipping between his legs and nailing a kick to the back of Jason’s knee dropping him down a bit as he used Jason’s shoulders as a vantage point flipping the man who was easily close to a foot taller than him. Jason hit the ground, hard. That didn’t unmotivate him though.

“Feisty tonight Dis.”

“Fuck you.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jason feigned innocence as he kicked Distortion off of him sending the man reeling. Dick and Tim watching the man correct his position mid air to land sliding backwards hand on the ground knife behind him.

“Yes you fucking Did!”He hissed out as he charged again blade against blade before Jason managed to knock the batarang towards Red Robin and Nightwing. Tim picking up his batarang.

“Hey, Red I think that’s yours anyways right?”

“Yeah it is. So wait, what did you do?”

“One second.” Jason groaned out as Distortion wasn’t letting up and got a solid kick to his chest knocking the wind out of him. Tim thought he might have even heard a clean snap at some point as Jason landed a hook onto distortion blood beginning to trickle from his nose. Ignoring it though he pressed on.

“You went to my safe house,”Distortion began as he skillfully knocked Jason’s blade away and threw a kick at him. The leg going just above Jason’s head. “And stole my SHIT.”

“I left a sticky note! Also,”Jason caught Dis’s leg before flipping him this time arm against his throat. “Are you not taking it easy?”

Dis landed a hit on Jason’s nose sitting up coughing a tad. “WITH NO APOLOGY.”

Dick tapped Tim’s shoulder to show him the box in question. It was an empty box of fruit gummies. A sticky note haphazardly put on it saying ‘took your last pack’.

“I’d fight him too,”Tim nodded. “Especially if he did that to me.” Tim had a small laugh and couldn’t help but look at the silliness of the situation. Though it became clear Dis was lagging.

The fight finished not even 30 seconds later as Jason slammed his hand into Distortion’s leg and the man crumpled holding it.

He began cursing in… was that fucking Esperanto? Kid still landed a small kick on Jason’s ankle which had him cursing.

“You owe me so many fucking gummies you Dick head.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Jason offered a hand down to Dis who stood up moving to sit on a box as Jason went to go grab his first aid kit.

“So You’re distortion.”

“One and only.”

“Reminds me of Robin with less murderous tendencies,”Tim looked over at Dick.

“I have to agree,”Dick chuckled, pulling over boxes so they could sit. “So, are you finally okay with meeting two of the bats?”

“You’re stuck, I’m stuck. Guess it’s finally time to get my head out of my ass and ask for help.”

Jason came back with a kit the two bickering as Jason moved to cut away his loose fitting pants revealing the neatly wrapped wound soaked now in fresh blood. Tim could pick up that the man hadn’t really wanted to ask for help. He obviously was hesitant, untrusting. It seemed his walls were so far up, that it was a miracle Jason was close to him at all.

“Well it’s nice to meet you though I wish we could say we’ve heard of you.”

“I would be concerned if you had heard of me.” Distortion clarified flinching away from the other as he cut away the bandages handing him a tissue for his bleeding nose. “After all there is the whole ‘Batman doesn’t like Metas rule’.”

“You’re a meta?” Dick asked, leaning forward on his knees a bit. Dis nodded and held his hand up letting his hand fade from view. Right as he did it though he gave a sharp gasp of pain.

“Fucking hell,”he hissed out through gritted teeth.

“My hand slipped.”

Jason’s hands didn’t slip. He knew his elder brother far too well. He was hiding something. Dis wasn’t supposed to have outed himself. The cry of pain was the only explanation. The two of them seemingly having a quiet conversation to himself and Tom gently poked his brother’s side to see if he noticed it too and he did give a small nod in response.

“You’re the one who ripped their stitches,”Jason chided as he continued to work otherwise carefully.

Dis mouthed the words mocking him only eliciting another harsh pull from Jason.

“The case?”Dick redirected them back on task.

“Yeah, sorry. The case has been going on for 3 years. It’s the entire reason I ended up Gotham.”

“You’ve been here for 3 years? For a case?” Tim couldn’t hide his surprise at that. You didn’t just come to Gotham for a mere case.

“Not for this case but it did kinda fall into my lap yeah.” That made more sense, but still raised his questions for just how long this kid had been working under their radar. Not just how long, what was he capable of?

“So what do you know?”

“Hood wanna be a doll and grab my file since I’m currently injured,”The kid had a flair for the dramatic as he feigned a hand to his forehead leaning backwards on the crate looking absolutely “injured”.

“Fucking spoiled prick.”

“SAYs YOU!”

“YEAH SAYS I DIS! I’m the one who has to deal with your fucking bullshit all the time!”

All Tim could currently think about was how Jason had claimed he had not much to do with Distortion but from what he could see the two were remarkably close. Tim wouldn’t understand but he was admittedly jealous. He wished he could have had a better relationship with Jason from the beginning.

One that hadn’t ended in him being called Jason’s replacement. Tim wanted the Robin spot, honestly. He had taken it when Batman needed him most and needed back up and all he had gotten was shit for it. Maybe he had still been salty about that. The Robin who was the smartest but at what cost? He was the longest reigning Robin before Damian came along and forced Tim to change his name and realign himself.

When Tim had rebranded as Red Robin he had sort of gone on a quiet rampage. His morals thrown out of the loop in anger and he made some not so great decisions. Jason had found him then beating the shit out of a drug runner who had murdered an innocent little girl. It had been Jason who pulled Tim off the man in his late teens.

Jason who apologized to Tim for how he treated him, and that he was really trying to work on his anger and had confided in Tim about how badly his anger issues affected him to that day. He had called it Pit Rage. An ever consuming anger he couldn’t get rid of. Jason just seemed more relaxed than he had, ever. Maybe this person was doing some good for him.

Jason came back over handing Dis the manilla folders with neat labels and tabs.

“Year one we have out first 2 victims.” He pulls out photos. “Small but noticeable markings. Missing heart. Missing kidney. Blood everywhere, but it was almost more surgical?” He hands over the photos. “Then we have year 2. 5 in total. Same thing as the first two. Missing heart. Missing Kidney. Same symbols but we watch the motives slowly get more and more deteriorated. The kills start to get messy.”

Tim and Dick flipped through the photos noticing the same thing. “Like the person who did it in the first place was loosing the reason that they started doing it in the first place.”

“Yeah.. that’s what I was thinking,”Dis admits. “You’ve seen the most disturbing ones from this year, so I won’t go into detail about that. Here’s what you need to know that I know. I’m meta, and one of those abilities allows me to see things and understand things not known to the human eye, specifically on the field of the supernatural. Thing that one chick who I keep seeing posters of, uhhhh Hood help me out?”

“Zatanna.” Jason was mildly amused at him not knowing who she was.

“Yeah her. She’s dripping with magic, I kinda have access to see it, not access it but it’s an entire thing. Not important. What is important is how those abilities relate to this case.”

“Okay..”Tim nods taking in the information at hand. He was useful.

“Those markings are a language. Nothing that still breaths should be able to read it but those who have sold their soul, or been touched by Death themself can read it. Don’t ask Hood he can’t read it. I kind of can? Think like I understand it but it’s borderline untranslatable.”

“So our culprit either soul their soul or was touched by death and survived?” Dick clarified looking over to Tim who was thinking the same thing. Ra’s and John Constantine might prove useful to this case.

“Exactly. Ghost Speech can’t easily be translated, but I did manage to do it after going through like 5 languages until I could get it into English. Belong, to live, to die, again, trust not the living, friend.” Dis set the folder down. “I’ve been staring at those words for 3 years and I got nothing.”

“Belong, to live, to die ,again, trust not the living, friend. That sounds like a warning?”

“For who? Us? The serial killer is the one who’s torturing and murdering people!”Dis exclaimed. “Look, Red, Nightwing. I get it. You probably don’t want me involved but I am useful. You need me on this case!”

“Look, we’re not going to turn you away or down. This is more information than we’ve been able to get in the entirety of the case.”Dick began slowly. “But Hood mentioned you were weary of Batman. Red and I can respect that but if we officially bring you into this case you know he will get involved. He already is in terms of this case.”

“Bring me in.”

Tim and Dick shared a moment of surprise between each other. Jason would do that? For Dis?

“I’ll act as messenger when needed. It’s only a matter of time before the next body is dumped in my alleyways right? You let the kid help and report information to me and I’ll act as messenger.”

“You know this will mean you’ll have to be at the BatCave more, right?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware.”

“I have a question though,”Tim spoke up. “You removed a viscous green substance from the bodies. What was that? It was glowing.”

“Ectoplasm.”

“Pit water, but more pure,”Jason translated as he finished sewing up Dis’ leg.

“I still don’t know what that means,”Distortion whispers under his breath as Jason ignores him.

“So definitely something supernatural related,”Dick merely took it as a clarification.

“Exactly.”

“So our murderer is what, undead?” Tim rubbed his forehead a little in frustration.

“Probably.” Dis moved to examine the wrapping on his leg a moment before looking at the group as a whole. A small quirk to his lips as if he wanted to say something else but held back. “I’m not completely against working with Batman, but it’s just--”

“Just?”Dick pressed gently. “We won’t tell, you know. I hope Hood has spoken that much of us.”

“Yes, I know you two won’t tell. That is why it’s you two here. Closest people to the case right? I’ll help from the sidelines. Give you my information. Share, what I can but what I need is if you discover a body let me see it before you do anything.”

“What do you mean?” Tim crossed his arms a little, in a more relaxed way than before.

“I’m going to be honest, I think we’re up against a ghost. Which means a whole lot of issues for more than just you and I. If I can get my hands on the ectoplasm left on the scene I can start working on tracking him.”

“You mentioned Zatanna earlier. Do you think bringing in people who know that sort of magic will be any help?” Dick asks genuinely.

“No. No. No Magic users.” Distortion’s words were quick. Dick and Tim shared a look recognizing the panic in his voice. Jason said nothing off to the side either. The words hard to understand and distorted in their own right. Was that how he got his name? Jason walked over and rested a hand to his shoulder, the young man taking a deep breath, or really, several. The room dropping a few degrees.

How powerful of a meta was he? Tim noticed Jason’s hand grabbing the youngers wrist face dropped in serious thought as he counted heartbeats. Distortion pulled his arm away from him.

“I’m fine Hood,”he hissed out before looking back in the direction of the two. “No. Can you imagine how widespread the chaos would be if any of the mainstream powerful magicians found out about a Ghost being strong enough to commit murder? It would turn Gotham into even more of a bloodbath. They exist but they’re not supposed to be powerful enough to be so--so.”

“Consistent?” Jason offered before stealing Distortion’s arm again to check his pulse.

“Hood.” Another threatening glare between the two of them. Silent, but a conversation nonetheless. One Distortion obviously lost. “But yes. Consistent. There’s a reason Ghost’s aren’t commonplace here.”

“Wait, here,”Dick frowned this time. The two would be having serious conversations about not only Jason but his apparent ward.

A deep breath from Distortion. “Whoops, yeah, I’ve said far too much.”

“If you’re from the future, we've dealt with that kind of stuff before,”Tim offers an olive branch to the man. A hesitance in doing so.

“As long as you understand one thing, I don’t care how you identify me,”he chuckles standing up as Hood frowned and released his hand. He moved and made his way witha limp to the front of the warehouse.

“Dis!”Jason called out after him. “We need to ask about you--”

“Shut it Hood!” A frustrated groan and hands running down the side of his face. “Just know that I don’t exist. You never saw me. You don’t know who I am. It’s safer for everyone that way.”

And though, they saw him leave it was like he was gone and never was there in the first place. A cold chill coming in through the now open door and causing Jason sigh sitting down where he was.

“He’s a character,”Dick started. “His mood dropped there at the end.”

“Yeah.. he mentioned Justice League Dark to me once in passing too. I think he has beef with them. “

“It would explain why he’s so testy about magic users, especially if he can see the things they can too, without a spell.” Tim spoke up rummaging through the file some more looking over the hand scrawled tedious notes. Even the original workings through several translations with picture through history of Ghost speech written on the walls. It was more than Tim had ever thought he would have on the guy.

Dammit. Tim hadn’t gotten the chance to apologize to him. Fuck. Maybe he could chase him? He couldn’t be super fast with that injury, but then again he did have that whole weird disappearing act up his sleeve.

Tim was missing something. They both were missing something and it seemed very important they figure it out to unlock this case. He wished the man had the clean photos of the writing but it seemed he had similar bad luck with them. There were photos but they sure were blurry as fuck.

“Red.”

“Huh?” He looked up between the two to see which one called him. It was Dick.

“Any other questions to Hood? We gotta go finish our patrols before B starts asking questions.”

“Fuck, yeah. I have questions, too many, though. Distortion was honest all the way through. He hesitated on saying he was a meta though, and the fact he doesn’t want people to think he exist is concerning.”

“He lets me know he exists.” Hood snorts motioning to the discarded box of gummies from earlie.

“He trusts you, that much is obvious,”Dick gave a small chuckle. “Guy has more walls up than the fucking pentagon, but at least we could hack past those.”

“He wears his heart on his sleeve honestly,”Hood pulled off his helmet to reveal the domino mask underneath. “Trust me. He’s guarded about his past. About what and who he is but his real personality shines through a lot. I take him to the soup kitchen for me and he watches me back during particularly rough land grabs from other mob bosses.”

“He knows about the pit, which is more than any other civilian has ever found out,”Dick pointed out.

“You could say that again, this answered a lot if he’s right but fuck. It also gave us a lot more fucking questions.” Normally Dick would be on his ass all day for that swear jar money, it seemed he had decided not today.

“Let me be clear. What he said is right. He’s a fuckin’ ghost for all things considered. He knows far too much shit to be just a civilian. Trained too much to be a civilian. If he doesn’t have training he has experience. His knowledge of things far beyond our reach, our control? It’s uncanny.” Hood motioned for the file back and Tim gave a whine.

“Calm down Babybird I’m just gunna go make you a copy really quick of what’s in here,”there was an obvious eye roll to his voice that caused Dick to snort.

“Leave him along Little wing,”Dick teased lightly. “The mans was distracted on a date Wednesday and he’s been out of it ever since.”

“NIGHTWING, once again NOT a date!” Tim insisted looking at his traitorous brother.

“Uh huh, tell that to your little black haired friend who was laughing at practically everything you said.” A smirk as Dick playfully leaned on his knees.

“You are not doing this to me right now, I swear to god.”

“A date?”Jason’s turn to smirk leading the duo into his office. Medical supplies sitting on his desk as he moved to the copier.

“We can’t leave without that file,” Dick began moving to flop onto Jason’s couch. “So I’m going to temporarily enjoy this~”

“It wasn’t a date,”Tim insisted. “We literally just fucking met!”

“So you took him to a coffee shop and paid for his food and drink?” Dick offered.

“He’s my partner for the semester for my 101 Linguistics class!! We have a lot in common!”

“Dateeee~~~”

“No.”

“I don’t know Babybird, that does sound like a date.”

“You two are fucking impossible oh my god. He’s smart and speaks a million and a half languages guys! We started talking about those. He knows fucking Tagalog!”

“Oooo the baby bird got himself another genius to fool around with,”Dick wiggled his eye brows.

“Are those copies printed yet?”

“Almost,”Jason smirked.

“I might as well just finish this shift alone tonight. Face the wrath of B of doing it by myself than deal with you two.” Tim goes for the door.

“Okay okay,”Dick lightened up. “We’re glad you finally found a friend, not a date, a friend.” Jason and him shared a look which caused Jason to snort. Motherfuckers.

“I have friends!”

“A non-superhero friend,”Jason emphasized as he began gathering papers and clipping them together. “You‘ve needed one of those. One you’re not constantly worried about on the field. Or even better, one who won’t die as easily.”

“Hey!”

“He’s right though RR,”Dick spoke back up this time. “Proud of you. We do have to go so we’re gunna take those files and scedaddle. Anything else we need to talk about?”

“One more thing about Dis… he’s a good kid. I promise, but he can be brutal and obsessive at times. If you see shit involving him going down I need you all to promise to not intervene unless his life is in danger. He can handle himself but he is also,”Jason contemplated his words there for a moment. “He’s got the skills down and the experience under his belt but he has plenty other things going on that can leave him vulnerable during battle. There’s a fine line between him fucking with people and him struggling. If he uses his meta powers, join in because he’s doing to fucking drop afterwards.”

“Drop?”Dick sounded concerned and they both shared worried glances. “Is that why you were checking his pulse earlier?”

“… yeah.”

“Can we ask what specifically you were looking for?”

“I promised i wouldn’t rat him out. I am not going to break his trust like that.”

“Fair,”Tim took the paper’s from Jason’s hand folding them neatly and shoving them into his belt. “Ready to go Big Bird?”

“You bet. Catch you on the flip side Hood.”

“You too Nightwing. RR, get some fucking sleep please. I will call Kon.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tim would have made eye contact if it weren’t for the masks. “I slept a day or two ago!”

“A day or two ago,”Dick mimics. “Yeah exactly the problem, now come on Red.” Dick almost dragged him away before Tim could respond to Jason’s threats any further.

“THIS IS NOT DONE HOOD.”

“YES IT IS RED.”

“FUCK YOU.” Cue Tim flipping off the Red Hood as they left. The quiet sounds of grappling hooks going off and then silence settling over the warehouse and Tim left with far too many questions and concerns. What kind of Meta can’t handle using his own abilities? He thought that wasn’t how that worked.

At least Tim had gotten something out of tonight. He had liked Dis. The man was a firecracker and funny when he wasn’t being serious. A bigger Damian if you would, but at least Hood had a better control over this one. At least he trusted this one not to outright stab him. Ha, Big Damian. Their little brother would definitely clash with Dis if/when they met. Tim was almost excited to see it happen.

“So what are we telling B again?” Tim voiced silently as they were a few houses down.

“We found a lead but had to turn off coms so we couldn’t be found. The lead wanted total security.” Dick replied with ease. “Hey Oracle.”

“Nightwing—“Tim didn’t get to finish his statement before Oracle’s voice came online.

“Ready? I’ve been spewing lies for hours now Nightwing. You owe me.”

“Yeah yeah. I know. I’ll come by and make dinner one night, we can watch a movie.”

“Movie night?”Tim asked.”Can I join?”

“Yes you can Red, thank you for asking.”

“We should stop the small talk before B spasses.”

“Probably. Reconnecting.”

B’s voice was immediate. “Nightwing, Red Robin, report. Why were your coms offline?”

Tim was letting Dick trip over himself with this one quite enjoying the show.

————————

Damian Wayne liked to think, no he knew himself to be the best of the children when it came to several things. Grades(mostly only being topped by Drake), Fighting, and most importantly Stealth. The only other one coming close to him being Greyson with his light feet and acrobatic training.

So when his father had come to him telling him tonight he would be checking up on Hood instead of their normal routines, honestly, Damian had been excited. Excited at the prospect of a fight. Excited at the idea of proving himself worthy to his father.

What he had been told and what he knew though were two different questions.

He knew Red Robin and Nightwing were supposed to be patrolling the docks.

He knew Jason Todd Aka Red Hood was acting quiet and suspicious and had been for months.

He knew that Father would be annoyed that the trio of them were meeting.

What he had been told though was another thing.

He’d been told to keep his head down.

He’d been told that Red Hood was violent, Damian had already thought otherwise in the guy who made him vegan cookies and sneakily brought them to the manor and set them on Damian’s bed every time. He got along with Todd even if it was in their silent sparing sessions during his rare visits.

He was totally not jealous to see the very obvious affection he was showing for somebody— some nobody. His father had asked him to watch Jason and then leave and report back, that was all. He was to not engage and while originally the plan had in fact been to just hang out with Jason for the night, things had obviously changed.

Something felt off about the stranger clad in black. Whispers through the air like a mistake. Something was wrong with that guy, and not just in the fact that he was obviously injured. Something was just off. That also meant he didn’t trust that man around Todd.

He moved closer keeping an eye on what was going on the slow curling and whisp of ideas floating inside of him.

The pit calls

It whispered. A familiar feeling when Todd was near, yes. A longing feeling drawing him closer to the man with Lazarus water running through his veins, but it had never called this loud before. He hadn’t even told the others he could tell when he was near the pits of Gotham. The festering bubbling green waters.

When the stranger left, his feeling of the pit began to die down to the quiet hum of the familiarity of Jason.

And then it was behind him.

“You did a pretty good job hiding you know.”

How was he able to see him… Damian looked back unsheathing his katana pointing it at the stranger who was leaning against the door to the building bright green goggles glowing with that unearthly Lazarus green.

The man put his hands up stepping out of the shadows. Gently moving to push the katana out of the way as he began to circle Damian, and for the first time in his life.

Damian felt like prey.

Like the predator before was watching with a smirk. He gave a gentle smile but Damian noticed the sharp fangs protruding from his mouth as he gave a sinister smile.

“If you weren’t radiating ectoplasm I wouldn’t have been able to detect you,”he gave a low chuckle that reverberated through Damian’s veins.

“Who are you?” Katana remaining up as they seemed to circle each other. Damian in a defensive position.

“Come on, I think the question you’re more curious about is what I am.”

“Then answer whatever question you wish.”

“So cold for the young Robin. Red and Nightwing have so much more spunk than you.”

“I can show you spunk.” He bolted forward at the man who dodged hands behind his back. Dangr. Danger. Danger. It filled his senses no, it consumed them. What the fuck was he. His Lazarus sense was on fire. Blinding. Nauseating.

So when he felt the stranger pulse with the energy of the pits calling upon it from just somewhere he felt overwhelmed dropping to the ground unable to stop himself from puking. He expected the figure to attack him. Kill him in his moment of weakness.

But no.

Instead he felt a gentle gloved hand rubbing his back and the figure was crouched next to him rubbing small circles.

“Shit, sorry kid. I just wanted to fuck with ya’ didn’t think you were that sensitive to me,”he apologized with genuine concern in his voice. “Fuck.”

He smacked his hand away wiping his mouth breathing heavily. The figure stepping away getting the cue.

“Leave Gotham… you thing.”

“Thing? Now that’s hurtful.” The man chuckled. “Look. I am sorry for what it means from a stranger. I got to go and I’m sure you do too. I don’t think you want your fellow birdies to find out you were here right?”

“I don’t follow directions from monsters.”

“I’m not a monster.”

“You radiate danger. It’s in your entire being.”

“I didn’t realize I still radiated that. I didn’t even know those infected could still pick up on me, different breed and all.”

“Different breed?.”

A small gentle smile. “Different breed of those infected with that you guys call the pits. I’ll keep away now that I know though, but if I have to fight near you kid. You’ll have to get that sense of yours under control.”

“I can’t control it.”

“Yes you can.”

The man handed him his katana back before backing up again.

“I’ll stay right here,”The man gave a smile moving to sit down himself. “Close your eyes. Feel where all the energy is.”

Damian hesitated. Would this be weakness? Was he the enemy? He slowly adjusted to sit like him closing his eyes focusing on the feeling.

“Imagine it as a bubble. A giant bubble as far as your reach will lead you.” Damian could feel the waters through the man and feel Jason and his movements next door.

A slow growing toxic green bubble seeming to encompass all he could sense.

“Good. Now take a deep breath and deep in your chest pull that bubble in with every breath. Slowly. It’ll overwhelm you if you try to reign it in al at once.”

Damian obliged, what the fuck was he doing. “No. It’s not working you are lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“I am not going to listen to someone maddened by the pits far more than Hood.” The man put his hands up again.

“Then be my guest to faint next time I do more than flare my abilities.”

“Who are you…”

“A friendly,mostly. if you need some help, though Feel free to ask Hood all about who I am.”

And with a blink of an eye he was gone, and Damian knew he was right. He had to fucking move. He rose with shaky knees.

His father did not need to know about the powerful entity able to bring him to his knees. Maybe he did? Would the being be able to bring him to his knees too?

No. He would not his weakness. He would not let anyone know what a walking pit of toxic waste that person was. Not until he could determine what exactly could bring him down. For now, all his Father would know was that Jason was going over some of his own investigations details. That is all. He moved positions to readjust himself to look into one of the windows. Only leaving when the sun began to peak over the horizon.

He was surprised his body handled making it back at all. Ignoring the brief look of concern and comment from Alfred about how pale he looked as the child changed and headed to bed for the few hours of sleep he would obtain.

He wasn’t going to tell anyone about that.

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#danny phantom #danny phantom au #dcxdp #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #batfam #danny phantom is a little shit #tim drake #dc x dp fic #red robin #dead tired #nightwing #tim drake x danny fenton #red hood #jason todd #batfamily

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songsofadelaide · 4 months

Text

Waltz of Four Left Feet

cw/tw: no curses/law school AU set in the 2020s, slice of life, unmotivated lawyer/law professor!higuruma x ??? female reader, established relationship, smoker higuruma headcanon, yuuji as higuruma's favourite student/law apprentice, yuuji spitting facts and meddles with the best of intentions, flashbacks of a meet-cute-ugly, inaccurate depictions of law school life, fluff, did I say slice of life already? (lol) + another marriage proposal. wc: 1.1k

"You do know that with your current knowledge and experience in the field, you're on the right track to becoming a great judge. Think about it, will you? Brilliant ones like you don't come around too often."

Hearing superiors, colleagues, students, and strangers alike sing his praises did not stroke his ego at all. More than anything, Higuruma felt a dense weight on his shoulders. Apart from being a lawyer himself, he was an educator, and he felt equally responsible for ensuring his students have the right knowledge at hand when they become lawyers themselves in the future.

And he was fine with that. Becoming a prosecutor? A judge? Those were far too ambitious for him to consider, let alone even think of. Until…

"That's not a bad idea, Higuruma-san. If you become a judge, you'll have more than enough to marry your girlfriend and provide for your family."

Well. That's another way to look at things.

Higuruma was taking a short smoke break in between his classes when one of his favourite students approached him with a chilled canned coffee in hand.

"Are you done with your readings, Itadori-kun?"

Educators shouldn't favour one student over another because it clouds their judgement, yet it was hard not to be drawn to Itadori Yuuji's enthusiasm for the law profession. The young man had enough promise and ambition for them both, and Higuruma made it his personal mission to mould the boy into a lawyer who would be praised just as much as him.

"And you've been with her for how many years now?" The younger man continued as he counted with his fingers, ignoring his mentor's question. "You really should be stepping up and proposing to her or something."

Higuruma breathed his cigarette deep and let out a drawn out exhale that seemed more like a sigh of frustration. "You really think I don't know that yet, kid?"

He first met you in a local coffee shop some years back after you both accidentally spilled your coffees on each other. Instead of being pissed at him, you laughed off the incident as a simple case of bad luck, something you obviously both shared on that day since it wasn't just you drenched in an Americano. He was equally soaking in your favourite latte.

And like a sunflower drawn to the warmth of daylight, he was easily charmed by your bright optimism— very much so that he didn't think twice when you asked him for his contact details (to pay him for his suit's dry cleaning).

Your second meeting at the same cafe wasn't so bad if not for the barista switching your drinks. You laughed it off as you drank your latte with his name on it, somehow tasting sweeter than the usual.

They got it right the third time. You guys were regulars by the fourth.

Higuruma once made the mistake of taking some of his law firm's apprentices to the very cafe you frequented and none of them were able to figure out why he froze at the entrance and urged everyone to find someplace else to have coffee.

Everyone except Yuuji, who followed his mentor's gaze and found a woman smiling at him from across the cafe. His attention to detail was both a boon and bane for him, and a stroke of bad luck for his professor, who unknowingly revealed his most well-kept secret. You could only laugh and shake your head as your boyfriend trailed behind his students, obviously trying his best to stay composed.

When Yuuji found you in the cafe the following day, he bought you a fruit tart. "You must be Higuruma-san's mysterious girlfriend."

"Can you keep it a secret for us both, Yuuji-kun?"

You became fast friends with the boy, too, much to Higuruma's embarrassment and enjoyment. You found it a pleasure to quiz the men with their subject cards even though you knew nothing about law while they weighed in on your own work matters.

"Higuruma-san, you aren't like those people who are married to their profession, are you?"

"Of course not. Now get back to your readings."

His dismissal of talks about marriage was off-putting, but Yuuji knew that Higuruma was just stalling for time. For whatever reason, he'll probably never know.

Higuruma stubbed out his cigarette and threw the butt in the nearby receptacle.

"You have a pretty cushy salary, if you ask me. But if you aren't going to obtain a judgeship like the other professors suggested, what else is stopping you from getting married?"

Oh, right. Yuuji was still there.

"Those readings aren't going to do themselves."

Something did stop him, in fact. It was the fact that you two never really spoke about it. Marriage.

Your relationship was like an ongoing dream for him. One he hadn't woken up from yet because of how airy it made him feel. Just like how a sunflower curled in the direction of the sun, so too did he whenever you were asleep in bed together, curling into your warmth as though he wanted to keep it for his own.

And when he told you over dinner about the judgeship offer from earlier in the day, you replied to him with the same optimism that drew him to you from the start.

"Hiromi, you know I'll always have your back in whatever it is you decide to do. If you wanna go for that judgeship, I say go for it! But you don't have to force yourself, either," you reassured him with a warm smile, one that pulled a similar grin to his own tired face. "Though I suppose some extra shopping money wouldn't be so bad."

"What about m…" He started, only for his voice to fail him. His favourite student would probably be berating him for being so nervous over nothing. Over everything.

"What?"

"Marry me."

Your cutlery goes quiet against your plate, a twinkle in your eyes he mistook for something else. He was planning his escape route now. Your upfront refusal was kindness enough, he thought to himself. But was he really going to stick around and listen to you enumerate the reasons why you wouldn't—

"Of course I will, Hiromi."

"Huh?"

"Oh, my silly little doomer. Did you really think I'd refuse to marry you?" You chuckled at him from across the dinner table. "After that question, expect to be stuck with me for good."

Higuruma laughed, the rumble coming deep from his core. As if there was anything else he'd want more than that. You were all the optimism he needed in his life. "I suppose you're stuck with me then, too."

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #jjk x reader #jjk higuruma #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #higuruma x reader

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shhh-secret-time · 26 days

Text

Star Park AU: Stan Marsh Edition

-> Lives on Tegridy Farms with his family. His dad sold their house and moved them out to the valley when Stan was ten. (They're essentially where Marnie is in game.)

-> Sparky is still alive but he's getting older, so he sticks to laying on the porch waiting for Stan to get back

-> Plays football with Clyde, Craig, and Tolkien! Kenny and Cartman will join in sometimes and he practically drags Kyle out to join them.

-> He works for Joja Mart with his sister. They'd both rather work there than be near their dad.

》 He's saving up to move back to the city, or so he says. Truth be told he can't leave behind Sparky or his Mom.

-> He bought his own chicken coop and has a few chickens of his own.

-> He goes to the saloon every night, most nights by himself

-> But on Fridays, after Jimmy's comedy act, him and his band will play!

-> On Sundays when everyone else is in church or doing their own thing. Stan and Kyle will go up to the summit past the railroad tracks and spend hours up there. Catching up and just unwinding.

-> He probably has a mini event that's kind of like Sam's 2 heart event, where he asks the Farmer what type of music they like.

Gift Guide:

Loves: Pizza, Survival Burger, Book of Mysteries, Frozen Tears, Beer (This changes after Heart Event 6)

Likes: Joja Cola, Apples, All Eggs, Void Esscene, Large Milk

Neutral: All Fruit (Except Apples), Coffee, Peppers

Dislikes: Fertilizer, Daffodil, Any Fish, Pink Cake

Hates: Rabbit Foot, Coleslaw, Clay, Beer (After Heart Event 6)

Loved: "Dude! Are you sure?! Man this rules!"

Liked: "Oh, uh thanks! Should I get you something back?"

Neutral: "Cool, I'll find a use for it."

Disliked: "What...is this? Why?"

Hated: "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Given any alcohol after Heart Event 6: "Why would you give me this?! You know I'm trying to stop!"

Heart Event @ 2:

Stan is throwing empty beer bottles at the passing train, they shatter just as the Farmer approaches him. He looks back at them with a grin offering one for them to throw. He mentions that he was drinking with his friend Kenny but he had to go, so now he's just passing time. He's not quite drunk yet but he's tipsy. When the Farmer takes the bottle and throws it he relaxes a little, says that he's glad they're not put off by the behavior. After a little bit of silence, he asks them why they moved to the Valley. There's not a lot of money in farming and then makes a comment about how he fucking hates it. How he feels isolated from the rest of the town sometimes.

-> Feels that way sometimes doesn't it? But at least you have your friends (+)

-> You're literally closer to town than I am, don't your friends come to visit you? (-)

If First Option: He mulls it over and decides you're right. He should he grateful he at least has them. Though lately it feels like they're drifting apart. Stan comments how you must feel lonely being new to town and all.

"Oh well. I guess we can be lonely losers together. Farmer buddies and all that."

If Second Option: Stan doesn't really appreciate the sass. He wasn't looking for a pity party, just wanted to kinda vent. He makes note not to talk about it again.

"Yeah sure. I guess, but you didn't have to be a dick about it."

Heart Event @ 4:

Stan and his friends are playing pool at the tavern, a rare instance where they're all off work and finally get to hang out. He leans over the pool table and sinks another ball, much to Kyle's annoyance. As the Farmer comes in Cartman makes a comment that Kyle is getting his ass kicked and bad. It prompts Kyle to snap at him and shake the pool cue at him. Kenny and Stan laugh a little before Stan realizes you're there. He smiles and gestures for you to come over! Now that you're here they have enough for teams. Farmer is confused because there's already four of them, they make five. Stan whispers in their ear, explaining that Cartman won't play with Kyle anymore. He lost one time and now he's convinced that Kyle cheated. Something about how there's no way Kyle would ever actually win a game fair and square. When you agree he gets excited and before anyone else gets the chance he announces that you'll be on his team!

"Awesome! We're gonna smoke these guys! Kenny wrack 'em! Farmer is with me!"

⚠️ TW: Attempted suicide ahead ⚠️

Heart Event @ 6:

Stan's drinking again. Right next to the railroad tracks but this time he's got one foot on the railroad, rocking back and forth. There's glass bottles around him, unbroken and too many to count. He almost stumbles down to the ground but he keeps himself up. Farmer approaches and that's when they hear the sound of the train coming in, and it's coming fast. Stan had no intentions on moving, in fact he looks like he's about to fall forward willingly. The dead look in his eyes tells them that much. Farmer runs across the field and tackles him into the ground, the train narrowly missing the both of them. Stan lays there having just had the wind knocked out of him. His head is spinning and he feels sick, but he also feels the Farmer on his chest and his back against the ground. He's not dead. Then it hits him, you almost died to save him. You who's kept talking to him despite everything, even when he was being an ass.

"You....you could have gotten yourself killed why would you do that?"

-> I couldn't just stand there and watch you die Stan!

-> Are you crazy?! You almost got us both killed!

-> I don't know...my legs just moved on their own.

-> (Just hug him)

If First Option: Stan starts crying and presses his palms into his eyes. He lays there and sobs, but he feels safe enough to do it.

"Hey Farmer...hic...can you help me to Kyle. I'm scared."

If Second Option: He grits his teeth and digs his hand into the dirt. Stan knows what he did was crazy, he can't be mad at you for snapping like that. You just saved his life. But he didn't ask you to.

"Fuck...I know. Look, just help me get to Kyle. I think I'm gonna be sick."

If Third Option: Stan doesn't know what to say but he thinks he gets it. He just closes his eyes and tries to stop the dizzy ride his drunken state is on. He doesn't want to move but he can't just lay here all day.

"Do you think Kyle is gonna yell at me...if I show up looking like this? Maybe if I just go to sleep I won't have to think about it."

If Fourth Option: Stan freezes he wasn't expecting the Farmer to do that. They should be angry with him, furious. But they're hugging him and clinging to him for dear life. His life. Stan wraps his arms around them and starts to cry. It's the most vulnerable he's been with anyone in a long time.

"Shit...fuck dude...just please don't let me go. I don't wanna go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Heart Event @ 8:

It's early morning when the Farmer steps out, they're greeted with the sound of music. Stan is sitting on their porch playing his old guitar, the acoustic one that's seen better days. When the Farmer gets closer he looks up at them for a moment, unable to look them in the eye for too long. After a moment of silence, he tells them that Kyle got it out of storage for him. Says it'll help him focus on something other than the withdrawals and that Kyle put him in contact with a therapist. He thanks the Farmer for saving his life, and apologizes that they had to see that. As he plays a somber tune again he makes a comment, this is the first time he's been on their farm. First time he's been out this way since they moved into the valley. He confesses that your farm is a lot nicer than his dad's and that maybe farming isn't so bad. Farmer sits beside him and he quietly continues playing, they've never heard him play this song before.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I've been a jerk to you. You and Kyle shouldn't have to take care of me, but you did. You care and I should remember that. Sparky would have been really upset if I never came home. So thanks...for everything."

When given the bouquet:

"!! I don't understand why you'd choose me, but...I'm selfish and I want you all to myself. So I accept!"

Heart Event @ 10:

Stan is leading Farmer past the railroad tracks, he doesn't even seem bothered much anymore to be here. He leads them up the path that he's taken a thousand times. There he leads them to the summit, his favorite spot to be at. They sit together at the edge if the cliff with their legs dangling off the side. He admits to them that he liked coming up here a lot as a kid, when his dad and him would fight it was his little hiding spot. Then he brought Kyle and it became special. The days where he'd get stupid drunk he'd think about just falling forward like that day with the train. But it's because of those amazing memories with his best friend, he could never bring himself to do it. They're special and he wouldn't want to ruin them for Kyle. It's things like that, that remind him why he's alive. Things like you. He smiles at the Farmer and tells you this. Tells Farmer he wants to continue to make more memories with them so he has a reason. His hand inches closer to theirs, not quite touching. Before he can pull away, Farmer takes his hand and slides closer to him. They rest their head on his shoulder and look up towards the big illuminated moon that's in front of them. Stan wraps his arm around them and lays his cheek on top of their head.

"Every moment with you reminds me why I'm here. I'm not...perfect and I don't think I'll ever understand why you choose to stick around. But I meant what I said, I want you around me always. I can breath with you around."

Heart Event @ 14:

Stan's outside playing with Sparky and Farmer's pet, when he moved in he brought his beloved dog with him. Sparky seems to be getting better every day he's here and Stan couldn't be happier. Farmer walks up with hearts in their eyes, making him a little bashful. He rubs the back of his neck just as Sparky brings the ball back. He mentions that he really loved animals, and that he's always had a soft spot for them. Farmer questions him about his love for Survival Burgers, which he quickly points out that they're made of Cave Carrot NOT beef! After a little while of playing with the pets he sits in the field with them, looking over their hardwork. Stan turns red and starts ranting about how the last time he went to visit his dad, he started nagging him about grandkids. He's embarrassed because Randy has never mentioned it before and it makes him uncomfortable.

"He's such an ass! You'd think he'd stop trying to tell me how to live my life after I moved out. Why doesn't he bother Shelly with this?!"

-> He probably does. We don't have to have kids if you don't want them! I'm just happy you're here with me! Don't let him get to you!

-> Don't let your dad pressure you into anything you're not ready for. It's our relationship and we'll decide when and if we want kids. But if you're anything like you are with Sparky towards kids, I think you'd be a great dad!

If First Option: Stan grins and tells them they're right as always. He leans down and kisses the top of their head. Sparky walks over with the Farmer's pet and lays in their lap. Stan smirks and makes a comment about how they could just get another dog.

"Our farm is big enough for another one right? We could get one or two more puppies. They could help with the sheep and chickens! Help dig holes!"

If Second Option: Stan says he'll think on it. Later that night while Farmer is cleaning up the dishes and putting them away. Stan walks up behind them and wraps his arms around them. He murmurs in their ear that he's been doing nothing but thinking about what they said. The thought of starting a family with them is starting to sound appealing, plus it could be fun raising a mini them. He presses a kiss into their temple.

"You really think I'll make a good dad? I just don't wanna end up like mine...but if you're with me I think I could do it. And if they're anything like you, they'll be an amazing kid."

Random Marriage Quotes!!

"You looked really adorable asleep last night...you also drooled on my arm."

"Having a bad thought day...I might be a little off today. I'm sorry."

"Babe, you got dirt on your face. C'mere, let me clean it. Just let me take care of you butthead!"

"Sparky and I watered the crops today! How do you know how much to give them? I feel like I'm drowning them."

"Fed the animals! They're doing great! Would...you judge me if I took a nap out in the field with them?"

"Hey...real quick...I uh- I love you. I know I don't say it enough and I'm sorry, but I really do."

"Morning. Made you some pancakes! I stole the recipe from my mom! Why do you look scared?"

"Hey babe, I'm going to visit my parents today. Please feel free to come save me when you're done doing what you need to do."

"Are you coming to the tavern tonight? We're playing a new song tonight, I wrote it for you."

"You know, when I was a kid, when I got nervous, I'd throw up. You make me nervous sometimes but I- hey! I'm not going to puke on you, I'm not twelve. Get back here!"

Tag List: @hunnysnoops

#south park #sp fanfiction #south park fanfiction #reader insert #south park x reader #x reader #Stan Marsh #Stan Marsh x reader #Stan Marsh x Farmer #Stardew Valley #Star Park AU #headcanons #drabbles #shhh its a secret

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