#visage; half god half hell.

[muntitled]

𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink

5k words

A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.

You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.

“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….

You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…

“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"

You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,

“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."

Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.

“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.

"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.

"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:

Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?

Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.

"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.

Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."

Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.

When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.

Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..

“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.

Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.

3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.

That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.

"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.

Not when you took so much of him, so well.

You clench your toes.

Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.

"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”

You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.

"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."

"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"

You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"

He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.

"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.

As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.

Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.

Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."

Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.

Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.

"Tell anyone about this-"

"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."

And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).

As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.

It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.

"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."

It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.

So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…

"Sorry?"

"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.

"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.

"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"

"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."

You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.

"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."

"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."

Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.

His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.

You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.

Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.

Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.

Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.

His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.

Did you not have friends?

And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?

What if…

Perhaps if he…

"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.

"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.

"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.

Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"

"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.

"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"

It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.

"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.

"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.

He finally slips under your skirt.

His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.

Not at all.

If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.

The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.

Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"

Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.

"I asked you a question, Harry."

"I like reading."

"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.

Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.

That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.

He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?

You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.

"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"

Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.

Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.

"Understood?"

Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.

Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.

However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.

"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.

"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.

Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.

"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.

"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"

"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."

Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.

"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.

"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.

Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.

You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.

You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.

The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.

"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"

You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.

"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"

This is all new, even for the two of you.

"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.

"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.

Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.

You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.

"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.

"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.

Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.

"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.

"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.

He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.

"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"

"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.

"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."

"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.

"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.

"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.

"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.

The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.

"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.

"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."

And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[krkiiz]

mastermind . luke castellan x reader

maybe the things that led luke to you were never accidental at all

luke castellan x f!reader . reader is the daughter of demeter . tooth rotting fluff , established relationship , nicknames

note : this is inspired by mother tay tay’s song “mastermind” (one of my fav songs in midnights frr) not edited! sorry for some mistakes. Hope you enjoy <3

The camp was never silent. Songs of birds echoed all across the painted skies, gallops of pegasus clapping through the fields, chatters of the half-bloods, sounds of clashing swords, shots of arrows. The camp was never silent.

Yet the two of you sat on the edge of a cliff, the camp’s background noises fully muted, too engrossed with each other’s presence as your hands interlaced as one.

From the top, you could see the overview of the camp. As the sun sets on the west, you get the best view of the skies painted in an orange hue, with hints of blue as the moon begins to rise.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Eyes still on the canvas of clouds, you asked your boyfriend beside you.

“Of course I do, flower.” A small chuckle blew from his lips. “How could I ever forget.” The boy smiled, recalling his encounter with you a few months back.

You tore your gaze from the orange hues to the boy by your side, raising an eyebrow of amusement.

“No, literally. I tripped and got stuck on a vine, and you helped me. It was so embarrassing, I swear, sunshine.” You tilt your head back, erupting in laughter as your boyfriend covered his face that was now as red as strawberries that grew in the camp’s garden.

“That was hell of a first impression, though.” You pointed out. “What were you even doing in the woods alone, by the way?” You asked the boy, curiosity grew in your heart akin to sprouting apples on a tree.

“I don’t know, I guess I felt drawn.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“Drawn? To the forest?”

“To you, flower.” He winked and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Ew Luke, get away or I’ll push you off this cliff right now.”

Luke glowed as he dove into the epiphany of laughters and you joined soon after. “I’m just kidding.” He pinched your cheek softly triggering a frown from you.

“Do you remember the next time that we met?” You tore your gaze from your boyfriend, eyes now settling on the deep blue that was slowly taking over the horizon as the orange tinge melts in the west. The setting sun was truly a sight to behold. But to Luke, no creations of the gods or even titans could ever compare to the beauty of the demigod by his side

Not hearing an answer, you turned your head towards the curly haired boy, the view of his pupils dilating as your e/c hues melted into his own clear as daylight. “Love? Is everything alright?”

Luke now understood how Hades had fall for Persephone as he had found himself entranced by the beauty of another one of Demeter’s daughter before him. The light breeze flushed against your cheeks, how you would always look beautiful even when your hair becomes a mess after training. How your skin glowed in sunlight rivaling Apollo’s children themselves. To Luke, you are his epitome of beauty. Like a single rose that stood amidst thorn bushes. But he has to be careful. One prick is all it takes to let his heart bleed out in his hands.

“Hm? Oh yeah everything’s fine. Don’t worry, darling.” He shifted closer, his fingers grazing yours. “Anyways as you were asking, yes I remember our second meeting. And our meetings after that and after that.” He smiled, recalling the memories.

“We keep meeting up by accident after that first meeting.” He chuckled softly.

You hummed. “Don’t you think it’s weird though? How we keep meeting accidentally after that?” You tilt your head slightly.

“Maybe fate brought us together. Who knows?”

“Yes…” You trailed off. “Or maybe it’s something else.” You started playing with his fingers that was laced with yours, but your eyes remained on him as you observed the slightest shift in his visage.

“What are you saying, flower?”

“What if I told you that…none of it was ever accidental at all?”

Silence engulfed you in the shape of a cold, harsh breeze. The sun was long gone by now. From here, you could see the luminescent glow of Artemis’ vacant cabin, as well as the campfire that brew from the other campers.

Your heart ached at the gap between you as Luke as he slowly untangle your fingers. From outside, you look the same as ever, waiting patiently for his response. Inside however, your head was screaming in every corner, anxious thoughts clouding your thought bubbles as you think of every worst possible scenarios that might happen.

Great job! He probably think you’re a stalker now and wants to break up with you.

Break up? You didn’t want to break up with him! Of course not, you love him and he loves you! … Right?

The storm that was raining all over your thoughts were soon crushed by the slight upturn that formed on one of the corners of your boyfriend’s lip.

He noticed your slightly stiff stance, he took your departed hands once more, knowing it will ease your nerves. “I know, Yn.”

You always loved how your name rolled off his tongue. So effortlessly as it calls your given name with such love, such adoration. Yet it was his answer that got you off guard.

“Really?? You knew, after all this time?”

“You really think you can trick the son of the god of tricks?” He pointed out, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“This is so embarrassing.” You bury your blood-rushed cheeks into your palms and Luke smiled at the sight, admiring the red hue that settled on your ears and face.

“Hey don’t be! Truth be told, I only found out from the nymphs.” Your eyes lit up at his confession. Maybe your plan wasn’t that horrible after all. “Well I mean that only confirmed it. I had my suspicions about your little master plan after our third time of meeting accidentally.”

Your groan in your hands. “What did the nymphs tell you?”

“That you had a crush on me.” He paused looking at your tomato face. “And that you were too shy to make the first move.” He peeled your fingers from your cheeks, revealing the scarlet hues on your facial epidermis.

“It was impressive though, you little mastermind. It worked didn’t it?” He placed his palms on your cheeks, caressing it like a fragile vase.

You brought him closer, leaning your forehead against his as you brushes your lips on the tip of his nose. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

The demigod frowned as he missed the presence of your lips on his skin. He leant more forward, your noses grazed each other and he finally sealed the distance of your lips with a soft kiss.

The moon shone with a glow more ethereal than usual, the stars map out the skies like seas of glitter. You both dove head first into the epiphany of love. Lips press against another as nature becomes the witness of two demigods’ form of adoration.

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

[natalievoncatte]

It wasn’t Kara that destroyed her.

In her secret heart, Lena craved that. She wanted Kara to give back everything Lena had thrown at her. Defeat her. Crush her. Cast her down and treat her like a villain. After all, why had Kara lied? Conspired? Tricked her and manipulated her? Why do all that if she wasn’t a villain?

In her quietest moments with Myriad in her hands or staring at the twisted visage of an alien murderer, a quiet voice from deep within her whispered the truth she could never let herself feel:

This is what you are. It’s in the blood.

If Kara would just treat her like a villain, it would all make sense. There would be no more nagging doubts, no more questions, no more hateful longing. Lena has done everything she could to carve it out of her chest, but it gave her no relief, only the raw throbbing pain of a ragged wound that wouldn’t close.

Then she had been at L-Corp when Jess ran into her office in a blind panic, shouting that she had to turn the television on now, that something terrible had happened.

Lena stared at her dumbly because she already knew. She could feel it somehow, a wash of graveyard chill that enveloped her from nowhere and froze the rotten lump where her heart had been. Her hand shook as she lifted the remote and turned on the screen.

The news chyron stuck her like a hammer blow to the chest and her pathetic excuse for a last meal -a cold half of a Big Belly burger she’d eaten the night before- leapt into her throat, trying to escape.

Supergirl Dead?

They hadn’t called her, and why would they? Why seek her help after all she’d done?

Lena pushed to her feet, almost tumbling to the floor in the process. The news was repeating a ten-second clip, showing a red-white beam slicing through the midday air, so bright that it distorted the image as it struck a tiny blue and red blur and knocked her out of the sky as if a giant hand had swatted her to the ground.

She was moving before she realized she’d taken a step.

“Cancel all my meetings,” Lena snapped.

“But the Japanese investors,” Jess said, lamely.

“Fuck the Japanese investors, cancel all my meetings!”

She pushed past Jess and stormed to her private elevator, twisting the key so hard it nearly snapped. She paced the full two minutes it took to to descend to the garage. There would be no summoning a driver. She ran barefoot across the parking garage floor to the Bugatti and threw herself inside.

When she arrived at the DEO, there was chaos. It took a moment before anyone noticed a barefoot, red-eyed Lena Luthor running into the lobby in a blind panic. When they did notice, she was immediately tackled by two of their goons and handcuffs slammed on her wrists.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “I’m here to help!”

“Shut up,” the agent growled.

They sent jolts of pain up her arms as they took her in. She thought they were going to take the handcuffs off, but instead they cuffed one hand to a chain locked to a ring in the middle of a concrete table in an interrogation room.

“What the hell?” Lena screamed. “I’m here to help her!”

The door slammed heavily shit and Lena raged, yanking at the handcuffs in a futile gesture that only left her wrist raw. She thought about trying to pick them, but at this rate they might shoot her if she looked to escape. Her stomach sank and she began to spiral.

She’s dead. She’s dead and they’re going to blame me.

Hot tears burned in her eyes and she willed them not to fall, holding them back with all her might, but it was inevitable.

Finally, after what felt like half a day, Alex walked in. Lena knew at once that something terrible had happened. Kara’s sister looked like hell, with dark circles under her eyes and a pained look. She regarded Lena as if she were some ugly thing that crawled out of a crack in the foundations.

“What are you doing here?” said Alex.

“I told your thugs, I’m here to help. You’re wasting time, I need to see her now.”

“Why,” Alex said, “why on God’s green earth would I let you anywhere near her?”

Lena blinked. “At least tell me what’s wrong. I might be able to…”

“You locked her in a kryptonite cage. You talked her into breaching her morals to carry out your sick schemes. You aimed a kryptonite cannon at her face.”

“I…”

“You what? You didn’t mean it?”

“Alex,” Lena began.

“Shut up. You had me fooled, Luthor. Kara always believed in you. I didn’t. I tried to convince her to be as afraid of her as I was. I just want to know, why now? She left you alone like you wanted. You’ve been quiet. Kara insisted we give you a chance and let you be, a choice I now deeply regret. So why now? What did she do to deserve this?”

The cold fury radiating from Alex choked Lena up for a moment. Her mouth worked silently.

“You think I did this?”

“Why not? You’ve hurt her twice already.”

“I didn’t. I would never. I didn’t want her to die. I just wanted to…”

“To what?”

Lena swallowed hard, speaking before thinking.

“I wanted her to feel what I was feeling.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed and her expression went dark and hard, something vicious twisting her lips. Her hand twitched towards the bulky alien gun on her hip.

With her other hand, she pulled out a phone and turned it to Lena.

Lena’s stomach flipped when she saw Lex’s grinning face.

“I hope you enjoy your new present,” he said into the camera. “A Kryptonite particle beam enhanced with a high-powered laser tuned to a wavelength that will instantly negate her powers.”

Lex’s grin widened.

“Lena sends her regards.”

Lena blinked a few times. She wanted to thrash, yank her chain, accuse, scream.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why, because you wouldn’t?”

“I killed him,” Lena breathed.

“What?”

“Lex. Lex is dead. I killed him. I killed him!” she was almost hysterical. “I put two shots in his chest and one in his head like he taught me himself. After he escaped last time I killed him.”

Alex’s expression faltered.

“You think I’ll believe that?” she said, but sounded unsure.

“When I was twelve and Lex was away at school, Lillian got drunk and threatened me. I was scared to death she meant it. Lex gave me our father’s gun and taught me to shoot.” A brief, weak smile cursed her lips. “I didn’t realize until a lot later how fucked up that is, but it’s one of my favorite memories of him.”

“You’re telling me you killed him,” said Alex. “After you went behind our backs and used the Hardin-El to heal his ‘cancer.’”

“He was my brother.”

“And you say you killed him.”

Lena looked down, away from her. Tears fell on the table with a soft patter and she choked back a hitching sob.

“She became his new fixation. He was never going to stop. I did what I had to do.”

Alex went silent. Her hand hung by her hip and part of Lena hoped she’d make it fast, the same part that flinched when Alex moved.

The key twisted in the lock and the cuffs ratcheted open. Alex gave her arm a sharp tug. “Get up.”

Lena wobbled to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up and walk.”

Alex led her to the elevator, and down a corridor. Kara’s frail form lay behind a layer of plastic curtains, bathed in brilliant light from sunlamps.

“If she comes around,” Alex said, her voice flat. “You can never tell her. She’ll blame herself.”

Alex parted the curtains and led Lena inside. Kara lay n a stretcher with a layer of bandages wound around her bare torso, looking pale and drawn. Her skin shone with a cold sweat and there were dark circles around her eyes. She lay in a nest of wires and was on oxygen.

“My God,” Lena whispered.

“It was like he said. Some kind of particle beam combined with the laser. It’s like she was impaled through the chest with superheated Kryptonite. If Jon hadn’t caught her, the impact would have been fatal.”

Alex rattled it all off with a cold, medical detachment, except for the tension creaking in around the edges of her voice and the way her shoulder hitched.

“You’ve hurt her so much,” Alex whispered. “I don’t think I’m ever going to fully trust you again. But for the love of God, if you can fix her then fix her.”

“I will,” Lena said, the CEO creeping back into her voice. “I’ll need materials from my lab. I’ll give a Brainy a list. I’m not leaving her.”

Lena did not sleep for another thirty-six hours. She worked tirelessly alongside Brainy, who regarded her curiously as she hunched over lab benches and uploaded instructions to nanites.

Finally she said, “what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He turned back to his own task without answering her.

An hour later, Alex stormed in.

“She’s getting worse. Whatever you’re doing, you have to hurry.”

Brainy turned from his lab bench and took Alex’s arm. He led her into the hall and they had a clipped, quiet conversation that Lena could not hear, except for Alex’s startled cry of “WHAT?”

It didn’t matter, she was finished. She took the devil in her hands and rushed through the door.

“Let’s go, we can’t waste anymore time.”

Alex openly gaped at her, then looked at Brainy. The expression of utter shock on her face arrested Lena in her tracks.

“What?”

“I,” Alex began, but Brainy grabbed her arm and squeezed hard.

“Let’s go,” said Alex.

Lena swept into the lab carrying the module in her hands as if it were made of precious gold.

“Turn off the sunlamps,” Lena ordered the technicians. “If the poisoning progresses, they’ll kill her faster than they heal her.”

Once they were off, Lena placed the device on Kara’s chest and stepped back.

Its sensors detected the Kryptonite and the system deployed. The pod unfolded like a delicate composite flower, and a wave of nanobots poured over Kara’s skin, instantly devouring and reprogramming the nanites in the wreckage of her suit while consuming the linens and bandages to grant the system more mass.

The entire process unfolded in seconds. It ensconced her in a protective layer and expanded, rapidly building an entire protective pod around her body. Dozens of tiny needles inserted dozens of cannulas into her arms and legs and began pumping her full of nanites, sending them storming through her bloodstream.

Lena bit her lip: there was nothing to do now except watch as the system’s AI administered rapid pulses of red and yellow light to balance the speed of her healing as the nanites in her bloodstream identified irradiated particles and consumed them, using them to make more of themselves.

She sat down. She knew this would take hours.

It ended up taking three days.

Lena slept in the side chair by the bed until someone brought her an uncomfortable recliner. Alex came in and out, as did Brainy and Nia, all of them looking at her oddly.

Finally the pod made a pleasant tone and unfolded. Kara lay on her side within, the nanites having formed a new suit top around her to preserve her modesty. She still wasn’t awake, but she was breathing normally and looked for all the world like her usual beautiful self. Lena was alone with her when it happened, and was glad of it. No one saw her brush the loose strands of gold from her face, and no one saw her rest her palm on Kara’s warm cheek.

They all piled on eventually.

Kara did not wake up.

“Why isn’t she coming around?” Alex demanded. “Why doesn’t she wake up?”

“She’s in a Kryptonian healing trance,” said Brainy. “It’s part of the healing process. She will wake when she is ready.”

“When the hell will that be?”

“We should give Lena the room.”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me,” Brainy said firmly.

Lean was as bewildered as Alex. What was she supposed to do?

When they were gone, she caught herself reflected in the monitors around the bed. She looked like shit, with barely one day’s sleep in four. As haggard as she looked, she didn’t care.

What the hell? It couldn’t hurt.

Lena bent over the bed, leaning on one hand, and took Kara’s in the other.

“I don’t know if you’re in there, but if you can hear me, it’s safe now. You can wake up. We’re all here for you. I’m here.”

It might have been the exhaustion, or the desperation, or the sorrow that filled her to bursting like a molten pain, but something happened and Lena let slip something that she’d held so tight she was sure her heart had long since crushed it.

“I love you, Kara. You don’t have to love me back. You don’t even have to like me. But I need you in the world. I need you. I need you, not Supergirl. I need Kara. I need my Kara. Please, if you’re in there at all,”

Kara’s eyes fluttered open. “Lena?”

“I’m here.”

Kara blinked a few times, and her hand closed gently around Lena’s.

“I had a bad dream,” she said. “It hurt so much, it felt like my heart was ripped out and I was in a dark place, and then I heard your voice leading me home.”

Lena grinned in spite of herself, tears stinging her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kara. For everything.”

“Hush,” Kara whispered, her angelic voice full of quiet wisdom. “We can do that later. You’re tired. Lay down.”

Lena hesitated for a bare moment and then kicked off her shoes before climbing on next to her. Once she was lying down, sleep came crashing down on her like an avalanche as Kara threw an arm over her and tucked in close.

As she drifted off, Lena heard Alex, somewhere in the hall, snap, “Brainy, you knew this entire time?!”

[amorgansgal]

Doing Something Unholy

So, as inspired by a post @waterdeepwhiskey and with encouragement from @waterdeep-weavemoss I have written some glorious smutty filth, involving Gale and a Female Reader/Tav fucking in front of Mystra's statue. Hope you all enjoy some nice, vindictative fucking!

Gale x Female Reader/Tav

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, sex in public

It seemed like no one in camp wanted to tell you where Gale had gone off to. Granted, you both weren’t possessive of each other or needed to know where one another was at all times. But everyone was acting very oddly. You’d narrowed your chosen targets for interrogation to Halsin and Karlach. Most would likely keep the matter a secret, but you felt like an appeal of the heart might win Karlach over and a plea of just wanting honesty would work with Halsin.

You headed over to Karlach’s tent, tucked away between two buildings and she immediately began to fuss with her belongings, as though she had changed her mind on where everything should go. ‘Karlach,’ you began warningly.

‘Hey soldier!’ she said brightly. ‘I… um… I have to… Wyll wants me to help with dinner, so…’

‘You burnt dinner last time you helped with it,’ you pointed out.

‘I know, that’s why I’m on chopping duty. He thinks I can manage that, so I ought to get going, those carrots won’t-!’

‘Karlach, please, where’s Gale?’

She sighed and looked over to the others. You glanced behind you and saw Shadowheart watching you both, a troubled frown on her face and by the looks of things having just shook her head. You snapped your head back around to look at Karlach.

‘Don’t lie to me, where is he?’ For a horrible minute you wondered if he was at Sharess Caress, it seemed so unlike him, even the way the Drow twins had spoken to you had made him deeply uncomfortable. He had said so. But where the hell could he be if he wasn’t there? And why hadn’t he told you where he had gone or what he was up to?

‘He… you remember we visited Stormshore Tabernacle where there was the statue of Mystra?’ Karlach said, evidently deciding it was better to tell you and risk Shadowheart’s annoyance. 

‘The statue of Mystra?’ you repeated, almost dumbly.

‘Yeah, he said he wanted to… uh… go and look at it.’

‘Why does looking at a statue take the better part of an hour?’ you asked, Karlach gave a bemused shrug.

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

‘And he wanted to keep this a secret from me?’

‘Well, I don’t know about a secret…’

You scowled formidably, snatched up your cloak from a pile of clean laundry and began to head back out to the city. You evidently needed a good talk with your lover, if that was what he was up to. Karlach called out to you to wait, but you decided to forgo travelling with the group and shouted over your shoulder, ‘We’ll be back in a minute or two!’ Thankfully no one followed you after that.

***

Stormshore Tabernacle was quiet after dark, the door was still open, but the priest was gone for the evening. Flickering candles illuminated the now subdued hall, casting shadow and golden light over the faces of the stone gods. You snuck in through the door, closing it behind you and immediately spotted Gale, who hadn’t even noticed your presence. His gaze was transfixed on the carved visage of Mystra and if you hadn’t known better you would have assumed he was hexed or frozen to the spot by a spell. 

‘Gale,’ you murmured, and he jumped, quickly turning around to look at you.

‘Gods, I thought you were-’ he coughed and looked sheepish. ‘Well, I hardly know, an enemy of some sort. Spend half our days fighting that I’m starting to look for them when they aren’t even there.’

You carefully approached the statue and looked up at Mystra. The same electrifying jolt that you had felt when you first visited sent a shiver down your skin, the weave was stronger here with just her depiction alone. It both warmed and cooled you at the same time, made you feel a little dizzy and jubilant with the sweet promise of power. 

‘Not so much an enemy,’ you said, looking at Mystra’s face. Even you wouldn’t admit to being an enemy of a god, that was far too risky and undeniably tempting for a god to put you in your place. ‘But something of a rival I suppose.’

‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘Look you have no reason to fear-’

‘Do I not? Most people would not take kindly to their supposed lover spending the better part of an evening staring at a depiction of their ex-lover.’

‘No, and I understand why you would fear my loyalty, but you need not doubt me. I came here to work out a few things in my head.’

‘A few things you couldn’t talk about with me?’

‘I didn’t want to talk to you about them because I fear I talk about Mystra too much and I didn’t want you to feel like that’s what I always do. But perhaps I should’ve,’ he admitted quietly. 

‘Yes, or at least told me that’s what you had planned to do! And not made everyone in camp keep it a silly little secret.’

He hummed in agreement and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, it does feel silly now. I just… I look at her and I don’t feel how I felt a long time ago. My feelings towards her are complicated, but love doesn’t feel part of it, I don’t feel I can love her anymore. I don’t feel I want to love her anymore.’ He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you were caught between the altar for Mystra and Gale’s firm chest under the warm softness of the velvet cloak he wore. ‘I love you, entirely, completely. You have my heart in the palm of your hand and I can do nothing but beg you to keep it.’

You couldn’t help smiling at his declaration and he seized the opportunity, cupping your face and kissing you. It had been a sweet, gentle kiss at first, but as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hands found your waist, he pressed you up against the altar. He nipped your lower lip, a silent plea to allow him access to your mouth, and you conceded, letting him slip his tongue between your teeth. His hands drifted further down to your thighs and butt and he lifted you up till you were sat on the altar.

Perhaps you should have questioned whether this was a good idea, perhaps you would have advised it not be worth risking the anger of a goddess for momentary pleasure, but the part of your brain the quite frankly couldn’t stand the goddess and what she had done to Gale won out. Let her deal with you fucking her ex-lover, let her deal with the fact that you had stopped Gale from detonating the orb, that he wanted to give you the whole world and his loyalty to her as a worshipper was shaky at best! 

You had already made light work of the laces on his breeches and slipped your hand inside, stroking his already hard cock, pre-cum already slick on your fingers, you ran it down the length and smiled as Gale groaned against your mouth. He pressed hot, needy kisses down your neck. ‘Gods, we shouldn’t do this,’ he muttered, though he didn’t sound very convinced by the suggestion.

‘Do you really want to stop?’ you murmured enticingly and stroked him again, he let out a delightful, tremulous breath he let out as you did. You would’ve stopped if he said no, but instead he scrabbled with the material of the dress you wore, tugging up the skirt till it was around your hips. His fingers easily found your slit and he bit back a groan finding you wet and wanting. Gale trailed them up to your clit and you let out a quiet moan in the temple at the heady rush of pleasure you felt. Perhaps it was all the more delicious and delightful to be doing something so wicked and sinful in a temple of the gods.

He pulled you forwards, closer to the edge of the altar and then went to his knees. You bit back a smile and his eyes gleamed in the half-light. ‘I’ve heard tell that love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling. Consider me a humble worshipper,’ he said and began to kiss up your thigh. 

He reached the apex and kept a tight hold on your legs, pressed his mouth against your slit and began to lap, kissing and sucking on your clit and making you gasp and moan and squirm on the stone table. Your hand knocked off a necklace that someone had left as an offering as you desperately tried to find purchase, even as your head dropped back from the pleasure Gale’s clever, well practised tongue was easily drawing from your body. You would’ve happily let him continue, but you didn’t want to risk being interrupted and your body felt like a taut bow string. 

‘Gale,’ you panted. ‘We can’t… we need to be quick…’

He let out a groan of frustration and drew back a little. His face was flushed and his lips and chin were covered with your slick, even that sent a shiver of desire running through you. 

‘I like taking my time,’ he pouted.

‘And I like not having my pleasure interrupted by a priest who might overhear us and come looking!’

Gale got up and wrapped a tight arm around your waist, kissing you frantically, his fingers dug into the meat of your thighs and he groaned as his cock brushed against your sopping wet clit. You shifted your hips just a little and he easily slipped inside you. Gale let out a quiet moan, his face buried into your shoulder and he bit down, trying to quieten himself as you whimpered at the feel of him. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathed against your neck. ‘You feel so good.’

‘Better than all the heavens and anything Mystra could offer?’ 

He raised his head, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Far better.’ He fucked you hard and fast, hips slamming into yours, his fingers fumbled against your clit, working quickly to bring about your pleasure and it was all you could do to keep one hand gripping the stone altar to stop you from falling back and another hand fisted into the material of Gale’s shirt. The quiet temple was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the soft pants and moans from you both as you rushed to find your pleasure. Until finally Gale let out a rather loud groan as he buried himself to the hilt within you and you felt his release, you shuddered around him as he easily brought you to your own bliss. Your head fell backwards and you saw the cold, stony face of Mystra.

‘Fuck you, you fucking bitch, look at how well he fucks me on your precious little altar,’  you thought in your head, though even after all that you had done you dared not say it aloud. It was petty of you, but truth be told it made you feel good. You both got your breath back and once Gale had tidied himself away, he offered a hand to help you down from the altar.

‘Ah,’ he said, and on turning, you saw you had left a rather sizable wet patch on the stone. Gale lifted his hand, presumably to cast prestidigitation to remove it, but you caught hold of his arm. 

‘Leave it, consider it our offering to her,’ you insisted.

‘Tav,’ he warned. ‘She will not be pleased.’

‘Is she ever? Besides, it’s a little too late for that, and what’s she going to do, stick another orb in you?’

He chuckled and shook his head. Gale gazed at the wet patch for a moment longer, then placed his arm around your waist. You thought he would insist on cleaning it up, but instead he guided you from the temple and you both made your way down the steps and back to camp.

[celaenaeiln]

Bruce: *sees a motorcade come up on his right* *ignores*

Timmy in the back eying the group suspiciously: ….

*tapping on glass*

Dick: B, there’s someone tapping on my side.

Bruce: Don’t roll the window down they could be-

Dick: *already rolling the window down* *GASP* ROMMEY?! ROMMEY! ROMMEY!!

A 45 yr old grizzled man with a smoker’s voice, nicknamed Rommey by Dick: heya Dickie, how it’s going kiddo.

Dick: ROMMEY IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU AGAIN!

Another motorbiker with a full claw scar down his face: what about the rest of us, kid? Forget about us?

Dick: MANES! DERRICKA! IZZY!!

Derrick-I take down mercenaries for fun but let a kid I like call me DERRICKA-Rolan: You little shit, why’d we not hear from you after you fucked off to neverland huh?!

Isabella-what? Someone went missing? I had nothing to do with it, it’s total coincidence that I hated him-Hodges: Maybe he doesn’t like us, Der. That right, Dickie?

Dick: *flabbergasted* No!! It’s a long story! After I left I ran out of gas and then some girl crashed into my bike and sent it flying off the cliff but I dove off it first and then I had to walk to the nearest motel on bare feet because I gave her my shoes and then I met this half bear half man and I’ll be pleased to tell you that it was a beary bearable encounter once he got his bearings hahahahaha- *progressively climbing out of the car as the story goes on*

Bruce: Dick! Get back in the car! *having one hand on the steering wheel and grabbing the back of his shirt with the other to keep his wayward son from falling out*

Dick: Wait- *accidently twisting too far and nearly braining himself on the speeding asphalt*

Rommey: DICK!

Bruce: DICK!

Rommey, Derricka, Izzy, and Manes: *grabbing the front half to prevent Dick from becoming like two-face*

Bruce: *letting go of the wheel to grab Dick’s bottom half for the same reason*

Tim: *high pitched screaming from the back* DICK! Tₕₑ Wₕₑₑₗ! ₜₕₑ Wₕₑₑₗ!!!

Bruce: *struggling to pull his son in while the motorcade struggles to pull him out to sit on a bike thus leading to Dick hanging in limbo out the window of a car going 80mph on a freeway* GRAB THE WHEEL TIM

Tim: *sacrificing a few ribs on the edge of the front car seat* IM TRYING! I CANT REACH THE CRUISE CONTROL AND DONT LEAN BACK AND OH MY GOD SIGN POST! SIGN POST! THE POST! THE POSSSTTTTT!!!

Dick, Bruce, Tim, and motorcade: *furious screaming and shouting and panicking*

*2 hours later*

*Arriving at the manor*

Jason: damn what happened to you lot, you look like you went through hell and back.

Bruce and Tim: *drained, pale-faced, messy, sweating, and heaving*

Dick: *a curl of hair falling elegantly into his shining eyes* I just had the time of my life, Jay!

Jason who is well acquainted with Dick’s “Time of the life”s: ah. My condolences.

Tim: Never again. *flopping on the ground and cater-pilling his way up the stairs*

Damian: Father, this is such disgraceful attire! Fix yourself at once, mother would be embarrassed by such a visage! What in holy reincarnation have you been doing?!

Bruce: Never again, Dick.

Dick: it’s nothing Dami, they were just helping me.

Damian: Father, I am ashamed of you. Why must you devolve to such a state when you assist Grayson, he is perfectly capable of extraordinary feats without your input. I suggest you refrain from interfering with his success again.

Bruce:

Bruce: Damian, you-

Dick: Bruce. *smiling pleasantly*

Jason: *immediately sneaking off*

Bruce’s life momentarily flashing before his eyes: …..nothing. Go finish your homework. *trudging off to whine to Alfred about how no one’s gonna believe him*

Dick: *sincerely* what a great day! 😊

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑂𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑁𝑜𝑤 𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑; Part 1

Summary: Having to work with Mexican Special Forces to take down a terrorist group so that they wouldn't bomb a place and make them chicken nuggets, you had to return to where once you lost the two dearest friends you had.... People that could have been more, if your life worked out differently.

A/N: Reader's codename "Night" is entirely made up by me.... And excuse my bad attempt at accents.

A/N: Though I'm mew to this... REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR COD: MW2

¹: Do I sound like I'm a newcomer to you, Colonel?

²: All those informations couldn't have been uploaded to my brain in my mother's womb, no?

Pairings: Alejandro Vargas x Fem!Reader x Rodolfo Parra( romantic), Task Force 141( platonic) , hints on GhostSoap

"Ouch, Soap! Come on, be a bit gentle man!"

"If ya stopped fo' a second, I wouldn' have to be harsh." You groaned under Soap's teasing eyes and Ghost's irritated yet still soft staring while the plane you three had to take was bringing you to Mexico, somewhere you never thought you would have missed at all. The mission you three took before this was kind of a disaster. The raid in Al-Mazrah and trying to get a hold of Hassan was a hardwork, between the many snipers protecting the building even though there was no one and learning that Hassan already fled out, made all three of you, to put it simply, mad.

Like mad,mad.

Sure, Soap tried to mask it with his god-awful jokes while Ghost just stared at the ground with his usual and deadly, unreadable Ghost-stare, as you called it... You were only able to sit straight thanks to Soap for his help with bandaging your wound on your side and give him a bright smile- one that the team would make fun of since the brightness of it was the polar opposite of your nickname.

All bright and shining smile, on the Night's face...

Hissing through the slight pain that went through your spine in little electroshocks, you got up and sat down next to Simon, slightly leaning back with your legs kicking the air aimlessly. You didn't have to talk, and neither of you liked it when one spoke only to crush a comforting silence, you just laid your hand on his thigh with a reassuring smile. You knew the tendency he had, blaming himself for one single failure when he won against many people.  

But the battles he was apparently fighting inside was far harsher and tougher to him.

Ghost really lived up to his name, he was like a ghost. No face, no backstory... And if you weren't the one of the few that was lucky to gain his trust, you wouldn't know his real name or that slight show of half of his face whenever he would smoke around you.

Why do you never let us call you Simon, you once asked him while you were eating your sandwich while he was smoking next to you outside. A peaceful night it had been, apart from Price nagging you to eat healthy when the lungs of that man was like a coal. The man you think I am, Simon, is long dead. Here, I'm only Ghost, he gruffly replied to your question after finishing and pulled his hood up while his feet kicked the pebbles, not looking up at your innocent-eating visage that stopped mid-action and a sad pout settled in. You didn't say much after that, sensing that it was something very sensitive for him...

And though, he still didn't fully trust you with his story... It was okay as long as he was comfortable around you.

"Get your shit together, bestie! We're landing soon enough!"

"I'm not your bestie, Night- what the hell does that even-"

"Oh, shit! Look at this, Soap! We're in Mexico already!" Soap grinned at your enthusiasm while Ghost groaned, a smile staying hidden beneath his balaclava. The Scottish man let out an amused how you seemed happy and excited even after a tough mission and a rough wound, looking down at the green scenery like a kid having her first vacation, but looked out the window anyways, kinda getting where it was coming from.

But the next words that left your mouth made even Ghost look up at you curiously.

"Damn, It's been a long time since I've been back here! Feels like nostalgy..."

"Wait, you... you're from here?"

"Uhh, kinda? After my parents died, my uncle who used to live close to here, Las Almas, took me in and raised me until I was 14 or something..." your voice got relatively silent in the end and a sad frown rested on your face, a sight that neither of the men had ever seen.

It was obvious that the rest of that story, your story, was gonna get darker from here. It was always like that for everyone in the military, no one really had a good, white-fenced family life...

One way or another, all of the troubled ones got sweeped in the military work.

"What happened then? How did you end up in the USA?" Soap asked the only question that was ringing in both of their heads, thinking-and hoping- that what they thought wasn't the case.

And knowing this, and seeing it on their hopefull gazes, you turned to look out the window one last time before the plane landed, and a harder look settled in. "He died in front of my eyes, Laswell was there for an operation and tried to stop the one who killed him... Apparently she failed, and as a repentance I believe, she took me in."

"So you haven't been here ever since than?" Soap asked curiously when you sat down to buckle up while the plane started to lower down. Your brows knitted, mind racing to find a memory if you had been there but when nothing came, you shook your head as no. "Nope, that's the first time... Oh, the amount of irritating Spanish jokes I'm going to make to irritate those guys, hehehe..."

Ghost only sighed at your evil cackle, rolling his eyes when Soap's eye beamed at the idea. And you smiled even wider when his eyes met yours with the same amount of mischief but soon dropped when he eyed you sadly. "I woulda wanted to join, but I don' know Spanish, lass..."

You grunted angrily, shuffling on your seat that was more like a cat kneading a soft blanket which made him chuckle and ruffle your hair. "Don't worry, Soap! Spanish isn't that hard that I'm sure you will learn a few words when we leave here-AND STOP MESSING MY HAIR! JUST BECAUSE I'M IN MILITARY DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T CARE MY LUXUR....."

Ghost would never admit, rather die, but he only tolerated yours because you were the only one who was brave enough to bitch out the General while being completely unfazed and playing a game on your phone.

Alejandro, to say it simply, didn't expect to see a woman in the team that was coming to Mexico. Laswell didn't say anything and just said cheekily I'm sending you someone just like you, Colonel...

But seeing an angry woman, who was dwarfed in the middle of two huge men and represented more of a chihuahua, was definetly a good change.

And up until the plane landed, and even when the doors opened, you didn't stop complaining and yelling at Soap-who was busy not to cackle at every angry face gesture you did- while Ghost was walking ahead, fed up by you two's stupidity.

And it was amusing to watch you hit bulky man who was able to throw you over his shoulder.

"Sergeant Mactavish, Colonel Night!" A booming voice made you both stop playing with each other and look ahead to see the serious-looking man greeting you with a handshake, both of you nodding in gratitude at his respect to you not using your real name. It was no use, after all, with giving your name away so carelessly.

One of the rate things you and Ghost agreed on.

Alejandro shook Ghost's hand as well, the colossal Titan-like man nudging you to move with the tip of his gun harshly after Soap being a little bitch, as he called it.

While the said-man was busy with fucking up with Ghost.

"Actually, I believe he prefers to be-"  you bit down your lip hard at what Soap was about to say, a snort still leaving you when Ghost yelled at him to stop since he knew you both were about to ridicule him for letting you two tease him.

What was the bad that would come with telling every single person you met that the killer-machine of a colossal Ghost liked to be called babygirl, after one of your babygirlfying sessions?

The three men already started to speak to themselves about Hassan and Shepherd, and though you knew it was selfish... You just wished you came here for a vacation and not a mission, the sound of the General's name being enough to make you even more mad then before.

And remembering the last convo you had with your adoptive mother, Laswell, only fueled that anger.

"Mom, I'm telling you that there is something wrong with the way the General acts!"

"What could possibly be wrong with him, Y/N! He is the General-"

"That's the point! He only asks about where the missiles are, and I bet my 1000 dollars that it's because he wants to have a power in his hands and not to save humans!"

That man is bad news, and if I can get more info maybe before he kills me, I can-

You knew that Laswell was heavily loyal to him, and she never questioned him or his morals but though she never saw it, you saw how an evil smile would come to him at the mere mention of killing or sacrificing men, soldiers who had families, hopes, dreams...

And you knew, that he knew what you had been doing from his back by collecting evidence and that he was already planning to kill you.

"Hey, lass... You good?" Soap called to you when he realized that you no longer walked with them and you shook your head immediately, jogging up to them before getting in the car after Soap.

"Yeah, no worries. I'm sorry for dozing, just thinking of how I'll get my hands on someone after we're done and have a fun night out- Oh, hey!" You grunted noncholantly, while Alejandro raised a brow at you curiously and Ghost pushed you into the car forcefully but you still had a beaming smile to the man sitting in the driver seat, offering a hand while the said-man was watching you three curiously, accepting the kindness nonetheless.

"Hey, not a good first impression on our teammates, Ghost!"

"Do I look like I give a damn? Get in!"

"Okay, Jesus fine. Stop being an ass..." you grunted in pain while plopping down on the seat, being squished by the two bulky men who opened their legs a bit wider than usual to fit in and though you normally wouldn't give a damn...

Right now you couldn't breathe.

And it definetly wasn't because of the most gorgeous two men you ever saw-

"Look, guys, as much as I love you, move your legs away from my tiny self 'kay? I know I don't have balls between my legs but be a gentleman and shoo your legs away!"

Rodolfo widened his eyes at what you said, watching the two men grunt and apologize while doing so and looked over to his boyfriend to see if he was the only one being shocked when he caught Alejandro's sigh, him muttering she's like that before cleaning his throat to introduce him.

"This is my second in command Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra." Alejandro introduced his boyfriend with a proud smile, the man at the recieving end smiling bashfully at him before giving a nod over to your trio, which you also did the same and squeezed your eyes questioningly at him.

After hearing his name, you turned your questioning eyes to the man, suddenly feeling like you knew them. The shape of his nose, the way he smiled and touched his face when he first met you...

"Is something wrong, Colonel?" Rodolfo questioned hesitantly, the doubting face you did setting his nerves up to the roof while Alejandro looked back and stared at you back, protective eyes raking through your face until you gave a huge smile and shook your head, hands waving dismissively.

He couldn't be your best friend from years ago... that would be shit kinda insane, right?

"No, no... You just remind me of someone, I don't know who though. Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable." You leaned back on the seat with an unreadable gaze, lips thight and a kind of approving face yet smiled at him.

"That's not a problem, thank you." he nodded at you kindly, and turned back to the road ahead.

While both him and Alejandro thought why their hearts beated erratically at the sight of you smiling.

"They're not angry, Soap..."

"But they are yelling! They must be angry-" you sighed at his persistence as if he was the one who once lived here, and if the look on Alejandro's face said anything, it would be the same as yours.

"Look, It's a Mexican thing! Their blood runs hotter and wilder than the rest of the human population which makes their vocal cords stronger. Trust me, no one is actually angry here." You explained bored, your head on Soap's shoulder while you played with his hands idly, him turning his palm up for you to have better access. Alejandro slightly turned to look back at you, somehow with jealous and irritated eyes- thinking that it was because you two were being intimate while on mission, when you two weren't together at all, unknown to them-while Rodolfo's eyes found your face in the rear mirror with a confused look.

At both your knowledge, and the closeness you had with the Scottish man.

"For a newcomer, you know our people a lot-" Soap's eyes shone when you lifted your head with a teasing smile and side eyed him, the moment you had been waiting for was finally here and it was your time to shine...

Damn, I wish my phone was on my hand...

" ¿Le parezco un recién llegado, coronel?"¹ you smirked cheekily at their astonished face, almost laughing out loud when Rodolfo lost the control of the vehicle which resulted with Ghost yelling loudly while the poor man apologized before his eyes found yours. "You speak Spanish?!"

" Toda esta información no pudo cargarse en mi cerebro en el vientre de mi madre, ¿no?" ² Rodolfo chuckled, trully seeing what Laswell meant when she said that one of the members would be much like Alejandro, a genuine smile creeping on his lips while Alejandro let out a loud laugh and smile.

Smiles that died down quickly when they realized that their eyes lingered on you longer and longer.

He and Rodolfo, ever since he lost the third piece of themselves, never smiled that much. Life was never easy to them ever since, between protecting Las Almas and its people, taking care of each other and healing their wounds that would never trully heal, they never had the chance to be themselves and have fun.

Not when they lost the girl they both fell hard for, their third piece Y/N Y/L/N...

The only person they saw them fighting shoulder to shoulder with...

Even swore on their blood...

Only for it to be broken with you, someone they tought that would never abondon them, disappearing without a trace.

Both Alejandro and Rodolfo's hand touched their chest, where they had their rings was hidden beneath, to have some comfort and feel you even if you weren't here anymore. Alejandro and Rodolfo, when they bought the promise rings, also brought one for the person who took their hearts with herself and probably died, thinking that you would have loved the idea. And occasionally, they would exchange it between each other when the other needed to feel it.

To feel you.

This time it was around Rodolfo's neck and he momentarily squeezed it, battling the tears to go away. This, the want to cry and the feeling of something clawing inside his chest, never happened in the almost 20 years that he had been dealing with his loss...

And he didn't like the reminder of what should have been.

Meanwhile, you and Soap was busy with gossiping between each other while giggling at the chaos that happened a few minutes ago so intensely that you didn't realize the looks Ghost was giving you. "You wanna bet if they're engaged?"

"Nah, lass, I'm one hundred per cent sure that they're married."

"Can you two not shut up and talk about the mission once?" Ghost butted in on your gossip harshly when you both looked at him offended.

"No?" You both whisper yelled at Ghost and he grunted, turning to look out the window while you patted Soap's arm with a bright idea. "How about I ask?"

"Are ya crazy? We just met these people, where do ya get the courage-"

"Live, laugh, don't give a fuck, Soap! That easy, and I'm betting my 100 bucks." You all-knowingly said, already seeing the wide smile and beam on Soap's face.

"100? Damn I'm in!" You gave a childish smile and scooted closer to the two men sitting in front, at this point you could have just squeezed yourself in between the empty space in the middle because of the intense pull you had. Alejandro stressed you a bit though, even when you are the mostly unfazed one. So, you turned to Rodolfo while the man gave you a curious yet amused side look.

"Do you have a question?" You smiled at his soft voice, already feeling a little bit more eased, and looked at him with the softest eyes Soap and Ghost had ever seen on you.

"Yes, actually... I was wondering, when you said you both grew here... How long has it been?"

"Close to 35, I guess..." he gave a thoughtful hum, voice lost in nostalgia when his hand slithered up his vest again which caught your attention but soon was broken when he met your eyes from the rear mirror. "Why do you ask?"

"Ah, I just grew up somewhere close to here. I was curious whether we met or not since here is a small place. Especially after your face reminding me of... someone from my past."

You frowned sadly, a blank stare setting on your features. One that Rodolfo decided that didn't suit your bubbly self. "I'm sorry, for causing pain to you. But if I met you, we would have remembered... Right Alejandro?"

The man only gave a grunt, and watched you talk sweetly with his boyfriend with a heavy heart. He wasn't jealous, and that was what shocked him. Normally, as someone who had trust issues who was in a relationship, he expected to be jealous of you and how close you were getting with both him and Rudy. When many women and men tried their chances with either of them, or both of them, they both declined them harshly. They would never taint the memory of you, your touch on their faces and bodies...

Only Alejandro was the one to break that by getting with Valeria, a name they despised after years. A name that Alejandro would never forgive himself for giving himself over when he wanted it to be with Y/N and Rudy.

And it was because of his stupidity that he almost lost the last person he had.

And though he felt like he tainted your memory again, with how he was being with the woman in the car... He felt like curling up and crying like he did many times when he remembered.

But he also couldn't deny the way you fitted... so well with them.

You smiled to him, unaware of his inner turmoil, mindful of putting some distance between yourself and Rudy- taking the frown on Alejandro's face as jealousy, before dropping the bomb. "Then, I'm just gonna ask it away: Are you two engaged?"

Both of their faces fell in shock, both of them yelling over the other to prove that they weren't indeed together. They had been so careful until now, with never showing anyone their biggest weakness and especially the trio that just came-

Really, how did you know this before anyone?

"Where did you get the idea from, colonel?"

"Ah there we go with her deductions..." sighed Ghost irritatedly while Soap was busy crying internally at the amount he lost to you.

Even when Price clearly warned him to never challenge you.

You smiled giddily and cracked your knuckles and neck with excpectation before diving in to your Sherlock Holmes obsession, which was learning the ways of the Art of Deduction. "There is a whiter place on both of your left hands, meaning that you used to wear a ring and by the size of it, I'm assuming it to be either wedding rings or engagement rings. But you two are still looking at each other as if you want to eat the other so it's definetly not wedding and... The bedroom eyes here is intense, man."

"We-We don't do that, Colonel-" Rudy stuttered in embarrassment, the sight would have made you coo teasingly but since they were in a relationship- which was a disappointment on your end, kinda- you smiled and shook your head.

"Yes, you do. That's okay, really. I deal with the two men behind me doing it x10 worse..." your voice died down before Ghost would have hit your back when the car stopped near two corpses, bloody and covered with some insults and threats on the cover. Alejandro turned to look, since he didn't see what it was with his whole body turned to you to look at your face more closely and a sad look found his eyes at the young people laying in those covers. The sight disturbed you, and even if you couldn't admit it...

The frown of Alejandro hurted you more.

"You might want to sit back, Night. This sight-"

"I've seen worse, Colonel, trust me... But what's written on them? What are those?" Your voice hardened, the cold tone Soap and Ghost had seen you use when torturing someone came, and they watched just as sadly.

Not as obviously as you, since they mostly knew how to conceal their emotions.

And since they didn't have a personal grudge like you.

"Narcomantas..."

"Cartel clothes..." translated Rodolfo for the two behind you, his eyes trained on you and how you scrunched your nose at the scene before you sadly, the empathy you had for them even after being gone from here for such a long time, his heart softened at the sight and his hand twitched to touch your forehead to erase that frown when the thoughts shook him to his core and he cleared his throat, letting Alejandro continue with a hard, determined look while turning to look at the road.

"Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings marking territory. Our streets are laced with death... El Sin Nombre, The Nameless, is the leader of the Las Almas Cartel. No one can find him, but he is everywhere... But Los Vaqueros like challenges." He explained throughly what had been plaguing this town while you plopped down next to Ghost, completely loosing your mood at what had been going on in the place you grew up.

How much these people suffered.

"With your mask, you will fit in well here Ghost..." you knew Rodolfo meant it in a good way, no vicious comments, especially after that scene you left behind, but you also knew how this mask was a sensitive topic for Ghost. So, both you and Soap snapped your heads up and made gestures for him to stop since neither of you wanted Simon to explode and Alejandro, catching on its sensitive side, shushed Rodolfo who gave a sheepish smile to both of you.

And seeing the tension rise again, you gave a kind smile to him before nudging Soap who looked at you curiously. You smirked teasingly, head pointing to Alejandro and Rodolfo with a shit-eating grin. "Take notes on that, will ya?"

"Oh God, woman... You're the worst."

"Damn right, I am. You gotta ask how they did it before we leave and I want my 100."

He groaned and looked out the window when they took a turn to reach where Hassan was hiding while both Mexicans looked at you with smiles.

Both sides unaware of the chaos that would happen in the next hours...

Who would have known that mission would reveal secrets you had been keeping to yourself?

But at what cost?

And who would have known that Rudy and Alejandro would have what they once lost?

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #8a: Us

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #8a Summary: is it really you?

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader (alters mentioned)

Word count: 1.5k

Content: romance, the least angst to date in this story, fluff-adjacent, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

Warmth met your skin - your flesh met his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc groaned at the sound of his phone’s alarm, realizing someone forgot to silence it for their day off…if it was, in fact, their day off. Sometimes it was difficult to tell first thing in the morning. Reaching for the night table, his hand collided with the cool glass of a…fish bowl?

“The hell?” He muttered, silencing the shrill alarm, while quickly checking the date. Steven must have been around the past day or so. Flopping his arm over his eyes dramatically, he groaned, wishing for a few more minutes of rest.

Then something tickled, ever so lightly brushing his opposite arm. His eyes snapped over - he thought he felt something warm.

Something soft and feminine. The hair he knew framing your face, bunched up fabric and smooth skin.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of you.

“Oh god. ”Marc could feel your breath against his neck like the sensual warmth of a sauna.

"W-what?" He gasped, rolling onto his side to face...you.

Not your visage. But you.

He whispered your name, his lips parted as he exhaled in a rush. His beautiful dark eyes darted from your own gaze down to the fullness of your lips.

Could you really be alive?

"Marc…"  His name on your lips, spoken with wonder and adoration - the low sensuality of your voice set his every nerve ending on fire. This was your morning voice. The way you sounded after sleep.

Your trembling fingers gripped his bicep, and for the first time since you departed this earth, Marc reached out and touched you.

He gripped your arm - the warmth of which you could feel even through the sleeve of his old hoodie, which had somehow materialized along with you.

Tentatively, Marc reverently reached out and caressed your delicate cheek, nearly whimpering as his thumb brushed your plump, pouting lips.  

"Baby..."

Long, luminous lashes fluttered once, then twice as your glassy eyes met his.

"Marc?" You murmured, your eyes darting around you, before locking with his again.  

"Hi," he whispered, his eyes glistening in the morning sun that streamed in through the window. He was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

As if not trusting his own five senses, Marc dragged calloused fingertips over the angle of your jaw to caress your throat, which electrified you utterly.

Dark eyes filled with tears as he allowed himself to feel the pulse of life; the heartbeat of his soul - you.

You had a pulse.

You knew nothing in the world except that you could feel.  Marc was solid and broad and warm and you melted against him as he pressed himself against you fully, side-by-side on the bed.

"Am I in heaven?" You whispered with child-like innocence.  

He breathlessly laughed, wondering himself if he had died and woken up in paradise. One arm slid around you, pulling you securely against his cotton-covered chest. 

You must have left the dark place and gone to the light. How else could you feel so blissfully enveloped?

As his arm flexed against your back, he could feel your lungs expand with each breath of life you drew.

"Marc," you whimpered.  "I-I can feel you."

"I know, baby," he nodded, pulling your bottom half closer still, pressing every inch of you against him possessively, while tenderly caressing your cheek once again.  Your eyes cut the minuscule distance to his large palm and you swallowed, tentatively easing your hand over his, brushing the backs of his fingers with your fingertips while leaning into his touch. 

Your lips trembled as you pressed a kiss to his palm, interlacing your fingers there on your warming cheek. His thumb affectionately wiped the puddle of tears that had filled and overflowed, wetting your joined hands.  

"Don't cry, baby," he pleaded, paying no mind to the fact that he was crying as well.  

"I can cry," you gasped, the beauty of the moment engulfing all your senses at once.  "How? How did we…”

"We love each other," he simply replied, answering out of pure instinct.  

The tiniest sob of joy escaped your throat as your pressed yourself closer to him at every point possible.  "I love you," you murmured, your breath caressing his lips.  "Are you sure you can feel me - that…that I'm really here?"  

He brushed his mouth against yours, the taste of you completely tantalizing. "You feel that, don’t you?" he whispered against your cheek.

"Yes," you whimpered. "Do it again.”

Marc instantly complied, melding his parted lips with yours.  You responded with fervor, entirely overwhelmed by your returned sense of taste and the delectable flavorful essence of him.  Your hands longed to discover every part of him, touching him everywhere until your fingers finally found a home in the thick mess of waves behind his ears.  You pulled him deeper into a passionate kiss, opening your mouth to him as your body arched upward.  

Marc tenderly tumbled on top of you, gasping as your velvety tongue slid across his for a real taste.  You were soft and sweet and sexy, and Marc found himself dizzy with heat; both the hot flick of your tongue inside his mouth and the sweltering heat consuming him wholly.

The sensation of you overwhelmed him - flattened him like a tsunami...

...Which made him tear away, gasping for breath, a low moan of approval resounding in his expansive chest at the sight of you beneath him, lips parted and panting for more - more tasting, more touching, more of him.  

You whimpered at the loss of contact between your bodies, unwilling to give up your favorite rediscovered sense of taste so soon.  Marc held himself still over you, drinking in your beauty, allowing himself to reason that if you were real, and so recently returned to him, that perhaps you might be fragile, somehow, and he could not afford to lose control so easily.

"Marc, please - "

"Let me see you."  His tone was soft but commanding.  

But you didn't want to look; you wanted to taste, to feel as much of him as you could get your hands on; to make sure he was real.  You felt frantic with need for him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders to pull his mouth back down where it belonged. 

There was absolutely no way he could refuse you; nor did he want to, opening his mouth hotly over yours again, giving in to the sensations of your pliable lips moving insistently against his own; your ragged breath searing his lips, his tongue, every part inside that you touched and licked.

You spent a brief eternity in an intimate embrace, tasting and feeling and seeing and smelling until you were certain your five senses were intact and that Marc was here, with you, in the same space and time somehow.    

"Missed you. Missed you so much," he finally panted, a short while later, easing down beside you - dizzy with desire and disbelief.

“I love you so much, Marc,” you whispered in a rush, a million emotions and sensations firing in your mind and body. But one thought stood out above all others. "How long do you think we have?"

Wetting his lips, his brow knit in concentration. "'Til what?”   

"Until I maybe…disappear again."

Marc’s heart dropped to his stomach at the mere thought of losing you.  His partner was somehow returned to him - real and right here, in his arms.  He hadn't even stopped to consider that you might not linger.

"I - honestly, I hadn't thought about it."  He glanced at the window, wondering what time it might be, and how many precious moments he had left with you. 

You nuzzled close, whispering against his mouth, "I love touching you. I just don't want it to ever go away."

So many things to consider.  

Slowly nodding, Marc kissed your soft lips again, reassuringly. "I'll do whatever I can to keep you with me."

Staring deeply into your eyes, he granted you a gentle smile - one more peaceful than his usual grumpy pout. "I wanna kiss you forever."

You smiled dreamily. "I never want to move from this spot…except maybe to venture outside of this room for a change."

"I think that's a great idea," Marc chuckled.  "I guess we could get cleaned up and then go anywhere.  Anywhere you want to go, I can take you," he sweetly offered. There were definitely a few things he wanted to do, but they involved staying in bed. Or the shower. Or both.

But you frowned.

"What is it?"

“I’m scared to move,” you explained in a strained whisper. “I’m afraid that maybe I’m dreaming.”

“I’m real,” he assured you, running his hands down the curves of your body, touching you all over reassuringly. “You’re here with me…somehow.”

You sighed dreamily, brushing his cheek with your soft hand.  "Maybe you brought me to life.”

next

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🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN!🎃

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[wakacreations]

I like to imagine that Raphael was obsessed with fairytales as a kid. There really is nothing to do in Cania. Raphael probably got cabin fever as a kid from being trapped in Cania from all the snow. All he could do for entertainment was probably read books from Mephistopheles's archive, write or do his one person plays.

He would love fairytales because he could pretend to be somewhere other than the Hells. He could be anything. He could be anyone. He was the mighty prince that would save the damsel. He was the one, the faithful knight would rescue from an evil castle. He could be a dashing prince that would be celebrated. He would be awed by his subjects when he takes the throne. He would be the one to achieve all his dreams and have a happily ever after storybook ending.

Everyone in the Nine Hells knew he was Mephistopheles's little brat. His father could always have more children if Raphael was deemed an unworthy heir. A archdevil's blood runs through his veins but holds no power (well not enough power to be considered a archdevil heir) and no symbol of his power. If Mephistopheles were to gift him a crown then he must acknowledge that he would be his rightful heir right? He wasn't just some cambion his father just so happened to sire.

The Crown of Karsus came into existence and it was just like the fairytales. A magical crown that would make him a god. A crown that would make him, a half human and half devil into a proper devil. Maybe even an archdevil supreme. The great archdevil Mephistopheles has the crown in his possession but never gifting it to his son. His heir, the archdevil of Cania to be, Raphael. Like in the fairytales Raphael had read, he will be the heroic prince. A magical crown that will turn his visage into a fearsome devilish prince. He will rise above his father and claim his throne. A happily ever after in the making but first the crown.

[yakumtsaki]

-Ah, another day as a neglected second cousin who can only get airtime when in the background of Bartholomew and Sunset's semi-incestuous affair begins..

-Finally, I'm spotlight-adjacent!

Cyan please get out, with that hat/sunglasses combo you look like a legit pervert.

-I don't care!! We're all sick of your shit, we demand equal airtime!!!

It pains me to admit it but you people are right, I mean I don't even know half your names.

-You don't know our names?!

Of course I know your name, buddy!

-Which is?

Uhhh.. Dorboi?

-Did you just spell 'Door Boy' slightly differently?

Ok you know what I'm too busy to talk, I have to break Barth and Sunset up, catch you later, Grinred!

-I'm so worried about my popularity in the house tanking! Everyone is against me and Barth and our hot, taboo relationship!

Ok Sunset let's calm down, you're second cousins, it's not like we're Lannistering it up in this joint.

-Oh thank God the Matchmaker is here, she can save me from the torment of this forbidden love!

Ya I wouldn't count on it seeing as it's Margaret so you're either getting one of Cyneswith's discarded former lovers or a broken Bon Voyage NPC. We'd be better off with Lakshmi after the stunning success of Fedow!

-Oh please Meadow was an one time thing, everyone knows it is I, Margaret, who is the superior Matchmaker!

Do we know that though because you've been exceedingly terrible.

-Silence! Now, young Unionette, I have the perfect match for you! Incoming in 3.. 2.. 1.. Make room on this porch..

Omg it's Ty Bubbler!!! I actually don't hate it, they have 3 bolts, good job Marg!

-Thank you, that will be §5k.

Do you accept payment in the form of sleeping with Bartholomew?

-Not even if you paid me.

We WOULD be paying you, that's what I'm saying.

-Not enough money in the world!

Ok I don't think we're understanding each other. Just take the last of our money and go, hope none of you kids wanted to eat this week.

This is actually kinda cute right, I'm liking them together, Ty is so chill and Sunset is so.. uhh..

-So I like things SPICY. HOT. HOT AND FORBIDDEN. THE HOTTER AND MORE FORBIDDEN THE BETTER

-That's great, I like ice cream :)

Ok I'm starting to feel Ty might not be quite the guy to shake Sunset out of this Bartholomew kick..

..and looking at this visage, can you blame her?? Looking amazing, Barth!

-Thanks, I know!

God..

..GOD. SUNSET DO WE HAVE TO GET YOU LEGIT BARTHXORCISED

T̶H̷E̶ ̴S̴P̸I̵R̴I̵T̶ ̶O̷F̶ ̴I̶N̶A̸P̶P̶R̴O̷P̴R̶I̵A̵T̸E̶ ̵R̷E̴L̷A̴T̶I̸O̷N̶S̶H̶I̸P̷S̶ ̸C̶O̷M̶P̶E̶L̷S̴ ̴M̵E̵

-You're not alone, Sunset! I gave Margaret a dollar and scored this super hot date with the elderly Good Witch!

Spice what the hell.

-I LOVE HER AND I DON'T CARE

Oh man is this gonna be Reginald and Half-Alien Prof all over again?? I need a drink.

-Say no more! -I'm on a date with someone else, Bartholomew! What more do I have to do to get your attention?! -Sorry, Sun, blood is thicker than water, but whiskey is thicker than both! Huhu! -What? -Ya I don't know, this is my eleventh morning drink.

-Ah finally, time to serve a magnificent meal for my beloved Meadow and have a wholesome evening away from all this degeneracy..

-Couldn't agree more, Fel!

CYAN WHAT THE

-That's right, I made a big deal about air time and made you drive Sunset into Ty's arms so I could have Barth all to myself! Muahaha!

But you're the good one, you're like your mom! 10 nice points!!

-My mom June?

Ya!!!

-My mom June who spent all of college obsessed with her cousin Sugar??

Oh. FML

[apomaro-mellow]

I know you could do amazing things with Steddie and 03.  “What the hell is that and why are you wearing it?” or 08.  “I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

oh my god. literally two ideas sprung up and i wanna do em both so i'll keep em short

The evening was a mixture of highs and lows. Eddie had managed to convince Steve to see one of their shows. They weren't the only ones performing tonight, the bar was filled with the other acts. But Steve had found a good spot for himself. One where Eddie was easily able to see him while on stage and he seemed really into it. That was the high.

The low came when this other dude started putting the moves on Steve. Steve probably didn't realize it, straight as an arrow he was, but Eddie could see it clear as day. It didn't help that Eddie saw a bit too much of himself in the guy. He had long hair too, just darker and more straight. Eddie had actually been planning on asking Steve out. Like on a real date. Tonight was the night for it. He was sure he'd get his heart broken but he was kind of a masochist like that.

Nothing was going to happen while this other dude was talking Steve's ear off though. He only broke away to take a piss he'd been holding for two hours and he had half a mind to tell Jeff to watch Steve but he didn't.

So he only had himself to blame when he returned from the bathroom and saw Steve wearing that guy's jacket.

 “What the hell is that and why are you wearing it?”

"Chuck here noticed I was a little cold and gave me his jacket. Wasn't that nice?", Steve smiled.

Eddie barged in between them, glaring down Chuck. "I'll fucking kill you." He practically tore the offensive clothing off Steve and pulled him off to a different part of the bar, freezing in place when he realized what he'd done.

"That was crazy. I'm crazy. I'm sor-mmf."

And Steve was kissing him. Did he slip on some booze and go to heaven?

"Took you long enough", Steve breathed against his lips.

"I..was that? Wuh? Were you-!?", he jabbed his thumb back at where Chuck had been standing.

Steve rolled his eyes. "In case it wasn't obvious, yes, I was trying to make you jealous. I know what it means when a guy offers you his jacket."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Now what are you gonna do to keep me warm?"

And the second idea!

"Eddie, what the hell is that and why are you wearing it?”

"Um they're called sunglasses, Steve."

Steve knew what they were he just wondered why Eddie was wearing them in the dead of winter. And at night. Indoors. When they were about to start a movie.

"I know it's called 'Starman' but I don't think it'll actually cause blindness."

"Oh these aren't for Jeff Bridges, as dreamy as he is. These are for you."

Steve pointed at himself. "Me?"

"I'm just gonna come out and say it, man. You have the most handsome face this side of the Mississippi. You're literally dazzling. I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

Eddie flicked a popcorn kernel at him in mild irritation. Steve rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the flush coming to his cheeks.

"So what, I'm so handsome that it's annoying?"

"Yes!", Eddie groaned. "It's like, we get it, your face was carved in great adoration by intelligent design, but the rest of us have lives to live. And it's damn near impossible with the visage of yours even in my periphery."

All Steve was hearing was that Eddie found him so attractive that it was distracting.

"So until any one of those deities up there blesses me with selective blindness, the shades stay on in your presence, Your Highness."

Steve removed Eddie's sunglasses without a second thought and smiled as his eyes bulged out.

"I think you need a little...what do we call it when we make Mike and Hopper spend time together?"

Eddie swallowed, looking like he was trying to memorize Steve's entire face. "E...exposure therapy."

"Yeah, that. I think you could benefit from some of that. What do you say?"

"Only if I can get a doctor's note excusing me from strenuous activity." Eddie didn't even know how words were coming out of his mouth. He felt like he was on autopilot.

Steve gave a very deliberate glance at Eddie's crotch. "Not all activities I hope."

"Holy shit."

[sonicasura]

You know what be a fun AU idea?

Making Barbara Lake an actual threat to her enemies and the only one aware of it is Jim.

We all know that she will throw hands with God for her son. Like Barbara literally just goes off on Strickler, Angor Rot, a Gumm Gumm and fucking Merlin. She would put on the bloody Fierce Deity Mask if given the chance whilst not giving a damn about the mysterious god stuck inside. LET HER WREAK HAVOC.

I think it be even more chaotic if she looks human but actually wasn't. Whether she used to be human or had Jim in this state is a toss up. It make an interesting hybrid Jim as a side.

One example involves one of my favorite Digimon, GranDracmon.

Barbara essentially makes a deal where she becomes the vessel of the Dark Area Ruler's power. No strings attached as the woman can do whatever her heart desires. Barbara, of course, just continues life like normal. Maybe disposing any petty crook or a certain awful husband.

Oh yeah, that would make Jim is half human/Digimon since this deal was made before he been born. Barbara's human form is now an interactive mirage. RIP James once he realizes just what he divorced on her son's 5th birthday. 🤔

Barbara take Strickler's attempt at the life bond spell as a cute joke since she's essentially undead. Can't really bound your life force to a dead person. Avocado man revealing his true appearance be like:

Barbara: You are so cute!

Strickler: C-c-cute?!!! Are you nutty?!

Barbara: *reveals her GranDracmon visage* Batty is more accurate. 🧛

Strickler: Oh my 😳

Also extra rip Merlin if he manages to gaslight Jim into doing the spell. Wouldn't that make him half GranDracmon/Troll or a third of each? It be an ultra pain in the ass if he hadn't awaken his Digimon side so now he has extra issues moving his new body.

Jim barely making it to his home on shaky legs while the beast like heads, horns, tail, and wings way him down. Barbara WILL hurl Merlin through the walls at the sight of what he's done to her baby. He realizes that he practically fucked over a literal demon lord's whelp as she stares him down with vile fury.

What worse way to explain to your friends and allies about not being fully human. If Jim hadn't told them or at least his best friend. Also Eternal Night? More like Eternal Hell cause Barbara got a humongous advantage.

Only powerful light can kill a GranDracmon so they essentially just added curtains to a crystalline massacre. I won't be surprised if she just crystallizes Gunmar and Morgana then use their bodies to fix the Primordial Heartstone.

Gotta love my insane brain sometimes.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Well I Guess I'm A Fool For You: Finale

Part One Part two Part three

You were in your cabin, perched upon the edge of your bed, choking back the sobs that threatened to spill from your mouth. You hadn’t mean to resign from Captain Buggy’s crew, but you had done it all the same, your mind now split between crying from your past and your unsavoury history with pirates and now facing the fact you are potentially leaving the one person you had actually grown to care for, all because of your pride and insistence in keeping up the walls around you.

Outside of your cabin Buggy starts to pace the space outside of your door, he can’t help but hear the pained sobs you cry out and your attempt to choke them back. His hands clenched into tight fists as he wrestles with the thought of just barging in, however something holds him back, whether it be affection for you or guilt for causing you to feel this way he cannot decide. He can hear your soft sniffles as you attempt to compose yourself, the sound piercing his heart, his frustration rising knowing that you are the one making him feel this sort of way.

He continues to pace back and forth, sighing to himself as he argues with his own anger in his head, he wants to barge in and confront you but he also wants to be the one to comfort you and kiss the tears from your cheeks, if only you would let him close. He takes a long and deep breath to calm himself, a completely futile gesture as he sighs out the air and whispers to himself. “Damn it doll… why must you be so stubborn.” Buggy caves in and knocks lightly on the door. “Come on doll, just open the door… please.” You hear his soft voice and roll your eyes; you don't want him to see you like this and you were still half adamant that you were leaving in the morning.

“no. I’ve said my peace” you reply sharply, wiping the tears from your eyes you get up and rummage through the wardrobe in your cabin looking for your rucksack, making an effort to pack away any sort of belongings that you might still have with you. You noisily look through your wardrobe, frustrated that you cannot locate your bag. “God dammit where is my rucksack” you shout angrily.

Buggy hears your comment muffled slightly through the door, his eyes wide at the realisation of what you are now doing. “What the hell are you doing in there doll!? Don’t you dare start packing, you hear me!?” His voice raised and laced with authority and desperation, hoping that some part of you would actually listen to him, even though he knew that wasn’t a thing you ever did even on a good day, preferring to do as you wish.

“You aren’t my captain anymore; you can’t order me about!” You shout back in defiance, desperate to find your bag, throwing clothes out of the wardrobe in your attempt to locate it, cursing under your breath at this ongoing situation that you just wanted to end. Buggy’s heart starts to sink slightly as he hears you spit the words ‘my captain’ a once loved phrase coming from your lips, now spoken with venom stabs into his heart. “Just open the hell up, we need to talk” His voice now more insistent and desperate. You drop the items in your hands on the floor, making a heap of clothes in the wardrobe before you stomp over to the door and yank it open. “Apologise.” You say sternly and look up at Buggy, remnants of the blazing fire still in your eyes although now clouded with tears. For once he is taken aback and speechless, his heart rate quickening at your angry visage. “Apologise?” his voice laced with confusion. “Yes. Apologise.” You say curtly. “Apologise for prying and manhandling me and I may reconsider leaving.” Buggy’s eyes widen at your demand, he was not used to people demanding things of him, if it was any one but you he would have disposed the captain’s justice upon them. He stands there silently for a moment as you stare up at him as he digests your words, the concept of apologising is almost foreign to him, however he knows that he can’t lose you, not after everything you have done to him and everything you mean to him, however he refuses to be disrespected.

Buggy contemplates your demand and scowls, his pride and arrogance now taking control at the thought of apologising for anything. “I don’t apologise for anything and you knew damn well I didn’t tolerate secrets when you joined this crew” he says through gritted teeth, his hands clenched by his side. “Oh, well I will say goodbye to you tomorrow then” you say with fake happiness and return to rummage through your wardrobe for your bag. He stands there and watches you struggle to find your rucksack as he shouts to you. “You’d really throw away everything you have here because of you damn pride!”

You drop everything that you have in you arms and your body stiffens, you turn to face him with tears in your eyes. “Everything I have!? Everything I had was taken away from me twice by fucking pirates! I was left for dead once and the second time your crew ripped me away from my home! Don’t you dare act like I owe my life to you! “You shout through sobs, you didn’t dislike the life you had aboard The Big Top, you enjoyed it even, however you could not stop the raw emotion from spilling out of you at this point. Buggy was stood there speechless, he had no idea of your past and now learning pirates were involved in ruining your life he was more confused, who were you? He did not expect your story to be like this and it hits him harder than he would care to admit, knowing his crew had played a part in your unnecessary suffering.

“Oh, you want to be quiet now? That’s fucking rich” you roll your eyes. “The great Buggy the Clown has no words for once.” You say through sobs looking at him. Buggy stands there and doesn’t say anything, just clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides, looking at you, admiring your unbridled fury.

You walk up to him and stand before him; he was towering over you but at this point you didn’t care enough to be intimidated. “You know, after everything, I began to care for you, I was loyal and did ask you asked. Why wasn’t that enough, why did you have to pry into my past?” Your eyes watering again as you confront him. Buggy’s heart clenches at your words, of course you were enough for him, you were more than that, he said nothing but placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping the gesture would show his softness and help calm you somewhat.

You feel his soft and affectionate hand upon your shoulder, your eyes close and you sigh, imagining how much you want to pull him close and hold him tightly, you lean your head against the hand upon your shoulder, you smile softly and affectionately against his hand, finally feeling his soft touch against you. “I don’t really want to leave…” you say softly and barely audible. Buggy hears this and pulls you towards him into a hug, something he should have done a while ago. He wraps one arm around your waist, the other cupped around your head, pulling your head towards him so that he is cradling his head against his chest. You respond eagerly by wrapping your arms around him, holding onto him like your life depends on it. You stand like this for a few moments before he breaks away, using his finger to lift you chin to face him, wiping the tears from your eye with his thumb, he presses his forehead against yours and smiles at this intimate moment you are now sharing.

“We look like a pair of fools stood like this" your face stained with tears and his still laced with the remnants of anger. You chuckle softly, loving the intimate feeling of him pressed against you, even though it is his forehead.

“Well maybe I am a fool for you, Doll” you hear Buggy whisper affectionately as you both share this intimate moment, curious as to what the future will unfold for you both.

[calamity-unlocked]

Yup. I did it y'all. I. Don't know what possessed me either. Enjoy <3

Scam Actually/Jodie Foster, 1.8k.

~~~

Scam’s actions usually didn’t come with consequences.

Customarily, Scam would enter a situation with the stirring seed of a not-quite plan and a devious penchant for ‘yes and’-ing his way into hilarity. He’d apply beautiful chaos and discord like a master painter brought strokes of paint to a canvas, then take a deep bow and make his grandiose exit. Such were the daily thrills in the life of a scammer!

Today… was a little different.

It was really the exit strategy where things had gone awry. The jape he had pulled was magnificent as always; he’d infiltrated a bunch of infernal cultists and convinced them that hell was truly only a state of mind, and that they instead should start worshiping the divine embodiment of pasta carbonara.

It had all been fun and games, until their leader had returned to their base and caught them chanting in tongues around a bowl of uncooked spaghetti.

Shenanigans ensued, all of which resulted in the current situation Scam found himself in. His wrists were chained to a tasteless stone slab with magical manacles that prevented him from poofing away. According to the chatter he had picked up, he was to be some kind of offering to please the god they planned on summoning in the hope to gain power and get their core beliefs reaffirmed.

Scented candles were spread in a ritual circle a few feet away from him, which the cultists stood around as they sang an ancient song of power and hellfire, their voices reverberating throughout the dark cave-like base. They all had their hoods pulled up as they passed a golden dagger around, cutting into their hands and letting the blood drip onto the floor, between the lines drawn on the floor.

“Ugh,” Scam rolled his eyes. “You know the spells Gate and Summon Greater Demon only take one action, right? All this atmospheric chanting and palm-slicing has no point whatsoever.”

“SILENCE!” the leader bellowed. He pointed the knife at Scam, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Be elated, you feeble trickster, for you shall soon be consumed by a power greater than the gods themselves. Prepare to face the greatest might of them all!” He turned away from Scam and read the words from the spell scroll in his other hand. “Daemonium inferni, primone aspectu in amore tu credis, aut iterumne experiri debeo!”

With those words, the world flashed red. A pillar of flame erupted in the circle, the fire whirling around like a tornado.

The cultists all prostrated themselves on the floor, screaming with joy and fear. Scam cursed loudly, because some of the sparks landed on his fedora.

Finally, the fire died down and the smoke cleared. The outline of an inhuman figure came into view – large and muscled, with wings of a bat and a jaw that could cut glass. Dark hair and eyes like charcoal. Scam got very hot all of a sudden, and it wasn’t because the temperature in the room was about the same as an average day in hell.

Then he recognized that face.

“Oh! Oh!” Scam exclaimed. “I know him! Hi!!!”

The figure slowly turned his gaze from the quaking cultists to the chained-up chaos bringer. The hardened look immediately turned into full bewilderment as their eyes met.

 Scam tried to wiggle up into a standing position, which only half worked. He managed to give a little wave from behind his back. “Jodie Foster, as I live and breathe! It’s me, your old pal! My, my, my, you have had quite the glow-up. Look at you! All r-r-ripped and chiseled.”

A frown settled on his hellish visage. “Scam Likely? What are you doing here?” It was the same slightly high-pitched voice that he had before – seemed like some things stayed the same, after all.

“Scam Actually, actually!”

“What?” he asked, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh my gosh, I so don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“Rough morning?”

“You have no clue,” he chuckled, and shook his horned head.

Scam shimmied his shoulder in what he hoped came across as a helpless gesture, like a baby animal trying to gain the attention of a parent. “Hey, before you go, can you do me a real solid and get these pesky little chains off me? They’re really chafing my wrists, and my skin is really sensitive in that spot. I’d truly appreciate it.”

Jodie crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow. “Why should I help you? Last time I saw you, you caused that whole switcheroo thing and portalled away. For all I know, this is another one of your pranks.”

“Ah, yes,” Scam sighed wistfully, feeling the sweet pang of nostalgia. “How I do miss those days. Life was so much more fun while you courageous dads were roaming these lands, looking for your missing sons.” He gave his sweetest smile, which literally reached from one ear to the other. It was quite grotesque, or so people told him. “But not this time! No tricks, no japes, no nothing. Just scammed a little too close to the sun, that’s all.”

One of the cultists scraped his throat. “So, er– are you gonna kill him? Do you want our souls? What’s– what’s happening over here?”

“Oh. Yes. You’re also here.” Jodie turned to the cultists and visibly had to keep himself from sighing with exhaustion. “So. What is it you want?”

The tallest guy immediately leveled his forehead with the floor once more. “Oh almighty King of the Nine Hells, killer of Asmodeus, elevated firstborn son of the wrathful Snider, glorious bringer of hellfire and ash–”

Scam rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, these guys are some serious bootlickers.”

Jodie scoffed. “Tell me about it.” He waved his hand in an impatient gesture. “Alright, I got it, I’m awesome as fuck. Can we skip to the end, please?”

“Of course, Lord,” the leader stammered. “We would, ah–” He hesitantly glanced over his shoulder at the other cultists. “We’d like power. Right guys?”

A chorus of muttered agreements rose up behind him. “Yeah, I like power,” one of them mumbled, just a bit louder than the rest.

Jodie hissed through his teeth and steepled his fingers. “Listen, it’s not that I got places to be, but I just… this is not really my scene. It was kinda rude to just pull me here, did not appreciate that. Like my good friend Henry would say, consent matters, guys. So… I’m not going to do that.”

Again, the cultists started murmuring amongst themselves, this time with worry. The leader raised his head slightly. “Is– Is the sacrifice not sufficient? We could bring you more blood, if you’d like! Virgins, children, you name it. Whatever you want, my Lord.”

Jodie grimaced. “Ew.” He shot Scam a disturbed look, which Scam answered with his ‘get-a-load-of-this-guy-amirite”-face. “Gross. Well. Now I kinda don’t wanna let you live either. Thought I was gonna do that before, but now… Eh, fuck it.”

He snapped his fingers, and countless bolts of fire zipped through the air with furious rage. Twenty seconds of agonized screaming later, and Scam and Jodie were the only non-burning corpses left in the chamber.

Scam considered it another win in Scam Actually’s book that Jodie had chosen to spare him. Yay him!

“Wow-ie.” Scam whistled in appreciation, then preened when Jodie approached him and effortlessly broke his manacles as though they were made of twigs. “They totally thought you were going to make them immortal and you killed them instead! That was sorta like…” he trailed off, his mouth falling slightly ajar. “A scam,” he finished with reverence. He brought his hand to his mouth to close it, and noticed that his fingers were trembling.

Jodie tilted his head and made a questioning noise. “I don’t really think it was?”

“It definitely was!” he exclaimed and clapped in delight.

Jodie rolled his eyes with what Scam hoped was fondness. “Listen, Scam Actually, it was great catching up with you. But, ah, I gotta go back to hell. I’ve got all this paperwork, and there’s souls to damn, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Scam’s head swirled around. “But breakfast’s the most important meal of the day!”  he said, appalled. “There’s this great brunch place in Waterdeep. You have got to try it, their croissant rolls are absolutely to die for. Know what? I’ll take you there! We can do some good ol’ catching up – oh, I could tell you about the time I pretended to be a ghost living in a merchant’s mansion for almost three full weeks!”

Jodie laughed and shook his head no. “Thanks, but I’ll just make a sandwich at home.”

Scam planted his hands at his side and clacked his tongue impatiently. “You may or may not have saved my life! The least I could do is buy you breakfast.”

“Let’s… not.” He scratched his head, not meeting Scam’s eyes. “We’ll just make this an IOU, ‘kay? If I need your aid, you help me. That sounds good?”

Scam crossed his arms and staunchly shook his head, chin raised high. “No, no, no, I wanna be Even Stevens with you. No more favors from good ol’ Scam Actually over here. I’m done with those.” Besides, he now had the sneaky sneaky ulterior motive of getting to know the new version of this handsome handsome man over a delicious set of sandwiches. That sounded like the perfect way to spend the rest of the morning.

The archfiend still looked hesitant, so Scam pulled out the biggest weapon in his arsenal: his eye-searing cuteness. With a tilt of the head and a little pout of the lips, Scam looked up at Jodie and said in his sweetest voice: “Pwease?”

“Ugh. Never do that again,” Jodie winced. Then his stomach rumbled, betraying him. He sighed in defeat, seemingly accepting the path the fates had spun for him.

“Sure, why not. Brunch sounds great. You’re paying?”

“Why, yes of course!” Scam lied cheerfully.

“Right. Stupid question.”

Scam was almost skipping as he walked next to Jodie, enjoying the way he smelled like a building that had just burned down with the people still in it. “Is this truly so bad?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Jodie’s left bicep and giving it a strong squeeze.

Jodie’s puppy-like confusion returned but with it came a soft smile – the kind that made his dark eyes seem to come alive with twinkling motes of light. He huffed through his nose in amusement, then gave a short chuckle as he let himself be guided out of the cultists’ base by Scam. “I suppose not,” he said, resigned and amused all at once.

Scam could not stop smiling.

[b1uedcollar]

＃     C0DYDUMP ．

AESIDEBLOG     /     BOARD

🔨     ．     THE SQUINT.   🔩   may have gotten his blue eyes from boss,   but he does have a lil spill of brown in his right.    which might just be god’s way of telling you   this   boy   is   full   of   shit.   : )

    ⸻     makes eye contact with strangers and kids but the more you care about him, the less he can look you in the eye.

🔨     ．     driver’s license says 6’0” but he’s 5’11” (and a half!!!)

🔨     ．     typically deck’d out in CUTOFFs   ( gotta be important if he’s sleevin’ it ),   ripped shorts / jeans, and ‘em backwards caps.    if cody’s shirt is ever untucked in public, he is f’sure wasted.

    ⸻     WEARS THIS   for mothers [boss] day.   🔩   VIBSPO.

🔨     ．     is missing a tooth, and he’s got a noticeably   SCREWED UP HAND.    >    in the spirit of the unreliable narrator, the origin story of cody’s hand will probably never be revealed.   🔩   UR GAS STATION BF.

🔨     ．     whatchya’ll   think   cody   smells   like?    and what if i said dawn green apple dish soap?    ( his   3-in-1! )    fish,   sawdust,   sweat    (   da outside,   as his maw’d say, or   da dog,   as boss corrects )    are also thangs you might be sniffin’ when he’s around.

🔨     ．     wears a pink silicone ring on his right pinky in solidarity for the fight against breast cancer. a promise to his mawmaw. he still got that livestrong, too. ritually sports it for neighborhood pick-up games.

🔨     ．     hand/oral fixations.    he’s gunna peel that label off a water bottle. then bite the shit outta the bottom.    toothpick hanging from his spit.    dip,   dip,   dip!    🔩    pointing.   so.   much.   pointing.    when you’re right, when you’re wrong. excited, mad    —    one thing he’s gunna do is point that damn finger.    pew   pew   pew!

    ⸻     in conversation, his hands are almost always busy.    tools,   anything ball'd,   talking with 'em in general,   signing,   beer.    added with his fast-paced talkin’ style,   s’easy to get whiplash!

🔨     ．     𝙲𝟶𝙳𝚈𝙽𝙴𝚂𝙴     is a blended mess of online memes,   cajun french,   and   things to purposely make him incomprehensible and chaotic.    he spells the easy words out loud,   types phonetically,   and makes ridiculous references at every turn.    [ if you ever don’t know what i’m typing in his voice, just ask for clarification. ]

🥜     ⸻     BAD WETTA,    nuttin’,    gunna,    geaux   (go),    misteak   (mistake),    awgoose   (august),    e-tiffany   (epiphany),    constipatin’ on somethang   (concentrating),    lickher   (liquor),    “now rattle [riddle] me this…”,    sunny seeds,    emoceanal,    junk jaws   /   junk draws   (junk drawers),    s’all good in the woods,    chad as in chattahoochee,    hootin‘n’tootin,    sweetened and with lemon .. got it!   (scented pads or w/e),    me-me   /   memaw   /   let me show y’this memaw real quick..   (memes),    edamawmaw   (edamame),    duck duck screw   (just like duck duck goose but y’all fu—🔫),    squeeze me   (excuse me),    whorrendos   (horrendous),    unfartchalee   (unfortunately),    visage   (thinks it’s a smash up of vienna sausage, uses it as such),    butt inspection gloves   (latex gloves),    whale she-it/hail   &   whalecum   (well shit/hell, welcome),    duck tape   (duct tape),    meat   (meet),    poo-wee!

⚾️     ．     HUH?   ( hard uhhh hearing )

⚾️     ．     bet cody's gunna say    tetnuts   (tetanus)    but never passes up a chance to type    anus    [on da ipad].

⚾️     ．     generally says   damn i shoulda ate my smarties as a kid   with a head[ or ass ] scratch, when he’s screwin’ with you.

⚾️     ．     says   ‘ speed it up / slow it down ’   instead of increase / decrease the volume and gets pissed when someone doesn’t respond or corrects him.     ⸻     always sets the dial at 69.

⚾️     ．     BLEEPS 🤬 OUT   any reference to   𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚟𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚝   when singing a song.   he’ll sooner say   MOTHERFUCKER   before that shit !

⚾️     ．     learned french through prayer, thanks to his grandma.   he’s relatively fluent in [cajun] french   ( he cannot write it, but who can? )   and can still recite the rosary in the language by heart.

⚾️     ．     everybody's brother   ( regardless of gender )   because of hogan’s influence but also bc that's what he longed for as a kid :/

ASSOCIATIONS     /     DE-TAILS

[calciumdeficientt]

Hehehe The Terror time, read em and weep

Summary: Marion Barbier is hearing things. Are they ghosts? Sirens? She doesn’t know. But they make a compelling case for her to go home

How to 200 people vanish?

How do two navy ships, most advanced of their kind anywhere in the world at their time vanish?Vanity? Mutiny? Possibly. But more than likely, the cause was the eyes of an empire, the stress on the commanding officers. Their lack of knowledge of the country they were sailing through, the overinflated sense of self that led to an under inflated pantry’s stock. We’ll be home by Christmas, of course we will.

Where those hulls lie, in the blinding whiteness of an endless tundra, the truth is set in an ice prison. Curled and frost flecked, journals of many seamen, tell of an entity far more sinister in its allure. In its crazed logic, in the smoothness of its reason. If a finger were to touch them, they would surely disintegrate, but as the arctic wind blows upon their pages the words dance to life again.

January 19th 184-

The year evades me, but Sir James is two-month dead and I have not forgot. I have been counting since then. I have to. Someone has to. We are at a stalemate with God. The ice around the hulls of both ships has yet to budge, we are poor of spirit, although what else can we be when we are destitute, many of us dropsied, scurvy riddled, freezing?

Henry is gone, they have taken his body away, not to bury, we have no more coffins and no more dignity to offer the dead. He wasn’t looking at me, when it happened ed. He wasn’t looking at me at all, he was looking through me, at something I could not see.

That dreadful hole in the ice is now scarlet and smells of iron and tears and the souls of good men, it makes my stomach lurch to imagine it even now. It stinks like the depths of unholy hell.

Our canned goods have spoiled, 1000 cans wasted, poisoned with lead.

And yet, we are nowhere near the end of winter. The worst is yet to come.

Marion.

P. S. I had the dream again, it was as vivid as ever. The blue sky. The green surf, the sound of the sea, churning. Sea birds in great numbers. And the voices, those glorious voices from heaven, the ones that cry to me ‘Come Home.! Come home!’

Marion Barbier turned, placed her journal back on the nightstand and shut off her lamp, looking mournfully at the space where Henry used to lie next to her, dishevelled, restful in his large, nautical jumper. She traced the outline of the visage she saw, paying close attention to the thick, curly mutton chops on his cheeks she liked so much and shut her eyes. HMS Erebus groaned and sobbed mournfully as the ice constricted her hull further, as she had done for the last year and a half, and Marion was content to sleep through it. Then. The voices came again. Like a Greek chorus they rose in resplendent cacophony and cried out to her.

Come home!

It was not just the wind; it could not have been because the voices were so frenzied and harsh, she could hear their vocal cords fraying. She felt mad with it, and stood up, running her white, bony hand over her stomach, feeling the cleft of it. Feeling her child, Henry’s child.

COME HOME

She was moving now, in a slow and methodical half waddle to the deck. It was freezing, she was freezing. But she couldn’t stop, she had to go, and she had to go now. Marion had to get home. Her boots, her clothes, skirt, coat, hat, gloves, socks, were all neatly lined up on the chest of drawers in her quarters. She picked up not one. She was going home.

MARION.

“Yes,” she murmured, using a ladder to climb down off the deck of Erebus and onto the ice below, the frozen metal ripping a thin line of flesh off the soles of her feet it seared hot, like a poker, like the scorn of a cat-o-nines. Like the fire of hell. “Yes, I’m coming” she wandered down onto the ice, and heard the panicked cry of the young watchman for her to get inside. The cry that her safety was in jeopardy. She heard quite well, but she did not listen.

COME HOME MARION.

She knew that voice, her mother perhaps? No. It was too kind, too young.

It did not matter who it was. It mattered she got there in good time. A lady is never late, she arrives precisely when she means to. “Goodnight, private!” She called, too full of girlish glee to even consider turning around. “Goodnight, Sir John!” She called down the hole, only a breath away from sliding in as she walked further afield. Away from Erebus. Toward home.

The wind blew gently at her nightdress, making it ripple against her feet. The sand was burning hot against her feet, turning to glass underneath them, she swore it. Was it sand? Snow? No. Not snow, it was to hot for snow. She didn’t recall. Whatever she was walking on crunched underfoot and invaded every pore as she trekked. Maybe she was walking on needles. “Hay in a needle stack, mon Dieu there’s a thought”. She laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of how ridiculous it was. The novelty of the thought. An anecdote for when she got home.

MARION. PLEASE. COME HOME.

Frantic

“I’m listening. Don’t shout. I’m listening” she croaked, marching on. She felt a warmth trickle down her leg and looked to see the snow. (Sand?) Between her skeletal legs turn crimson. “Queer” she hummed “blood’s in” Marion gave it not another thought. She carried on.

COME HOME.

[aglitchysylveon]

I haven't posted in awhile so have some art of some new OCs.

These two are named Arache and Ellovie they're girlfriends, Arache is based off the jorogumō, the Japanese spider lady and also the typical drider monster, I do have an old drawing of her wearing a kimono. And Ellovie is a lamia.

Arache is extremely self-conscious about her appearance, especially her face. She doesn't want to show people her face because she knows it will scare them away and she doesn't want that. So even though she doesn't like it, she hides and obscures her face to others to prevent from showing her grotesque visage, using a face mask and sunglasses, the other little eyes are either hidden behind her hair or she says they're just.. Acne.

Ellovie however is the complete opposite, she is very proud of her body and face, everyone seems to like her and she doesn't exactly know why, she doesn't see it fair that people don't mind her, a snake monster slithering around but her girlfriend, a spider monster? That's too much. Ellovie wants to show Arachne that there are people out there who don't care how she looks she's still beautiful. She fell in love with her for that reason alone.

These are their parents, Estralen and Kral'zu are Arachne's parents and Gez'goruth and Ophidiophanthei (yes long name) or just Orphanthei are Ellovie's

Arachne's Parents:

Estralen is the daughter of Leviathan, she is very envious of other people and their beauty. Sometimes trying to take what they have to make herself feel like she's enough.

Kral'zu is a former spider king, until a hero from a local village managed to fight him off and slay him, causing him to die and go to Hell, he was a rather spiteful fellow and didn't like sharing his power he also views humans as pests, and now even more since he's dead. Kral'zu likely had a rivalry with the Lamia tribe, and Ophidiophanthei herself, before he and she both were slain by the same monster hunter. Probably even envied how prosperous her tribe was, till she died.

How Estralen and Kral'zu met was.. Well Kral'zu came to her, or.. She came to him when she was busy looking at other demons passing by and envying what they have, she noticed Kral'zu and instantly took interest in him. After awhile of watching him, she came to him and sparked a conversation, getting to know him better, at first she was envious of course, he was a king in his lifetime, he had a kingdom of spiders and spiderfolk hidden away deep in a forest called.. "The White Silk Forest" because the trees and everything were just covered in webs. And she just had this title of being this jealous mess. Kral'zu told her that she didn't have to be jealous, she has everything in the world, and he thinks she's enough. With those words, she had a flicker appear in her gut that told her "oh God this spider is ho-"/j, they then also got married.

Ellovie's Parents:

Gez'goruth is one of the high ranking overlords in Hell, and the famed "Demon of Wrath", he's now the ruler of the Wrath ring. Despite his fiery and harsh behavior he's actually a decent father. Just don't anger him, uhh he'll explode on you and prolly singe you to death.

Ophidiophanthei was a former leader of a Lamia tribe, half snake half woman creatures, they were a prosperous tribe for many years forming close bonds with one another, until the leader was slain, and died. She was then sent to Hell. Stricken with grief and anger she wouldn't be able to see her tribemates again, she was fueled with rage and sworn vengeance on the humans who killed her, and prolly her tribe too, she then found Gez'goruth and struck a deal with him. She'll serve him under his wing, and in return she wants power. He accepted it, after years of them working together she realized she has developed feelings for him, she loved the way he battled, the fury in the fight he displays, his passion and discipline. And he too, had the same feelings. They then got married.