#this one is worth clicking through for maps

[brostateexam]

One hundred years ago, the United States had a public transportation system that was the envy of the world. Today, outside a few major urban centers, it is barely on life support. Even in New York City, subway ridership is well below its 1946 peak. Annual per capita transit trips in the U.S. plummeted from 115.8 in 1950 to 36.1 in 1970, where they have roughly remained since, even as population has grown.

This has not happened in much of the rest of the world. While a decline in transit use in the face of fierce competition from the private automobile throughout the 20th century was inevitable, near-total collapse was not. At the turn of the 20th century, when transit companies’ only competition were the legs of a person or a horse, they worked reasonably well, even if they faced challenges. Once cars arrived, nearly every U.S. transit agency slashed service to cut costs, instead of improving service to stay competitive. This drove even more riders away, producing a vicious cycle that led to the point where today, few Americans with a viable alternative ride buses or trains.

Now, when the federal government steps in to provide funding, it is limited to big capital projects. (Under the Trump administration, even those funds are in question.) Operations—the actual running of buses and trains frequently enough to appeal to people with an alternative—are perpetually starved for cash. Even transit advocates have internalized the idea that transit cannot be successful outside the highest-density urban centers.

[jujutsubaby]

🫧 skin care daddy 🫧

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: your skin's been breaking out recently and you're stressed at work and you have your sister's wedding to attend in a week. according to the internet, this is the best spa in town, and you're lowkey desperate at this point...it can't be that bad right? ☆ tags: modern au ☆ warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!recieving), facial, dirty talk, fingering, flicking the bean?? idk ☆ a/n: guys i swear i am cooking in the kitchen with the asks from my follower event AND other shit OK!! sorry for the wait on everything but here is a little crumb bc i love u all!! i was feeling unhinged bc i saw two things: 1) a spa called skin care daddy and 2) a post or one shot where the reader got a facial from gojo and it cleared her skin. idk i just felt inspired to make this bc it felt the universe was asking me to. not proofread some plot with corn u know the vibes babes xx ☆ word count: 7k+

"sorry, we're all booked for this weekend and the next. we usually recommend that our customers book 3 weeks in advance for our services at the ritz carlton luxury spa." the lady on the other end of the line was objectively speaking very politely, but you were far too frustrated with your situation to notice.

"great, yeah, no, thanks." you say quickly, hanging up the phone and groaning into your pillow.

"no luck at the ritz?" you turn to face your best friend, nobara.

"they're all booked, what a surprise!" you say sarcastically, your voice still slightly muffled by the pillow.

"i mean, c'mon, y/n. your face is not that bad..." nobara tries and deeply fails to comfort you, making you chuckle half heartedly.

you get up from your bed and walk over to the full body mirror of your closet in order to get up close and personal with your face. your fingers stretch on the skin around your breakouts as you study them with determination, as if just willing them to be gone will do the trick. it doesn't.

"it's bad enough that all the aunties will say something snarky to me all day."

you're usually one to always follow through on your skincare routine, am and pm, and watch what you eat carefully so that you don't get breakouts. but you recently went through a rough patch (read: a hellish period) and your face took the brunt of the damage. it wasn't your fault you were having massive cramps and craved hot cheetos the entire week (it was so worth it) but now, a week before your sister's wedding, you're facing the consequences.

you sigh. the ritz was the fifth place you guys called that didn't have any space for an all day facial, but you couldn't run out of hope. back to the drawing board.

you open up your laptop and get back to searching on google maps, as nobara does the same thing. you're grateful she's helping you out during your, albeit, dumb crisis, but what are girl friendships for? a spa you've never heard of before suddenly catches your eye and you zoom in. skin care daddy? you read the finer print underneath it. best day spa in tokyo.

you snort. best day spa in tokyo my ass. if it really was the best day spa in tokyo, why have you never heard of it?

nobara laughs, almost on cue. "wait, dude, are you seeing this spa?" she turns her phone around and you see she's also looking at skin care daddy. "this has to be a joke, right? no way would they be allowed to open up a spa named that, right?"

"ohmygod, i was just looking at that!" you say excitedly. "it literally sounds like a sex bot made it for unsuspecting horny losers to click on and get like, a crazy virus." you both laugh at how ridiculous this place sounds.

nobara's laugh almost abruptly stops as she scrolls down the place. "wait, stop. this place has like...over ten thousand reviews and a 4.9 star rating..."

you immediately click on the place and take a closer look at the reviews and ratings and see she's right. "i don't think i've ever seen a place have this many reviews with consistent ratings?" your brows scrunch as you read aloud some of the top reviews.

"this spa has given me the some of the best facials of my life. i always come to this spa whenever i'm in the area, and the people working there are obsessed with taking care of their customers. 10/10" you're baffled by the review sounding so...weird but you think nothing of it. you make a mental note that you are kinda desperately looking for a miracle facial to help with your breakouts, so maybe you shouldn't count this place out just yet.

nobara half heartedly scoffs as she reads the next one. "i've had chronic acne and back pain for years until i saw someone from here who made me feel soo good. you'll be coming here all the time once you go. maybe even multiple times a day."

"how good can this place be if you have to go multiple times to make sure your spa treatment worked?" you say, rolling your eyes at these reviews. "these can't be real right?"

"they sound incentivized or like someone paid them to write it or somethin'" nobara surmises.

"maybe it's a cult or something," you say, causing both of you to double over in laughter.

"a cult disguised as a spa is a bit too insane, even for tokyo." nobara says as she scrolls through and skims more reviews. "aren't you looking for a facial anyway? everyone's saying they're really good here...you know...despite the..." she gestures with her hands the reviews on her phone.

"ugh, am i for real that desperate for clear skin that i'm willing to go to a shady ass day spa?" you roll on to your back on your bed and stare at the ceiling, contemplating.

"can't be that shady if it's ten thousand reviews. say what you want but that's a lot of reviews to pay money for."

nobara has a point. you grab your laptop and try to look for a link to their website and see they don't have a website. interesting. not a red flag but just interesting. maybe i have to call for bookings? you search for a phone number, but fail to find one.

"wait, are you able to find any contact for this spa?" you ask noabra and you see her squinting her eyes at the phone.

"no i wasn't but i saw a review that basically said this spa is a walk-in type of deal?"

"it's a walk-in but has thousands of reviews? how does that even work? people are probably waiting years in line to get in?"

"dunno," nobara shrugs, and puts her phone back in her pocket. "maybe it's like a 'if-you-know-you-know' type of thing so it's like popular through word of mouth of somethin'"

damn. even more shady, then. you chew on your lip and stare at the ceiling again, trying to imagine all the things your aunties will say to you at the wedding.

"27 and still unmarried? shame."

"oh, you really need to watch your diet, the breakouts will never go away otherwise."

"clear skin is the first step to find a man who will desire you, y/n."

you feel like your skin is burning thinking about the so-called "advice" you're likely to receive at the wedding. normally you wouldn't care, but your hormones have been kind of out of wack with the new birth control you started recently, and you're not sure if you can really take any form of bullshit other than your sister's this weekend.

your thoughts are interrupted by nobara getting up from your chair. "alright, i'm off to work. need a ride to skin care daddy?"

"yeah, actually," you say as you slowly get out of your bed and change our of your pajamas.

"wait, what?!" nobara says with wide eyes. "i was actually joking when i said that. are you seriously gonna go? y/n, i dunno about this one..."

"c'mon! it's like you said, it's weird but it's not necessarily shady..." you say, mostly trying to convince yourself as you put on a pair of your favorite lazy girl black flared yoga pants.

nobara seems to consider it for a moment before responding. "kay, fine. but if i take you there and it's some abandoned warehouse-"

"then we'll drive away. no way in hell i'm about to die for this place." you assure nobara, putting her at ease.

you quickly don a thrifted gray hoodie and put your hair up in a messy bun. you don't care to put on any makeup, since you're probably gonna have to take it off anyway. if the day spa isn't shady and in an abandoned warehouse.

you quickly grab your keys and wallet before gesturing to nobara to leave. she sighs, looking at her phone one more time.

"fuck it, let's go before i change my mind."

"okay it says it's just right around the corn-"

"OH MY GOD?!" you're unable to hold back your disbelief as nobara took the corner to, what you think, might the chicest and prettiest boutique you've ever laid eyes on. the front was adorned with a gorgeous light blue awning with european style bell-shaped pendant lights making it almost glow during the day time.

"what the hell...ain't no way..." noabra is at a loss for words for how fancy it looks. "they have the money to rent out a place like this but no website?"

"or have a phone number." you mumble as you open nobara's car door. you turn around and give her a quick wave. she tells you to give her a call and tell her how it is after and you promise to do so. as nobara drives off, all the skepticism evaporates from your body looking at the dainty and cute decor all over the place.

you walk in to a fairly large lobby, with a desk in the middle and waiting chairs surrounding it. the calming scent of lavender, green tea, and patchouli hits your nose, and your guard immediately drops; the aroma relaxes you almost instantly.

you look around and are surprised to see only two other women in the waiting chairs on their phone. one of them seemed older, kind of like a mother, and the other seemed to be your age, but far more demure.

"hey, there! welcome to skin care daddy! we're determined to take care of you all your needs, no matter what! how can i help you today?" your head whips around to the guy sitting at the reception desk, and you feel a bit embarrassed; he must've noticed how lost you looked here, and you force yourself to straighten up and regain your composure as you slowly walk to the front desk. you take a closer at the guy with shaggy black hair sitting in the chair in front of you.

"hi..." you squint to see the faint print on his name badge. "yuta".

"yup! that's me!" he chirps. you know he probably has to exaggerate his good mood for the sake of the job but it kind of irks you. "what can i do for you today, miss?"

"yeah, uhh...what services do you guys offer? i tried looking online but you guys didn't have a website and..." your wandering eyes can't help but look around skeptically around the front desk and the doors on either side of the lobby.

"well, we offer whatever you need, miss. just tell us what you're looking for and we'll have it. i guarantee it."

"okay, well. my sister's getting married next weekend and..." you gesture to your face. "my life has been all sorts of stressful and hormonal so honestly, i'm just looking for something that can help me feel refreshed-"

you're interrupted by someone entering in from the right side of the lobby door. it's a woman who, you must say, looks glowing. her skin is bright and she quite looks like she's almost levitating. guiding her out of the spa is a young man, around your age, with blond hair and round glasses. he's unbelievably built, with strong hands rubbing her back softly and a chiseled jaw. he's wearing what you think is the uniform of this place: white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and black slacks.

your breath gets caught in your throat momentarily. no fucking way. this guy works here? he's so fucking...hot. you have to force your eyes to tear away from him as you try your hardest to focus back on your conversation with yuta.

yuta chuckles as he follows your gaze. "ah, yes, mr. nanami is a customer favorite esthetician here. anyway, seems like you're going through a rough time and you came to the perfect place! normally, i would recommend the oxygen facial, but since you said you have a wedding..." yuta types something on the computer for a bit. "personally, i would recommend the full body tokyo special."

you're not entirely what an oxygen facial is, nor what the tokyo special is, and you feel even more stupid asking this guy who seems to be in college for more information.

"um, sorry, what's a full body tokyo special? i think i just need a really good facial."

"oh no worries, miss. i apologize. the full body tokyo special consists of a hands-on full body aromatherapy massage and our famous milkbomb facial, which'll do wonders for your skin." he winks at you. why did he wink at you?

you're unable to think about whether or not you even wanna do anything here when a group of men barge in through the left door of the lobby, laughing loudly, before lowering their voices.

one of the men is a dark haired man, seemingly a little older than the other two and yourself, but also very much ripped just like mr. nanami. you tried not to stare at the skin tight black shirt he wore that attenuated his pecs but miserably failed. he took the quickest glance at you and gave the faintest smile, revealing a slight scar on the left side of his lip. a scar that makes him sexier? you've gotta be kidding me. you follow his gaze to the older woman you saw sitting here when you came in, who know looks completely enamored by the man.

"there's my favorite mama," the man coos, holding an arm out for her as she skipped to him. he leads her to the other door, and you could hear them giggling and talking, as if this wasn't the first time they've seen each other.

"aight, see ya later, man." the other dark haired man said to his friend, before making eye contact with you, and then giving a slight smirk to yuta. he heads straight to the demure girl you saw when you walked in, and holds his hand out to her and she blushes and grabs it.

"th-thanks for seeing me again, geto-san." the girl says so softly that you have to strain your ears to listen.

"i told you to call me suguru..." you hear him joke as they disappear behind the door.

"like what you see?" you turn your head to the last guy, who now is far too close for your liking. you take a small step back, which makes him chuckle.

"yuta-kun! who do we have here?" the man asks boisterously. despite being indoors, he's wearing dark circled sunglasses. what a douche.

"oh, hey gojo-sensei. this is..." yuta looks at you, waiting for you to say your name.

"y/n." you say a bit too late, still trying to process the barrage of attractive men that just showed up all at once and what they had to do with the spa.

yuta starts filling in the man about what you were looking for, as you take in the man who's intently listening to him. he has white hair, and is wearing the same uniform as mr. nanami was, with three buttons undone and his hair slightly disheveled. he's also really tall. like really tall. like he towers over you easily tall. but also, just as well built like everyone else.

what is this place? you knew men could work in salons and parlors and spas, but this place seemed to be exclusively run by them. and not just any men, really attractive men. and what's worse is that you were not complaining. sure, it's a bit weird but there's really no other choice for you at this point.

"ahh, the tokyo special, huh?" he says, turning at you and giving you a bright smile which you suspect he gives to everyone who comes in here. "nice choice."

"he's the one who chose it, and i'm not even sure if i want it." you say, pointing to yuta, and trying your hardest to stand your ground. you have to really make sure this spa treatment is actually gonna help and not just a scam for your money.

"well, he chose right. i've never seen you here before, so you must be new here, right?" you nod, suddenly feeling really small and embarrassed about your attitude before. god, you're never one to behave badly in front of service workers. the hormones are really doing a number on your mood. maybe you could benefit from this "tokyo special".

he leans down to meet your eyes and takes off his sunglasses, and you’re face to face with the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes you've ever seen. through an almost hypnotic effect, you feel much calmer than you did before, and more trusting of him. "well, lucky for you, i've got an opening right now. i'll help you feel right at home." he gives you a wink, and you can't help but feel there's some other hidden meaning behind what he says.

"umm...well..." you say, holding on to the thin strings of your resolve.

"gojo-sensei is the best masseuse and esthetician here, especially for first timers like yourself, miss y/n. i guarantee you'll leave the establishment more than satisfied with his work." yuta assures you with a smile.

and with that, your resolve completely dissolves and you nod and hand him your credit card and he takes the information. gojo touches the small of your back ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn't feel you shiver at his touch.

"he just loves kissing up to me so he can get a full time job here after college. i'm his favorite cousin, after all." he says, making you giggle as you walk through the two panel doors into the spa.

"thanks for taking me in during your opening, mr. gojo." you say politely, feeling grateful as he leads you down the corridor of the neat, clean, and minimally decorated hallway.

"i think you're gonna be the one taking me in," gojo mumbles under his breath while opening the door to a room that looked like a doctor's office. a single lavender massage table greets you with small cabinets on either side.

you're unable to catch what he said. "what? did you say something?"

"i said call me satoru. no need to get so formal with me, i'm just some dude who works here." he chuckles. he locks the door as you sit up on the massage table awkwardly, unsure of how you should be positioning yourself or what exactly he was planning.

gojo goes to the corner and pulls out a fluffy white bathrobe and hands it to you. you're blown away by how soft it feels in your hands -- luxury at it's finest, you guess.

"okay, i just have a quick questionnaire i need you to fill out, probably will take around a minute," he says, as he grabs a clipboard with a pen attached to it from another drawer and takes a seat on a padded lab stool. he rolls closer to you until his long slender legs are almost touching your calves.

"alrighty here...okay, first question…” the questions gojo reads off are normal enough, with various clauses consenting to the spa treatment, confirming your age, and so forth. they don’t start getting weird until later. “ok last three, we’re almost done.” you notice a shit-eating grin on his face as he scribbles your answer to the previous question. “okay, are you a virgin?”

“what?!” 

“are you a virg-”

“i heard you the first time. what kinda question is that? that’s so invasive, what the hell are you play-” you’re ready to give an entire speech to this guy about how inappropriate and irrelevant the question is. 

“it’s fine if you don’t wanna answer it, i just can’t continue the treatment if you don’t.” gojo says this so simply and nonchalantly, as if the question was about your favorite color, and not an intimate detail about your sexuality. 

“okay, fine. not a virgin.” you cross your hands in irritation. 

“not…a...virgin…” you hear him say under his breath as he scribbles something you cannot see on his clipboard. you try leaning forward to see what he’s writing (and if there really was a question like that on the questionnaire but he quickly pulls it closer to his chest, giving you a teasing smirk. “are you on birth control?”

“y-yes?” 

“good to know. last question: got any STDs i need to know about?”

oh, for fuck’s sake. this is ridiculous. does he think you’ve never been to a spa before? the usual thai place you go to never asks this many questions. “do you have any STDs i need to worry about? what is this? 20 questions?”

“you can ask them to me back, i’d be happy to answer them.” he says calmly with a coy smile. “in fact, i’ll answer them right now. no, no, and no.”

you sign in defeat. “no for me too.” maybe this is what happens when a place has like, ten thousand 5 star reviews on google maps. they just ask the weirdest questions. there’s a small voice berating yourself for folding so easily regarding his questions, but whatever. you’re ready to get this treatment over with. 

“okay, take off all your clothes and wear the bathrobe. do you want me to step outside?”

what the hell kinda question is that? of course, he’s supposed to step outside? “um, yeah?” you say it almost obviously, not feeling bad about the attitude that’s coming out of you. 

gojo raises his hand in surrender. “sorry, just askin’...” he grabs his clipboard and steps out of the room, saying he’ll be back in five minutes for the warm up massage. you quickly undress yourself. you have a feeling he’s the type to come in within seconds of knocking on the door without checking to see if you’re decent. you’re unsure where to place your clothes other than the table next to the cabinet so you neatly fold them, hiding your underwear and bra within the folds of your yoga pants and sweatshirt. 

just as promised, gojo shows up five minutes later with one knock before welcoming himself in. he’s holding a dark colored glass bottle filled with a calming essential oil for massaging, and turns on the diffuser in the room. 

“thanks for undressing,” he says, looking at the neatly folded pile of clothes on the counter. “alright, here’s how this is gonna go. i’m gonna give you a nice full body massage to loosen your muscles up, and then we do the facial last, sound good, princess?” 

your skin tingles at him calling you that nickname, but you ignore it. there’s no way i can let my mind wander like that when he’s giving me a massage. you nod your head in agreement, and lay on your back slowly, fidgeting with the ends of  your bathrobe so that you’re not totally exposed to him. gojo slowly hovers his hands over you and lightly touches your stomach, patting it to get your attention, but it causes you suck in a breath a bit too loudly. 

“gotta go on your stomach for me for this one,” he says, urging you to flip around. “gonna undo this, okay?” he tugs at the knot you made on your bathrobe and you nod. he slowly undoes it, and you feel exposed as your breasts peek out through the sides. you cross your legs almost immediately, feeling incredibly exposed in front of a fully clothed gojo. 

you quickly turn on your stomach before he has a chance to take in your body. you feel his cold fingers slowly expose your back, as he stops right before the hump of your ass. you hear him squeezing out some of the oil and warming it up in his hands as he gets to work on your back. 

you suck in a sharp breath between your teeth as his cold fingers explore the knots on your back. 

“cold isn’t it? you’ll get used to my fingers, promise,” he says sweetly, as he hits a spot on your back that’s been particularly bothering you as of late. it’s too late when you let out a moan, and you hear him chuckle. “hit the right spot, didn’t i?”

he continues to undo the knot on your back, and moan back a breathy affirmation as you continue to try (and fail) to hold back your noises. “f-fuck, gojo, that feels s-so good…” you say in between his movements. 

you feel his hot breath in your ear. “told ya to call me satoru, don’t forget it next time, princess.” this time, the nickname goes straight to your pussy. it’s hard to cross your legs when you’re on your stomach and feeling delirious with the pleasure that came from the pressure of his slender fingers. 

unbeknownst you, your soft moans are slowly making their way down to gojo’s member, as he gets harder by the second. he doesn’t want to make it so obvious just yet – he’s just getting start after all. he can’t just blow his load this close into the session, but you’re sure as hell giving him a run for his money. 

“feel good?” you moan in response. gojo slowly inches his fingers down closer and closer to your ass, until it reaches the hem of your bathrobe covering it. “gonna move this down so i can do your legs, yeah?”

gojo will admit, he was a bit too excited to see your ass as he removed your bathrobe down before you could give a proper “yes” but it didn’t matter when you’re soft breaths were giving him the answer he needed. it takes everything in him to not knead the rounds of your perfect ass (he swears your cheeks were made for his hands) and move straight to your calves. 

he slowly massages the soles of your feet and calves with the oil as he moves closer to your thighs, all while relishing in your sweet moans. once he’s at your thighs, the real fun begins. gojo knows this routine like the back of his hands. 

you hear him sigh in confusion. “is everything okay?” you turn your head slightly to see him. 

“sorry about this princess, but you’re gonna have to spread your legs a little bit for me. it’s hard to get every inch of you warmed up, otherwise.”

you obey him almost too easily, and shift your thighs so that there’s more room for him to touch with his fingers. gojo’s hands reach up to slightly cup your ass, before his thumbs slowly slide into your inner thigh, lightly massaging you.

your breaths are getting shallower and louder, and you pray he doesn't go any closer to your pussy so he doesn’t see how soaked you are. you’ve never had a massage like this before, but you also don’t want him to stop. 

gojo’s fingers play with the space of your inner thigh before he spreads you apart, exposing you. you breath catches in your throat, and he performs the next part of his act. 

“we’ve got a pretty unconventional way of massaging our clients, princess.” you hear his voice straining. “gotta make sure you’re relaxed everywhere, but you gotta let me take care of you. think you can do that? all you have to do is relax, and let daddy do everything for you.” you can hear the lust dripping from his voice, but to be honest, you couldn’t give a shit at this point. 

“y-yeah, please, satoru, whatever you want. please, i just…i just feel so good right now,” you say, your eyes shut tight, and your hips practically squirming under his touch. you think you might go insane if he doesn’t touch you there in the next second. 

hook, line, and sinker. who’s gojo to deny your request? he graduated top of his class at his cosmetology and esthetician university, after all. his fingers glide almost too easily between your folds as he starts playing with your throbbing core. he can feel how needy your pussy is for his hands as he spreads your slick all over your core. 

the pleasure immediately gets caught in the pillow that muffles your moans. fuck, so this is what all the reviews were talking about. you feel his fingertips dancing around your clit and you want to shout at him to pay attention to it. 

“s-satoru~ p-please…i need you right there…” you say in between your moans. 

“where? here?” gojo’s finger taps your clit lightly, and it makes your entire body twitch with pleasure. he has to press down on the small of your back to keep you place as his fingers rub circles around your bundle of nerves, making you whimper. you unconsciously grind your hips against his fingers, trying to get close to your release. 

“need a better angle. face down, ass up.” gojo commands, and your body conforms to his words. you prop your lower body up with your knees while your face is sideways against the head of the massage table. he uses this now better angle to really rub his fingers into your folds and bundle of nerves, sending electricity throughout your body. you feel the dam building up inside you and threatening to break. 

“satoru~ i’m-i’m getting c-close…ah~” you hands grip on to the sides of the massage table as you brace for the earth shattering orgasm to rip through you, and with gojo’s deft fingers, you’re on cloud nine in no time. 

your body slumps back down and your eyes roll back as the vibrations of your release still radiate through your body. you hear  your pulse pumping through your head as you try to catch you breath, but you feel gojo’s now warm hands flip you on your back, and his face inches from yours. 

“you took that so well, princess. we’re not done, yet. there’s still another part of your body that needs to warm up.” you don’t have time to process what he means as he inserts two fingers into his mouth and then deep inside your entrance. your gasp is muffled by his mouth connecting to yours, hard, teeth and all. his fingers are long, and they easily find your sensitive g-spot as they curl upwards and bully your internal bundle of nerves. it’s quite embarrassing how quickly you’re ready for another release, and how hungry your entrance was for his finger, practically sucking them in and clenching around them immediately. 

“f-fuck~ i’m about to-” you don’t get to finish your sentence, as another orgasm rips through your body. gojo kisses you again to block your moans, and your hands wrap around his neck to pull him even closer to you. he playfully bites on your lower lip as you ride out your release on his fingers. 

gojo’s kisses turn into soft quick pecks as your breathing steadies and your eyes can focus again. “we’re not done yet,” he teases, slowly taking his slick coated fingers out of you. 

you don’t even have the energy to respond back as he flips you on you back. through heavy eyes, you look back up at him, biting back a moan as he restarts rubbing circles on your extremely sensitive clit. he needs to take off his shirt and fuck you already. 

“need something?” gojo teases, sensing your neediness from just your eyes. 

“take off your shirt, dumbass.” you say through gritted teeth. 

“try again.” he presses harder on your clit, and you let out an unsanctioned yelp through your teeth. 

“f-fuck~ please take off your shirt, dumbass.”

he smiles. “well, if you insist…” he rolls his eyes, feigning inconvenience, but the slowly growing tent in his pants says otherwise. gojo unbuttons his shirt, revealing a perfectly sculpted torso. now this is just unfair. 

“geez, my eyes are up here.” he teases, smirking at you as you quickly meet his eyes and feel your face flush. he unbuckles his belt and you slowly sit up from the massage table. you’re overcome with the urge to touch him, everywhere. you hook your finger to the belt loop of his pants and pull him closer to you. 

gojo smirks as he wraps his arms around hips and leans down to kiss you deeply. you feel your core ache for his touch again as his tongue explores your mouth again. you trace his perfectly sculpted torso, the indents of his abs slightly sweaty to your touch. your hands slowly make their way to the zipper of his slacks, but gojo immediately grabs your wrist to stop you from taking them fully off. 

“not just yet…” he murmurs in between kisses. while his lips are still locked on you, he slowly pushes your body back on the massage table and starts kissing down your bare stomach, the measly bathrobe long since discarded somewhere on the floor. gojo leaves small wet kisses along your body until he reaches your inner thighs. 

you suck in a breath as you involuntarily spread your legs for him, earning an enthusiastic hum from gojo, who’s still continuing to leave a trail of kisses that are inching closer and closer to where you need his mouth to be the most. “p-please~” you moan, your eyes closed in bliss. 

“please what, princess? use your words,” gojo coos, coming face to face with your soaking wet core. he blows on the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your legs to twitch.

you can’t stand his fucking teasing but you need to be eaten out, so bad. “f-fuck y-you, gojo~” you say, pushing your core up to his face, trying to aim for his mouth before he easily pushes your hips back on the table. you hear him tsk in disapproval, and tears welling up in your eyes in desperation. “please, your tongue…inside me…please~” you whimper weakly. 

“since you begged so nicely…” gojo says before he immediately plunges his tongue inside you, almost making you scream. his tongue expertly explores your folds and sucks on your clit, making you inadvertently grind on his face. “y’taste so delicious, princess,” he says between licks as he eats you out like it’s the last pussy on earth. 

his ministrations with his tongue has you teetering on the edge in record time, and you’re threatening to spill within minutes of him eating you out. as the third wave of pleasure washes over you, you don’t have the energy in you to ask for permission as you feel your body tingle in the aftermath of it. you think you made a mess all over the massage table and gojo’s face, but you don’t have it in you to care as your eyes roll back. 

you feel gojo unbuckle his belt and take off his slack and underwear, exposing his hard member in his hands. you can see the precum leaking out the tip as you weakly lean on your elbows to prop yourself up. 

“see, princess, all those questions did have a reason after all…” he says in between breaths as he strokes himself, looking at your naked glistening body. you spread your legs further in anticipation of feeling him. “but there you were, being such a fuckin’ brat about answering them…” gojo says, eyebrows furrowing as he brings his tip closer to your core and you bite your lip in anticipation. 

“guess you better fuck the attitude outta me, then?” you say, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes filled with mindless lust. you don’t even care about the consequences or who hears or even if you get your facial – you just need him. every part of your body craved him. 

gojo wastes no time at your suggestion, his tip entering you as you let out a lecherous moan. you feel the initial pain of his larger than average member tearing your tight entrance apart, and bite back a moan. gojo grits his teeth as he lets out a steady throaty groan. 

“fuck, princess. so fuckin’ tight. sure you’re not a virgin?” 

“s’too much satoru, y-you’re huge…ahh~” 

“too bad, princess.” he says, surprising you as he starts thrusting agonizingly slowly into you, bottoming out and effectively reaching the sensitive spot inside you. pain slowly turns into pleasure as you indulge in the feeling of your g-spot getting kissed by his member – the spot that you can never reach by yourself using your own fingers.  

“f-faster, please~” you urge gojo, and he obliges almost immediately, quickening his pace. he bullies your sloppy and wet core, as he watches your titties bounce with every thrust. unlike most people his age, it’s times like this where gojo realizes he really fucking loves his job. 

he reaches out and gives your titties a rough squeeze while he remains unrelenting in his pace. he feels your pussy clench around him, and he knows you’re close, and if he’s being honest, so is he. but he cannot cum just yet, and definitely not before you do. gojo abandons your titties and slides down his fingers to your clit as he starts rubbing inelegant circles around it, getting you closer and closer to the edge. 

you feel the dam breaking once again as the combination of him rubbing and fucking you comes to a climax. the orgasm travels to every corner of your body, as you see stars in your vision while gojo fucks your brains out. you hold on to his shoulders to steady yourself. based on how sloppily gojo is getting, you can tell he’s about to get close, too. you’re about to brace for him to finish inside you, when he abruptly pulls out, earning him a confused look from you. 

“lay down,” he commands more than asks, as he hastily pushes your chest down on the massage table. your sweaty skin sticks to the faux leather, but you don’t pay attention as he moves to the side of your face, holding his soaked member near it. 

gojo starts stroking his throbbing leaking member sensually, and you innately open your mouth and stick your tongue out. so this is the facial? the dots connected in your head at the same time gojo’s ropes of warm cum decorated your face – chin, cheeks, mouth, and all. you hear gojo’s throaty groans as he finishes on you and make sure not a single drop that gets on or near mouth gets wasted, swallowing pridefully. 

gojo leans closer to your ear as he catches his breath from his climax. “that’s the milkbomb facial,” he says cheekily, and you can’t help but giggle. you both take a couple more seconds to catch your breath. you watch gojo as he puts on his pants and tucks in his shirt, looking like he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you. he runs his fingers through his hair quickly as he goes to the counter and pulls out a warm eucalyptus towel as he takes his time to gently wipe your face and body. 

“that was fun,” you murmur, looking at the ceiling, finally understanding what the reviews you read about this earlier place meant. you definitely came here, multiple times in one day for sure. 

gojo chuckles as he goes over to wash his hands and you notice his forearms are glistening with your release. “that’s why we’re the best spa out here, princess.”

you notice your legs shaking slightly, but you manage to hop off the massage table, slightly dazed. gojo notices and helps you get on your feet and put on your clothes. the entire activity is soft and gentle compared to how he was just a couple minutes before. 

everything that you both have done in the past hour finally dawns on you, and you suddenly feel very shy despite whatever the contrary happened on the massage table. it’s so awkward now, like, what do you guys even talk about now? does he do this to everyone? is this their entire schtick?

“do you…do this with all your clients?” you whisper to him as you follow him out into the hallway to the exit. you cross your hands tightly to your chest, as if it’s shrouding you from other people finding out what happened in the room behind you. 

“ah, i’m not one to kiss and tell.” gojo puts his hands in his pockets and glances back at you, giving you a quick wink as you follow behind him, trying to keep up with him as he turns corners.s

“oh, so you do do this everyone, huh?” you challenge, your shyness slowly melting away with gojo’s playful tone.. 

“did you enjoy it?”

a pause from you.. “yes.”

“then don’t worry about it, kitten.” gojo pauses before he opens the door and turns to you. “listen, i wouldn’t mind if you came here again for the tokyo special, you know. i’ll even give you a discount, too.” he says earnestly. 

you let out a giggle. “oh? a discount?”

“yeah, the tight pussy discount.”

“shut up!” you say, and you playfully smack his shoulder, and you both laugh. 

“so… is that a yes? i’ll see you next week?” 

you bite your lip. “maybe, i dunno.” you give him a wink before opening the door, and you both know fully well that you’ll be back on the massage table again in no time with gojo pounding into you. 

needless to say, gojo wasn’t lying when he said they were the best spa in town because by the time your sister’s wedding came around, your face was quite literally glowing. 

“wow! y/n – you’re just looking so radiant today! what’s your secret?” an auntie who’s name you cannot remember gleams, looking at you. 

you smirk, and try to hold back the heat from flushing your cheeks. “oh, just a really good facial,” you say. technically, you’re being honest, right?

“jesus, dude. is this all from skin care daddy?” nobara says, as the tenth person from the wedding compliments your skin. 

“you have no idea. they really know what they’re doing.” you say nonchalantly. you pull out your phone and text a recently saved number. 

you: got any slots for a tokyo special tomorrow?

within minutes you get a response: 

gojo: u know i do babygirl. btw a new guy just joined our spa. hope it’s cool sukuna joins to observe  😈

[illyrian-dreamer]

Dance with the devil – Part 1

Rhysand x fem!reader series

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Words: 3.3k

TW: Violence, death

Notes: Morally grey Rhysand below the cuff 😈😈😈

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

Tick, tick, tick.

That stern voice nagged in your mind, laced with forewarning and impatience that only frustrated you further. 

You had just minutes to find the scroll and get out. 

With gritted teeth, you leaned closer, drowning out that voice - likely your mothers - as well as the drumming of your heart, waiting for that final click. 

You were versed in charming locks, picking them when you had to, just as you did now. And what waited on the other side of this door was worth every swallow of bile, every rise and swell of panic that begged you to think of the consequence - of what would happen if you were caught. 

It was only a half-moon prior that you had snuck into the infamous libraries of the Day Court while the city slept, hunting concealed maps and etchings of Helion’s castle. You studied the corridors and winding staircases of the impressive home, squinting through the flickering glow of the small fae light you had allowed yourself to cast, anxious eyes lifting reluctantly every so often, humouring the phantom furl of a page or shiver down your spine. 

So you pressed those routes to memory – sewers, plumbing, hidden passageways marked in some maps and not others. They were your only true salvage if things went wrong.  

Weapons were now strapped to every part of your leathers that would allow, layers of magic shielding your scent and sound so strong it made your joints ache, as if buckling under their weight.

Easy in, easy out, quick on your feet and don't look back.

That mantra was your only comfort as you silently slipped into the lavish guest suite, a breath of relief that its layout matched your efforts of breaking into the libraries. Because although night never found this court, there was only a small window in which the High Lords were away from their suites, and time was a persistent foe. 

It was incredibly risky to break into the guest quarters of the High Lord of the Night Court, especially after Hellion had declared his home a neutral grounds for the High Lord’s meeting. But what Rhysand possessed was invaluable – that scroll of ancient tongue, the only one of it’s kind. It was worth the risk of your own life, of certain death if you were caught.

Careful, gloved fingers sifted through the papers on the desk, making sure not to leave anything out of place. 

The details you had gained on the High Lord were valuable – he was neat, more than neat, really – his room immaculate and organised. A paper left rippled, a chair at a slight angle, even a stray hair on the sprawling marble floor – all were things he would surely notice. 

But you could tread lightly, could play to that game of fine detail. Nimble as a mouse – that’s how your father had always described you, affection warming his face as he compared you to your boisterous brother. 

With a clench of your heart, you forced the memory out. Once you had that scroll – soon. You would be together again soon.

As you crouched low to sift through the chestnut draws, mahogany carved with the kind of finery that made you sick, a hint of gold gleamed from the corner of the room, the light catching your eye. 

Padding with quiet creaks from your boots, you allowed yourself only a moment to admire the array of scrolls that lay in the wooden chest – it’s lid tipped open, beckoning to be explored. In the centre perched the most exotic of the artefacts. Boring rings of gold, it winked at you, a true diamond in the rough. 

With gentle inspection, you traced the characters etched in it’s casing, a cryptic ode of ancient tongue. 

A whisper of magic kissed your face, stray hairs dancing as goosebumps prickling beneath your leathers. It was waft of excitement, danger, magic aged by civilisations – this was a powerful scroll indeed.

With a hand on each end of the casing, you gently lifted the scroll into your satchel, careful not to knock it or disturb the casing. You would return it after all, once traced.

There was a shift in the air then, and a sinking feeling rippled through your abdomen, like a stone dropped into still water.

Get out – that voice urged. 

You had spent too long here already. 

Swallowing the fastening hammer of your heart, you raised from your knees, eyeing the unsuspecting cupboard  – behind it a hidden door, and behind that a winding pathway would lead you clear to the gardens.

You almost scoffed – this was easier than you had thought.

How could the High Lord be so reckless to leave something of this value lying about? 

The pit of your stomach deepened. 

Too easy – much, much too easy. 

An open, gaping well. 

Oh gods, this was a–

And then darkness – everywhere. 

You gasped, catching glimpses of red and blue as you staggered back. Your back hit something solid – no, someone. Strong arms gripped yours wrists, pinning them behind you. You tried to yell, but your breath hitched as violet eyes glowered amongst the tendrils of midnight smog, choking any sound that whined in your throat. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” a sultry voice purred, a refined silhouette emerging from the darkness, tall and broad. 

A gleam of teeth pulled with a feline smile, the figure prowling closer. Dangerous, lethal, ever knowing with a hint of cockiness.

And as tendrils of night magic cleared around their master, the High Lord of the Night Court was revealed.

Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement as he watched realisation set in – your own features taut with horror. 

“Hello, Y/N darling.”

You were dead meat.

A heavy, intrusive sensation caused a shiver to rack through you as phantom claws tore through your useless shields, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of your own fear. 

Rhysand’s pretty grin only grew.

In a hopeless attempt to flee, you barely moved an inch as you tugged against the impossible grip on your arms.

He was closing in, coldness seeping from him as his magic curling in on itself, devouring any hints of warmth from the room, from your own veins. 

And then he stopped, just one agonising pace shy from your heaving chest. 

Here he was – High Lord of the Night Court. Wickedly cruel, arrogant and unnervingly calm, a cat who toyed with its food. The legendary villain of whispered rumours and horror stories exchanged amongst children of your village in the court of Dawn, parents so tired from their youngens loss of sleep that he was a banished name from many households.

Your eyes danced with a panic as instincts forced you to look for any chance of survival. Dressed with finery, but not a weapon on him – that was good. 

But as the shadows began to clear, another male was revealed perching patiently against the wall behind, blue siphons flickering as he stood with wide legs, arms crossed and face stoic. Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster, waited patiently for your attempt of escape, his own shadows at the ready. 

Fuck.

That meant the male that bound you was Cassian – Warlord and Chief General of the Illyrian armies. 

You were as good as dead.

Your breathing stuttered as you swallowed the plea for mercy begging at your lips. They were going to kill you, that was certain. You could only hope they would do it quickly.

“My my, Y/N,” Rhysand drawled, his voice playful and sensual. “We weren't certain if you were going to take the bait.” 

Placing hands on knees, he lowered himself to your level, those violet eyes captivating you, their depth incomprehensible. You tried to break Rhys’s gaze, but you rendered helpless, realising the cruel use of his magic. 

“But I’m so glad this is how we get to meet.”

He was expecting you? 

You glared back, your breaths quickening at the dangerous proximity.

If not at his mercy, you would have spat at his condescending manner. But instead you fought aimlessly against Cassian’s hold, the male pulling you back against his chest with a jarring tug, his grip tightening until you felt your pulse in your wrists. 

Your mind was scattering with each second, frantic eyes dancing at the High Lord before you. You hadn't expected him to be so… handsome. 

“Why, thank you,” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at you, that cat like grin exchanged for a lob-sided one. 

Had he just–? You scowled, cursing him silently. His abilities as a deamanti also deeming true.

Rhysand chuckled at your foul words, his laugh unexpectedly soft. “Such a feisty thing you are,” he commented, raking his purple eyes down your body. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, despite the layers of leathers and weaponry you wore. 

“Let me go,” you spat hoarsely, heaving against the General once more. 

“You’re not in any position to make that request,” Cassian huffed, pulling back on the little distance you had gained. His voice was gruff as it hummed through your back.

You turned your head to look at the Warlord for the first time. He too, like the other males in the room, was noticeably handsome. His long hair fell into his face as he looked down at you, his eyes almost as amused as his High Lord. 

Were you just a joke to them?

“Oh, sweet Y/N, you’re not a joke at all. We’re actually quiet impressed by you,” Rhysand toyed, his eyebrows raised with a mocking tone. “We know you’ve been trailing us for months, Azriel here picked up on your movements in our court a whole quarter year ago.”

You flicked your eyes to the Spymaster, his position and face unmoving at his mention. You couldn't help your scowl at the male who was responsible to securing your death. 

“What we didn't expect, was for you to make it this far,” Rhysand continued with a chuckle, his head shaking in playful dismay.

Great – now on top of everything else, you were completely insulted.

“That’s why we set this trap for you. So we could finally meet.”

You frowned at Rhysand. You had been so careful, so stealthy about all your work in spying on the High Lord, slaving over maps and reports until you could no longer keep your eyes open, using the little money you had to buy off secrecy, and always covering your tracks. But it still hadn't been enough.

“Don’t look so disheartened, little mouse,” Rhysand purred, before he picked a piece of lint off his fitted black jacket. “The fact that you were able to break into my quarters alone is incredibly impressive.”

It had in fact, taken a lot of work. To sneak into Hellion’s home had taken three disenchantment spells, and compromised a suite of his guards who were yet to rise from their enchanted slumber. The locks and spells on Rhysand’s chamber were another thing in itself. 

“What will you do with me?” you gritted, glaring between the males in front of you, desperate to know your fate.

Rhysand dipped his head back and laughed, his posture too calm, too casual. 

“What will we do with you, hmm?” he repeated, and a shrinking instinct finding you, one that you hadn't felt since you were a child.

“Perhaps the question is, what would you like us to do with you?” It was a lovers voice, sensual and suggestive. 

You couldn't help the thunder of your heart as his scent filled your nose, crudely laced with arousal as it found you with a phantom wind.

Rhysand was on you then, his face inches from your own as swirls of night filled your vision, his violet eyes the only light you could see. 

You gasped at the sight before you – it was beautiful, but so, so deadly. 

“I don’t like having my things taken from me, Y/N.” Rhysand growled, his voice now cold, unforgiving. Those same claws that tore your shields now traced the outskirts if your mind, talons sinking slightly in warning. 

Despite the little pain, it was instinct to scream.

You tried to make quick peace at the thought of his violet eyes being the last thing you would ever see.

Open your eyes, he commanded mind to mind. 

Without realising you had closed them, you found yourself unable to disobey.

Rhysand withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, his darkness disappearing with him as he slid his hands into his pockets, rocking on fine shoes. His behaviour was erratic, such a contrast to the moment before. 

“Of course, it would be such a waste of good talent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t toyed with your very consciousness just moments before. 

You watched him pace, your eyes flicking to the spymaster once more, before noting the exits of the room you knew well. 

“You don't stand a chance,” Azriel spoke plainly, his hand fingering one of many blades strapped to his strong frame. A warning, from one spy to another.

Rhysand grinned between you two, running a smooth hand through his black-blue hair. 

Was he entertained by the idea that you were willing to give a fight? 

You felt a low rumble from Cassian’s chest, all three males daring you to challenge them in their own way. 

Azriel was right – it was suicide to try. 

Rhysand hummed with pleasure, reading your submission as your body sagged every so slightly. 

“I’ll tell you what, Y/N. I’ll make you a deal.” 

A bargain, a promise, and perhaps a riddle from Prythian’s deadliest High Lord. 

“I’d rather you kill me,” you said tightly. 

Rhysand laughed again, and you felt the movements of Cassian’s chuckle from behind. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Surely there’s a tad more fight in you than that?” 

You scowled in return. 

Rhysand approached you again, now holding the scroll of ancient tongue. 

“What do you know of this scroll?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

You winced. “I don't know anything.”

Rhysand tutted. “Little liar,” he grinned at you, his violet eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’ll ask one more time,” he sang.

You felt them again, and it took all you had to not crumble at Cassian’s boots at the flooding pain as Rhysand dragged a singular, scraping talon across your mind and back. 

“Resurrection!” you yelped – a half breath, half scream escaping you as your legs gave out. Cassian held you up, your body rigid as Rhysand’s talon pierced your mind further. The pain was blinding, eliciting a howl from you as your vision flashed with white. 

Yet Rhysand’s icy threat cut through. “I have a lot of enemies, Y/N. I don't suppose you are hoping to fetch a pretty penny for anyone who might seek to bring back the rightfully dead?”

“No, n-no!” you gasped, your body spasming and contorting as he continued to toy with you. “Please, it’s for m-my family!”

Rhysand left your mind as quickly as he had entered it. You sagged in relief, Cassian gently setting you down as your crumpled to the floor, your body shaking and twitching. 

You had just enough energy to raise your eyes and meet the High Lord’s stare. Gone was his expression of cruel amusement, it was now replaced with a frown of serious, deep thought. 

He had seen them – your family, their smiles and laughter as your memory flashed at their mention. That meant he had also seen their deaths, their limp bodies piled for you to find in your own home. 

“You wish to resurrect them?” Rhys asked softly. 

All you could do was nod. You were sure you weren't noting a sense of sympathy from the male.

Rhys shook his head, his eyes closing. “If it were that easy Y/N, I’d have the missing kin to my own family here today.”

You looked up at the High Lord through heavy lids, exhaustion overcoming your body with an occasional twitch. 

“I have to try,” was all you could offer, your voice small and unsure. 

Rhysand stared down at you with furrowed brows, serious yet unreadable. After a few moments, he blinked, a few stars returning to his eyes as he raised them to Cassian with a quick nod. 

Strong hands unfurled from your arms, and Cassian stepped back, providing you some space on the marbled tiles as you shook.

Death then, at last. May the Mother have mercy, let it be quick, you prayed silently.

A gentle pull of your hand from your face, and your fingers were forced to close around a ovoidal object. 

Rhysand was crouched in front of you, his face unreadable as his cold hand kept your fingers pressed to the scroll

“I’ll tell you what Y/N. You find a way to decipher this scroll and bring back your family. And when you do, you share that information with me, so that I may do the same.”

You pulled your hand back, eyes darting between his violet ones as if you read the trick that undoubtedly hid beneath his offer. 

“And why in Mother’s name would I trust you?”

He smirked humourlessly. “Unless you prefer the alternative –“ Rhysand’s eyes blackened instantly, and your heart skipped a beat at the promise of death that beheld them. “– I don’t believe you have a choice.”

Make a bargain with the High Lord, or die. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you have predicted an ultimatum so soulless.

“Do we have a deal?” Rhysand offered his large hand as he still crouched before you, his eyebrows raising with a hint of impatience.

You flicked your gaze between Azriel and Cassian. Both of them watched patiently, their stances neutral, obedient of their High Lord’s business. It bothered you – how were both of them so complicit to his evil? 

Looking back at Rhysand – you ignored the voice inside you that screamed at you not to trust him. 

Letting out a short breath, you lifted yourself to your knees and clasped your hand in his. “It’s a deal.”

A gasp escaped you as a stinging heat spread across the hand held in his, and etched it’s way up your forearm. With wide eyes, you watched the burn and itch of a ink-like pattern forming on your skin. Swirls now covered your once naked arm, the picture of one hand shaking another stark on the inside of your palm. It was your hand in Rhysand’s – a symbol of the bargain you had just agreed to. For eternity, or until you deciphered this scroll you realised, with no lack of nausea.  

Rhysand grinned, marvelling the matching tattoo that now tainted his skin. “I’ll be checking in on your progress frequently, Y/N darling.” 

Unable to find the right words for you distaste, you snatched your hand away and pressed against your stomach, willing your self not to be sick.

You were now indebted to this hellish, sinister being.

Rhysand appeared as unfazed. “Perhaps you would consider a job in my court with Azriel?” he mused, flexing his fingers as he continued to take in the impressive detail of your bargain. “Again, we were quite impressed with your work.” 

He was teasing of course, and Azriel’s hazel eyes winced with humour as all three males watched for your reaction. 

You scowled at Rhysand, glaring up at him again. “I prefer my freedom, actually,” you snarled. 

Rhysand laughed in his sensual way, before grinning a wicked smile down at you. “Or what’s left of it. 

He straightened then, his wig men moving to his sides with grace – a practiced dance for all three. 

“I suggest you excuse yourself from my quarters the moment we’re gone Y/N, I’ll know otherwise.”

With a clasp to his shoulders from Azriel and Cassian, the three males were gone in a ripple of odourless night. 

Until then, little spy, Rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind.

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

AN: Ok new series let's gooooo!! Welcome to DWTD! Hello morally grey mosthandsomehighlordofthenightcourt 💞😈 I am so so excited to explore this series with y'all. Pleeeeease let me know what you think of part 1, I wrote this over so many months lol I hope it tied together. General tag list is tagged, but if you'd like to join a tag list for this series (DWTD), comment below! La la love you guys, hope you're all safe and doing ok 💞

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Four times Simon wanted to kiss you, you're just so irresistible that Simon couldn't wrap it together why he's obsessed with you. The one sided feeling (from his point of view) that he tried to suppress always fail successfully cause what, you're existing and that's enough to make his knees weak. Something about the way your lips moving while talking, or the way they open when eating, and the way your lips are just there. The softness, plump and shape of your lips. Sometimes, your lips are glistening with lip balm, spit and water. Simon never feel this strong urge before and now he's going to take what he needs to claim — your inviting lips

Your Inviting Lips - Simon “Ghost” Riley*Reader

Hello! I hope you don’t mind having the last few words of your req as the title because they’re beautiful! and tyvm for the idea :D 💖

Simon wonders if you know how intoxicating you are.

He will fall to his knees if you chant praises, watching your plump lips move, tongue darts out and give it a swipe, like coating sugar to already juicy cherries.

He’s falling, deep and deeper, to this unknown abyss. Is it a honey trap? Is it worth him to become human? He has no idea.

Will he stop this expedition? No chance.

There’s no map leading him to your heart, so he just watches you from afar, observing how your lips open, take a bite at the strawberry.

If he takes you in his arms right now, and presses his chapped lips to your soft ones, will it taste as sweet as the strawberry? can he derive a hint of the sweetness when his tongue dances with yours?

The smile you wear on your lips, why is it so irresistible? The slight curl at the corner, he wants to caress it with his calloused thumb, hoping that won’t ruin the perfection. The shape of your lips is prettier than any model he sees on those lipstick posters.

He never dreams of reciprocating from you. The one side feeling will last forever, till he sees another man claim those lips that should be his.

Your existence is already enough for him, encouraging him to breathe, subsiding his anger.

Don’t be greedy, Simon tells himself, yet it’s difficult when you keep tugging at his heartstrings and staying oblivious.

Albeit he repeats the sentence as if it’s a motto, the screaming reminding him to make you his in his mind overshadows it when he walks into the room, and spots you having a lip balm in your hand.

“You should quit staring, LT.” Simon hears you chuckles, eyes meeting his through the mirror.

“Curious about how to put on lip balm?”

“Just a bit.”

“Well” With the lip balm in your hand, you stand up and raise an eyebrow at him. “How about you try it yourself?”

His eyes stick on your figure as you sway towards him. Every click of your heels only makes his heart pound harder against his chest.

Taking over the lip balm, and looking back at you, eyes closed and pouting a bit for him to spread the ointment on you.

Not now. Simon restrains the urge as he cradles your face in his palm, and carefully starts his mission.

“Not bad.” You take a glimpse at your pocket mirror.

“Thanks I guess.”

“Don’t you want to learn more?”

“About what?” He’s reading the tag on the lip balm as you ask.

“I’m sure you will be curious about the flavor of it, Sir.”

Snapping his head up in a blink of an eye, he is able to recognize it. The smirk spreading across your glistening lips, just few inches from his masked one.

Without a second thought, he shoves his mask above his nose, and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

He smashes his lips with yours, opening his mouth when you lick at his bottom lip to demand an entrance. Two famished people, finally get the things that are theirs since the start, avariciously drink in each other's essence, absorbing the nutrients deprived for too long.

If there are no barriers between the bodies, it won’t end until the fusion of both hearts.

Pulling back and panting, his spit provides a new layer of protection for your lips.

“How’s the taste, Ghost?”

“Need one more time to make sure.”

Lips touching again, moving at a tender pace this time, Simon realizes why there’s no map indicating the path to your love.

Because he’s already at the location hoarding the treasure.

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Battle of Wills [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] You and Loki play a dirty game of denial. (w/c 1.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language.

“I give you five minutes,” Loki growled hot and wet in your ear.

The dulcet words dripped from his tongue like treacle. “Five minutes before you’re writhing and whining my name like penitent sinner on the church steps.” He gave the light restraints around your wrists a self-congratulatory yank. “Whatever, Laufeyson," you whispered, "I give you...three.” You didn’t need to see him to know he was frowning.

“Time will tell," he sniffed, haughtiness oozing. The rustle of a sanctimonious hair flick was the only noise in the pregnant silence while he straightened. “You’ll lose," you sighed, settling into the pillow. A smile pressed against the silk mask covering your eyes. “You’re too horny.” Loki’s defiant footsteps retreated, letting the bedroom door swing with a soft creak behind him. But it stayed ajar, the closing click never coming. You pressed your lips together, feeling the cracks where they had dried from his rough kisses. The corners tingled, the bruise beneath the skin of your cupids bow feeling tender. I’m not going to be the one. Not this time. You arched your back, pulling at the restraints. What knot was it tonight? A one handed slip? An inline double coin? A finger curled with difficulty over a lump of silk rope, mapping the tell-tale curves. A prusik head. So it was one of those nights. In the burgundy veil behind your eyelids, shadows danced. There was an exaggerated sigh as Loki reclined on the sofa, the creak of the frame under his weight slicing the stillness. You could feel the familiar tingle of his gaze darting sporadically towards the open door, heavy with lustful arrogance. Could he see you on the bed? Cautiously, you stretched a bare leg upwards, toe pointed to the ceiling before bending it over the other. The curve of your naked ass was displayed towards the doorway, a wordless invitation to rescue...or ravish, the bound and helpless damsel in his bed. A dark rumble sounded from the living room, a synchronised squeak from the furniture betraying your voyeur’s unmistakeable reaction. He could. You smiled, imagining his slanted brows, his tongue instinctually licking towards where you lay strewn like prey. The gloss from your abandoned pussy would still be on his lips. Beneath his nose. A taste of what he was denying himself. The primal scent would be hanging thick in his nostrils. Your sly smile stretched wider. It had been what, ten seconds? Feigning an attempt to escape the binds, you moaned softly. The sofa creaked again. You could sense the anxious whirr of Loki's racing mind, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he tried to distract himself. The slide of cotton against his thighs as he crossed his legs. A tepid exhale as he uncrossed them again. Your lip twitched, hearing the familiar clunk of his belt buckle. And so it begins, you thought; as he carefully unfurled the leather through its holster. He was trying to be quiet. Trying to be subtle. And he was failing.

You squeezed your eyelids shut beneath the blindfold, concentrating. Each breath rising in your chest was tempered as you tried to zone in on the smallest sounds which betrayed Loki’s impatience. A low hum rustled through the air. His zipper, you thought smugly as you slid your legs together, pushing your chest upwards. He paused, listening - before resuming the zipper's clandestine descent. You could sense the grit of his teeth. The silent snarl as he wordlessly cursed the game he had initiated.

The delayed pleasure built to breaking point was always worth it, but god – it was torture. Before slipping on the blindfold, Loki’s tongue had explored every crevice of your sex, bringing you tantalisingly close to the edge. The sight of his dark crown buried between your open thighs flashed through your mind in silken darkness; low pants of muffled moans wet against your skin. With one final, licentious lick his face had risen between your trembling legs. The tip of his tongue danced softly over the curve of your clit as he teased your climax like a hanging axe. Snatching it away. From the look in his eyes, you had known what was coming. Mischief. And now it was time for him to pay. “Mmmm…” you moaned softly, sliding your hips on the soft sheets. The silk of your hold-ups slipped easily against the cotton, gracefully manoeuvring you into another achingly seductive position. “Cheater,” you heard the god rumble under his breath. He inhaled sharply, breath catching. It was the sound he always made when those long fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock for the first time. Loki let out a juddering sigh as he began to stroke himself. You let your mind become quiet. From the tortuously controlled rate of his breathing, you knew he was moving slowly. Too slowly. But he couldn’t resist the urge. He would barely be touching himself, trying to work every ounce of pleasure from the lightest of pumps. He didn’t want you to know how desperate he was. And he was desperate. Or at least, he would be. You squirmed. It was all you could do not to scream for him to mount you like an animal and fuck you into the headboard. Right now his shoulder-blades would be squeezing together, jaw set in a snarl as he tempered his pleasure. The velvet skin which coated its cock; the veins which crested along the thick shaft would sizzle under his calloused fingers. You had traced every one with your tongue, each secret sensitivity exposed as he grasped the bedsheets and grit his teeth to the ceiling. Right now you knew those same perfect teeth would be grinding, those piercing eyes fixed on his woman as she widened her legs. Maybe next time he’ll bind those too, you thought with a smirk. But not tonight. Not after the timer starts. That’s against the rules.

In your speckled darkness you could picture him sitting on the sofa beyond the door as clear as day. He was still wearing his suit trousers – he could remove them but he mistakenly thought they would increase his chances of denying the urge to break first. His pale cock would be standing proud from the splayed fly, the wetted tip tapping against his stomach with every achingly slow pump of his hand. The sight of Loki of Asgard fucking himself would never get old. The way he worked his carved, chiselled body - the clench of his obliques as he tightened his grip around the leaking tip. He would gather the foreskin before pulling roughly down. You loved that. How he retained that erotic stoicism until the final, tense moment when he splattered his seed on your tongue. Your face. Your tits. The fact he had denied you that sight tonight was another reason for revenge. A muffled grunt sounded through the wall. ‘Gods’, it growled, the timbre inhuman. He knew what was coming.

You didn’t care if the hot slick between your thighs was saliva or fresh arousal. The thought of it being both sent a thrill racing through your blood. You clenched, feeling it begin to seep between your cheeks. It tickled. A moan slid past your lips as you let your legs fall open, thrusting gently to the ceiling as you arched your back. Don’t say his name, you cursed silently. Don’t call out.

The clock ticked. There was a scuff as Loki’s feet drew towards the sofa on which he sat; toes curling in his dress shoes. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Loki released a ragged breath. He sucked in sharply, the bite of pleasure from his tightening fingers making him wince. He was leaking. Drops of pre-cum squeezed from the aching tip of his cock with every reluctant sweep of his fist. He had begun too soon. He knew that. He glanced to the side, instantly regretting it. There you were, laid out like supper. Your wrists bound to his bed-frame. A prusik head knot – you wouldn’t escape that easily. Even with your talents. The sight made him weak. His stare roamed hungrily over the straps of your lingerie, supple curves glowing in the sultry light from the salt lamp. Only the bra and unhooked suspender belt remained. The matching panties lay discarded and wet on the bedroom floor. Had he ripped them in his eagerness to latch his searching mouth to your perfect little cunt? He couldn’t recall. With you, it always turned into a bit of a haze. Like an animal, he mulled; lowering his chin to his chest.

Loki bit his lip, stifling a growl as your feet slid up the sheets. The lace rims of your hold ups flashed as you squirmed coquettishly. I should have closed the door, Loki pondered bitterly. You knew exactly how to drive him to the brink. And he knew what came next.

“Gods,” he murmured gruffly, mouth agape as your knees fell open. In sync, his brows slanted. If only you could see him, you would instantly know how close he was to abandoning his hand in favour of your heavenly body. In favour of that sinfully decadent mess displayed brazenly between your open legs. Your smirk would be unbearable as he paced towards you like a defeated war-lord to yield his sword to your possession. Honour-bound to surrender. Fucking that smirk off your face would be an absolute pleasure. Loki grimaced, giving his shaft a punishing squeeze. She is growing too sure of her power over me, he snarled to himself. Do not yield. His narrowed eyes inched reluctantly over your glistening folds, plump pink skin begging to be sucked. Begging to be fucked. The top of your thighs shimmered. She’s so ready to be mine, look at her – he thought, the familiar dark haze descending. Spread and wet and insolent. Saliva welled beneath his tongue. Loki instinctively leant forward, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth as his muscles twitched. Perhaps he had been too hasty. Perhaps, tonight was not the time for games – not when you looked so- “F-fuck…” he growled, as a thumb slipped over the sensitive underside. The sticky digit caught against his foreskin, making his eyes roll back. All he needed was you. All he wanted was your hands, your mouth – your needy mewls as he made your world shake. He watched your hips thrust gently to the ceiling, every low clench of your ass driving him demented with lust.

Were you imagining his cock rocking into you? She better be. He grit his teeth. From the melodic gyration in your hips, he knew you were getting it how you liked it on nights like this. Slow, and rippling. Crushingly fluid thrusts that drove you back into the headboard and spilled you over the edge like treacle as you shamelessly howled his name. Loki’s fingers tightened around his shaft, pace quickening. His head fell back against the sofa, curls hanging sluttishly against his collarbone. He released a calculated moan of pleasure, brow furrowing as he saw your back arch in response. You will not surrender, he chanted to himself. Loki's eyes fell on your slippery sex, clenching in synchronisation with his rising groan, a well of glistening heat smothering your little cunt. Any moment now, he thought desperately, beginning to pant. Any moment now...she’ll break.

You slid one leg down the bed, warmth spreading in your belly as you heard Loki’s rattling sigh. The urge to call out to him was unbearable. To have him storm into the bedroom like a sexual warrior and begin his carnal worship, invading every curve with his weight. With his hands and mouth and words. ‘Loki...fuck me’. That’s all it would take. The phrase lingered on your tongue like salt, ready to spit. The words caught behind your teeth. God, he was too much. And you wanted it all. Now. But then, had he even been trying tonight? Or, maybe you were just that good. A single desperate whimper fluttered as you pulled the binds around your wrists. Loki choked suddenly, a rasping gasp tearing the stillness. A tight slap of his palm against the sofa sounded as he steadied himself. He had been close. Too close. You smirked as silence fell. You could barely hear him breathing. “Fuck,” Loki murmured bitterly. His tongue caught wetly on the k. There were no more words from Loki Laufeyson. Only the sound of his open belt buckle clunking gently as he stood, sword in hand. Ready to surrender.

Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @glitchquake @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

[danikamariewrites]

Turning

Vampire!Eris x reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra, King of vampires in Prythian, and his bride-to-be celebrate her decision to truly spend forever together. @erisweek2023

A/n: I give you king vampire Eris and his very devoted queen! Eris week has been so much fun, I’ve loved reading everyone’s fics/hc/posts/blurbs, edits, and art! This fandom is so freakin talented and I’m so happy to be on here with you guys❤️ I decided to add links to pictures from Pinterest that I pictured while writing this so don’t forget to click on those besties

Warnings: blood, drinking blood, murder, and I wanna say suggestive

Walking through the garden the skirts of my night black gown dragged over the gravel, my hand outstretched to graze over the soft leaves of the maze of rose bushes I'm following. Reaching the center of the garden I take in the vivid colors of the flowers in the sun.

Closing my eyes I lift my head to take in the comforting embrace of the sun one last time. Tonight is my Turning Ceremony. When Eris proposed last month he gave me the choice of joining him for true eternity as a Vampire, or staying as just Fae until I faded into the After World.

I didn’t think Eris would be able to handle my passing after only a thousand years together. And I couldn’t let my love be heartbroken forever.

Deciding to take a reprieve from the sun I head further into the garden where the roses reside. The white roses are my favorite. Along with the white marble and stone gazebo Eris had built for me when I first moved to the castle.

He took me in when my village kicked me out after accusing me of my fathers murder. I wanted to go somewhere that no one would follow. There had been rumors about the castle on the edge of the dark wood. People were terrified of the place, not even looking in its direction if they could help it. But not me. I had come up with my own stories about the dark castle as a girl. So that’s where I went.

Mine and Eris’s relationship took time. But it was well worth the wait. The King shows me nothing but love and kindness.

I stop and smell the roses. They look so lovely, reflecting the sun's bright rays. I suppose the next time I see them they will look more gray. I have no problem giving up the day time. I was always more of a night owl anyways. My parents constantly struggled to get me to go to sleep at a proper time.

Sitting, I close my eyes again and listen to the creatures of the day. I smile to myself at the buzz of the bees, the rabbits rushing through the brush, and the birds calling to each other. Letting my unbound hair rest behind my shoulders, letting the warm breeze wash over me. Days feel busy but peaceful. It’ll be nice to sit out here at night with Eris. In a quieter peace.

A male behind me clears his throat, one of the Fae day servants. I turn to look at the male over my shoulder with a small smile, “Francis, how are you?” He returns your smile, “Well my lady. And you? Your big evening is coming up.”

“Excited. I just want it to go well. For Eris’s sake.” Francis nods in agreement. “Speaking of the King, he requests your presence in his study.” I stand and let Francis lead me back through the garden and through the iron gate back to the castle grounds.

—

When we reach the doors to Eris’s study Francis stands to the side, letting me take it from here. Knocking on the door I hear Eris’s gruff voice tell me to come in. He must be concentrating on something.

I gently swing the door open and close it quickly. The grand chandelier and candles are the only light source in the room. I notice Eris has the heavy, dark velvet curtains pulled tight against the windows, not wanting to let a sliver of daylight in.

Eris’s study is one of my favorite rooms in the whole castle. It just feels so…him. He has items from things he is interested in scattered amongst the shelves, maps from ages ago, books that look like they would turn to dust if you held them.

The sofas were quite comfortable as well. When I first started getting to know Eris, and was comfortable being around him alone, we spent many nights here just talking. Enjoying a drink or two until one of us would call it a night. Or a day in his case. Mine soon.

I step up the raised platform where his desk sits and stand next to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Eris perks up and smiles at me. He takes my hand from its resting place and places soft kisses all over the back of it. “My sweet, how are you feeling today?”

“Happy, my love.” Eris’s smile widens at my words. He was overjoyed when I told him I would turn for him. I don’t think I had seen that much emotion from him. Eris hadn’t stopped showing me that joy.

Eris pushed his chair back, patting one of his muscular thighs for me to sit on. I drape my arms around his shoulders and sit, resting my head on his chest. “Are you nervous at all?” I adjust my neck to look up at him and start to play with the ends of his long auburn hair that’s tied back today. “A little. I just want everything to be perfect is all.”

Eris hums. “It will be my sweet. I will be there with you every step of the way.” Eris brings his hand to cup the back of my neck. His thumb brushed over the small puncture scars from his fangs when he marked me as his. I shiver at the touch.

“Thank you, Eris.” He kisses the top of my head and stands, placing me on the ground as well.

Cupping my face with both hands he stares deeply into my eyes. “I love you so much, y/n. I don’t say this enough, but you have made me the happiest male in the whole world. And I’m so happy it is you who will be by my side forever.”

I feel tears prick at my eyes as Eris rests his forehead against mine. “Oh Eris, you make me so happy too.” I rise up on my toes and connect my lips to his in a short but passionate kiss. It pained me to pull apart from him but I must get ready for tonight. The party will start immediately after sundown and the other lords are already on their way.

“I have to go, my love. I’ll see you later.” Eris gives me one last parting kiss after walking me to the doors. As I walk down the hall towards my chambers I wring my hands to get out my nerves. Tonight would be perfect. And everything will be fine.

—

Ophelia finished pinning my hair up in a soft, romantic bun with a few strands of hair left loose in my face. When she moved away I turned to check my dress one last time. Staring straight at my reflection I smooth down my red silky dress.

“It’s time my lady.” Ophelia said in a sing-song voice. She holds my door open for me and I float out into the hall.

As I get closer to the ballroom the chattering of our guests gets louder and louder. I stop behind the closed double doors and wait to announced.

I take one last deep breath before putting a stoic look on my face. To show that I’m ready and willing to take this next step.

Eris’s lead advisor announces my arrival and the doors open. Revealing the crowd parted down the middle of the room. Eris’s throne has been moved in here for the occasion. He sits at the end of the makeshift aisle. A long blood-red carpet separating us.

He looks otherworldly in his white suit. The gold embellishments glinting in the candle light that surrounds him. Eris smiles at me, beckoning me forward. Giving me a look that says, you don’t need to worry my sweet it’s just you and me.

I take a step, then another and another. Remembering to pace myself. To not look too eager or too hesitant.

I finally reach Eris with a stupid grin plastered on my face. All stoicism melting away. Before I could kneel at his feet and expose my neck to him he stood.

There were scattered murmurs among the crowd. I couldn’t be bothered to worry about what anyone was saying. Not when Eris is holding my chin between his fingers and looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. “Remember,” he whispers, “I’m here every step of the way.”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Ready?” “Ready.”

Eris turns me to the crowd. As he gives his speech about this being the first Turning Ceremony in two hundred years and he’s glad to give the lords and his subjects to celebrate, I look around the room. I take in the vampire lords for the first time. They’re all so different. I’ll have to ask Eris more about the different courts if I’m to be his queen soon.

As Eris finishes his speech and my attention is brought back to him. He leans down to whisper in my ear. “You smell divine, my sweet. Sinking my fangs into you this evening will be even better than before.” Eris noses down my neck, taking in my scent.

He stops right at my puncture scar and licks. I start getting impatient and push my neck subtly at his mouth. He lets out a breathy chuckle that tickles my skin. “Someone’s eager.” You tsk at him. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

I do as he says in anticipation of the feeling of his fangs sinking into me. After a few more seconds that euphoric pain spreads through me. The intimate scene taking place in front of everyone causing my cheeks to have a pink tint. I bite my lip to hold my moans back.

Eris sucks and sucks and I feel something else. This pain is different than when Eris usually feeds on me. This was the venom Eris prepared me for. It was excruciating. My skin feels tight and clammy. My brain going fuzzy. I feel my canines expand and become sharper.

Eris releases me, wiping at the blood still trickling from my neck.

I can already feel the venom affecting me. Changing my needs and instincts. My mouth feels dry and my tongue heavy. Like a lump of sand I can’t swallow in the middle of my mouth. The mingling of different scents overwhelms me.

Before I know it Eris is sitting me on his throne and snapping at two guards off to the side of the room.

They bring in a Fae female dressed in simple dark robes and force her to her knees at my feet. She looks up at me, closes her eyes, and tilts her neck for me. She must be one of the many Children of the Blessed who sacrifice themselves for these rare rituals.

“For you, my sweet.” Eris says, his voice echoing around the still silent room. I can practically hear everyone holding their breath in anticipation. “Drain her and complete your Turning.” Eris backs away to stand with the court Lords.

I don’t need to be told twice. I grab the female on both sides of her face. I yank her towards me with my new found strength and lean down to sniff her neck. Just like Eris did to me. Her blood is the best thing I’ve smelt in my whole life. Better than any dessert or meal. Better than my favorite white roses.

Without a second thought I bite down into her supple skin and drink like I’m new to the world. The nameless female I drink from occasionally screams from the pain I’m inflicting on her. In the haze of my feeding I’m sure I tried to tell her to be quiet.

Once I feel her go limp I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until she’s dry. Not until I’m satisfied.

I can taste the last of her blood coming up. It reminds me of the last of the liquid left in a teapot. I detach myself from her, letting her body fall to the floor. Blood dribbles down my chin and onto my exposed chest. Looking up I search for Eris.

Eris was staring at me with piercing, wild eyes. The corners of his pale lips upturned in a wicked grin. He was looking at me like he had never seen something so beautiful. The sight of me covered in blood, committing myself even further to him brought him joy.

I started to wipe the female's blood from my chin, smearing it on my hands. Eris was before me in an instant. His pale slender hand wrapped around my wrist bringing my hand to his mouth to lick. To taste what my first drink tasted like.

A low growl came from his chest as his eyes closed. I fell forward, still a little weak from the venom and feeding for the first time. My bloody hands leave marks on his crisp white jacket.

Cheers erupt around us. Our guests ecstatic to have a new vampire in their midst. I smile up at my stunning fiancé. The love of my life. My King. I feel like I’m seeing him in a whole new light. Like he’s brighter, more clear.

My smile shows off my fangs and the blood coating my teeth. “Hi.” I whisper at him. The party was in full swing now. Our guests back to chatting and enjoying the music.

“Hello, my sweet.” Eris thumbs at the sharpness of one of my fangs. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice smooth and deep.

“Shall we join the party?” He shakes his head a little, “Not yet. I want to admire you like this for a bit longer.”

[gingermintpepper]

Fate-Master I

I did say I would post more wips of my Zeus and Apollo writing so here's a bit from a series I've been writing concerning a young Apollo grappling with being the up and coming Moiragetes - Master of the Fates.

Do let me know if there's any interest for this sort of thing; I didn't originally intend to post this stuff anywhere, but I've just been so frustrated that I feel like it's necessary now 😂

Apollo marks time by etching notches into a clay tablet. He watches from the edge of the mountain’s summit, six of his crows perched three-by-three atop his shoulders and the seventh casting her gaze down onto the maidens all gathered to pick their flowers. He watches them laugh and joke and throw their petals all about, free and fragrant with an easy camaraderie spread thick between them all. He carves his first notch when Persephone lays eyes on the innocent narcissus; in his visions he could never make sense of time’s passing - he did not know how long she would remain swallowed, merely that it would be long enough for her to be missed, searched for, grieved and avenged.

 It will be worth it all in the end.  

Soon, all the world will delight in the birth of new Seasons, a new system of time to mark the stabilisation of this new era.  

He averts his eyes when the earth crumbles beneath Persephone’s feet. There is no way for him to deny it if he truly does bear witness to the act. Apollo cannot see the pitch-black rider on his earth-dark horses as he grabs the maiden. He cannot see those immortal steeds galloping down, down, infinitely down beneath the earth so their rider may delight in his prize. He does not know the sound of her screams as the ground eats her alive. Only the narcissus remains when he once more casts his gaze down, white and untouched. Innocent. Like Apollo. Neither of them have seen a single thing. 

(But oh, her screams are loud in his ear. Big, reedy yells, wet with phlegm. A fawn crying for her mother, the tittering of a sparrowling swallowed foot-first by the viper. They never seemed this loud in his dreams, like footnotes easily overlooked at the very bottom of the page. Apollo does not see her go, but he hears her. He hopes he is the only one who hears.) 

He calls for his darling crow to return to him, stepping light into the halls of Olympus. His day will continue on as normal but to visit his mother so he can request a particularly thick himation for the coming days. Lemnos clicks next to his ear and Apollo huffs, dismissing his crows in a scatter of bright white feathers and glittering metal. They will watch what he cannot. They will make sure the maiden remains buried deep beneath the earth. 

The subtle cold emanating from his father’s quarters curls about his calves - he did not realise he had already travelled the length of the halls. He does not knock before he enters; the women are all busy this time of day and shrewd Athena is still out dancing with his sister, it will just be Father in his room, bent over his table or pouring over one of his maps. 

“It is done.” 

And Father looks up from his writing, a knowing glint shining in wine-dark eyes. His face remains frightfully still, marble stiff and focused on Apollo with the full weight of his eagle sharp intent. “You did not see it?” 

Her scream is the same as the highest note on the aeolian scale. A wonderfully piercing ‘A’. It is similar to the sound that resonates in the sky’s centre, Apollo cannot stop hearing it in his ear. “I did not.” 

Father smiles then, like sunlight peeking through the rough edges of the storm, “Good. That’s good.” He puts his hand to his face, scratches his chin as he hums contemplative. “How much time do we have before… well, before.” 

Demeter’s wailing will be a much darker sound, phrygian and guttural, discordant. Apollo’s had the score written for months now. He thinks he will hang Persephone’s cry next to it. Maybe he will incorporate their melodies into the song he will play at her return. Maybe it is cruel of him to already be thinking such things. “I know not. Time has never been the clearest to me, even in my most vivid of visions.” 

“It is no matter,” Father leans forward, digs a bolt of bright red fabric out of his drawer. “Here,” When he catches it, Apollo feels a denseness in the fibres he has never known. They’re slick yet springy, far coarser than sheep’s wool but unlike any goatskin or leather he has ever handled. “For the cloak you will ask of your mother.”   

He is slowly becoming accustomed to his thoughts not being his own, to his father living so closely in his head. The woven string connecting them still bleeds dye if either of them pull too hard on the connection, but in these quiet moments, it is a comfort. A lifeline. 

“Chimera skin, so it will not burn when you wear it for your work.” Would Father be this calm if it was Artemis swallowed by the earth? Would Apollo? That watery scream is a persistent ringing, she is still screaming far beneath where none but the rider can hear her. (Apollo hears her. Even now, he can hear the heavy breath of the dark stallions, the ripping winds that sting at her ears. Persephone is a friend, can he really leave her to this fate -?) “Phoebus.” 

Father’s broad palm is warm on his shoulder. It pulls him gently from his spiralling thoughts. The heat is unexpected; even now, Apollo can feel his toes going stiff from the room’s chill. 

“I am well,” he hears himself say, distant like the clanging stallion hooves which carry the rider’s prize deeper beneath the earth. Father does not let him go when he tries to escape. He does not tighten his hold either. His hand merely remains on Apollo’s slim shoulder, a point to anchor him here and not there. Apollo focuses on the faint hum of his father’s power, the gentle whistle of his cloud-hairs as they flow about his head, the muffled shuffling of his crows’ feathers as they settle in the gables to await his return. He no longer hears her. Not her, not the dread chariot. He cannot hear a single thing. “I am well.” 

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:07

Fluff, Bakugou x female reader

Part 7 of the Broken Collection

The sun was invading the room, working its way through shut blinds and tinted skylights. A few random sun-catcher born rainbows danced around, waltzing with your well-fed and usually lethargic cat. Faux thunder bounced around your apartment, filling the space with the usual background noise. The coffee from earlier was long gone, switched for tea so you wouldn’t feel wired. The bottom of the mug was just barely visible through the final liquid attempts of calming. You groaned and let your head rest on the just-scrubbed granite countertop. This…wasn’t…working.

Normally on a weekend morning, you’d have just enough time to get a few things done before heading into the office. But now? Now you were at the mercy of the Balancing Heroes program Ashido had volunteered the agency for. To be fair, you did sign off on it too. As if you could tell an excited Uravity “no”? She was so happy for her first wellness initiative to be in a real testing phase. At the time, you thought that’d make it worth it. But, apparently, this program was designed to unravel you.

“Heroes balancing the weight of responsibility and the benefits of restoration.” You mumbled the pamphlets hook. Essentially they had divided up maps and agencies, triangulating areas that were then put on a rotating schedule. All complicated, but made it so each of three agencies covered the area with five days mandatory and two days off. There were more details you let Ashido take care of, regarding the priority of on call heroes. One thing was unavoidable and set in stone…you had two full days off in a row. You couldn’t go to the agency. You couldn’t be called in. You weren’t allowed to be on duty unless there was a natural disaster. One thing you were allowed to do was to absolutely lose your mind.

You rolled your head to the side at the clicking and clacking of toe nails…claws technically. A whine accompanied a pair of wide and unblinking brown eyes. Her feathered tail stood at attention before shuddering through a low growl.

“You restless too?” You laughed as she sneezed and stamped a paw. “Such a clever girl. A walk’s a great idea.”

You decided on a longer walk with no real destination in mind, letting your canine daughter tug you along. She got her leash wound through a familiar blossom-less tree. She sniffed at a recognizable mail drop-off point. She stopped and took in her reflection of wide windows you walked by every-Fuck…you weren’t being tugged at all. You were walking a fucking patrol route. The leash jerked in the direction you’d just come from.

“You’re right. Let’s get outta here before-“

The furry traitor was already sitting before a pair of black and orange boots. Her tail sweeping the sidewalk like it was her job. You could only imagine the face she was making at the man she was still in love with. Your lips pulled into a smile as she spun her head in small circles, unable to decide where she wanted him to scratch her first. He squatted down to give her both hands and his face. If he were weaker, it might’ve been a mistake. However, the years of training didn’t go to waste against the attempted tackles of excitement. His body stayed put as she lost her god damn mind.

“Knew I was still your fuckin’ favorite.” You clicked your tongue, but didn’t bother getting dragged into this eternal fake argument. He never got tired of this special treatment he received. “And I knew you’d show up.” His eyes were focused on you now as his gloves still worked on a pair of ears.

You scowled, but couldn’t argue that he was wrong. You were literally here…halfway through a patrol route you were not supposed to be anywhere near today.

“She wanted a walk.”

“On route number 26?”

“Coincidence.” You shrugged, shouldering the weight of the lie.

“Obviously.” He looked back down into the other pair of eyes locked onto him. “You’re off tomorrow too.”

It wasn’t a question. Also he seemed to have already moved on, mumbling things you couldn’t hear to the TRAITOR you had raised. Silence pushed its way between you…or what would’ve been silence if it weren’t filled with whines and panting.

“Can you help me with something?”

“Yes!”

You heated immediately for a few reasons: You didn’t know if he was talking to you or your dog. You jumped at an unknown task way too quickly. Also, did he have to look at you like that???

These days off were gonna’ ruin you.

Masterlist

Next part

[sahmandbean]

Inherited Manor Challenge 2024 - A Sims 4 Gameplay and Build Mode Challenge For Only The Most Ambitious

You come from a long line of Occult Sims. Vampires, Mermaids, Werewolves, Spellcasters; all were welcome in your home (and present in your bloodline). You are, naturally, the rebel of the family and preferred the company of Sims and more modern amenities. After high school you decided to rid yourself of your occult ties and moved away from the family manor. This process reset your skills and you lost a few memories, but it was worth it to live the normal Sim life you had been dreaming of. Within a month you hear there was a terrible accident back home and your parents' lives were lost. Your father hadn't written you out of the will as you had expected, so you pack a bag to temporarily move home and decide what to do with the manor. You figure you'll sell it to your Spellcaster cousin. She's been a bit of a hot head, but always dreamed of a big house, and not getting along as kids is no reason to not act like adults. But, wait, why is there a hedge around the property? Why can't you get through it? Why does it smell like smoke? Your cousin and her husband, furious that you were set up to inherit the property, have set a curse on it and destroyed the home in the process. You have two choices: walk away and let them deal with the aftermath they created, or turn back to the lifestyle of your ancestors and reclaim what's yours. Are the suburbs really worth letting her win this way?

Warning: this challenge involves heavy fire damage. Please play responsibly.

The Goal

Fix up each room in order, meeting all of the requirements. Each room will have a required occult, some required items, and an overall monetary value to hit. You can check the Simoleon value of a room by selecting the room in build mode, then saving it to your library. It will show the cost of the room. Once you have completed a room, you can move on to the next one. Exact requirements, "hard mode" optional gameplay, and some FAQs will follow the rules.

The Setup

First, you have to determine if you are playing with the save file or the gallery upload. If you are playing on PC and have Vampires, Island Living, Werewolves, Realm of Magic, and Paranormal, you can use the save file. However, if you do not play on PC or don't have one of the required packs, you will have to use the gallery version. Missing even one pack will cause the damage on the lot to reset, which kind of defeats the challenge.

Here is a video I made that shows how to get started in the challenge and answers some frequently asked questions.

Save File Setup: 1 - Download the file here: http://www.simfileshare.net/download/4612595/ 2 - Place the save file in your save folder. If you followed a standard install procedure when you got the game (you would know if you didn't) you should find the save folder following this path: This PC > Documents > Electronic Arts > The Sims 4 > Saves. Make sure the save file does not share a name with any other save already in your game before saving to avoid accidentally overwriting an existing save in your game. That would really suck. 3 - Open your game 4 - Click "Load Game" (not "Resume") and select the file named "Inherited Manor Challenge 2024" 5 - If you have Seasons installed, you will have to select a season. Next, load into the Vampires world "Forgotten Hollow". The manor will be at the top of the map by the graveyard. We kicked Vlad out lol. 6 - Move a new Sim into the lot. The Sim must be a single non-occult young adult with no skills or bonus traits. You can set the aspiration, traits, likes, dislikes, gender, etc to whatever you want. You can create a Sim or use one from the gallery. 7 - Use the "freerealestate on" cheat to move your Sim into the Manor. On PC press ctrl+shift+c, on Mac press cmd+shift+c, and on console press all four trigger buttons to open the cheat bar, then type "freerealestate on". You should see a confirmation message. You can now move your Sim into the manor. 8 - Set your household funds to zero. Type "money 0" into the cheat bar. Lock the back door in the kitchen if the lock setting didn't stick. 9 - You can use whatever life span, neighborhood stories, season length, or other gameplay settings you want. I do recommend turning off the dust system if you own Bust the Dust as it becomes a hinderance to gameplay as it accumulates in the rooms you can't access.

Gallery Download Setup: edit: after posting all of this the gallery upload was giving me a ton of issues, so unfortunately I had to remove many of the photos for it to work, just so you're aware. 1 - Open an existing save file or create a new one 2 - Chose any lot that is at least 40x30. The manor was built on Vlad's lot in Forgotten Hollow but if you don't have that world, or don't like it, you can play elsewhere. 3 - Download and place the manor from the gallery. My Gallery ID is sahmandbean and the Lot Title is IMC 2024. 4 - Exit the lot to the map view and proceed from step 6 above.

The Rules

To enter the Manor, you must become a Vampire. Each section has a designated occult. You will begin by transforming your Sim into a Vampire, completing the rooms in order in the Vampire section of the Manor, then reverting back to a normal Sim before transitioning into a Mermaid to fulfill the requirements of the next section of the house, and the same with Werewolf and Spellcaster. (If at any point you don't own the necessary pack for that occult type, just skip to the next occult or stay in your current occult. For example, if you don't have Vampires, you must become a Mermaid to enter the manor, and if you don't have Werewolves you must complete the second floor as a Mermaid or Spellcaster, but not a normal Sim.) Once you have completed your transformation into the designated occult, you may go into build mode and remove the cursed hedge blocking your way.

As you enter each new room, make sure you clean it, replace or remove all of the burned items, and fulfill the requirements listed below. There are maps as well, which will hopefully help. If at any point you have questions or feel stuck, join this discord server to ask and get help from myself and the other challenge players in the community. Standard rules let you live in the full area designated to the occult, but you have to work on one room at a time. For example, as soon as you are a mermaid you can use the pool, but you cannot clean the yard up until after you have completed the other rooms in the area in the order listed below. Hard mode, however... Well, more about that after the normal rules.

Also, if at any point you get stuck and decide to use a cheat to transform your Sim in or out of an Occult life state, it will cost you. First transformation will be $10,000, then the second is $25,000, and it will double from there. Use a calculator and "money [amount]" to settle the balance.

You may not at any point sell anything from an area you are not working on for money, or any of the landscaping. You can rework the landscaping after you have completed the Manor but you can't use it as a get rich quick scheme.

Here are the room requirements. Remember, these are just minimums. You can add a bathtub and bed to the entryway if you want, for example, so your Sim can maintain some needs, but if you are not going to leave them there make sure you remove them before calculating the total value of the room. Also if at any point an item in a completed room is broken or lost, whether to the repo man or a fire or some other reason, it must be replaced or repaired before continuing with whatever room you were working on.

As a Vampire Entryway: Simoleons: $25,000 Items: Two Knight of the Octagon Table statues, living chair, rug, accent table, and two wall decorations Coat Closet:  Simoleons: $5000 Items: sofa or loveseat; two “coat closet” like items, like coat racks, umbrellas, or shoes Office:  Simoleons: $15,000 Items: desk, Seance Table with two or more chairs, bookshelf, computer, rug Hallway:  Simoleons: $10,000 Items: four pieces of wall art, rug Big bathroom:  Simoleons: $5000 Items: bath or shower, two sinks, toilet, two mirrors, toilet paper Kitchen:  Simoleons: $25,000 Items: six counters, fridge, stove, sink, dining table, four dining chairs, trash can, bowl of fruit Cupcake Room:  Simoleons: $10,000 Items: cupcake factory, kitchen appliance Dining Room and Vestibule:  Simoleons: $20,000 Items: dining table, six dining chairs, hutch, and keep the big painting in the dining room; living chair and lamp in the vestibule

As a Mermaid Bar: Simoleons: $20,000 Items: bar, seating for six, clock Half Bath: Simoleons: $2000 Items: toilet, sink, mirror, and toilet paper Ballroom: Simoleons: $30,000 Items: stereo, piano or pipe organ, fireplace, mirror, a table that can hold food in the event of a party Yard and Shed: Items: keep the pool; four planters, woodworking table, fountain, wedding arch, grill, telescope, seating for 10, and monkey bars

As a Werewolf Landing: Simoleons: $10,000 Items: couch, chess table Art Gallery: Simoleons: $35,000 Items: seating for four, rug, six pieces created by your sim, twelve pieces of art overall Purple Bedroom:  Simoleons: $40,000 Items: bed space for two, rug, fireplace, two skill and/or activity items in the bedroom; dresser and chair in each closet; two sinks, toilet, toilet paper, and bath or shower in the bathroom  Blue Bedroom: Simoleons: $20,000 Items: bed space for two, one skill or activity item, rug, and one dresser in the bedroom; toilet, sink, mirror, bath or shower, and toilet paper in the bathroom Pink Bedroom: Simoleons: $20,000 Items: bed space for two, rug, one skill or activity item, and one dresser in the bedroom; toilet, sink, mirror, bath or shower, and toilet paper in the bathroom Hall Bathroom:  Simoleons: $3000 Items: bench, toilet, sink

As a Spellcaster Yellow Bedroom: Simoleons: $30,000 Items: bed space for two, rug, one skill or activity item, and one dresser in the bedroom; toilet, sink, mirror, bath or shower, and toilet paper in the bathroom Green Bedroom: Simoleons: $30,000 Items: bed space for two, rug, one skill or activity item, and one dresser in the bedroom; toilet, sink, mirror, bath or shower, and toilet paper in the bathroom Hall and Bathroom: Simoleons: $5000 Items: toilet, sink, mirror, toilet paper, six lights, rug Black Bedroom: Simoleons: $30,000 Items: bed space for two, rug, one skill or activity item, and one dresser in the bedroom; toilet, sink, mirror, bath or shower, and toilet paper in the bathroom Red Bedroom and tower: Simoleons: $50,000 Items: double bed, bar, desk, rug, dresser, fireplace, couch, bookshelf, and armchair in the bedroom; dresser, mirror, chair, and shoe rack in the closet; two sinks, two mirrors, tub, shower, toilet, and toilet paper in the bathroom

Hard Mode Optional Start Rules - Start as a teen (no skills, occult, etc) instead of a young adult and balance High School on top of the manor. - Stay exclusively in the current room. Use more magical hedges if necessary. - There are photos of the pre-destroyed manor scattered about. Identify and replace the exact items in each photo. Some of them are locked behind careers, so it is up to you exactly how hard you want to make that on yourself. "Buying" the item off the gallery is acceptable. - Turn on all lot challenges and remove them randomly as you complete rooms. - Double Simoleon requirements for each room. If you have Get to Work, you must marry and have at least one child with an Alien. - Throw a gold dinner party after completing each individual occult phase before transforming back into a regular Sim. - Max out each occult skill tree.

The end goal of this challenge is for you to have fun! Mix and match the rules a little if you feel stuck, marry Father Winter, have a relative named Rosebud conveniently leave you a small inheritance...

FAQ

If you have a question not answered here, please join the discord and ask in the designated Inherited Manor 2024 channels.

How to I become a...? And how do I turn back into a normal Sim? To become a Vampire, become good friends with a Vampire and ask to be turned. The process takes a few days so be prepared to live at the gym for a bit. The cure can be crafted after reaching Level 15 Vampire Lore skill and gathering the necessary ingredients. To become a Mermaid, eat one Mermadic Kelp. To transform back into a regular Sim, eat two in a row. The kelp can be found diving, fishing, gifted by a dolphin, or purchased with reward points. To become a Werewolf, as a Werewolf to turn you (similar to the Vampire). The cure can be crafted after finding the recipe in "An Insider's Guide to Being a Werewolf", a book found in the underground tunnels. To become a Spellcaster, travel to The Magic Realm and talk to a Sage. They will give you a mini quest. This is by far the easiest one.

Can I get married? Yes, but your spouse (regardless if an occult Sim or not) can only access the areas you have already unlocked. Your spouse must live on the lot with you until death or divorce, and the kids cannot be moved out until they are teens. Your main Sim is the one that counts as far as transformations and unlocking areas goes.

What happens if my Sim dies? Find or create a fresh Sim and pick up where you left off. This can include a spouse or child.

Can I change the room requirements? Can I put a bedroom instead of an office? You can change whatever you want after the challenge is completed, but the required items must be present in the room to count it as done. You can add additional items if you want, of course, but not completely alter the function of the room.

Can I sell stuff in the house already for money if it isn't damaged? You can sell or replace whatever is in the current room. You can't sell a chair from the office to get money for the kitchen, etc. Remember to keep any items specified in the rules above.

How do I know what my save file name is? Each save file follows the same format: the word “save” followed by a period and eight numbers. For example, save.12345678. Make sure those numbers don’t match the numbers of the save file when you download it. If they do match, you can change a number in the challenge save file before you save it, so long as it is still follows the naming convention laid out above.

Your save file is broken! It loaded me into a household! It's not even the right lot/world/etc! If you're not on the right lot, sounds like you answered your own question. Go to the map view and click on Forgotten Hollow, and maybe read the setup instructions again.

Can I change the lifespan, season length, weather, holiday, etc etc? Yup! Change whatever you want so long as it isn't prohibited in the rules.

What counts as a piece of art my Sim made for the galery? Any project that can be started, stopped, and resumed, and/or your Sim is directly involved in the end quality of the item. This includes, but is not limited to, knit objects, paintings, books, woodworking objects, scientist career objects, and photographs. This does not include found items, such as posters or snow globes.

Do I have to hit the Simoleon requirement exactly? That is too much math, even for me. So long as you are at or over, you're good.

Can I add some lot traits or challenges? Absolutely. Remember, though, that you can't build outside your current zone. You can't add solar panels to the yard, for example, until you get to that point as a Mermaid, but you can set your lot to "Off The Grid" whenever.

Can I purchase traits from the reward store? Yes. You just can't have your Sim start with any reward traits or points.

Are there more challenges like this? Yes! This is actually the fourth version of this challenge. You can find more information here on tumblr, or by visiting my website here.

Can I make one of these, or help make the next one? Absolutely! The official Inherited Manor Discord will be the best place to keep up to date on the challenge. I only ping everyone at the start of building the challenge for the year and when it is released, so don't worry about me blowing up your phone. Can't wait to connect with you there!

Huge thanks to chat for all their help during the streams, and a special thanks to my playtesters: Alasmina debs Foxbird kittycatxo miraclesnjoy SRSimmer Tessa Who?

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabble: Call Of Duty- Love Language

John Price Bravo Six

Prices love language is Words of Affirmation and Quality Time.

Price is constantly writing you little notes out. They're literally stuffed everywhere. In your go-bag (if you work with him) , in your lunch box (If you work outside of military). The amount of long paraghed messages you've recived from him before he's deployed are starting to cause your phone to alert you of it's space issue.

Price has that nice fancy cursive hand-writing so every note that you find with his handwriting on it you keep so it's nice and presentable. Sometimes you'll wake to him gone, but with a note left on your bathroom mirror written in an old expo marker. The notes are just he start of it, Price has a great pair of ears. He'll listen to you talk all day if that because he likes your voices or because he wants to help is here or there.

Price has all the letters you've sent to him during his deployments stuffed away in an old shoebox in the closet. He holds those peices of paper close to his heart when he's away. They ground him. Make him realize the you're a plane flight away waiting for him at home in his bed, probably wearing his clothes. You're also just so fucking genuine in your letters, your emotion seep through the pages and clench around his heart in best of ways.

With how long Price can be away sometimes, the quality time the two of you spend together is hightly important to the two of you. It's important that the two of you snuggle on the couch, spend tocuhing each other. That you tell him all about the things that happened at work while he was away. (Hell you've taken to writing it all down so you remember all that've happened.) "Come sit down love, and tell me about work today." Price would say his hand softly gripped around your wrist.

Price has a few favorite nicknames he likes to call you around the house. Sweets, Baby, and Love. They're all things that come to mind when he thinks of you. If the two of you dancing around your apartment, or when the two of you get hot and heavy between the sheets Price calls you all the same.

John MacTavish Soap

Johns love langauge is Gift Giving and Quality Time.

It starts off with little things. If John is out at the grocery store he normaly comes backwith an extra deserct or your favorite choice of wine. He knows everything down to your favorite candies. (You know the ones that you're never able to find yourself). The gifts get bigger the longer you're together with John. Little bobble heads, or magnets from places he's been while away on deployment, (The fridge looks like the world map).

Things get even bigger and a bit bolder after that, some gifts are jewlery, things that you'd wear to the military ball. Sometimes it's something smiple like a cd that you can get in the states, or a new purse that John will stock away in the back of the closet until christmas and when you ask where he'd been hiding it he won't tell. "I'm not tellin' you my secret hidin' place lass. You'll go snooping the minute I'm gone." John tells you one chirstmas. The best gift by far as been a stuffed animal dressed up in a military outfit with his voice inside so every time you needed to hear his voice he was right there; just one click away.

The two of you work out well. Your love language is all gift giving, hell the amount of supply boxes you've sent for him while he's been on base; or for him and his other team mates. Letters with your whole written out into three-four-five pages worth. John's got a passcode on his phone, because (you tend to send him a few pretty little pictures of yourself waiting for him in his bed.)

Of course John calls you Lass, but he's got special nicknames for you when you greet him at the base to come and take him home. "You're home!" Jumping into his large and strong arms, "Bonnie, I'm here now don't ya worry. I'm all yours now bonnie." He reply hugging you tightly. The brush of your lips, and breathe that you manage to be able to take from just getting a quick kiss from him on the tarmack. Sweets is what he calls you when he's down between your thigh living on cloud nine.

Simon Riley Ghost

Simons love language is Acts Of Service, and Quality Time.

I'm not sure if it's how Simon grew up, or the fact that's always away but Simon is literally always asking you if you need help getting something from a higher up shelf (The man is 6'3 come on now). He'll even do the more domestic things with you. Dinner he helps with and then he'll do the dishes while you go out into the living room. You pull out a puzzle, he'll sit right next to you or on the couh behind you with your between his legs, and help you.

If you're sick, and he's home you've got your own personal stay-at-home nurse. Breakfast in bed with all the right medicine, and vitiamins. If your sick, and Si isn't there oh shit, you've got food doordashes to the front door every single night, and it's not unhealthy food. You're on your period, he takes care of you. A large hand that looms on the hot skin on your lower stomach to cool the cramps away. He'll sit with you on the couch and watch all the stupidest, cringest of romcoms to sedate your need to cry.

In the same step though Simon forgets to take care of himself most of the time. So worried about you and how good you're doing that he forgets that he also has to think about himself from time to time. That's where you come in, as Simons other half you fix that real quick. Dinner is always ready for him, you'll run a hot soothing bath for him when you know he's coming back from deployment. All of his laundry is done before he can even think about dragging the stinky duffel to the wash room. "Thank you, honey." Simon would grumble as he walked into the living his hair a mess. You'd nod and kiss his cheek gently.

Simon does have a few exclusive nicknames he uses for you. Honey, Angel, and Love. Yet that one you hear the most is Angel because, for him, you're his angel. You're the thing that keeps him rooted in reality. You could be easily hurt by that world he works in, yet you are the only person he thinks of while away on deployment. You are the reason he comes home.

Köing

Köings love language is Physcial Touch, and Quality Time.

Köing surely makes up for the height difference. He's always got a hand on you. Be it your back as he guides you around or in your hand. He's always got to be touching you. Not only does it ground him, but he likes to think that he’s keeping you safe.

He knows nobody is going to mess with the guy that’s 6’10. You like to think you’ve your own guard dog, so it works out nicely. Köing isn't afraid of PDAs; he thrives on it. He loves a simple hand-holding or a kiss to your cheek, forehead, or lips in a public setting. He loves it all. He loves how soft your skin is against his rough, callused hands. Or how plump and soothing your lips are against his own.

In the same, Köing loves to just spend time with you snuggled up under a blanket, watching a movie. Köing loves to cuddle you in his arms during a scary movie, keeping you safe from the horrors displayed on the screen. Köing does use his height against you sometimes. He picks you up, practically spinning you around whenever he returns from deployment. You're just standing there waiting for him and his team to return when you're grabbed tightly and turned around in the air. You gather a bit of attention as you scream and cry with excitement that Köing has arrived back.

Köing has a few speicla nicknames for you. He loves to call you Buttercup, Princess, and my love. "Come on, buttercup, let's go laid down." He'd whisper in your ear as he leaned over the back of the couch to get you to bed with him, "But my TV show just started." You'd whine, "We can watch it in bed together, my love." Köing would argue with you.

Completed on: 10/21/23

Posted on: 10/21/23

COD-

[devilfic]

❝hard-knock life❞

plot: even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends... even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: humor, fluff, established relationship, you and bruce are engaged, I use “fiancé” gender-neutrally, generally silly but some angst, serious but cartoonishly awful attempts at violence, guns, excessive use of the word “goon”, based off this post by @emma-d-klutz​. words: 3.5k.

a/n: I just can’t stop thinking about this post

Bruce figures he could look a little more concerned right now.

One goon holds a phone up to his face—so that he can see himself on screen—while two more have his arms arrested in their grip. The comments on the live stream are moving too fast, but he imagines they’re not worth reading.

The goon holding the phone laughs through his mask, clearly amused by Bruce’s lack of emotion, “Look at the little Gotham prince trying to put on a brave face. Won’t be so brave in a minute now, will you?” 

Bruce assumes they’re referring to their comrade in arms a few feet away, readying a pistol, but he can’t look long; he feels a harsh kick to the backs of his knees and he kneels against the gravel. This close to the docks, they could dispose of his body in the river after his swift execution. Was it weird to be offended by their choice? He was kind of offended. Almost as offended as he was when he’d figured out their plan two days ago.

“I can offer you money,” Bruce recites, your idea, unenthusiastically, “anything. Anything you want.”

The goons laugh. The one holding the pistol steps forward and places the barrel against Bruce’s temple. “Anything we want, huh? Why don’t you tell our audience how you should’ve just died when the Riddler gave you a chance? What a glorious death you would have had.”

Bruce wants to tell them that it’s not exactly his fault Edward didn’t make sure he was home before trying to kill him. He imagined that would just anger them more. Bruce takes a deep breath.

The safety on the gun clicks off when a heavy fog starts crawling toward them from beneath a nearby dumpster. Some of the goons exclaim in confusion and the executioner points toward the smoke.

“What the fuck is that?” The cameraman yells, turning to film the steadily approaching fog. It’s thick and moving quickly, starting to crowd around the Riddler’s followers like a dramatic omen. It isn’t long before Bruce can’t see a foot in front of him. His arms flex, waiting for the telltale sound of his namesake.

A sudden chorus of chirping overhead has Bruce ducking, the trigger-happy goon shooting off into the sky as black wings speckle the fog. 

The two holding Bruce still are suddenly forced off of him. There’s the sound of violent fighting in the midst of the fog but Bruce is more focused on the shooter, his position given away only by the bullets he shoots off with reckless abandon. Mapping his position on the docks, Bruce takes a violent leap forward and feels himself collide into him, dragging his much smaller body forward and forward and forward until-

Splash!

Bruce can’t see it through the fog, but he hears the goon hit the railing and fall into the river below soon after.

“Shit, shit, shit! We’ve been ambushed!” The one filming is the last one standing. He scrambles nearby, trying to find an escape. Within the fog, a dark figure approaches him, and Bruce can just make out the sound of their opponent’s nose getting crushed by the weight of the attacker’s palm. The phone falls out of the goon’s hand when he collapses, unconscious. 

Shortly after, the wind carries away the remaining fog and Bruce walks into the clear night where he sees you perched behind the dumpster, giving him a thumbs up over the machine that sputters out white haze. “Did we do it?” You ask, giddy. 

Alfred walks out of the fog next. It was a miracle Alfred could even see in the Batsuit. It dwarfed him. “I believe we did. Are you alright, Master Bruce?”

“Alright” was a stretch for what tonight’s events had done to his mood, though he’s thankful he doesn’t have a bullet-sized hole where his oncoming migraine should be. Bruce is just happy to have pulled this off in the first place. “Peachy,” he grits through his teeth, “is the stream still going?”

Alfred hums, wiping some of the goon’s blood off his knuckles, “No, I think enough has been seen tonight. The GCPD will be on their way shortly.”

That was a relief. Their theatrics weren’t all for nothing. With luck, tonight’s failed execution would serve as a warning to the Riddler’s remaining followers: Bruce Wayne was untouchable, and any attempt on his life would result in the same fate. Maybe now they’d stop trying to kidnap him off the street.

They, in fact, did not stop.

Alfred had taken the necessary precautions to ensure Bruce did not die in the following days after the docks incident, and with the added threat of paparazzi flooding the tower, Bruce was confined inside until further notice. As far as anyone was concerned, Bruce Wayne was taking some vacation time after a “harrowing” threat on his life. It only made sense. No business engagements for two weeks, at least.

This vacation was, of course, not for the Batman.

Bruce had a wedding to be planning for God’s sake, and yet here he was, perched in the shadows, watching as five squirrelly idiots set up shop across from Wayne Tower... to snipe him, they’d said online.

This was the other downside of the Riddler’s fans gunning for revenge on the Batman: Bruce had to spend ungodly hours on their forums combing for new threats on his life. Most of them were half-baked plans too big to pull off, but the few that weren’t were constantly on his radar.

It wasn’t that Bruce was afraid for his own life, though. He was afraid for yours. The Batman could walk off a bullet wound and Bruce Wayne had fortified his body against most attacks. You, on the other hand, were painfully mortal. One well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and he’d lose you.

“Looking awfully severe tonight, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce cracks a half-smile when your voice crackles to life in his ear, right on cue. You must’ve been getting into position. Bruce makes sure his voice is low enough that the goons can’t hear him from his perch. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

You really, really didn’t. He could easily wipe out these five on his own with only a few injuries sustained, but you had worried over the guns and convinced him he’d need all the help he could get. Even if it was just a measly distraction, “Don’t worry. Batman will protect me.” You sing.

Your shadow passes a window and one of the goons lines up a shot for you. He propels himself down onto the sniper’s back, knocking him out cold.

There’s considerably fewer goons tonight than there were upon his kidnapping, which Bruce finds amusing. Maybe he could get a few hours of patrol in after thwarting this second attempt on his life. Maybe you’d still be awake by the time he got home, and he could pull you away from poring over wedding plans to celebrate a job well done-

Away in his own mind, he isn’t prepared for the butt of a rifle cracking up against the cowl. In the time it had taken him to run away with his thoughts, he’d downed four of them already. He slowly turns. No hurry.

The goon flinches back, eyes wide behind the non-prescription frames slipping off his nose. If Bruce’s ears weren’t still ringing from the hit, he might have went for the temple and called it a night. But again, no hurry.

Bruce grapples the man by the front of his coat and dangles him over the ledge of the building. Softly, he hears you gasp over the comm line, “You’re not gonna drop him, are you?”

Instead of answering you, Bruce gives the goon a good shake, “This won’t end well for you.”

The goon is shivering in Bruce’s grasp, clutching onto his wrist for dear life, swatting at air to get leverage. Bruce extends his arm out further and two voices exclaim this time. “Y-You betrayed him! You betrayed the Riddler!” The voice that comes out of the man is squeaky, almost young. Bruce frowns. “The Waynes will pay for what they’ve done to Gotham!”

“Are those your words or his?”

He falters some, unsure, and obviously it isn’t Bruce’s job to play therapist. He doesn’t know what this kid is getting out of working for the Riddler, what lies he’s been fed. All he knows is that someone had pointed a gun at his fiancé and tonight could have gone very differently if he hadn’t been ready.

But this kid wasn’t the one holding the gun. “I’m giving you a warning: leave the Waynes alone,” Bruce drags him close enough for their eyes to meet, “there won’t be a second warning.”

The goon all but scrambles onto his feet the second Bruce drops him back onto solid ground, having only that second to gather his bearings before Bruce brings his fist down onto his head, knocking him out with the rest of his friends. Tying their wrists behind their backs is quick work, as is piling their worrying amount of weaponry far, far from reach. One quick request to Gordon for cleanup is the icing on the cake.

Bruce is scaling his way down the building when you chime in once more, “You alright, handsome? I hope these guys aren’t getting to you.”

Getting to him was an overstatement. They had to pose an actual threat to get to him, “I wasn’t going to drop him.”

“You were thinking about it, but you would’ve caught him right after. Are you heading out for patrol?”

His lip twitch is the only sign of argument against you because you unfortunately know him well. Bruce slips into the shadow of an alleyway, scanning the street for any other surprises. “Maybe... maybe later. I’m heading back to the tower.”

He hears you make a little noise on the other end, watches your figure outlined in the glass by the lamplight. It’s dark out and you’re high up, but somehow, he feels like you find him down there anyway, “You better take off that suit before you track gutter water through my house, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce can’t help it. He laughs, “I thought you liked it when the suit stays on.”

You had made it a priority, if you were to marry Bruce, that he make time for date night.

Obviously, with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Batman, you didn’t expect him to always have time to spare. That was the compromise you’d made long before he’d gotten down on one knee. However, for his sake (”-and the sake of Gotham!” you’d added, just to be safe), break time was a must. An hour at least, maybe two if you were lucky. He didn’t even have to spend it conscious. You’d spent plenty a night with his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, reading a book or telling him about your day.

Tonight would have been the same had you not convinced him to come out in disguises. With a little prompting, you two had had a great night on the town. You’d all but forgotten the hectic past week.

And then you both had walked into the penthouse, giggling through the front door, only to find Alfred lugging a dead body across the living room floor. “He’s not dead.” Alfred assured. A body, then.

Bruce rushes in front of you, “Jesus, Alfred. What happened?”

The butler looks far too nonchalant for the scene, but you do notice the lack of a blood trail.

“I was making tea. Enjoying a quiet night to myself, I was, when I heard glass shatter from the other room. Lo and behold, I find one of these Riddler clowns climbing through the window.”

“Sixty floors off the ground? How’d he even make it?” Your voice is riddled with wonder. Climbing gear attached to the corpse- body shows a considerable effort. You notice as well, after a moment of disbelief, that there’s a barely concealed handgun sticking out of Alfred’s waistband. In all your time living here, you’d never seen a weapon like that in the Wayne household. Bruce’s hatred of guns had made sure of that. “Did you shoot him, Alfred?”

Bruce tenses up too, then bristles when he sees what you’re looking at. Alfred even looks a little sheepish and drops the body altogether to hide it. “You shot him?”

Alfred gulps, “Yes... with a rubber bullet, not a real one.”

“And you do that often? Shoot people?”

“Of course not, Bruce.”

“So you just happened to have a gun on you-”

“Someone was breaking in!”

“-while you were making tea-”

“And the gun is not real.”

“-I can’t imagine what else you’ve got hidden away in this house. What, am I going to find a grenade in the coffee grinder tomorrow morning?”

You inch yourself closer to the incapacitated man on the ground, the bridge of his clear frames caved in on themselves. You can see a worrisome bruise between his eyes. Just to be safe, you check the man’s pulse to confirm that Alfred really hadn’t killed him. Sure enough, he hadn’t lied, but brain damage wasn’t entirely off the table yet.

Alfred scoffs, folding his arms over his ruffled vest, “I don’t use bloody grenades. And I haven’t shot a real bullet in years! Most of the guns I own are entirely non-lethal.”

“Most? How many do you have?” Bruce accuses.

A moment passes. “You’ll never find them all.”

The bickering continues at an even louder volume after that. Bruce is furious that Alfred never told him about the guns and Alfred, the military-bred man that he is, was struggling hard not to just say that he was a grown man who could do what he wanted and be done with it.

As (oddly) endearing as it was to see the father and son bickering, you couldn’t let Alfred get in trouble on your watch.

“Um, Bruce,” you interject, catching both of the men’s attention, “to be fair to Alfred, this guy was carrying a real gun with real bullets. If Alfred didn’t have his weapon, this could’ve gone way worse. He saved the day.”

Alfred, as smug as an English gentleman could be, turned his attention back to Bruce.

The news had slowly but surely sobered Bruce up. One more look at the goon on the floor had dried up all the frustration, leaving him thoroughly exhausted, “...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“The shattered window is unfortunate, but I can call the repairmen in the morning. I trust you two have nothing as exciting to report.” A shared look between yourself and Bruce has Alfred nodding, discussion supposedly ended. “Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Unless you’d like to raid my belongings for suspiciously sharp pencils... Master Bruce?”

All the fire in him had been extinguished. Bruce shakes his head and Alfred makes his leave, “What about the guy?” He yells after the retreating butler.

Alfred’s bedroom door shuts shortly after. It appeared date night had officially come to a close.

Bruce had been vehemently against a police detail for himself. It was you and Alfred that really needed it, he’d insisted, but Lieutenant Gordon had a brain that worked like anyone else’s and understood that the man with the hit on him needed it most. And so, much to his chagrin, he’d been hunkered down in Wayne Tower for the last few days, sneaking out as the Bat only when absolutely sure he wouldn’t get caught.

As his future spouse-to-be, you were the one who had to cover for him. But sometimes, no amount of lying could account for his missing presence in the penthouse, and so the Bat had to be put on the back burner until further notice... and it was driving him insane.

The police were in the kitchen, in his study, outside your shared bedroom, and on every floor of Wayne Tower. The media was still abuzz of the latest failed assassination attempt. There were too many eyes on him, it was making him itch.

That’s why, on the rare occasion that you could both pull it off, you helped him into the terminus elevator, helped hide his hair beneath his hat and hood, and sent him off on his bike before any one could question where you and Bruce had gotten off to. Pre-newlywed stuff. It was the honeymoon before the honeymoon, Alfred had joked once.

And of course, the one time you could get him out of the house successfully, he gets kidnapped.

It’s embarrassing standing next to Alfred as the police detail watches the news feed on the living room TV. Bruce was tied to a chair in the middle of the frame, three goons including the cameraman huddled around him and attempting to get a rise out of him. Threats that he’d heard a thousand times over had become stale at this point. Left out too long. If you weren’t so ashamed that you’d unwittingly helped him get kidnapped again, you’d be laughing at the unimpressed look he was giving the camera.

The bright side was that one, they seemed to not have found his suit and two, the goons had dwindled even more in number. Perhaps they were finally giving up?

“Citizens of Gotham, Bruce Wayne has been a hard man to get in touch with. But that doesn’t matter: the Riddler’s righteous justice will be delivered this day!” The cameraman declares, poking Bruce’s chest with a baton. Bruce barely moves. The cameraman sounds as put off by this as you feel, “Uh... any last words, Wayne?”

One of the officers is furiously working with a dispatcher to locate where the video is broadcasting from. Another in the corner is snickering behind her coffee cup. You’re not sure why you relate to them both.

Your future husband looks so done with the situation that you’re reassured he’s in no real danger, but you can’t fathom why he let himself get caught if that was the case. Surely, he would’ve taken them out just fine on his own. There were only three of them.

Another goon nudges his head with the barrel of his gun, yet Bruce does not flinch, “Speak up! The world is watching!”

Wordlessly, Bruce shifts in his seat once, twice, and brings his once bound hands to his front completely freed. You swore you heard a collective gasp across the nation.

The men in the room with Bruce look just as shocked as he reaches for the gun aiming (wobbling) at his head and gently covers the barrel of it with his palm, weaseling it out of the goon’s hand. The magazine falls to the floor shortly after and the gun is discarded across the room. When Bruce approaches the cameraman, the camera jerks back.

The phone is yanked away by Bruce. Before the live shuts off, you hear him speak for the first and only time since the broadcast started, “This is getting embarrassing.”

An uneasy quiet settles over the room after that. When Bruce comes home later that evening, escorted in a cop car, he looks absolutely pitiful. Your open arms are more than appreciated.

It’s been a long few weeks.

Wayne Enterprises was in a tizzy trying to get media under control. First the police, then the paparazzi, and now it felt like he’d gone from slipping from place to place unnoticed to being the talk of the town. It had made being Batman significantly harder, but it had also made him significantly more irritable.

Between you and... well, you, the only thing keeping him sane was currently asleep upstairs. After the last kidnapping debacle, it seemed that all the Riddler’s followers had been scared off, so at the very least, the police presence had dwindled down to a select few. He’d been given the go-ahead to take his own trash out, even. Promised he just needed some fresh air. A few hundred dollars thrown the night guard’s way and he was standing out in the cold at the back of Wayne Tower, in just a “I survived my trip to Gotham!” t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holding a trash bag.

The one Riddler clone standing across from him almost looks too afraid to stumble out of the shadows and recite their spiel. He’d be too tired to listen, anyway.

“Go home,” Bruce grumbles, tossing the bag into the dumpster, making no effort to try to appear like more of a threat than he really was. He didn’t even have mace on him, “I won’t even mention it.”

The stalker waits in the shadows for a few beats, practically shaking, unsure of himself. Bruce stares, unblinking. At the very least, if he took too long coming back up, they’d probably send someone down to check on him. This guy had a chance to get at least one shot off if he wanted. Bruce had survived three at one time, once.

After the world’s most unimpressive standoff, the goon turns around and starts walking home.

It’s been a long few weeks.

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ @alexxavicry​ @moonlightreader649​

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Semi-Finals, Poll 2

One Last Adventure v. Heart of the Mountain

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK “KEEP READING”.

One Last Adventure: (Post-Canon Adventure)

Honestly, Bilbo was only half listening to that part. He was much more interested in Thorin. He could hear the cadence of his voice though in Gimli’s story. It was enough to bring an ache to his heart. Just imagining those blue eyes again, those rough palms gripping Bilbo’s shoulder, his laugh that had been few and far between but worth more than any treasure. 

“And so he told us we would need a burglar, and he knew where the best one would be. That’s when he placed the acorn in my hand telling me it would be what would convince you.”

Bilbo’s hand tightened around the acorn in his pocket. Yes, that was certainly damning evidence. 

“So what happened then? Why didn’t he…why isn’t he going on this quest?” Bilbo asked softly.

Gimli shrugged. “He walked back down the other end of the tunnel and I went to chase after him, but he was gone.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed. What did that mean?

“So then Gimli found us!” Gulrik jumped in. “And of course, we didn’t believe him. Thought he was dreaming the whole thing up. But we snuck down into the crypt and he’s gone!”

“Gone.” Bilbo repeated.

“The tomb was open and there was no body inside.” Brombrar explained.

Bilbo felt like his heart was leaving his chest. What more did he need than that to know that Thorin was alive? How? He still didn’t know. But if this was the only way for him to see him again and find out for himself…

“Alright, if I do this, we need to set some ground rules.” Bilbo demanded trying to ignore the way the three dwarves lit up. “First off, you are writing your father.” Bilbo stated pointing at Gimli. “And your parents if they are still around.” He told the other two.

Bilbo endured their whining and groaning at being ‘full grown adults’ but Bilbo was not about to budge in his decision. He’s already had to watch two very dear young dwarves die far before their prime. He would not go through that again with these three. Something ugly seized in his chest as he realized there was a chance this miracle didn’t extend to Fili and Kili, and he hadn’t once asked about them. He tried to tell himself that he couldn’t bear to know that there could be a world with Thorin Oakenshield but not his nephews. He knew the truth though. And it was a truth he would rather not speak of, lest he paint himself the selfish, miserable codger that he is. 

“Next, we are going to get help. If I’m remembering my map correctly, we will have to go right past Gundabad, and I doubt the orcs are any less active just because a few hundred thousand of them died in front of Erebor. In fact, I would think they would be more inclined to revenge, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“I’m not worried about any orcs, Master Baggins.” Brombrar declared, arms crossed against his chest proudly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him that he should be, but honestly, Bilbo knew there was no point in arguing with an overhyped tween. He could already feel himself getting a headache. This was going to be a long trip. Just what was Thorin thinking? Why did he ask children to complete this task and not the company he knows and trusts? 

A rather alarmed thought passed through Bilbo’s mind at that point. What if Thorin was still goldsick? It would explain why he wouldn’t go to the company, and perhaps he disappeared to the treasury and that’s why they couldn’t find him? But it didn’t explain why he told them to find Bilbo. He would think if Thorin was still sick, the last person he would want involved was the Arkenstone thief. Bilbo just could not make any good sense out of this mess.

“Ered Luin is in the opposite direction, and Erebor won���t exactly be on our way so what do you suggest, Master Baggins?” Gulrik asked.

Bilbo blinked, having forgotten for a moment what they were talking about. Ah yes, help. A thought crossed through his head that he knew the dwarves would object to, but he did know someone nearby who might be willing to join them. 

“Leave that to me, lads.” Bilbo declared. “We definitely are going to be making a couple of stops though. How are you on supplies?” 

“We refilled while we were in Bree just a few days ago.” Gimli assured.

“Good. Then let’s finish up our luncheon and be on our way.”

Bilbo didn’t interrupt the cheerful and excited chatter from the three dwarves as they compared their quest to others before them. Namely, Thorin’s quest for Erebor. Bilbo had finished up quickly, and decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to grab a smoke while he had the chance. He was actually doing this. He was going back on another journey. Wiser, more world-weary, and definitely remembered his handkerchief. He smirked around the stem of his pipe. Bofur would be so proud.

“Master Baggins, would you tell us about the quest you went on?” Gimli pleaded.

Bilbo took a last lungful before stamping his pipe out on a rock.

“Haven’t you already heard the stories?”

“But we want to hear it from you!” Gulrik stated. “What was it like facing down Smaug?!”

“How did you get the company out of the Mirkwood prison?” Brombrar asked.

“How many orcs did you kill?” Gimli tacked on.

Bilbo shook his head. He could only imagine the wild stories his friends were telling about him in Erebor. He felt a pang of longing hit him square in the chest. He shouldn’t have waited so long to write. 

“Here now. We have a long journey. There is plenty of time to talk along the way, but the best stories start at the beginning.”

Heart of the Mountain: (Evil Arkenstone AU)

He would extend the generosity of the mountain to Dale and rebuild the men’s city as well. Renew their trading partners and allyships. He saw it all so clearly in his head. But now…Now he didn’t know what to do.

***

It was late afternoon by the time Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Oin made it to the mountain. To be honest, Fili didn’t know what to expect. He wanted to believe that their company was safe and sound, but going up against a dragon couldn’t have been easy. After all, they barely escaped with their lives as it was. If it hadn’t been for Kili’s elf…well, a lot would be different. So when they stepped through the gaping doorway, it was a bit unnerving to be met with silence. 

“It’s a big mountain. They could be anywhere.” Bofur marveled.

Fili had a hunch where they could be, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it just yet. They passed through a massive hall with a river of gold straight down its center which led them through the forges which led through to another passage, eventually finding the treasury. The golden light played on the green walls making them all gasp when they saw the treasure hold of Thror for the first time. There was enough gold to rebuild Erebor ten times over! And still have enough remaining to do trade. He couldn’t believe such a vast amount of riches could exist and yet there it was. And amongst it’s coins, looking like ants amongst the giant hills, was the remainder of their company. Fili felt a tightness in his chest ease as he counted to make sure all nine still stood.

“Hail! Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain!” He called out.

The rest of the dwarves looked up, cheering at seeing them whole and hale. Bombur, Bifur, and Gloin all came running, but none nearly as fast as Thorin himself. He bounded up the stairs, immediately pulling Fili and Kili into his arms as soon as he got to them.

“My sister-sons! It is good to see you safe.” Thorin sighed.

Fili found himself relaxing in the hold. He didn’t know what he would be coming back to after the way they left things in Laketown. That, and his mother’s words for when they reached the mountain.

“Keep an eye on your uncle. I don’t trust the gold not to steal another family member of mine.”

“Are we still searching for the Arkenstone?” Kili asked.

“We found it.” Thorin frowned as he slowly revealed the glowing stone from his pocket.

Kili reached out for it, and Thorin pulled it back fast. Fast enough that it gave Fili pause. Kili merely pouted at not being able to touch the gem.

“I don’t want…” Thorin began before leaning into to speak to them. “Tell me, do you remember Bilbo?”

Who on Arda was Bilbo? Any relief Fili might have felt, immediately stiffened back up under the odd behavior of Thorin. Was this what he was supposed to look for? And what did he do if this was it?

“Bilbo…who?” Kili asked.

Rather than answer him, Thorin merely sighed and shook his head, looking off into the distance as if he were listening to someone before turning back to them. 

“How do you two recall the troll incident then?”

THE TROLL INCIDENT? Why was Thorin asking after that?! Fili was so out of his depth. He had no idea what Thorin was on about and it was starting to scare him.

“Well, Fili and I were in charge of watching the ponies.” Kili recounted. “Then we realized it was trolls and followed them to their camp. Then we went back to get the rest of you and…I charged in ahead for…some reason.”

Thorin’s eyes widened as he latched onto the hesitation. “What was the reason?” He demanded.

Kili shook his head. “I can’t remember. Must have been to save the ponies though, right?”

Thorin took a deep breath and released, disappointment clear in his eyes. 

“Right.” He mumbled.

“Anyways…” Fili decided to change the subject, still a bit perplexed. “If you have the Arkenstone, what is everyone looking for?”

Thorin shifted on his feet. “Something that…fits the Arkenstone.”

“Like a box?” Kili laughed. “We’ll leave it in your pocket for now. It can’t be that important, can it?”

“It’s more than just a box.” Thorin snapped, taking Fili and Kili both by surprise. “It’s like a…lock. And I have to have it.”

“Why is that, Uncle?” Fili asked softly.

Thorin gave him an exasperated look, his eyes swimming with frustration that Fili couldn’t understand. They had the mountain. Smaug was dead, and the Arkenstone in his possession. What could Thorin possibly have to be frustrated about? 

“You won’t understand until after we find it!” He declared before sweeping back towards the treasury.

Fili gave Kili a raised eyebrow with his brother merely shrugging in response. Thorin wasn’t making any sense. Fili didn’t know what it meant just yet, but he did know that the situation definitely deserved careful scrutiny. He watched Balin gaze after Thorin with a haunted expression. Yes, the sooner they could get Thorin out of this treasury, the better. 

[daenysthedreamer101]

Youngest Original ~ TVDU

Ch 9 - Old wounds never heal

Mikaelson!OC

Warnings: Esther being a bad mother/ANGST/self-harm, kinda (scratching)

A/N: When I first started writing this ch, I thought it would be a fun little filler ch...it did not turn out that way lol. I had a lot of feels while writing this one.

Masterlist

Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. - George R.R. Martin

October 2010, Mystic Falls

The initial plan of leaving Klaus and Mystic Falls behind fell into the water the second their mother walked into the house. Immediately upon reuniting with her children, their mother started making order in the house.

Both Mother and Finn cut their hair, wanting to look more 'time appropriate'. To Bekah and Kassie's great pleasure, a big shopping spree was organized. Klaus wasn't so happy, since he had to pay for everything.

Kassie was overjoyed, now that her entire family was back together. She was more than happy to help Kol and Finn adjust to the 21st century. She spent hours with both of them explaining how certain machines work and how society has changed over time, and she helped them with learning modern English.

Kol was more or less familiar with most of the things she mentioned. Finn, on the other hand, was not. Back when he was daggered, the Byzantine Empire was still a thing and there was no electricity, no modern medicine, and no cars.

~

Finn was in the house library where Kassandra told him to wait for her. She was insistent on helping him assimilate to the 21st century and who was he to tell her no? Soon, he heard a click-clack sound fast approaching him. He would later learn it was because of her shoes. "I'm here! Sorry for making you wait." Kassandra said as she entered the room with many books in her arms.

She wore a black sleeveless top with a cowl neckline, blue bell-bottom jeans, and brown leather boots. Her long, dark curls fell freely down her back and a big smile was plastered on her face. Finn could see she was very excited about this.

She plopped herself right next to him, and he could see her bright eyes looking at him. Oh, how he missed her beautiful face. He missed how her eyes almost disappeared when she laughed, he missed her giggles, he missed the way she would scrunch her nose like a bunny from time to time. 

"What?" She asked with furrowed brows. He chuckled and shook his head. 

"It's nothing. I just...missed you, a lot." He confessed. 

"Aww...I missed you too, Finn!" She said, giggled, and did the bunny nose scrunch thing. At that moment, an image of a young Kassie weaving herself through his legs and begging to be carried flashed through his mind. He patted her on the head, just like when she was little. 

"Now...We have lots to talk about! Let's start with the Second Crusade!" Kassie then proceeded to tell Finn about 800 years' worth of European and world history. They were interrupted multiple times, mostly by Kol or Klaus. Kassie shooed them away every time, annoyed that they were disturbing her precious time with her eldest brother.

After Elijah, Finn was the brother she was closest to. Finn was 12 years older than her, so he always felt very protective of both her and Bekah. He was by far, the gentlest of her brothers and the quietest one in the family. 

As she was folding the map of Europe she used in her presentation, Finn observed her face - her eyelashes seemed to be covered in a black substance which made them darker and her eyelids appeared to shimmer. How? He didn't know. He gently grabbed her face and turned it toward him. He studied her face with furrowed brows, trying to understand.

She seemed taken aback by this, her eyes looking curiously at him. He lifted her chin and in that moment the sunlight covered her face, making the shimmer on her eyelids more apparent. "Why do your eyelids shimmer?" He asked, eager to know. 

She chuckled and grabbed his hand. "Oh, my dear Finn. It's called 'eye shadow'. It's a powder-like substance you apply to your eyelids. It comes in many different colors. The one I have now has these little crystals that make my eyes shimmer!" 

She explained to him the best she could. Old Norse didn't have words for glitter or makeup. But it seems he understood what she was trying to explain. He then asked about her eyelashes and she explained what mascara did. She enjoyed his childlike curiosity. 

~

After her study session with Finn, Kassandra went back to her room. There, she found Rebekah, who was rummaging through her closet. Kassie sighed softly before clearing her throat. Bekah spared her a glance but continued looking through her clothes. 

"What are you doing?" Kassie asked as she took a blouse from Bekah's hand and put it back on the hanger. 

"These are cute," Bekah said as she held up a pair of boots. "Can I borrow them sometime?" 

"Rebekah." 

Her sister sighed and jumped on her bed. Kassie followed and sat next to her sister. Bekah was playing with the sheets of the bed and some of the sunlight caught her golden heart-shaped ring, the one that matched Kassie's silver one. Kassie took hold of Bekah's hand. 

"What is it?" Kassie asked softly. 

"Mother is planning a ball, you know that?" Bekah said and Kassie furrowed her brows. Why was she always the last person in this family to find things out?

"Ok, and?"

Bekah gave her a look and rolled her eyes. She dramatically threw her hand in the air. "And? Well, we need some ball gowns, obviously. And you have none in your closet."

"So? We'll just go shopping. Plus, it will be a good bonding experience, seeing as we haven't spoken properly in over 90 years." Kassie remarked as she got up from the bed and started putting all the clothes back into the closet.

"Why is she even making a ball in the first place?" Kassie asked. 

"I don't know. Something about family bonding and healing old wounds, I wasn't really listening." Bekah said, looking at her nails. 

Kassie chuckled at her sister's snarky comment. She missed this; Rebekah was always a breath of fresh air, especially amongst their male-dominant family. She and Kassie were like two peas in a pod, you could not find one without the other. The two girls were only 14 months apart and in many ways, they thought of each other as twins who were supposed to be born together but were separated long before their creation.

"I missed you." Kassie blurted out before she could stop herself. She jumped back on the bed, grabbed Bekah's hand, and looked at her ring as she poured her heart out. 

"I missed your snarky comments. I missed your fashion advice. I missed you helping me with my hair. I had no one to confide in when Klaus got on my nerves...I was alone, for decades. It was horrible, Bex." Kassie confessed tearfully. 

Rebekah said nothing, for her own throat was tight and she herself was on the verge of tears. She pulled Kassie into a tight hug and they just held each other for what felt like hours. After a while, she pulled back and wiped off a tear from Kassie's cheek.

"No more crying. Now, how about that dress shopping?" Bekah suggested, trying to lighten the situation. 

Kassie sniffled and smiled.

The two sisters spent the entire afternoon shopping for the perfect ball gown. Once they settled on the ones they liked, they drove back home. Then, Finn informed them that Mother wanted to speak with Kassandra. In private.

Kassie was surprised but surmised it wasn't that odd. Her mother hadn't seen her in over 1000 years; it was natural a mother wanted to spend some time alone with her youngest child. She made her way to Mother's room. She knocked and slowly opened the door. She was met with the sight of her mother, now with shorter hair and dressed in modern clothing, standing over a table. 

There was a smell in the air; something herbal, Kassie concluded. She stood there, waiting for her mother to speak. "Mother?" She said after a while. Her mother turned, and Kassie saw she was holding a bundle of dried herbs. 

"It's just sage. For privacy, so that the others can't eavesdrop." Mother said calmly. 

She gestured for Kassie to sit down and she did. On one hand, Kassie was happy that her entire family was back together; it's just, that she never expected her mother to return. In all honesty, she was fine with her mother being dead. Yes, she was aware of how horrible that sounded. But in her defense, her mother conspired with their father to kill Kassie and her siblings, and then Mother turned them into blood-sucking monsters. No one could blame her for having a difficult relationship with her parents. 

"Why did you call me here?" Kassie asked as Mother sat down next to her. 

"I haven't seen my precious little girl in over 10 centuries. I just wanted to talk to you a bit about your life. Is that such a crime?" Mother said and then asked how the dress shopping went. 

"Um...fine. I chose a blue one. Bex chose a green one." Kassie replied awkwardly.

"Good, good. And who will you bring to the dance?" Mother inquired.

Kassie gave her a confused look.

"You know... as your date, as the people now say."

"Oh...Um, no one."

"No one? Kassandra, darling, you're a beautiful girl! It would be such a shame for you to be all alone." Mother commented, gently touching her knee. Kassie squirmed slightly in her seat. 

"Mother, I've been in this place for only a month. I don't know anyone good enough to invite them as my date." Kassie retorted.

"That's because you guard your heart like a fortress and let no one in. Daughter, it's been 900 years. Let him go." Mother told her gently.

Kassandra looked at her mother in disbelief. How could she say such a thing? Kassie felt confused beyond belief. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. 

"Excuse me? Let him go? The love of my life? My husband? You want me to let him go? Are...Do you hear yourself?"

"Kassandra, dear...You've been pining after him for centuries. You've been holding on to this false sense of hope and nothing good came of it. Get over him and continue living your life." 

"...Get over him? Are you mad!? Hope is the only thing that has kept me going. How could you say such a thing?" 

Her mother gave her a look of pity and Kassie could not bear it. She got up and paced across the room. "So this is why you called me here? To open old wounds and hurt me even more?" She accused, feeling rage coil inside her like an angry viper.

"Of course not! As your mother all I want is for you to be happy! You've wasted centuries searching for him and to no avail. You need to let him go." Mother said as she grabbed Kassie's hand. 

"If you truly were my mother, you would know how much I loved him and how much he meant to me. There is no peace, no happiness without him. I lost him centuries ago, but I still have faith. I know he will come back to me." She rebuked tearfully, pulling away from her mother. 

She glared at her mother but decided it was not worth arguing anymore. She stormed out of the stuffy room and slammed the door behind her.

~

Elijah was in his study when a loud bang echoed through the house. Suspecting Klaus and Kol or even Rebekah broke something, he walked out into the hallway to inspect what happened. To his surprise, he saw Kassandra storming down the stairs and out of the house. 

"Kassandra!" He called for her but she ignored him. He followed her outside and kept calling her. She got inside her car and he sped over to her before she could take off. He knocked on the window. She sighed but still lowered it. 

"Little dove, what happened? What upset you?" He asked, genuinely concerned for his little girl.

"Get in the car." She commanded. "I said. Get. In. The. Car." She repeated herself after she noticed his silent confusion.

He did as she said, not wanting to upset her further. She wanted to talk, or she wouldn't have invited him. Once he was in the car, she hit the pedal and drove them deep into the forest surrounding Mystic Falls.

~

Multiple times throughout the drive, he tried asking her what happened but she did not answer. A silent fury was brewing inside her, one that would not be silent for long. Tears kept on spilling down her face, blurring her vision, and all Elijah wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her, just like when she was a little girl. But she was grown, no matter how hard he tried to ignore that.

Shortly after crossing Wickery Bridge, she made a sudden stop in the middle of the road. Quickly unbuckling her safety belt, she opened the car door, intending to get out, but Elijah stopped her. With a soft hand, he pulled her back into her seat. Refusing to meet his eye, she kept her gaze away from him, staring through the window. Putting her hands on the steering wheel, she gripped it, needing something to ground her.

"Am I a fool?" She whispered, still not meeting his eye.

"What do you mean?" Elijah asked softly.

"Am I a fool for wanting to believe he will come back to me, and that in the end, I was not wrong in upholding my faith in him?" She clarified and Elijah knew immediately whom she was talking about.

"And why would you think such a thing?" He inquired.

She shook her head, too upset to verbalize her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she told Elijah about her 'talk' with their mother. 

"She said that I need to let him go...that I need to get over him...How-how could she say that?" 

"Kassandra-"

"Ugh, why didn't she just stay dead!?" Kassie yelled, hitting the steering wheel, and stormed out of the car. Elijah followed suit.

She paced alongside the car, her hands in her hair, while she tried steadying her breathing. She was losing control, she could sense it. Soon, she would spiral. All the negative feelings she had been harboring for Klaus and now her Mother, resurfaced. Then, she screamed in frustration and kicked a nearby tree, making the entire trunk shake. Elijah was by her side in a second and grabbed her shoulders.

"Doll, listen to me. Breathe. Calm down." 

"Wh-why are they hurting me?" She asked while grabbing his arms, her throat tightening. Elijah didn't seem to understand. 

"M-Mother and Klaus. Why are they hurting me? Always s-saying m-mean things to me and hurting my f-feelings..." She stammered, her voice breaking. 

She sounded so childlike and innocent. Elijah swallowed hard and gently took hold of her head. Kassie looked at him, her eyes wide and glossy, her face covered in tears. Her lower lips quivered as she asked "Don't they love m-me?" At that moment, she looked and sounded like a scared little girl craving validation and affection.

"Of course they do." He answered quickly. 

"I know he is alive Elijah, I know he is. In my heart and in my bones I know it. If he was d-dead...I would feel it, surely. If he were dead, I would die too." She insisted and Elijah had never heard her speak with so much conviction. 

Before he could respond, she removed herself from his arms. She turned around, looking up at the waning sun. God, she was angry. So, so, so angry. Vampirism only heightened her emotions, and now her rage was feeding into her bloodlust, making her hungrier than usual. Usually, she was able to keep it under control, to subdue the urge to kill and devour. But right now, Kassie could feel the grip she had on her passions slowly fading away.

In a desperate attempt to distract herself from the hunger, she started harshly scratching her bare shoulders and forearms, so hard she started drawing blood; though the wounds immediately healed. Her sharp nails pierced her skin, leaving behind a stinging sensation. Maybe if she focused on the pain, she would forget about the bloodlust.

"Kassandra, stop! Stop hurting yourself!" Elijah reprimanded with a raised voice, something he rarely did with her. 

He grabbed her hands and held them tightly. She squirmed in his arms, trying to free herself but he didn't let her go. Instead, he turned her around and pulled her closer. Her back hit his chest and he wrapped his arms around her middle. She thrashed and screamed and the sounds broke Elijah's heart. 

"Kassandra, please-" Elijah begged but his pleas were not heard. Kassie dug her sharp nails into his hands. He hissed in pain. If she continued like this, he would have to snap her neck. He decided he needed to reason with her, but, it was also obvious to Elijah that she had a lot of pent-up anger and it was crucial she let it all out.

Then, he pinned her up against a tree and pulled her arms behind her back. She screamed in anguish and at this point her true face was fully on display. Her long fangs were bared as she hissed in his face. Her face was twisted in anger, her red eyes stared at him. 

"Kassandra, listen to me. I understand you are angry and hurt. I know, better than anyone, how it feels to lose the love of your life. But you need to calm down. This is not you. You cannot let anger control you. You are better than this."

At these words, she stopped fighting him and seemed to relax in his arms. The fangs and black veins were gone, and her blue irises reappeared. She stared at him confused. 

"Lijah?" She uttered his name and just by her voice he could tell she was back to normal. Once the blindfold of rage was lifted from her eyes and she realized what happened, guilt overwhelmed her. She sank to her knees and wept as she tried apologizing. 

"I'm s-sorry...I'm s-so sorry, Lijah, I-I don't know what h-happened to me." She sobbed. 

"My sweet girl." He whispered as he crouched next to her and got down to her level. She threw herself in his arms. He shed a few tears himself.  

"Where's Elijah?" Klaus asked as he walked into the living room. He was out for most of the day and when he visited Elijah's study he was not there. Kassandra was also nowhere to be found. 

"He went after Kassie," Rebekah informed him as she filed her nails. 

"Went after her? Well, where is she? What happened?" Klaus asked. 

"Something happened with Kassie. I didn't see anything but I heard Elijah calling for her and then they stormed out of the house. I'm assuming it had something to do with her talk with Mother." Rebekah replied. 

Klaus hummed. What could their Mother say to hurt Kassie so much she stormed out of the house? There was only one thing that came to mind. He needed to make sure their Mother kept quiet.

~

They were now in the car and this time, Elijah was driving. She was in the passenger seat, looking out the window, her head tilted. The moon was rising and its light illuminated her tear-stricken face.

The car was silent. Neither of them spoke. Guilt and shame washed over her in continuous waves as she replayed her breakdown in her mind. She hurt Elijah, her favorite brother. The one person on this Earth who was always there for her. She sank deeper into her seat, covered her face with her hand, and wept silently. 

Almost like he was reading her mind, Elijah spoke up. "I'm not angry at you, Kassandra. I do not begrudge you."

She shook her head. This had nothing to do with his forgiveness because it did not matter. This was about her consciousness eating at her and her sense of shame for what she had done. His forgiveness did not make it any easier.

"I think death would've been easier than this...Cursed existence."

Elijah said nothing, but she knew he agreed.

Taglist: @ashaluuler

[nicohverse]

Entropic Float 2 Demo and Kickstarter Launch!

Picture a point-and-click adventure game. Now picture a branching, time-looping ontological mystery visual novel. Entropic Float 2 combines those into its gameplay concept: A point-and-click where you can never solve every puzzle at once. Where you have one key that fits two locks... And the only way to see what's behind the lock you didn't choose is to die, repeat the day, and try something different this time. With only you and your protagonist aware of the loop, seek an answer that earns new information. Through trial and error, solutions and murder... Can you find the way through this new Anomaly?

In early 2021, I started working on a project just for fun. Using the character creator and scene assembly tools of Illusion's Koikatsu, paired with the visual novel engine ren'py, I decided to learn to make a VN. A year and a half, over three hundred thousand words, and quite a bit of pocket money later, I released 'Entropic Float: This World Will Decay And Disappear' for free on steam and itch.io. 

Something that was never meant to be more than a fun exploration of a concept grew into a huge endeavor for me, a visual novel as long as any two Umineko episodes combined! I got guest artists, made plenty of art myself, and learned a lot more about coding in ren'py than I ever thought I would. After releasing the game, my friends were proud of me, and I've heard from a lot of people it connected with. It became the basis of what I want to keep doing creatively- Expanding on this world, telling its story, and finding those people it will resonate with.

That brings us to Entropic Float 2: Land Of The Witch. A sequel I've been planning since the first game released a little over a year ago now. It's a game that can't be free (though if you, for any reason, cannot purchase it- I care more about sharing it than I do about making money) and a game I want to create to that standard. There won't be assets made in a character creator or royalty free music this time. I hope to bring the Pine Creek Anomaly to the screen with my own two hands, and a little bit of help from freelancers. I want to make a point-and-click adventure worth paying fifteen dollars for, an artistic experience that constitutes a huge step up from the first game.

A demo is available to download and play from itch.io! Features already reflected in the demo include:

The general structure of the point-and-click gameplay; including travel between maps, item collection and use, and conversations with other characters.

Hand-drawn backgrounds (with minor animations) and talksprites.

Profile screens for each character and a memory-seeking system improved from the first game. Also improved from the first game is exposition being mainly in a linear-locked part of the story so it doesn't need to be repeated in different places so different players don't get confused!

Planned features yet to be implemented include:

Loop Randomization- The demo includes only the very first loop of the story, but in the actual timelooping gameplay, many factors will be randomized between loops. Characters and items will appear and disappear, characters will have different trustworthiness scores, and eventually, the weather will even change and impact puzzles and character behaviors.

Zones- Minigame areas that abstractly inform you more about a character and are locked behind obtaining certain profile notes and memories. The rewards for completing zones will be tools to access additional areas, such as Area 2 waiting beyond the broken bridge.

Characters- Several of EF2's characters don't appear yet in the demo, due to having their introductions tied to maps that aren't accessible in Area 1.

General Improvements- Characters currently only have one talksprite. The preferences page is still in the ren'py default configuration. Some music tracks recycled from the first game aren't the best fit for the situation. These are all things that relate to the current version being a demo. These are all things that will improve sooner if this kickstarter is a success.

Shortly after handling the Anomalous Clocktower in the Black Rock Desert, Kanatsune Ame was promoted. Now, as an agent of the Wish Task Force at a rank equipped to handle more complex Anomalies, he's received an assignment for another one above his pay grade. Pine Creek, an entire town that was wiped from the map and from all memory several years ago, only to suddenly begin dragging new victims inside within the last few months... Somebody inside this forgotten piece of miserable Americana decided to call out to the world that left it behind, and it's up to you to find out who that could be.

Thank you, as always, for reading!

[homocrafting]

turns out whatever instinct in me makes me want to make tma aus is unstoppable and all consuming. so here's qsmp tma au focused on the brazillians:

cellbit- he HAS to be the archivist ok this man is so eye aligned it's not even funny. HOWEVER because qcellbit and fcell are the same person, Events happened to him before he became the Archivist, ala from the archives grian. local paranormal enthusiast finds dead half eaten bodies, gets arrested for it (he SWEARS he didn't eat those people), goes to prison for 10 years, goes nuts (becomes F!Cell), kills himself in the island, wakes up in his room and Felps tells him "bro you disappeared for 10 days are you ok" and he's just like. What.

Worth mentioning that he fucking speedruns the archives. also known as the qsmp. Cucurucho, who is kind of like elias but a bit less (I inagine the Host would be elias, wjoever they are), thinks "wooo new archivist I wonder how long it'll take them to find out abt the horrors" and then cellbit shows up 3 days later running on 2 hours of sleep and 20 mugs of coffee with a consipracy board connecting a bunch of statements and theorizing about entities

ALSO the web is around him like all the time. if you pay attention there's at least 2 spiders near him at all times, usually hidden because he squishes them when he sees them. he's tangled in the web of lies that is the plot I'm making for this au and his ass is NOT beating it

Felps- Stranger type of guy who doesn't even know and takes like. a year to realise something's up with him. don't worry abt it ok I don't know why he's stranger-y to me either. it's the vibes just trust me

Mike- ok so. I am Very unsure for pac and mike, PLUS I've not seen herobrine a lenda, which means I don't know all their backstory, BUT I'm thinking Lonely for Mike, so far? he kind of distances himself from everyone after richas dies with him, so far is the only person I've not seen much gay happenings happen to, tends to disappear to fuckall nowhere apparently, as one does. also the fact that, back in prison, he seemed to have the most difficulty connecting with others.

also, the Desolation hates him personally. he doesn't know why. his house has burnt down thrice. he gets burnt by the littlest things for no reason. he's banned from the kitchen. an avatar of the desolation tried to kill him once. he watched his own son die in front of him. this is based on nothing from qsmp or anything I've seen Mike do I just think it's funny

Pac- I can only think of Vast and Spiral for him tee bee eich. Leaning heavily towards the Vast because, you know. gestures to the giant hide and seek maps, and also O RAIO, even though I have 0 context for that. he just... he explores the world and made giant hole (yeah yeah holes are the buried but consider: it's big.). it's his "I can show you the world" vibes. again dude just trust me

note abt tazercraft: both of them are very, very touched by the Spiral. reason? Chume Labs

Forever- I'm thinking either the Buried (mostly the digging aspect- he's destroyed a whole mountain and dug up and entire desert), or the Hunt (his intense hunt for Phil's love, the insane grinding that could be seen as hunting for resources, the werewolf hc my beloved). Leaning more towards the Hunt bc dogboyyyyy

The plot I have in mind is very different from the tma plot, but I'm not sure of everything yet, so for now you get this little bpnus :)

[CLICK]

[Cellbit]

We've been back from the Adoption Center for about a day now. Not a timely update, but things happened, and, well.

We found... we found a weird... creature. It- he? Acts human, although he can't talk. He communicates with us through a little notebook, and overall acts incredibly childish. He sure looks like a child. One with- with some material akin to... to egg shells as skin. He has hair, despite apparently being all... eggy. It's black and curly, covers his face. He doesn't like it when we try to move it away from there, but we're working on a safe way to see what's under there.

He seems not to know where he came from, but I know he's lying. It's- there's no way he doesn't, not with what he said, I don't care if Pac and Mike or, hell, Felps believes him, He called us fucking- he called us dads! That's the first fucking thing he said! It has to be some kind of trap, some kind of spy, I don't know yet but when I find out I'm going to fucking-

Shit. That wasn't too professional. Alright, where were we.

We brought him to the Institute. Forever and I weren't thrilled about the idea, but it was 3 against 2. I can't believe Felps would- I get Pac and Mike, there's something wrong with them I'm sure of it, but Felps? I underestimated his braincells. What am I talking about, he doesn't have any.

(Soft chuckle)

We, we named him Richarlyson, he seemed to like it. We asked his name first, but all he did was draw a- (Snort) a stick figure shrugging.

The only clothes he has are a singular oversized Brazil shirt. The moços and Felps want to go buy him clothes.

I don't know how they'll justify the kid having, I don't know, pure white hard skin, but they said not to worry about it, so I guess I won't! I won't. I fucking won't.

... I'm gonna follow them tomorrow. Just to be safe.

That's all for today, I'm gonna go- I'm going to check some statements, see if there's anything even remotely related to this.

This is Cellbit, Head Archivist of the QSMP, which I still don't known what stands for by the way, signing off.

[CLICK]

[fishermanshook]

Bonjour Bonsoir

May I request headcanons for Andrew Kreiss where he has to protect the person he has feelings for in a match ? Like all fluffy and stuff !

Thanks !

Of course I can do that for you!

You first, Your Body Second. (grave keeper x gn!reader)

Roxman_ on Pinterest

I've been writing for idek how long now and I still f up grammar and spelling. Warning as always.

What is love? And what lengths would you go to protect the ones you do?

But you don't have to worry about that. Not when you've got the Gravekeeper to protect you from the dangers that present themselves in every match you play in.

He'll keep you safe, always and forever.

-

The Grave Keeper has only felt so much love in his life, which really only amounts to a couple specs of sand. He can't wrap his head around the concept of it all-let alone the feeling of it.

Out of all places to fall head over heels in, he had to in this hell hole? Nobody expects it, and it's surely a surprise to all who welcome the feeling.

Which is something that Andrew doesn't do at first. The poor boy doesn't think he is anywhere near deserving of all the love and attention you give him.

Andrew hasn't differentiated the difference between being generally kind to going out of your way to do something for someone who's developed a crush. He knows what he feels, but can't figure out if your trying to tell him you reciprocate these undying feelings.

He's new to love, having been void of it for almost all his life he's forced to take baby steps. But for you? It'll be worth it.

-

Your one and only game today is a regular match, thank gosh.

None the less, you find yourself chatting it up with the Grave Keeper. The others cannot fathom the fact that you seem to be the only one in the manor who could keep up a regular conversation with the man. But to the two of you, this is just another chat.

It was weird y'know, how quickly the two of you seemed to click. Out of all the Survivors, you find him the easiest to talk to. It's so easy to find tranquility in each other's presence that you lose track of time. (You and Andrew may or may not have accidentally been late to a couple matches because of this.)

The Grave Keeper has told you more about his life than he's told anyone else. You've excepted him for who he is, scars and all.

It's more than enough for the man to catch feelings.

He isn't entirely sure how to show it though, but maybe this match will be the perfect time to demonstrate it.

-

"Two ciphers left!" The Priestess shouts into her radio which allows the rest of the team to know to keep up the pace. She's stuck having to take over the kiting while she bides time for the Doctor to self heal herself, which shouldn't take long.

You're halfway through decoding your cipher before you hear the sound of teleporting, you're soon greeted with the sly smile that belongs to no one but "Fool's Gold". Seems the hunters changed targets.

"Shit," you mutter into the radio as you quickly throw down a pallet, almost risking a hit. "Hunter's here, continue decoding at all costs!"

For the rest of the decoding period, you weave your way through pallets and windows. Unfortunately, you take a hit which leaves blood pouring from your back and you in excruciatingly pain.

In the distance, you see a blurry figure with hair white as snow running towards you.

"Fuck, Andrew? Andre you've got to get out of here-"

Your voice is cut off by Andrew picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

"Wait are you seriously going to kite with me on your shoulder?"

"Of course not, I'd never risk you getting more hurt than you already are now. Just hold in there, I won't let you get hurt again, I promise." Andrew says as he makes a mad dash across the map. You soon see a glowing blue and black portal.

"Go now, I'll take over the kiting."

"Andrew no I can't let you do tha-" Your voice is silenced (again...) from Andrews lips on yours.

Does it catch you off guard? Yes. But you soon lean into the quick peck, rapping your arms around his neck.

"Mh, Darling I'd love to continue but I'd rather you be safe okay?" With another quick peck on the lips, the Grave Keeper helps you through the portal, which is quickly destroyed by "Fool's Gold's" pickaxe.

"I'll see you soon, my love."

-

The whole match seemed to have been an entire blur. Even while you got bandaged up and the entire team was able to get out you still can't comprehend what just happened moments earlier.

I guess that confirms my suspensions then... You say to yourself as you make your way back to your dorm room. Only to be stopped when you feel a strong hand grip your shoulder, turning you around.

"H-hey, um, how are you?" Andrew stutters and stumbles over his words, obviously worried about the move he pulled on you earlier.

"Hi Andrew. I'm doing more than okay, how are you feeling?" You ask him with a smile tugging on your lips as you rock back and forth on your heels.

"I'm d-doing okay, uh, so-" You cut off Andrew with a kiss to the lips. Honestly you've been waiting too long to do this.

He leans into the kiss, putting his hands on your hips and you rest your arms around his neck. The kiss is slow but passionate and secretly sends him over the edge with happiness.

He promised to protect you, and for the first time in your life, you know you can count on it.

note: No, I am not an Andrew fan. No, I do not know why I made this fic so long. Yes this does suck ass but you still read it so (THIS IS SO OOC IM SORRY) (This is so ass what the heck)

©️2023 fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform