#A Bitter-suite Reunion

[scoutofmymind]

exLuigi x Reader. I want something juicy, queen!

Darkest Before Dawn — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: SFW, angst, bitter feelings, unrequited love, arguing, friends funeral, etc.

W.c: 3,236

Notes; A close friend of yours and Luigi’s passes, setting the stage for an untimely reunion in bitter circumstances — later facing the raw truth that sometimes it takes losing someone to find your way back to each other.

This turned a lil self indulgent for my need to get some angst out. I can’t help it. I love drama

The autumn wind carries leaves across your feet in lazy spirals, nature's own procession leading deeper into the cemetery. Your arm is linked with Maya's — she hasn't left your side since the news broke, and even now her grip tightens whenever your breath hitches.

The sea of black suits and dresses before you ebbs and flows like a dark tide, faces both familiar and strange blurring together through unshed tears.

Grief comes in waves.

One moment you're choking back laughter at Jamie's story about Olivia’s disastrous attempt at making tiramisu for your monthly dinner parties, the next you're biting your lip bloody to keep from sobbing when someone mentions how she used to be the most fun out of anyone to kayak with, rain or shine.

It shouldn't matter. Not today.

Not when she’s gone and everything feels simultaneously too sharp and too dull.

But your eyes keep betraying you, scanning the crowd between eulogies, during the hymns, through the quiet moments. Your ears strain past the murmur of condolences and shared memories, searching for that particular timber, that specific cadence that you'd know anywhere.

The laugh that used to rumble against your shoulder during lazy Sunday mornings, the voice that could fill a room without trying.

"He isn't here," Maya whispers, tracking your restless gaze as it sweeps the room for the thousandth time. "You can breathe." Her words are meant to comfort, but they settle like stones in your stomach.

Luigi didn't come.

You force yourself to accept this, to let your guard down as the ceremony begins.

The first notes of Olivia’s favorite Chopin nocturne float through the air, weaving between muffled sobs and shaky breaths. She'd played this piece herself, once, at your apartment's housewarming. Her fingers had stumbled over the keys of your secondhand piano, but her smile had been radiant.

The memory splits you open all over again, raw as that first night — the 3 AM phone call, the way your knees had hit the kitchen floor, how the world had tilted sideways and never quite righted itself.

And then, like a punch to the solar plexus, you see him.

Luigi.

Hovering in the back, looking like he's been assembled from broken parts. His hair is disheveled, his tie crooked, those warm brown eyes you once knew better than your own now bloodshot and hollow. He's swaying slightly, and you recognize the tells — one desperate cigarette on the drive over, black coffee clutched like a lifeline.

You've seen him hold himself together like this before, all fraying edges and stubborn pride.

Your fingers dig into Maya's arm, but you bite back the words. Let her think you're still alone in your grief.

It feels safer than acknowledging how your heart still recognizes his particular brand of falling apart.

You try to stay hidden in plain sight, but his presence is magnetic — always has been. That familiar electricity crawls up your spine each time his gaze finds you across the room. Even now, even here, his eyes carry that same concerned weight they did a year ago, like you're the one who needs saving.

You feel him everywhere, the way you always have, only now your carefully constructed walls have crumbled at the worst possible moment.

The reception becomes suffocating, all polite murmurs and half-finished sentences about how she's in a better place now.

You slip outside for air, and there he is — a portrait of barely contained grief on the church steps. His fingers work mechanically over Olivia’s AA coin, turning it over and over like a rosary whilst the cigarette between his lips burns dangerously close to the filter, more ash than purpose, as if he's forgotten it's there.

Something pulls you forward — muscle memory, perhaps, or maybe it's the voice in your ear, gentle but insistent: Sit with him. He needs you.

"She was so proud of this," Luigi murmurs, eyes fixed on the coin catching the dying light. The messages wear like prayers beneath his thumb — It's always darkest before the dawn, and One day at a time. The edges are smooth now from his constant fidgeting, as if he could somehow extract comfort from its worn surface.

Olivia had been more than just his neighbor — she was the thread that stitched your lives together.

You still remember her braces-filled grin when she introduced you at soccer team tryouts, convinced her two favorite people would hit it off. From there, it was a domino effect of shared milestones; friendship bracelets woven under summer stars, prom photos where Olivia pulled faces between you both, the three of you crammed into her ancient Volkswagen for driving lessons, and dorm room numbers exchanged like secrets.

And now here you sit, on opposite sides of a chasm she can no longer bridge.

Words feel inadequate, hollow in the face of such loss, so you stay silent. But your eyes betray you — they always did with him — filling with that mixture of concern and understanding that used to make him feel seen, now just makes him feel exposed.

"Oh," he groans, waving his free hand like he could physically brush away your gaze. "Don't fuckin' look at me like that — Please." The last word catches in his throat, raw and ragged, like it costs him something to say it.

You snap your gaze to the swaying trees, watching October paint its warning signs of winter across the landscape. Your spine straightens like a soldier at attention, fighting the tremor that threatens to shake loose more tears. "I just want to know you're okay."

Luigi's laugh is a broken thing, more wound than sound.

You feel his eyes boring into your profile, but you keep yours fixed on the dying leaves dancing in the wind. "A phone call would have been fine," he mutters, loading the chamber of your familiar game with practiced precision.

It's so perfectly Luigi — dropping emotional grenades at the worst possible moments, like he's testing if the blast radius of your shared pain has changed; you chamber your own round without missing a beat. "The phone works both ways," you fire back, the words carrying just enough bite to draw blood.

This is the dance you know best — this careful choreography of hurt, each of you taking turns to twist the knife a little deeper. It's muscle memory, really, born in the crucible of young love and forged in the fire of terrible timing.

The game never has a winner, just two people who loved each other so completely it became a fault line.

"I've got a lot on my plate," Luigi breathes, the words hanging as flimsy as tissue paper in the autumn air. His gaze burns into your temple with an intensity that's achingly familiar — that same scorching desperation you remember from late nights when his demons wouldn't let him sleep.

He's still that wounded boy underneath it all, wrestling with ghosts that never quite stopped haunting him.

"You don't think I do?" The words snap out before you can stop them, your head whipping around to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes are two bruised hollows, those warm brown irises you once wrote poetry about now floating in seas of red, crowned by shadows that speak of endless sleepless nights. "Yet I-" you gesture sharply at yourself, voice pitched low and razor-sharp, "had the fucking decency to show up on time."

The punch lands exactly where you aimed it, and you watch him flinch like you've slapped him.

It's a cheap shot, using his tardiness as a weapon, when you know damn well he probably spent hours just trying to make it out of his apartment.

But grief makes soldiers of us all, and today you're both armed to the teeth with things you shouldn't say.

Bang.

Luigi stared at you with those winter-dark eyes, and the world collapsed into a singular point of existence.

The distant traffic faded, the autumn wind stilled, even the harsh rays of the sun that peeked through the clouds hid behind them once again — leaving nothing but this moment, this breath, this unbearable weight between you.

You'd remember this look until your own dying day; the way his pupils dilated slightly, how his left eye still caught light differently, the precise shade of umber in his iris that you'd never quite managed to mix on your palette.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but the words feel like ash in your mouth, too little and far too late.

You watch him fracture in real time, each carefully constructed wall crumbling like a condemned building, and somehow – impossibly – it only feeds the anger burning in your chest. "But just because I’m not an engineer doesn't mean my life is some cute little hobby. You don't have a monopoly on struggling, Lu."

Luigi recoils like you've struck a match against raw nerves, his entire body seeming to cave in on itself.

The cigarette, forgotten between his fingers, drops ash onto his pressed black slacks — the ones you know he probably spent an hour convincing himself to put on.

His jaw works silently, grinding teeth the way he always did when trying to swallow something too big to say.

"You think I-" he starts, then stops, pressing his thumb so hard into Olivia’s coin that his knuckle turns white. There's a violent tremble in his hands now, the kind that used to precede his worst panic attacks. "I couldn't-" Another false start, words crumbling like wet sand.

What he can't tell you is how he spent three hours this morning sitting in his parked car outside the church, chain-smoking through half a pack, trying to convince his legs to carry him inside.

How he threw up twice before leaving his apartment, the coffee and cigarettes his only defense against complete system shutdown.

How he's been sleeping on his couch because his bed feels foreign without late-night phone calls about recovery meetings and bad reality TV shows.

Instead, he just stares at you with those haunted eyes, and you see it then — the way he's holding himself together with safety pins and spite, one wrong word away from shattering completely.

I'm not okay. I haven't been okay.

His composure fractures further, a hairline crack spreading across carefully constructed walls.

The hand holding Olivia’s coin drops between his knees, dangling there like a surrender flag while his other hand rakes through his dark curls that haven’t seen proper care in days.

But you recognize the gesture — it's the same one from high school, when his father would show up drunk to soccer games, when college rejection letters came, when Olivia first went into rehab.

"You know what?" His voice comes out sandpaper-rough, caught somewhere between anger and anguish. "You're right. You're always fucking right." The words twist with something bitter, but the venom isn't meant for you — it never really was. "I should've been here earlier. Should've been there more. Should've-" He chokes on the rest.

The coin slips from his trembling fingers, pinging against the concrete steps. You both watch it spin, a dizzying dance of copper catching what little sunlight breaks through the clouds, before it settles face-up.

One day at a time stares up at you both, Sarah's mantra now a mockery — because how do you take it one day at a time when every day feels like drowning?

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

Luigi's shoulders shake with something that might be a laugh or might be a sob, with him, it's hard to tell the difference. "She called me, you know. Night before." His voice drops to barely a whisper, like he's sharing a secret he's been carrying around like a bullet in the chest. "I was busy. Said I'd call back in the morning."

"Lu,” Your voice cracks on his name, the anger from moments ago evaporating. You remember your own last conversation with Sarah — something trivial about a TV show she'd started binging.

How were either of you supposed to know it would be the last time?

"Don't." He cuts you off sharply, but his voice betrays him, wavering like it walked a tightrope. "Just — don't do that thing where you try to make it okay. It's not fucking okay." His hands are shaking so badly now that when he reaches for another cigarette, he drops the whole pack.

You reach for it automatically, and your fingers brush his as you both grab for it, making him jerk back like he's been burned, but not before you feel the cold clamminess of his skin. "When's the last time you ate something?" The question slips out before you can stop it, that old protective instinct rising up despite everything.

"Christ," he laughs. "You sound just like her. She used to-" He stops abruptly, swallowing hard. "She'd text me every morning. 'Did you eat breakfast?'" His voice trails off, and you watch him pick up her coin again, thumbing the worn edges.

"I have her last text," you offer quietly, pulling out your phone. "Want to see it?"

Luigi's head snaps up, eyes wide with something between terror and desperate need. "I-" he starts, then just nods, the simple movement seeming to cost him everything.

You pull up the message thread, trying to ignore how your hands aren't much steadier than his.

And there it is, timestamped 9:47 PM: “Found this stupid cat video, reminded me of that time at Lu’s when his cat jumped from the second floor onto the dinner table.. Miss you. We should do dinner soon.”

Luigi makes a sound like someone's just punched him in the stomach. "I can't- fuck," he breathes, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "She sent me some stupid meme. I didn't even open it. I was in the middle of a work call and I just — I thought I'd have time."

"We all did," you whisper, watching a leaf spiral down between you. "That's the whole point of recovery, isn't it? Having time to fix things."

"Yeah, well," his voice is razor-thin, "turns out time's a real bitch that way." He finally looks at you properly, and the raw devastation in his eyes makes your chest ache. "You know what the worst part is? I kept the voicemail. Her last one. Haven't listened to it yet. I can’t -“

Your breath catches. "Do you want to? Now?" The raw and desperate need to hear her voice in something that isn’t a stupid video on your phone claws at you. "Together, I mean."

Luigi's hand tightens around Olivia’s coin until his knuckles go white again.

For a moment, you think he's going to say no, going to retreat back behind those walls he's spent years perfecting. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nods.

He fumbles with his phone, hands shaking so badly you have to help him hit speaker.

For a moment, there's just static, and then — her voice fills the space between you, bright and clear and so achingly alive it feels like being gutted.

“Hey, Lu. I know it's late, but... I've been thinking. About you and-" A pause, a soft laugh. “God, you're both so stupid sometimes, you know that? Life's too short to keep playing this dance. I see how you look at those old shitty Polaroids, how you both light up when I mention the other. Pride's a killer too, trust me on that one. I learned it the hard way."

Your hand reaches for Luigi’s, his grip crushing.

“Remember that time freshman year, after the accident? How you both stayed with me for two weeks straight, taking shifts so I was never alone? That's- that's what love looks like. Real love. And you idiots still have it, you're just too scared to admit it. So consider this your intervention." Another laugh, softer now. Sounds like she’s moving about her apartment, completing nightly tasks and having called Luigi to chat before bed. “Call me back when you get this. We'll figure it out together. Love you, dumb fuck.”

The message ends.

Luigi's breathing has gone ragged, each inhale sounding like it's being dragged across broken glass. "She knew," he whispers. "She always fucking knew."

"Lu-" you start, but your voice fails you. Because what can you say? That Olivia was right? That you've spent almost an entire year pretending not to miss him like a phantom limb? That sometimes you still reach for your phone to tell him about your day before remembering you're not supposed to anymore?

"I can't-" he sucked in a ragged breath, “I can't lose you both. I can't-"

"Hey," you say softly, your thumb unconsciously tracing circles on his palm. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-sob, his free hand coming up to cover his face, but not before you see the tears finally breaking free. "Last time I saw her, she made me promise we'd all have dinner together. Said she was tired of splitting holidays, of pretending we weren't all still family just because you and I couldn't -" He trails off, his shoulder shrugging as he groans, tilting his head back to unclog his nose and stuff the tears back where they belong.

"Because we couldn't get out of our own way," you finish. The truth of it sits heavy in your chest, all the wasted time, all the stubborn silence. "God, we're fucking idiots."

"She used to call me every Sunday, you know? Just to ask if I'd talked to you yet.” Another sniffle rips through him, “Every damn Sunday for almost a whole year."

You let out a wet laugh. "She did the same to me. Every Wednesday, like clockwork. 'Have you called Lu yet?' 'No, Liv.' 'Well, why the hell not?'"

"Sounds like her." Luigi's voice goes soft, fond despite the pain. His hand is still in yours, warm and familiar and terrifying.

The silence that follows feels different somehow — less like a wall and more like a bridge.

Olivia’s coin catches the light between you again.

One day at a time.

"So," you say finally, squeezing his hand. "What do we do now?"

“Well -we - we honor her, right?" Luigi looks to you again, his voice stronger despite the tremor in his hands. "Not just with words or - like - memories." He looks down at your intertwined fingers, then back up to your face with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache. "But by fucking stopping this war of attrition we've been fighting since-“

"Since the goddamn gallery opening," you finish softly. That night hangs between you — the argument that started as something small ended with eleven months of radio silence. "When you said my art was just a-“

"I never meant it," he cuts in, voice raw. "I was terrified, watching you risk everything while I played it safe. You were so brave, and I was-“ He draws a shaking breath. "I was a coward who took it out on you instead of admitting I hated my own choices."

"We can't get the time back," you say gently, watching his thumb brush over your knuckles this time instead of the coin. "But maybe,” You pause. "Maybe we can stop fuckin’ wasting what we have left."

[jellyfishthingblog]

You can ignore this if you'd like to!

I want gender neutral where reader is an old friend or lover who left Zaun before Silco’s rise. Their return stirs unresolved feelings and bitterness, reigniting both tension and passion

This could be a mix of angst and 18+

"Ah, Reunions."

Author's Note: First request, was very excited while writing this, hope you lot enjoy!! (This is not proof read + English isn't my first language, so apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes!)

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog, so if you're a minor please click off! If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point, you are more than welcome to click off too!

Contains: gn!reader, reader referred to as Y/N, a very long backstory, Y/N accused of murder, angst in the beginning, smut at the end, no specific genetlia stated for Y/N (stated to have a hole), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all), groping, Silco referred to as 'Darling', Y/N referred to as 'Sweetheart', sweet talk, hurt/comfort, praise (y/n receiving)

Y/N and Silco. An inseparable duo. Their first meeting when they were ten.

Y/N was known to be one of the happier and more beautiful children, as if the world could never get in their way, or even harm them!

Silco was quite... the opposite. He was more closed off, and was even compared to a rat by the other children, because of his skinny figure, long limbs and fingers. At least he had his angelic eyes going for him.

The sun rose up slowly, the light just barely reaching the streets of the Undercity and it's only playground. That didn't stop children from arriving and thriving with each other. Amongst those children was Y/N. Their eyes full of joy and glee as the other kids immediately came up to them, begging to play. How could they ever refuse?

Hours pass, children still playing as the sun was fully up, shining brightly. Silco was hiding in an alleyway, not close enough to be seen, but not too far for him to see the children playing. Vander came up behind him.

"Hey, why don't you ever join them?" Vander asked Silco, sitting down next to him.

"... I want to, but I don't want to scare them away." Silco responded simply.

"Who?" Vander queried.

"Y/N..." Silco murmured, his eyes fixed on Y/N and full of wonder and admiration.

"Oh, c'mon Silco! Hey, I challenge you to go up to them and give them something, at the very least, if you're not going to speak to them." Vander proposed.

Silco sneered.

"Give them what? They deserve something better than what I could ever find here." Silco stated.

"I heard their favourite flower is a dandelion." Vander casually mentioned.

"Dandelions? That's not a flower, it's a weed. I'm sure someone as smart as Y/N would know that..." Silco huffed.

"Dandelions are easy to find, you can make one of those mini bouquets to show off that you know." Vander added.

Silco hummed.

"Tomorrow... I'll do it tomorrow at school." Silco said.

"Really?" Vander exclaimed. "Are you actually?"

"Yes. I'm not a coward." Silco stated.

The next day, he did indeed do as he said he would. Early in the morning, Silco gathered up as many dandelions as he could before going to school. He carefully tied them together with a string he found into a bow and put it inside a box.

When break time arrived, the children all went out to the school yard and played. Y/N was stood in the middle of playground, speaking with a few others.

Silco held the box in his hand, trying to work up the courage to walk up to them when Vander came up behind him.

"C'mon buddy, you got this. The worst they can do is say no, right?" Vander quietly cheered Silco on.

He took a deep breath and slowly walked up behind Y/N. One of the girls that were speaking with Y/N noticed him.

"Ah! Silco the Rat!" She screamed, running away, the other children following suit.

All the other children heard it too, they all laughed at him as Y/N turned to look behind them, finding Silco.

Avoiding eye contact, Silco held out the mini bouquet of dandelions to Y/N. The other children seemed to laugh harder and louder.

"Look, he brought dandelions!"

"The Rat is in love!"

Y/N wasn't listening to anything, too focused on the cute boy in front of them with the mini bouquet of their favourite flowers.

Y/N took the mini bouquet and smiled.

"Thank you. Dandelions are my favourite." They told him.

Their words were louder than any insult to Silco.

'Did they just say thank you?' Silco thought. "They're not insulting me?'

A small blush crept on to his stunned face, he just nodded and walked away as quickly as he could.

—

"I remember going back home, putting the dandelions in a vase and on my nightstand." Y/N muttered into Silco's chest. "They didn't leave that spot till every single one wilted."

Silco chuckled.

"Is that so?" He humoured, kissing Y/N's temple softly.

Moonlight slipped through the thin curtains. Their legs were tangled together as the sheets lay messily over both of them, clear evidence of them having a passionate love-making session.

In the morning, the sun just started rising when Silco and Y/N arrived at their shift in the mines.

Suddenly, Enforcers came running in, leaving everyone there confused.

"Oi, what's going on?" Vander asked, stopping the Enforcers from coming any closer to the mine.

"We're looking for someone named Y/N. They have been found guilty of a murder that occurred last night." The Commander stated. "Give them to us now."

"Y/N? Murder? No way." Vander argued.

"We have evidence and a trial today, we must take them now." The Officer retorted quickly.

Silco turned to Y/N.

"You were with me last night, how is that possible?" He asked.

"I don't know. I swear I never did such a thing." Y/N responded.

"Y/N." Vander called out, gesturing for them to come over.

Y/N did so and the Enforcers took them away.

—

That night was 15 years ago.

Many things changed. Vander is gone, the Silco that Y/N knew too. Or so they heard.

But that's okay, Y/N is changed too.

Y/N outgrew their sunshine, who could never do no harm, phase within the first year of being in that wretched prison.

Their face was the somewhat the same though. Those beautiful wide eyes that were once filled with joy and curiosity, now sharp and filled with cunning thoughts. That once soft and round face now more structured and refined.

But the good thing is though, tonight Y/N has been released from prison.

They walked slowly through the streets, looking around the city, nostalgia slapping them in the face. It was all familiar, but... different too. They couldn't put a finger on it.

—

Meanwhile, Silco was sitting in his office.

Jinx left to her room not too long ago after a conversation with him. He was sat there pondering, lighting a cigar in hand. He took a deep puff, closing his eyes, letting the smoke escape past his lips.

The Last Drop has been open for only two hours now, but the noise could be heard from upstairs, creating background noise for Silco.

Half an hour passed when the noise from the bar abruptly silenced. Silco sat up slowly, confusion etched on his face. Soon, there were rushed footsteps on the stairs then a knock on the office door.

"Somebody better be dying." Silco huffed, annoyed.

"Somebody is looking for you, said they just got out of prison." Sevika answered behind the door. "Told me to tell you their name is Y/N."

Silco froze.

'Y/N? No...' Silco thought. 'That's not possible... They're still alive?'

Silco stood up from his chair and walked over to the door. He took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out to the stairs. His eyes locked on to Y/N standing in the middle of the bar, a whiskey in their hand.

They looked up at him and smirked.

Silco frowned, disbelief in his expression.

"Am I dreaming, or is that you Y/N?" He humoured, returning his face to neutral.

"Yeah, it's me. Don't cream your pants, darling." They replied, taking a sip of their drink.

Silco scoffed. Y/N took that as a sign to walk up the stairs to take a proper look at him.

When they reached the top stair, they had a full view of Silco. Their eyes lingered on the scar that wasn't there when they last saw him.

"So, what did I miss?" Y/N asked.

Silco rolled his eyes and turned to go back to his office, Y/N didn't take offense and followed him. They shut the door behind them.

Silco put out his cigar in the tray on his desk. He was slightly panicked, not having expected the feelings he buried long ago to have raised up once more. Especially from having just a glimpse of Y/N for the first time in a decade and a half. He was so deep in thought, he didn't noticed Y/N calling out to him.

"-ilco? Silco? Are you alright?" Y/N asked, standing behind him.

"I'm fine." Silco snapped through gritted teeth.

"Then answer my question. What happened to your gorgeous face?" Y/N snapped back.

Silco turned to look at Y/N, his brows furrowed.

"You would have known if you didn't leave me all those years ago." Silco stated in a frustrated manner.

Y/N threw their glass to the side. It hit the wall, shattering at impact and dropping to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for having been framed for a murder I didn't commit!" Y/N yelled. "I'm sorry you didn't have the heart to visit me to tell me what's been happening! Do you think this was easy for me? No one ever visited me! I was disconnected from this city, not having a single clue whether you, or Vander, or even Felicia were alive or not!"

Y/N was stepping closer with each word, making Silco step back, the back of his legs hitting the desk.

"Those two are dead!" He yelled back. The distance between the two just mere centimetres. "There was a war between Zaun and Piltover, the Enforcers killed Felicia! Vander tried to kill me, hence the fucking scar."

He gestured to his face.

"That coward couldn't even finish the job. So he had died too, leaving Felicia's children behind. I don't know where Vi is, but I took Powder in. Her name is Jinx now." He added. "There. You're all caught up. Happy?"

Y/N just stood there, stunned. For a moment, or two. They sighed.

"I'm sorry... I was wrong to yell at you. I see that now, but-" They muttered, pausing. "Oh! Stop being so stoic, Silco! Go on. Shout, scream, say something!"

Silco face softened, his hand coming to cradle Y/N's face. To confirm that Y/N wasn't just a figment of his imagination, and to reassure them too.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you..." He whispered, leaning his face closer and giving Y/N many chances to move away. But they didn't.

Silco pressed his lips against Y/N's, feeling their warmth. Y/N put one hand in Silco's hair, the other on his hip, pulling him impossibly closer. Silco moved his other hand to Y/N's lower back, hands craving to touch Y/N as much as he could, grabbing whatever flesh he could reach. Y/N moaned softly when Silco touched their inner thighs.

"Hm, still as sensitive as I remember?" Silco teased, kissing along Y/N's jawline.

"Or... It's been too long since I felt your touch." Y/N whispered, barely holding back a whine.

Silco chuckled, he turned both of them around, pinning Y/N to his office desk.

"I guess I better make up for what you, oh so desperately missed, shouldn't I?" Silco continued to tease.

"Please..." Y/N whined softly.

"Well, how could I refuse when you ask so nicely for me, sweetheart?" Silco chuckled.

He leaned in, tracing kisses along Y/N's jaw and down to their neck. Paying extra attention to the spot between the collarbone, all while tracing his hands down to slide down their trousers.

While he's busy with that, Y/N has a hard time keeping quiet. Their hands tangling in Silco's hair, messing it up.

"No need to be quiet. Let me hear those pretty noises, sweetheart." Silco whispered in Y/N's ear.

Y/N's thighs tried to shut together unconsciously, but Silco only spread them wider.

"Not on my watch." He adds.

He unbuckles his trousers, freeing his hard on. He brings one hand up to Y/N's mouth.

"Open wide."

Y/N allows Silco to put two of his digits in, in turn they suck and lick.

"That's it, good job sweetheart."

Once he felt that his fingers were lubricated enough, he took them out of Y/N's mouth and down to their now exposed hole. He slowly inserted them, feeling Y/N clench around him desperately. Y/N couldn't help but let out a pathetic whine once Silco's fingers were fully in.

"Hm, that's it. Let me hear how much you missed me." Silco whispered.

Y/N moaned as Silco started to slowly move his fingers. Their hands reached over to Silco's shoulders, gripping him tightly as they made the sweetest sounds for Silco. Once their hole was ready, in Silco's opinion, he pulled his fingers out, earning a desperate whine from Y/N. He aligned his tip, which was leaking pre-cum, to the hole. He looked down to Y/N's face.

"Ready, sweetheart?" He asked.

"Mhm." They replied.

He slowly pushed his tip in, enjoying the feeling, making him groan softly.

"Seems like I'm not the only one who missed this." Y/N teased.

Silco simply smirked. He placed his hands on either side of Y/N, then thrusted deep into their hole. They moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion.

"You gonna keep teasing, or will you be a good doll for me?" He teased back.

"I will be good, I promise. Just don't stop." Y/N moaned.

Silco listened. He gradually increased his speed, making sure to hit the spot that makes them make the sweetest sound each time.

"You sound so angelic, sweetheart." Silco praised.

Y/N managed to only grip Silco's shoulders tighter and whine louder in response. And when Y/N's hole squeezed Silco's dick just right, he whimpered. Y/N smirked.

"Did I hear that correctly, darling?" Y/N teased in between pants. "That was hot."

Silco rolled his eyes, but his ears turning red betrayed his real embarrassment. Just then, Silco hit the right spot at the perfect force making Y/N arch their back. He took that as a sign to keep doing just that, bringing them closer to the edge.

"Fuck... Right there. Don't stop." Y/N mumbled incoherently.

Silco leaned in, whispering sweet nothings into their ear. That was the final straw to tip them over the edge. Their thighs squeezed Silco's waist, their hands gripped harder and leaving marks on his shoulders, head thrown back as their orgasm hit them hard. Silco following suit after, burying his cock deep.

The two took a moment to collect themselves, relishing in the afterglow.

"Such a good doll." Silco whispered between groans as he pulled out.

"Only for you." Y/N whispered back.

[azen13]

Looking at the items the Starlight Pawnshop has to offer... I'd like to purchase the < Avian Necklace >, please. Because a pretty little songbird deserves only the prettiest chain with which to tie it down.

Paradise Lost, Paradise Found

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Avian Necklace: A silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bird mid-flight, imbued with a strange energy strong enough to shackle its wearer in paradise forever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Description: After the Charmony Festival, Sunday returns to Penacony with the Stellaron Hunters, desperate to be reunited with his lover.

CW: Yandere Themes, Brainwashing, Mind Control, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Intense Distress, Manipulation

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It is a Monday night in Penacony, and all is well in the world.

Sure, your hotel room is cramped. The mattress is lumpy. The view is horrible. But it is real, and that is all that matters to you. After an eternity of dreams so sweet you felt like you were drowning in joy, you would rather be stuck in this dingy hotel room than some luxury VIP suite anyways. It’s comforting in all its imperfections. 

That is, until you hear someone knock on your door.

The sound is rhythmic, three short, quick, evenly spaced knocks. It’s all you truly need to know who stands outside your door. Your heart already knows, beating so fast you feel like you could go into cardiac arrest. 

But then you hear his voice. Smooth and rich like espresso, laced with a subtle sweetness. “Darling,” Sunday whispers quietly, “please, open the door.” It is both a request and a command, though it isn’t infused with Sunday’s usual pacifying power. 

He liked doing this when you realized Ena’s dream was all an illusion; he would give you a chance to submit and  acquiesce to his love and care, but when you inevitably refused, he had no qualms about worming his way into your mind. Once inside, he’d gently smash any shred of resistance you had, before pulling you into his arms and crooning his hymns, praising your holiness. 

Isn’t this dream so blissful? he would ask you quietly, his hands ghosting over your skin, soft as feathers. I can give you anything you want. In Ena’s dream, it was true. Sunday could give you anything you wanted, even your freedom. But you knew it was an artificial imitation of independence; no matter where you traveled in the pseudo-universe, he was always there, always watching you. That was good enough for him: knowing you were safe, his hands cupped around your world like the way one would hold a bird.

The sound of Sunday’s voice breaks you out of your momentary reverie. “My dove, please, I don’t want our reunion to be bitter, but it seems like you aren’t giving me a choice.” You can feel the resonant harmonies in Sunday’s words grow louder, gripping your mind gently, giving you one more chance to open the door through your own free will.

You look around your room for any way out. On the opposite wall is a single window. You’re on the first floor. All you have to do is break through it and find someone. Frantically, you rush over, scrounging around for something to break the glass. You hear a loud sigh. “I wish you could just understand, my love,” Sunday laments. 

The lock clicks.

Instantly, you are pounding and clawing on the glass like a rabid animal. In brief moments of clarity through your haze of desperation, you can feel your shoulder ache from ramming into the glass. Your throat feels raw. Someone is screaming. It’s you.

Sunday’s hands are just as excruciatingly tender as you remember, gliding over your arms and clasping your wrists in a tender but firm embrace. “Shh, it’s okay, my dear,” he whispers quietly. Beneath the insanity that clouds his own eyes, you can glimpse genuine concern in his gilded gaze. “Calm down, shh, yes, relax,” he coos. 

All of the sudden, the world goes soft and blurry; every color in your hotel room, the pallid, washed-out grays and pale, muted blues seem to turn into a psychedelic kaleidoscope, luring you deeper and deeper into a state of tranquility. 

With slow, delicate motions, Sunday lets go of one of your wrists, a placid smile gracing his face for a mere moment. Making sure that you won’t hurt yourself anymore than you already have, he reaches into one of his coat pockets, pulling out a small necklace imbued with the power of the Order. 

“After the Charmony Festival, I was in such a deep state of despair. I thought I had lost everything. My dreams. My power. My home. My sister. My love.” His grasp on your wrist tightens, though you’re so lost in his spell that you can’t even feel the pain. “But now…now I have you again, my dearest,” he whispers hoarsely. Sunday can hardly believe you are real, with how constant misfortune has haunted his life. Time and time again, he has lost everything. Everyone. All his dreams and aspirations have shattered to pieces like stars crashing down to the earth from the heavens. But not you.

“Perhaps my plan was ill-timed,” Sunday muses as he loops the chain of the necklace around your neck. “But for right now, if I can’t give everyone paradise, then at least I can give it to you. And that will be more than enough,” he whispers, taking your appearance in, drinking it in like a man without water for forty days. 

The effects of his tuning are fading, but the power of the necklace is taking root in your mind, warping and twisting it until you understand. Truly magnificent. He can see the clarity and consciousness in your eyes, but he can also see behind it, the compulsion to listen. 

“Now, we must go,” Sunday says, his hands moving to clutch both of yours, pulling you up from where you’re sitting on the floor. “The rest of the Stellaron Hunters are likely getting anxious and ready to leave.” Still, he can’t help but steal one more moment alone. He presses a quick, light kiss to your lips, looking at your splendor one last time.

His sweet, foolish, caged bird.

[koyagifs]

𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

pairing: san x reader au: ceo | arrange marriage genre: angst word count: 1.027 words summary: San struggles to finalize his divorce not ready to let you go warning(s): - part 1 | part 2 | part 3

“you know, if you truly wanted the divorce you would signed the papers already,” you said, taking a sip of your wine.

San glared at you, the pen in his hand slamming down onto the table. He leaned back into his chair, muttering nonsense as he took his phone out. Messages of his mistress taking over his screen. You held a smirk on your face, knowing exactly who is blowing up his phone.

“San, I’m tired of this cat and mouse game. Just signed the damn papers so we can get on with our lives.”

San tsk, shoving the papers away from him as he got up. You rolled your eyes, finishing the remainder of your wine. Your phone buzzed, a smile planted on your face as your new lover informed you of his arrival. San notices, his eyes narrowing as he catches the change in your expression.

“who is it this time? Is it Mingi? Maybe even Yunho, knowing you like to whore around with my friend.”

You pause, his venomous words hanging in the air between you. A slow, bitter smile spreads across your lips as you turn to face him fully. "Oh, is that really what you think?" you reply coolly, eyes locking with his.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, San. Besides, you lost the right to care a long time ago.”

His jaw clenches, and he crosses his arms tighter against his chest. "You didn’t answer the question," he spits, his gaze dark and piercing.

“ Is it Mingi? Or Yunho?” He steps closer, voice dripping with venom.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. "I don’t need to explain myself to you," you say calmly, meeting his fury with icy indifference. "The only thing I need from you is your signature."

San glares at you, his frustration boiling over. "You're unbelievable," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "You say you want to move on, yet you keep playing these games."

"Games?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow.

San’s breath hitches as you grip his face, tension between you two crackling like electricity. The memory of that night nearly a year ago washed over both of you —the same bitter dynamic. Yet, this time, theres a finality in the air, a sense that this dance is coming to its inevitable end.

He doesn’t move, his eyes locked yours, searching for any sign of the person he once knew. But you’ve changed, hardened by the betrayals, and now you hold all the power. His jaw tightens under your grip, he stays silent, letting you pull him closer as if daring to respond. You leaned in, a smirk planted on your lips. Hovering by his ear, your voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper.

“ Darling, if this was a game, you would have lost long ago,” you purred.

For a brief second, it’s as if time rewinds, taking him back to when things between you were different—when his touch was welcomed, when your eyes sparkled at the sight of him. His heart pounds against his ribcage, a desperate reminder of what he's losing. His hands twitch at his sides, fighting the instinct to reach out and pull you closer, to relive even a fragment of what you once had.

Your lips hover tantalizingly close to his, and his breath catches in his throat. It’s almost cruel how you know exactly how to undo him, how to make him feel that rush of desire and love that he thought was long gone. For that fleeting moment, he swears he can feel it again: the love, the warmth, the way his world used to revolve around you.

But then, the reality hits. Your eyes are no longer filled with love but with cold determination. The smirk on your lips isn’t one of playfulness but of finality. This isn’t a reunion; it’s a goodbye, and the taste of that realization is bitter.

“You feel that, San?” you murmur, barely above a whisper, your gaze never wavering from his. “That’s the past. And it’s not coming back.” You pull away, leaving a void in the space where your warmth used to be. His heart aches, clinging to that brief flicker of the past, but he knows you’re right.

He stands there, frozen, his hands still hovering uselessly in the air. Part of him wants to fight, to argue, to do anything to reclaim what he's let slip through his fingers. As San hands gripped your waist, pulling you close,

San’s grip on your waist is firm, almost desperate, as he pulls you close. For a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of the man he used to be—the one who would hold you like you were his entire world. His eyes search yours, silently pleading for some hint of the love you once shared. But before he can say anything, the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat cuts through the moment, shattering the illusion. His body goes rigid, the warmth of his touch quickly replaced by tension. He turns his head sharply, and so do you, to see the source of the interruption.

Standing in the doorway is your new lover, Hongjoong, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the scene unfolding in front of them. A mixture of concern and quiet resolve marks their face as they take in the sight of San holding you so close.

You step back from San’s grasp, the air around you shifting instantly from the charged intimacy to something far colder. “You’ve lost, San,” you say, your voice steady and final. “And now it’s time for you to let go.”

San’s hands fall away from your waist, and he watches as you move toward the doorway. The reality of the situation hits him harder than he expected. He’s no longer the one standing by your side, and for the first time, he truly feels the weight of that loss.

Hongjoong gives San a nod, not in triumph but in acknowledgment of the end of something broken. He extend a hand toward you, and without hesitation, you take it, stepping away from the man you once loved and toward the future you’ve chosen.

[didherodown]

Didherodown's Official Danny Phantom episode recommendations

(for the fan who has never seen the series but is in the phandom)

Ordered in sequence of release (taken from imdb, so take that as you will)

Very Important episodes will be noted like this Episodes I think are fun and kinda important like this

enjoy!

Season 1: Has a lot of groundwork for the show, lots of introductions to our cast of Ghosts

Mystery Meat - E1

Where it all started, establishes Sam and Tuckers rivalry over food, our first encounter with the Lunch Lady, and Danny’s first outing as a hero in general

Episodes 2-6 : feature introductions to Dora, Skulker, Technus, Point Dexter, and Desiree 

Bitter Reunions - E7

Our introduction to Vlad! Establishes Vlad vs Danny dynamic, Vlad's hate of Jack and his obsession with Maddie

Prisoners of Love - E8 is our intro to Walker

My Brothers Keeper - E9

Spectra makes her appearance! Shows a lot of Danny’s insecurities he has about being different, an outsider, ect.  And Jazz finds out Danny's identity!

Shades of Gray - E10 

Our first meeting of Valerie, and where her life gets ruined by Cujo!

Fanning the Flames - E11 is our intro to Ember

Maternal Instincts - E17 

Vlad is up to his scheming and tries to get both Danny and Maddie to join him and abandon Jack. (Introduces the Specter Deflector gadget, as well the the Plasmius Maximus)

The Million Dollar Ghost - E19

Vlad puts a bounty on Danny Phantom, making lots and lots of ghost hunters show up- including the GIW

Control Freaks - E20

Circus Gothica! The ringmaster- Freakshow- has a staff that he uses to control ghosts and Danny of course falls victim 

Season 2: Has a lot of bangers- and is very heavy in the Danny Lore AND where a lot of fannon comes from (ghost king, trans danny, pharaoh tuck, ect)

Reign Storm - E4

In which Pariah Dark is awoken and goes on a rampage, sucking Amity Park into the Ghost zone. With the other ghosts also terrified of the Ghost King, Danny might be the only who has a chance to stop him (ghost king danny anyone????)

The Ultimate Enemy - E6

Danny cheats on a test, which we find out actually will end the world. Our introduction to Clockwork and the Eyeball Guys(™). And of course, Danny’s future evil self- Dan !!

King Tuck - E7

Where Tucker gets influenced by Hotep-Ra (origin of the Pharaoh Tucker fannon)

Identity Crisis - E8

Where we learn that simply splitting Danny from his ghost half is not an option, his ghost half is indeed half of him

Flirting with Disaster - E11

Where Danny and Valerie are dating. In this episode her original ghost fighting suit is destroyed and Technus makes her a new version- leading to lots of fannon about Valerie being a little more ghost than she thought

Kindred Spirits - E14

Cloning! Danielle! AHHHHHHH!!!! (trans Danny? All but confirmed /hj)

Reality Trip - E17

Where Freakshow is searching for the stones of the Reality Gauntlet (very reminiscent of the Infinity Gauntlet from Marvel)

Season 3: Often the most criticized of the three seasons, the show was canceled in this season. BUT THERE IS SO MUCH IMPORTANT LORE IN THIS ONE LETS GO

Infinite Realms - E2

Our first meeting with Frostbite! Also tells us a lot about how natural portals work AND the introduction of blood blossoms

Torrent of Terror - E4

Introduces Vortex, also Danny's mood affects the weather for a good part of this episode

Urban Jungle - E6

Undergrowth has taken over amity, making Sam his “Queen” because of her love and care of plants. THIS IS WHERE WE FIRST SEE DANNY’S ICE POWERS! AND WE LEARN ABOUT CORES! YES REALLY ONLY 6 EPISODES FROM THE END

Boxed Up Fury - E8

The Box ghost, upset at not being taken seriously- steals Pandora's Box, and well, that goes about as good as you imagine it going

D-Stablized - E11

Dani is literally dissolving into ectoplasm, and Danny has to find a way to save her before she destabilizes all the way. (Introduces Ecto Dejecto- a fanfic staple)

Now this is just my personal list- based on 20 years of being in this fandom (holy shit how can it be that long????)

Thanks for reading :)

[behidethetrees]

LOVE IS ONLY A FEELING.

IN WHICH… You have a bittersweet reunion.

Pairing: Coriolanus snow x Fem! reader

Content: Ooc! Coryo (he's not evil), Covey! reader, They're definitely a situationship, Possessive! Coriolanus, 1.3k words. Requests

You were greeted with Loud clapping and cheering once you finished your original song at the nightclub. It wasn't often that people would stop dancing to take in someone's beautiful words, But everyone did for you. You thanked everyone and stepped down from the stage to get some water when suddenly a brunette boy walked over to you and asked for a dance. Of course, you agreed.

It had been months since you’d seen Coriolanus snow. He had gotten in a fight with your ex, As he was swinging, he accidentally hit one of the covey members with his backhand. You yelled at Coriolanus so much you were surprised your vocal cords were still intact. He never apologized. He never came back after you kicked him out. He had left you for months with bitterness and anger, But you couldn't hold onto that forever. You were done with Coriolanus snow.

The brunette boy was slightly taller than you and he danced well enough. Though His hands were sweaty and he messed up his foot placement every now and then. As you danced with him, Your long white skirt swaying, A drop of temperature in the room occurred, You knew right away that only one man could make a room feel cold. Coriolanus snow. The man that you were so hopelessly in love with but hated every inch of, Stood in the back of the room with a clenched jaw and eyes that could pierce anyone. All you could do was roll your own pair and abandon the boy you didn't even know the name of. 

The covey band was singing one of your songs And Coriolanus immediately recognized it. It was the one you sang to him the first time you showed him the big wildflower field one summer night. He had thought back to when you held each other under that green and yellow leaf tree. When he finally found you on the side of the stairs leading to the stage, Coriolanus swept you off your feet, Like he always did.

His strong arm gripped your waist tightly but he held your hand gently. You were close enough to smell him, he smelt just like roses. You had started to notice actually how nice he looked. He wore a black suit with a red shirt under and his curly outgrown hair was combed back. Was he dressed up for someone else, Or you?

You looked up at him Through your curled lashes, Your eyes were pure, as snow he thought. His upper lip slightly lifted into a small smirk. As the covey band continued, Coriolanus began to move your body with his slowly. Coriolanus liked you better like this. When you were hidden away in his hold, When you struggled to hate his touch, When he knows he's got you.

“Did you miss me sweetheart?” Coriolanus says with that sickly sweet smile. His tone was arrogant like he had no doubts.

“Not one bit.” You gripe back at him. You had missed him. Sitting by the lake only you two knew as you sang and he’d listen, Late night walks while his muscular arms kept you safe from any harm, The feeling of his hands. How rough and slim they were, You’d wonder who else's blood had fallen on them.

“Well, that's a shame because I missed you.” Coriolanus wasn't lying. He missed a certain girl waltzing around with long dresses and feathers in her hair, Those love songs she’d sing to him as she traced flowers in Coriolanus’s palm with her little finger, the security and comfort her aura provided him. 

“Then why didn't you come back?” You ask him. You can tell that hit a nerve by the way he swung you to the right harshly, then returned to slowly swaying side by side. Coriolanus didn't have a reason nor an excuse. He, who was so defensive, never apologized for anything. He just sighed.

“I waited for you Coriolanus.” You couldn't help the tears starting to form in your eyes. Every night you left your window open and a key under the mat. Waiting, listening, Hoping he would come back. Something about you calling him ‘Coriolanus’ disappointed him to his core. He felt his girl slipping from his grasp. He felt the only thing that had ever belonged to him was disappearing. 

It wasn't just your kindness and easily persuaded mind that Coriolanus liked. It was the way your big, curious eyes looked at his unforgiving blue ones like he was more than a poor capitol boy trying to carry on his family name. Like he had the chance to be someone to somebody.

He slowly stopped the movement of your bodies. “Look at me.”  Coriolanus was now gently cupping the sides of your jaw with both hands, Forcing you to look at him. You searched for something in him. The guilt in his eyebrows, the reassurance in his eyes, and the slight resentment he had towards you in his lips.

“I'm here now. And I'm so, so sorry I hurt you. I will make this right, you just have to let me, please.” Coriolanus Begged. You had Coriolanus Snow, One of the most intimidating boys in the capitol, Begging for a way back into your life. His forehead touched yours while he delicately wiped away your tears with his thumb.

His big arms eventually hugged your waist. He buried his head into your shoulder, taking in the scent of you that he was addicted to. You felt so close to Coriolanus, so vulnerable. You placed your arms around his neck. The warmth of your bodies rose, That feeling you both had been chasing since that night.

A few minutes went by as the covey continued to play. You felt the rise and fall of Coriolanus’s chest, His steady heartbeat thumping against his insides. Coriolanus picked his head up to say something. Coriolanus thought for a minute, His lips drawing together. No, he couldn't say that. he couldn’t tell her why he didn’t want to love her. That she’d be the only thing above him, the only weakness people could dangle over his head. That she would have the power Coriolanus so desperately wanted. But if he told her, He’d have to live with that for the rest of his life. The guilt would hurt him no matter how hard he would try not to feel. The regret would build up in his stomach but Worst of all, his jealousy would seethe through his veins and kill him.

The cold sensation of his hands on your jaw and neck swirled into your skin and down to your heart. He took a moment to look across all your features before he put his lip onto yours. It was passionate and long. He never pulled away because he wanted this so bad. he wanted you so bad. to have all of you to himself. his hands gripped tighter on you. His lips pressed harder onto yours. He hated that others were around while you shared this intimate moment. He hated that others were around you.

Coriolanus’s thoughts started wandering into the darkest parts of his brain. He kept his composure. He didn't want to scare you away with his mind because he didn't think he'd survive if he lost you again.

After you pulled away, he gave you a quick smile and guided your head back to his chest as he wrapped himself around you again. His chin rested on top of your soft hair. The lights glistened as you closed your eyes, Listening to a mix of the covey and his heartbeat. Sweet moments of Coriolanus kissing your hair and whispering sweet words blurred together. Coriolanus’s presence sent you in a state of euphoria.

Coriolanus knew it wasn’t over. He knew you, better than you knew yourself. You’d always come back to him and he’d do the same. You were his. This was a never ending story of you two. Coriolanus smiled. He got his girl back.

A/N: srry ive been gone writers block sucks. Anyways hope u enjoyed :3

Requests

[pookie-mulder]

August 2024 fic roundup

This was truly the month of the longfic. And to think I only read short fics until @skelavender showed me the error of my ways!

📰🖋️ Paracelsus by prufrockslove

One of the biggest txf fics ever, and I absolutely devoured it. I loved reading it right after Hiraeth and seeing all the little nods to their past lives. This author knows how to spin a yarn, guys. My one complaint is the never-ending miscommunications towards the end, which is never my favorite source of drama/conflict. Just talk to each other, you idiots! (Although they have those moments in canon, as well, I suppose.)

⚾️🏟️ A Moment in the Sun by prufrockslove

I will remember this fic for the rest of my life. It’s the type of fanfic you want to write fanfic about. It makes me wish I knew now to print and bind my own books. The universe is so rich and developed. Definitely in my top 5 of all time!

Here’s a list of things I love about it:

William. My precious, bratty British boy.

The way the plot includes elements of the mytharc but put together in a different way so you don’t know exactly how it’s all gonna come together

Emily!! You know I love a good Emily AU, and this fic certainly counts. I’m a sucker for a found family, and this fic delivers.

Josh Exley my beloved (and Arthur Dales, but the other one)

Dad!Mulder. The man is an absolute DILF. He tries so hard to overcome his shortcomings and be the father his kids need.

Frohike. His job as an eccentric baseball manager suits him surprisingly well, and his characterization is on point.

The little nods to canon, including episode titles and locations.

The insinuation that all of PFL’s AUs take place in the same universe (as Mulder said, “It has to take more than one lifetime to learn to love someone this much.”)

The only thing I’m not zazzed about is the ending. It kind of just…ends? I would’ve loved an epilogue or even a sequel (or a 12-book series).

🏫📸 Dr. Scully’s School for Exceptional Boys by prufrockslove

Oh boy. This fic is a tangled mess of emotions and betrayal and shame and guilt and love and promises and sacrifices and, most of all:

Definitely recommend.

👒👩‍🔬 The Regency Files by @slippinmickeys

I needed something that needed less mental energy after 4 massive PFL fics in a row, and this one delivered! It’s sweet, romantic, elegant, and has just enough of a plot to keep you interested. If you’re a fan of historical AUs (as I am now, I guess), this one’s a must-read!

🛌🍷 The Reunion by @muldersfingers

Absolute trope-y goodness without feeling too cheesy or predictable. My favorite part is how much they laugh and tease each other when they finally make use of that one bed ;)

🐶🥇 underdog takes the title by @wtfmulder

MSR’s first time is sweet, silly, and giggly. Mulder is absolutely pathetic and pitiable, which Scully finds hot (same, girl). It absolutely melted my heart!

👶👨‍🍼 the bitter and the sweet by @xf-cases-solved

What if baby William was a girl? What if they named her after Samantha?

Absolute perfection. This is how season 8 should have ended!

🏔️🌲 The Mountain Man and A Deadly Hunger by aka_Jake

This historical AU takes place in the same time period as Paracelsus, but it’s so vastly different in its setting that it’s unfair to compare them. In this one, Mulder is a Montana mountain man who smuggles arms to the Native Americans, and Scully hopes to become an army doctor in a nearby frontier town. It’s a classic Wild West romance with plenty of drama and conflict. I love how each of the characters feel like themselves, especially Scully, who retains her headstrong independence despite social norms.

🔙🥩 The Mastodon Diaries by aka_Jake

Mulder and Scully travel back in time to the Pleistocene era and must rely on their wits and each other to survive.

This is one of those fics that changes you as a person. I will be thinking about it for a long, long time. It broke my heart a thousand times and then lovingly stitched it back together. There were so many moments that took my breath away.

The portrayal of prehistoric humans is especially incredible — they’re so well-thought out, and their culture is so rich and developed. Even though 12,000 years separates us, we’re not so different from each other in the end. I absolutely fell in love with the native OCs, which is a compliment of the highest order. I already miss them!

Anyway, it’s like this fic was created in a lab specifically for me. It has all my favorite tropes and story elements: wilderness survival, historical AU(ish), soooo much whump and caretaking and hurt/comfort, found families, Dad!Mulder, and a surprising amount of romance. If you haven’t read this one yet, I’m begging you to give it a try!

🇦🇶❄️ On the Verge by aka_Jake

This fic fits into one of my favorite canon holes: How did Mulder and Scully get back from Antarctica? I love reading everyone’s different takes on this missing scene/plotline, and this one is no exception!

[perictione00]

Oops!...I Did It Again

Ch 1: It's Complicated

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts/behaviour (please do not read if things like this are triggering for you).

Synopsis: When life was throwing you uncountable curveballs, an unexpected reunion with your high school friend helped you dodge every single one of them. Coping mechanisms leave you both in a complicated situationship. So what happens when one of you ends up catching feelings? The cliche or the unexpected?

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

You wonder what your life would've been like if your parents were still alive. Maybe you would have stayed a child for a little longer, enjoyed your life a little longer, without execrating every bitter incident that landed on your lap, and maybe you wouldn't be standing on the edge of a rooftop, drunk, contemplating your next move. It could be so easy to just stop everything and not feel anything any longer. You could be free from all the burden that you've been carrying; you won't have to worry about the deadlines, the debt, the rent, or your sister's school fee. Oh yeah, there it is—the reason you question your decisions whenever you find yourself on the rooftop. You really do love her; you act brave for her sake, and she's your motivation, yet sometimes it all feels so worthless. It doesn't matter when nobody acknowledges your hard work, but it hurts like hell when she doesn't. You try to understand that she's in her rebellious phase and that she's still young; however, you envy her for having the audacity to even disregard you in the first place because you expect her of all people to recognize the effort you put in. Why do you have to grow up and she gets to stay a child, a brat?

"What are you waiting for?", you almost lost your balance as you heard his voice. You slowly turned, only to see a blonde-haired guy with an obviously expensive-looking formal suit. "So you're drunk this time?", he continued as he walked in your direction.

"Heyaaaa, Mr. Richie Rich, what took you sooo loooooong, I missed you shhoooo muuchhh", you weren't sober enough to know how drunk you sounded, but Nanami was. He took your hand with caution as you climbed down the edge. The dark circles under your eyes gave away the reason for your current state. It was evident that you had been overworking yourself for the past few days. You barely had time for yourself, and you had requested Nanami to pick up your sister from her tennis classes twice this week. He was actually shocked to find you a bit too early at the office today as well, and although he wanted to question it, he knew better. There were already way too many rumors about you circulating in the office; he didn't want to add one more by holding a conversation with you.

"Let's go, I'll make dinner", he said as he collected the files and your heels that decorated the rooftop floor.

Nanami closed the door of his apartment as you staggered your way to the very comfortable-looking couch. He knew that you would fall asleep on the couch and that it would be such a pain to wake you up, but the peacefulness on your face changed his mind. This was basically the story of every other weekend, and it was painfully obvious how you both lacked a social life. However, he would rather spend his weekends with you than hold conversations with the people in his company; they were all...tiring and he felt at ease with you, maybe because you both attended the same high school and were part of the same circle. So here he was, almost done heating the leftover miso soup, searing chicken, and preparing parsley sauce to go with it.

Now comes the hard part: waking you up. He remembers that one time, when you had asked him to choose a pokemon that came to his mind when he thought of you, he also remembers how he had immediately answered Snorlax and how, surprisingly, you weren't even offended and instead tried to justify its life style. Of course you didn't need to know that he found Snorlax the cutest of all pokemon.

After 10 minutes of diligence, you were finally awake, cranky but awake at last. He led you to the dining table and served you the miso soup which tasted like heaven. The tofu literally melted in your mouth and the brothy texture was to die for, you could feel yourself sobering. While you were enamored with the taste of the food, Nanami was secretly anticipating your unusual way of appreciating his food, which you did.

"Oh I could just marry you right now", you announced as you pecked his lips, catching him off guard.

To say that Nanami was flustered would be an understatement. The tips of his ears were as red as an apple, and his serious guy exterior was on the verge of breaking. He knew that for you, it wasn't anything unusual because of the peculiar relationship you shared with him; however, actions and words like these never failed to ignite his heart with a hopeful fire. But he couldn't allow himself to give into this fantasy, so he maintained his calm appearance and continued savoring the tender chicken, glancing your way with every bite.

2 years ago

Resigning from a company that contributed to a major part of your income was a big decision, but after working overtime for almost a month and not getting a penny for it, that was your limit. You tried complaining only to find out that some legal document under the company's contract deprived you of many rights that were meant for your protection against exploitation. You seriously should've read it all instead of jumping on the opportunity. And with that, you were left with a series of unpaid bills and your unemployed ass. It was hard to find a great job in a short time period, so you went on for various job interviews and took on multiple part-time jobs that paid enough to keep you going for 4 months. It was during this time that you regretted giving up on your previous job, as the list of redirected emails to inform you that your interest was appreciated but another candidate was chosen for the job was taking a toll on you.

In all honesty, your confidence had hit rock bottom. You really thought you were something, that you stood a chance, only to discover how ignorant you were. It was scary—the prices of basic amenities, the rent, your sister's education, and her growing demands. Falling into a cycle of self-hatred, you slowly forgot about yourself, your needs, and your health; life became all about work. If you wanted to exist in the world, you had to be stable economically; money's everything, and you felt utterly useless. What were you even doing? What were you doing with your life? Did you not have any aspirations? Were you nothing but a fucking coward who gave up the moment things got hard? At the young age of 24, you were having an existential crisis. You were comparing yourself to every person your age who had accomplished more than you ever could, and there was no end to it. Though the vicious cycle did come to an end the day you came across a former classmate Nanami Kento while on a grocery run.

"Oh, I think you dropped th-,", Nanami stopped mid-sentence as he stood astonished, looking at the woman who had dropped her cereal box.

"Nanami! Is that you?", you asked in shock.

Let's just say that the grocery run took way longer than it should have as you both dropped by a cafe to catch up. It was refreshing talking about random things to someone your age, someone you knew. You had to admit that Nanami had changed, not only looking more approachable, but it seemed like he finally had no issue talking to people, you were happy for him, and since you wanted to keep it that way, you kept yourself from inquiring about his job. After a good two hours, you exchanged numbers and bid each other farewell. It turned out to be a great day, as that very day, you were offered a job at a MNC with phenomenal pay, but here's the catch: as you went through the documentation process, you learned that the position of secretary was offered to you. That was shocking, as your credentials and experience were suited more for the marketing department, and you were concerned about the legitimacy of the offer because no one pays that much to a secretary; however, beggars can't be choosers, so you accepted the offer right away.

On your joining day, the morning routine started earlier than usual, as you wanted everything to be perfect, from your fit to your timing. After having breakfast with your sister, you left for work, reaching ahead of time to leave a good impression. The building seemed fancy, with a sweet receptionist who directed you to your new boss, warning you not to enter his office until he called for you. That was weird, but maybe it was because your boss was busy. And it turned out that he was actually busy...fucking a woman, who came out of his office with disheveled hair. It was after you waited for a long time that he called you inside.

He was on his cellphone when you entered the office, wearing a tasteful tuxedo with a matching watch that went well with his blonde hair, leaning back on his chair, ignoring your presence. As you were about to introduce yourself, he raised his index finger to his lips, saying, "Shhh...you must be the new one. I'm Naoya Zenin, head of the consulting department and you must call me Sir."

Ch 2

Series Masterlist

[meowtus]

Random OC redacted-rpverse character facts…because because I love them all dearly 😞

Nobody gaf but I DO RAAGH the brainrot guys.

• Nadine’s a huge Sonic fan. She grew up with the franchise—for better or worse. Nadine was there observing in the TRENCHES during the 2010 Sonamy and Sonally discourse (she herself never had a stance, but it was crazy) if you were to ask for her favorite character though, she’d probably say Amy. I KNOW she was cheering during the post-credit scene

• Kam’s favorite outing activity is going to aquariums. During the short time before Holly became involved in their life—they took up a bunch of odd-jobs trying to find their purpose. Kam’s favorite aquatic animal is octopi. Their intelligence fascinates them.

• Holly’s lover was a toy maker. They owned a small toy shop together that’s been running for almost a decade. It’s one of the reasons she had so many to begin with. Kam never knew about Holly’s lover nor anything outside of what she told them. She was very secretive about her private life.

• Kam in both the prime! and fool! rpverse received a lot of those toys as gifts from Holly, before being taken into CloseKnit. It helped Kam build trust in Holly. After the whole thing, they’re very weary of children’s toys. Which is why Holly’s departing gift was another taunt.

• Eugene was a father of three. Two of which are fully grown, and the youngest is a late-teen. At the funeral, it was awkward mourning with half of the participants being from CloseKnit respectively. Eugene’s family was not involved in his activities.

• Nadine tries to keep up with her nieces and nephews’ interests. Including the games they like to play. It was thanks to them she was introduced to Fortnite—and even though she’s ASS at the game it’s still fun to play. And the skins are cute. As such she also has a (rudimentary) Roblox account for playing with said nieces and nephews.

• Kam is so unaware of most internet jokes and pop culture because they hadn’t been around long enough to properly learn any of it, and while isolated by CloseKnit—there wasn’t much room for it then, either.

• Vernon is a black coffee drinker. He says the “bitter taste” helps keep him active and awake. He’s actually quite a coffee stickler. Vernon’s got a LOT of intricate coffee machinery in his house.

• Eugene and Holly were good friends outside of CloseKnit. They shared a lot of their favorite literature together, which then bled into their visions and writing styles.

• Kam plays Fortnite with Nadine when she want to run duos. She’s also gifted them the Skibidi Toilet backbling as a gag-gift. It sits collecting dust in their locker. Skibidi toilet slightly frightens Kam a little.

• Vernon disliked most of the authority holders in CloseKnit. But he had some sort of one-sided-beef with Nadine particularly. Nadine still doesn’t know about this. If you were to ask her—she thought of him as a debbie downer, but still a sweetheart.

• Eugene was one of Kam’s first interactions in CloseKnit. It did not go well. Kam still wishes they could go back in time to sock him in the face. Eugene was a very open, unapologetic jerk. Thinly veiled by flowery language, of course.

• Nadine was friends with Eugene’s oldest daughter in high school. When Eugene died, Nadine sent a card of condolences to her.

• At the family reunion—one of Nadine’s nephews sat Kam down and made them watch the entire lore breakdown of Five Nights at Freddy’s. Kam was (understandably) appalled, as all of these concepts were fairly new to them. It was the equivalent of showing a sickly unknowing victorian child a morbid horror movie. Nadine already knows a lot about FNAF thanks to her nephew and was his “assistant” in the presentation.

• Eugene was huge on botany, and later floriography. Of course Holly followed suit shortly afterward. They used to send eachother encoded messages in their bouquets.

• When under stress or processing feelings—both Nadine and Kam have the habit of self-isolating. You can imagine how well that went down for them.

• Holly’s always wanted kids, but never was able to properly settle down and decide to have any. That was for the better. She didn’t want them to be caught in whatever crossfire could potentially exist in her life.

• It was Eugene who coined the flower assignment idea. It gave those bestowed a flower-type a sort of pride, and recognizable symbol. This was reserved for those he deemed special or those in a higher position.

• Vernon thought the flower assignment thing was stupid. He still goes along with it in their memory, though.

• Nadine’s playlist is filled with cheesy romance songs, she’s definitely hopeless. Her music taste has bled into what Kam listens to now too, unfortunately.

• Kam is a HUGE movie crier. It doesn’t matter what movie it is—it’s cinematic enough to bring them to tears.

• Eugene, Nadine, and Holly are cat-people. Holly had two cats, and Nadine had a childhood one that passed a couple years ago.

• Vernon and Kam are dog-people, surprisingly. You’d assume they’d be more of a cat liker from meeting them, but somehow it’s gone the complete opposite direction.

[nyaskitten]

I know this probably won't happen, but here's my idea for an Akita and Lloyd reunion in Dragons Rising (this is... kind of long mb) (any feedback would be appreciated tho I'm not v good at writing):

The wind harshly howled, the cold felt like tiny daggers piercing Lloyd's face cruelly and mercilessly, and the snow seemed as eternal as the Endless Sea. And if he had it bad, his students, even in their thick and puffy color-coded jackets, sleeves and hoods lined with bushy fur and wonderfully sturdy snow boots, still couldn't fight the effects of the bizarre frost in this area.

"S-s-s-o c-c-c-cold," Sora struggled to say, her breath as visible as smoke from an open flame before her eyes.

Riyu whimpered in agreement, his tiny dragon jacket clearly not enough for him.

For what felt like an eternity, the four of them trudged through the endless storm, shivering and trying to forge some form of warmth through Lloyd's powers, yet to no avail, so they simply kept journeying, their only sources of slight warmth being the lamps they all held.

I should've taken the bounty. This is the worst training I've ever thought of. Lloyd thought to himself, bitter and annoyed at what he believed would be a wooooooonderful way to teach his pupils that soooooometimes, you haaaaave to adapt to the area around you.

As the storm worsened and the trio began to slow in their movements, a low growl echoed through the surrounding area, the perpetrator of said growl masked in the shadows of night.

"L-Lloyd? W-what was that?" Sora asked, the freezing cold almost seeming non-existent to her in the face of the fear of this unknown sound.

"I don't know. Stay close, and be prepared for anything..." Lloyd instructed cautiously as he unsheathed his blade, while Sora stood in a fighting stance and Arin grabbed his grappling hook from his hip.

As the four stood there in fear and anticipation, they heard what sounded like a set of soft and light feet grazing the snow behind them, to which Arin turned around in fear, watching carefully. More light footsteps could be heard from the shadows, as though there were numerous of these mysterious things, circling the nervous trio.

As the sounds of crunching snow became louder and louder, the heartbeats of the ninja became faster and faster, until they heard a howl echo from the shadows, and several wolves began to slowly emerge.

"This is bad... Like, really, really bad..." Arin said, fearfully clutching his grappling hook.

"Don't make any sudden moves," Lloyd cautioned. "We don't want to hurt them, and we don't want them hurting us, got it?"

"I don't think they got that memo..." Sora whimpered as the group of wolves, around 8-9, really hard to tell in the darkness, began closing in on them.

The supposed alpha of the wolves howled loudly and then leaped to the ninja, causing Lloyd to hurriedly cast his lantern aside and fire a blast of energy at the wolf. The other wolves followed suit, to which Lloyd formed a Spinjitsu tornado to toss the wolves around, and Arin used his grappling hook to latch onto a tree and Spinjitsu his way around as well.

While Lloyd was tossing wolves with tornados and energy blasts, Arin was soaring through the treetops Spinjitsuing wolves like no tomorrow, no, like no next hour, even!

Riyu tried helping, but he, being a baby dragon, couldn't really do much other than growl and bite and get tossed and shaken about.

Meanwhile, Sora tripped and almost got bitten by a wolf, so naturally, she kicked the wolf, which was a terrible idea but Riyu thought it was hilarious so, not a very tough crowd there.

The wolf whimpered a bit then snarled and growled very clearly enraged, a hatred burning like a forest may, causing Sora to back up fearfully and grab a large stick to wack the wolf with, but the stick broke so that idea was out of the picture really quickly. Sora also grabbed stones and the wolf was like, mildly bothered by that at BEST!

The wolf lept at Sora but luckily Arin was still Spinjitsuing through the trees like Tarzan swings through the jungle, and he managed to kick the wolf away fairly easily.

Arin tried to manage a landing this time as he finished spinning, but he flew into a very soft bed of snow instead.

"Arin! Are you okay?" Sora asked as she rushed to his side to help him up.

"Mildly scratched here and there but, I'll manage," Arin nonchalantly said as he got up, seeming very unhurt. "C'mon, let's go help Lloyd!"

The pair, alongside Riyu, ran to Lloyd to help him in punching and kicking the wolves away, but it seemed like these guys just wouldn't stay down no matter what.

"Jeez, do these guys ever know when to quit?" Sora asked as she hit a wolf with a nasty uppercut kick.

"I guess that makes wolves and ninja really close," Lloyd quipped while blasting a wolf away, prompting Sora to mutter something about quitting, ninja, and shutting up under her breath.

The fight felt like it was continuing for an eternity as more wolves began to emerge from the shadows to make their move. The ninja were getting very tired, and kind of sweaty, which did NOT mesh well with the blizzard.

Soon they all felt the endless cold creep back onto them and started to feel the pitiful nature of their situation once more.

"We can't fight like this! It's t-t-too cold!" Lloyd yelled out, trying not to freeze to death.

As the wolves once again started slowly approaching, with malice and rage in their beady little eyes, another howl was heard from the shadows, and so too was the unmistakable growling of a bear... oh crap this can't be good...

The wolves looked to the shadows as the odd wolf and bear approached.

"Lloyd, what do we do now?" Sora asked, shaking both from fear and the cold. Lloyd gave no response, instead, he stared focused upon the wolf and bear, trying to get a better look at them through the dim moonlight and the light of their sidelined lamps.

"Is that... No way..." Lloyd muttered to himself.

"What, what is it?" Arin asked, puzzled by Lloyd's fascination.

"I-I recognize those two! I think they might be old friends of mine!" Lloyd said with a bit of joy in his cold, hardened face.

The wild wolves growled and snarled at this duo, who gave the same response. The duo were hype-focused on this pack, as the ninja team were mostly obscured by darkness and hard to make out.

The bear was the first to attack, leaving his wolf companion baffled. The bear slapped several wolves away, and stomped on one of their tails, while his companion leaped onto another wolf and bit the wolf, which was, very tragically, the same wolf Sora kicked... poor guy...

"Akita? Is that you?" Lloyd yells out to the wolf, causing her to look up from the wolf she was fighting in confusion and shock. Said wolf then kicked her off it, and sent her flying back.

The frustrated wolf growled at the other, only to be jumped by two other wolves. This prompted Lloyd to run to the wolf and help her with the wolves, tossing them off. The wolf then looked up at Lloyd in amazement and a look of happiness, panting like a little dog with her tongue out.

"It is you!" Lloyd yelled out, pulling the wolf in for a hug, which Akita happily returned.

Lloyd helped Akita up and the two got ready for a rematch, only to see the bear having sent all the wolves scurrying, and having left one or two unconscious. Akita disappointedly transformed into her human form, wearing a thick coat and odd new robes underneath.

"Kataru, you know the point of this whole thing was to drive them away, right? NOT bash them around, right?"

The bear transformed into his human form, wearing a coat similar to Akita's and a smile on his face.

"Sister, you know they were asking for it. Besides, we did still run them out, did we not?" Kataru said, his grin only extending wider.

Akita sighed annoyedly and then looked over to Arin and Sora, then to Lloyd. "Are these... your children?" She asked, genuine confusion in her voice.

"W-what? N-no no no, these are my students, Arin and Sora! Arin, Sora, meet Kataru and Akita. Akita, Kataru, meet Arin and Sora!"

"It's nice to meet you!" Arin says as he enthusiastically shakes both of their hands.

"So, are you like, close or something?" Sora asks Akita in reference to her and Lloyd.

"Something like that. Lloyd helped to liberate our realm from an evil tyrant and his advisor... although the tyrant did turn out to be one of his friends, we worked it out. Kind of." Akita said, as though fond of the past adventures she and Lloyd shared.

"Huh... That sure is something I guess" Sora says scratching her head.

"So, what brings you all out here in the freezing cold?" Akita asks.

"Well, we came here looking for a cursed sword. It landed somewhere in the Never-Land's, and I... uh... thought it'd be a good training exercise, y'know, to test their resolve and all..."

"That is a terrible idea. It's FREEZING here. The fact that you have survived this long is a miracle honestly."

"Yeah... we figured."

Akita let out a sigh. "Come with us, we will get you warmed up and fed, our village is not very far from here anyways".

As the group walked away, the snow glowed and glistened brightly, their footprints, and any traces of their scuffle, soon to be eradicated by the snow.

[zoeaxrodriguez22]

CONQUEROR

𝐙𝐚𝐱'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝: One Shot 𐙚 Ivar the Boneless x Fem Reader (Amira) 𐙚

Summary: Amira, the daughter of a prominent emir in Al-Andalus, faces Ivar the Boneless, the ruthless Viking king who has taken everything by force. Their reunion stirs conflicting emotions—respect for his strength and power, but disdain for his methods. A tense conversation ensues, where admiration and bitter opposition collide. Can Amira survive in his world, or will she be consumed by it?

Warnings/Contains: Tension, conflicting respect, ideologies, manipulation, power dynamics, not proofread—English is not my first language!

Word count: 2.3k

Chapter:

The night outside was frigid, but the warmth of the fire crackling in the center of the tent softened the air. The light from the candles flickered, casting shadows on the walls and making the space feel even more intimate. Amira and Ivar sat across from each other, the distance between them physical but not emotional, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

Ivar’s gaze never wavered as he raised his glass, the deep red wine reflecting the glow of the fire in his eyes. He drank slowly, savoring each drop as though the action itself held meaning. Amira watched him with an unreadable expression, her own glass untouched, the warmth of the wine tempting but not enough to ease the tension coiled tightly in her chest.

“So, here we are,” Ivar said, setting his glass down with a quiet thud. “You and I, after all this time. Who would’ve thought?”

Amira didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she studied him, her gaze sharp, calculating. She wasn’t one to let emotions cloud her judgment.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” she finally said, her voice cold, but steady. “Not like this. A king.”

A small, dark smile played at the corner of Ivar’s lips, but his eyes were still intense. “And yet, here I am.” His tone held no arrogance, just the weight of the fact he had always known this moment would come.

Amira felt a flicker of respect for his confidence, even if it was hard to swallow. The man before her was no longer the crippled prince she had once known, but a king, a leader of men who commanded the respect of thousands. She couldn’t deny that there was power in him, something undeniable, something that stirred a complex mix of admiration and bitterness inside her.

“Power suits you,” she said, her voice quiet but sharp, like a blade being drawn from its sheath. “But I don’t think it’s what you think it is.”

Ivar tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “And what do you think power is, Amira?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not just taking. It’s understanding. It’s knowing when to lead and when to listen.” Her gaze flicked briefly to the guards outside, standing tall at attention, but she returned her focus to him. “What you do, Ivar, is conquest. And I know you like it that way.”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “Conquest is what makes the world turn, Amira. The strong take what they want, and the weak are left behind. That’s the way of things.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the bitterness that began to rise in her chest. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Ivar chuckled softly, but there was no real amusement in it. “You’re naïve if you think anyone can change that. The world doesn’t care about what’s right or wrong. It only cares about who’s strong enough to shape it.”

Amira’s lips pressed together in a thin line, her jaw tightening. “I don’t believe that. Strength isn’t just in bloodshed. It’s in wisdom, in compassion, in strategy.”

He regarded her silently for a moment, his sharp gaze measuring her every word. “You admire strength,” he said, almost as a statement, “but you despise how I use it.”

She leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “You use it to destroy, not to build.”

Ivar’s smile returned, but there was no warmth in it. “You see destruction where others see opportunity. I’ve built an empire, Amira. You can respect that, even if you can’t agree with the way I did it.”

Amira’s gaze flicked to the fire, her mind racing. She respected his mind, his sharpness, his relentless pursuit of his goals. But everything about the way he approached life—his ruthlessness, his disregard for the lives of those beneath him—disgusted her.

“I respect your strength, Ivar,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, more controlled. “But I don’t respect your methods. And I never will.”

There was a long silence between them, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. Ivar didn’t flinch, but something in his eyes flickered—a momentary flicker of doubt, of something more human beneath the king’s facade.

“I don’t need your respect,” he said, his voice quieter now, a touch of frustration creeping into his tone. “But I do need you.”

Amira met his gaze steadily, unyielding. “You think you can just take me, like everything else you’ve claimed?”

“I never said it would be easy,” Ivar replied, his voice low and serious. “But you’re not just anyone. You’re the one thing I can’t get out of my head. The one thing I need.”

Amira felt a pang in her chest at his words, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn’t let him see how his words affected her. Not now.

“You’re still the same,” she said, the words cutting deeper than she intended. “Chasing after things that aren’t yours to take.”

“I never take what isn’t offered,” Ivar said, his voice low, almost soft. “But I will make you see that you belong with me. One way or another.”

The finality in his tone settled over the room like a cloud, and for the first time, Amira felt the full weight of the man he had become. His words weren’t a challenge—they were a promise.

She knew there was no escape from him. Not now.

[abi-cosmos]

destiel fic library

Hi! I'm abi, and I like to bend canon to suit all my whims and fancies.

I’ve finally done a masterpost of all my fics so far, everything is Castiel/Dean Winchester but as always: check the tags. 

I mostly write canonverse, drowning in angst, and preferably explicit.

Always a happy ending.

15k+:

finale fix-it set after 15x19 > conversations with you (M)

dean is cursed by a djinn > this bitter nightcall (E)

castiel is human, but they aren’t on speaking terms; two person love triangle set in s9 > salt & iron (E, written for DCBB ‘22)

AU 15k+:

coffeeshop au; librarian castiel is tasked with fixing up his dad’s bookshop, and barista dean from next door helps > the barista and the bookshop (E, written for Pinefest ‘23)

serial killer au; sam is dead and dean needs a place to rest up, he answers a ‘roommate wanted’ advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop and meets professor castiel > like ivy (E, written for DeanCasHorrorfest ‘23)

one-shots: 

cas gives dean a shoulder massage > touch-starved (M)

flirting behaviour > dean and cas play nsfw scrabble (M)

post-confession reunion > kissing is the most fun dean winchester can have without taking his clothes off (but it’s better if he does) (E)

collections/series’:

dean gives cas the mixtape > dean and cas - mixtape collection (G,M,E)

various smut > spoiler alert: they fuck (E)

g: general m: mature e: explicit

[georg-prime]

AaA finale wishes

Things I'm expecting to happen in no particular order:

Next trial is the last one, it's the earth trial but here it doesn't necessarily need a green witch to solve it

Agatha helps both Jen and Billy to regain the memories they lost after their own near death experience

Jen and Billy get out of the road without Agatha but not because they wanted to (either she push them out somehow for some reason, or Rio separate them on purpose then tries and keeps Agatha trapped so that she dies or something)

Timey wimey stuff happen because 'time is an illusion'

we see how Agatha was born/why her mother decided she was evil from birth

We see how Agatha and 'Rio' met and fell in love

How Agatha aquiered the darkhold

Some twist about Nick Scratch

Billy getting his full Wiccan appearance with a blueish suit and a red cape

Jen begins to teach other people, spreading good important witchy knowledge

Things I hope we'll get:

Part of the timey wimey stuff is that Wanda's kids were created from preexisting souls (at least pieces of them) who then went back to the body they were meant to be, hense Wanda's "thank you for choosing me to be your mother". Billy's reunion won't be with Tommy yet, nor Wanda, but with himself: he always has been Billy Kaplan he just also was Billy Maximoff for a bit too

We learn that an other teenager had a near death experience near Westview when the hex went down, but his powers suddenly manifested in a more violent way while he also had no idea who he was anymore. Tommy's souls might still be broken in two which could be why Billy can feel him in a way without really being able to know where he is. Or Tommy really is in a certain institution after he accidentally made things explode, and it's a place build to block all kinds of powers

Explanations about 'Rio', her origins and powers, and purpose. Is she really big cosmic entity Death, or a temporary limited to Earth jurisdiction, nerfed avatar of Death? Is she solidifying people's soul into flowers to transport them? Where does she take them, is it Mephisto's Hell dimension or Dormmamu's or an other - frustratingly - unspecified afterlife place. Would be nice if it was Battleworld for some of them so that we get a chance to see at least Alice again.

Speaking about Alice, if she isn't taken to Battleworld, a version of her from an alternate reality appears at the end.

Implied that Agatha starts or think of starting a magic academy like the MCU's version of Strange Academy

Someone drops the word 'mutant' - like they did in Miss Marvel - for Agatha, and possibly Billy.

Rather than 'Rio' getting Agatha to die in one way or an other, Agatha (maybe with Billy's help) 'frees' her from this Death job, and she just stays/goes back to being a green witch. She's very pissed and might try to/swears that she will directly kill Agatha but it is implied that they might now be more likely to reconcile one day - especially after also having here talked (screamed at each other) about Nicolas.

Billy goes home to his parents and tells them he remembers everything

America Chavez (and/or Kamala Khan and/or Kate Bishop) shows up in the credits

Somehow we learn Sharon "Ms Hart" Devis was using magic so that her flowers look perfect

The Bohner family reunion t-shirt was foreshadowing hilariously, and Ralph is actually Nick - is set up to be an antagonist in a sequel/spin off or something, it introduce Mephisto to the MCU like Thanos was before he appears in Ironheart

Just hopefully it's really as satisfying as they say it is, and not super depressing. In my honest opinion superhero fatigue isn't a thing, people just kept getting disappointed that those movies/shows rather than being cool and fun and safe entertainment, where the protagonist save the day and get the girl/guy, where now almost systematically full of tragedies or at best bitter-sweet.

Just give us some Halloween themed fun please haha 😅

[seospicybin]

WRONG CROWD PREVIEW.

Lee Know x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: You meet Minho again at the high school reunion, the kid who used to sleep in class turns a tattoo artist.

Preview under the cut!

...

"Isn't this the Ms. Most Likely To Be President?" A voice says.

Your head turns to the side to find someone in a fitted suit and a face that seems so familiar but it's hard to recognize like trying to remember a song you listened to a year ago.

"I'm what the people voted as Most Likely To Win A Lottery and Lose The Ticket!" He gives you a hint with a sly smile.

It takes you a moment to fully recognize him from his sharp nose and the doe eyes, "Minho?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" He exclaims.

If it's isn't because of his hair that skipped months of haircut, the tattooed hands and his stance that oozes with confidence, you would have recognized him in an instant.

You pat the empty seat next to you for him to sit on, "Did you win the lottery though?"

"No luck!" He replies, proceeds to take a seat next to you then rests his back against the wall.

"What a shame!" You jokingly say with fake empathy.

Minho clinks his glass with you before sipping his drink in one go and puts it aside.

"Are you the president yet?"

"Sadly I'm not stupid rich and egomaniacal enough to be one," you answer.

"Am I addressing you right though? You're not married, are you?"

This is the umpteenth time someone asking whether you're married or not. Weirdly though, you don't feel offended at all when Minho asked you.

"Why does everyone keep thinking that I am not marriage material?" You ask with an annoyed groan.

"Oh, so you're married?" He asks with apparent disbelief in his eyes.

You look at him and narrow your eyes at him, "Bold of you to assume that I am married!"

He takes out something from his suit jacket while speaking, "Good! You're too cool to settle down anyway."

And somehow that feels like the highest compliment you ever got from someone.

The flask he takes out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket doesn't surprise you at all.

He uncaps the flask and holds it out at you, "ladies first!"

You might have unconsciously stared at the tattoos inked the back of his hand and fingers, quickly snapping yourself out of your daze.

You take a quick sniff and recognize it right away, a strong liquor that is exactly what you need at the moment. You take the flask from him and confidently take a small sip.

The alcohol burns down your throat as you swallow it and you wince at the bitter aftertaste.

"Bourbon?"

He smirks as he takes the flask from you and also takes a sip. As he tips his head upward, you can see tattoos peeking from the collar of his shirt, black against his honey skin tone.

"You're running out of paper to doodle on?" You playfully say as you fan yourself as your eyes get watery from drinking such strong liquor.

"Yeah, I doodled all over my body now," he playfully says back and hands you the flask.

All over his body? That gets your head drifting in the direction you're not supposed to be going.

You take a big gulp of bourbon and let out a breath after swallowing it down, it helps to diminish the aftertaste.

"If you're not the president then what are you?" He slumps a little on his seat with his legs spread, exposing the checkered socks he's wearing.

"I'm a lawyer," you reply.

He nods as he thinks of a response to your answer, "hot!"

You burst out laughing, not expecting to hear a comment like that about your profession.

"Hot?"

He turns his head at you while still nodding, "fight for justice in black suits, hot!"

Again, he gives only the best kind of compliments and ones that you didn't know you needed to hear from someone. What surprises you is it's coming from him!

He was this kid who used to sleep in class and if not sleeping, he sat in the back of the class doodling on his notebook.

The two of you got close in the last year of high school for an unfortunate reason. Minho failed most of his classes and you helped him study to earn enough credits to graduate.

Now that you got reminded of it, you're glad to know that he changed for the better but is still someone who's unapologetically himself.

"How about you?"

"I own a tattoo parlor in the city," he casually says as if he's not saying that he owns a business and it's not a big deal.

He takes something else from his suit jacket, a wallet then pulls out a card.

"Oh wow, you even have a business card!" You beam in awe.

That just made it official that he's the coolest person in this reunion.

"Let me know if you want to get inked or just want to hang out," he nonchalantly says.

"Sure, would love that!"

You take the business card your law firm provided for you and give it to him, "just in case you need legal support, I'd be ready!"

He takes the business card and studies it like it's a fascinating object.

"Side note: I charge more on someone I am well acquainted with," you joke.

He slips it into a compartment in his leather wallet and puts it back into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, "I hope we get to be more than just acquaintances then."

...

Click here to read the full fic!

[thedaylighteffect]

An Unscheduled Encounter

(OC x GN/Masculine-ish Reader)

TW: Smoking, alcohol, “getting high”, flirty stuff, NSFW. It gets a bit shitty near the end. NOT PROOFREAD. Gender neutral due to the lack of pronouns addressing the reader.

The scent of smoke and sweat choked the air as you forced past the partying mass with your umteenth empty drink. You stumbled towards the metallic bar table and set your empty glass on the cold surface with a clink. 

“A Manhattan, please,” you muttered, retrieving your box of cigarettes from your suit and igniting the blank rear of the little stick.

The bartender took the cue and began fixing up a drink.

You sat on the barstool and sobered up with a cigarette, your feet tapped to the muted bass of the music. Your gut churned as a cloud of smoke from your lips washed a wave of regret over your head. Going to your high school reunion was a mistake.

Your fingers relieved the tie around your neck, and with a sigh— you freed yourself from the uppermost buttons of your shirt— exposing your collarbones. You watched the bartender's hands as he slipped the drink in your direction; all you did was sit there and blink at the swirling golden-red alcohol, your appetite disappearing in a blink. The cigarette in your hand flickered under the dim lights.

"What? Not feeling like drinking anymore? I just watched you down three of those glasses like it was nothing." A voice dangerously close to your ear spoke up— you could feel the little puffs of breath between each word. You jumped, almost dropping your cigarette on the table. The muscles on your neck tensed. You instantly recognized who it was, so you kept your eyes to yourself.

Little specks of ash fluttered onto your suit as you brought the wrapped leaf up your lips and drew a deep breath. Goosebumps rose on your neck as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to keep your heartbeat from climbing up your ears.

"I never struck you as a smoker," he said.

Your eyes stayed glued on the drink as the voice sat up and posed comfortably on the bar chair beside you. The man leaned forward in your direction, but you instinctively recoiled, avoiding the heat from his body.

You peeled your eyes off your drink, turned at the voice, and met a familiar sight. The soft hair, glowing eyes, and the softest smile— You were sure it was over by now, but your heart had other thoughts.

"Oh," was the maximum reaction you could push through your psychoactive head as the man took the glass from your fingertips and brought it to his lips with a smile. 

This certainly wasn't on the agenda today.

You sat in embarrassing silence as you watched him swirl the glass of Manhattan between his slender fingertips. You swallowed as you avoided his gaze, taking rhythmic puffs from your cigarette. A beat later, he spoke up.

"Don't ignore me. Not when you're dressed so fancily in that suit of yours," he said, shattering the loud wall of silence between you. His cold fingers grasped your chin and brought it close to his face, "What's the matter? Last time I remember, you loved looking at me."

Your face flushed a scalding red; you attempted to pull back from him, "That...that-"

He interrupted, "You came here to see me," he said with a confident look, his fingers released your chin.

Bingo.

You rubbed the area where he touched— the place felt like a brand on your chin. Maybe it was the effects of the smoke, but you've accepted defeat long ago, "And what if I did?" you shot back.

“That’d be quite the compliment,” He swirled the glass again and sipped at it elegantly. You watched in silent awe as he wet his lips with the bitter liquor. The neon red maraschino cherry glistened and bobbed in the alcohol as he tipped the glass. He hummed, “You do seem like the person to drink a Manhattan,” he licked the rim of the glass, “It’s bitter-sweet, just like you.”

“Are you inferring I fall into the sentimental category? I promise you, I am quite far from that,” you scowled softly. The smoke was definitely getting to your head. 

“And what if I did?” He echoed your words.

Oh, he was teasing you. 

He turns away and mindlessly sips on your drink. You silently wished that those lips of his were sipping on something else.

“...says the one drinking a Manhattan right now.”

“It’s yours.”

“It still counts.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly not letting the thought get to his head, “Then how about I order you a Dry Martini?” He smiled, turning towards you. His deep ocean-breeze cologne washed over your nose for a brief second.

It suits him.

You frowned, “Not the best fan, though I do appreciate it if you bought me a drink,” you glared at the martini glass in his hand.

His eyes trace your line of sight, and a dry laugh rings from his throat. He sets the drink on the bar and slides the half-sipped Manhattan back to you, “For you.”

You stared at the mahogany drink and looked back at him, “What’s the meaning?”

“What do you think?” He rests his face on his fist and taps the corner of his lip with another finger. You exchanged over to the drink and noticed the faint prints of his lip on the edge of the glass. 

You take out the maraschino cherry and slip the stem between your ring and middle finger before gracefully tipping the glass to your lips. The composure quickly breaks as you toss your head back and down the drink.

You met his eyes, “It tastes good, better, actually. But I’m sure the real thing tastes the best.”

He chuckles at your words, “You’re quite the word wizard when you’re drunk and high.” He turns his whole body towards you and crosses his legs.

Yeah, you were definitely drunk and high. But you didn’t care.

You crushed the half-burnt cigarette in your hand and put the glass back down. Standing up from your seat, you stepped closer and bent down to reach his height, “So when can I get it?”

His icy fingers grace your exposed collarbone, landing a shiver down your spine. With a single thought, he meets your eyes with a sly smile.

“How about you earn it?”

Maybe this wasn’t so much of a mistake.

The bitterness of his liquor stained lips intertwined with yours, creating a swirling concoction inside your heart. Suddenly, it was just the two of you in this little world. The outside world was muted, silent, separated from you.

“Let’s take it to a more secluded place,” his voice felt like a loud tenor in your ear as you nodded mindlessly with his arms around your waist.

–

As soon as the door clicks, your back is pressed up against the wall with a bang, numbing your senses. His face was close to yours as his eyes gazed lustfully into yours. His slender finger caresses your face, “Your lips look so delicious,” with a single breath, he licks your mouth, and kiss you deeply.

Your body twists as his cold fingers travel down your side and slip into the waistband of your pants, “Your fingers are so cold,” you complain under your breath, to which he smiles in reply.

“And you are very warm, darling.” His voice carried a hint of mockery as he eased your pants down to your knees.

Your legs grow weak as his fingers caress your thighs and sex. A soft moan escapes your lips as he grazes the spot that causes your stomach to catch in your throat. His fingers continue to minister the area until you unwind with a soft scream in his hands.

He brings his fingers to his tongue and slowly licks your essence off of his slender hand, "You taste wonderful, especially after that little drink of yours," your face flushes as his voice deepens into a soft growl.

He gets on his knees and begins to unbutton your suit, exposing your chest to his gaze. As the last button loosened, you felt as if your armor had melted away. You felt vulnerable. Your stomach instantly tense as he kisses the middle of your chest, your waist, and your belly, leaving bright red marks as he travels down to your pelvis. You close your eyes as you feel his lips envelop your sex, slowly engulfing you in his mouth.

"Oh..." you whisper as your fingers loop into his hair, his hands keep you from falling. The room echoes with your gasps as your knees buckle from the pleasure; you become undone once again in his hold.

"So cute," he comments as he flips you around so his stomach is pressed against your back. Your legs were still shaking from the pleasure as you felt him enter inside you, stretching your walls with his girth.

Before you could catch your breath, he started moving; you flail your arms, trying to hold onto your sanity before you got drowned by lust, "Wait, wait...please," you gasp breathlessly.

Reluctantly, he slowed down and wrapped an arm around your stomach, nuzzling his head into the crevice of your neck, "Alright, I'll go slow," he muttered into your ear. He stalled for a few breaths, you relaxed around him and he took the cue and began to speed up again. The room was drowned by your whimpers and his occasional grunts, "You're so tight even when you're relaxed."

A hum followed with a broken moan was all you could force out, you were in bliss. He kisses around your back, leaving a trail of bruises in a shape of a heart.

Soon you both become undone in the embrace of one another. He pulls out as soon as he climaxes and lets his seed dribble down your back as you shiver from the stimulation and collapse onto the floor.

“Don't get so sleepy on me now," he says with a smile. You lean your body against his chest as he leads you over to the lounge area of the private room. He sets you down on the sofa, wipes your body clean, and tends to the bruises on your neck; you feel a sudden sense of comfort and warmth. His hands are warm as he dresses you up.

You both sit in uneasy silence as you watch him fix your collar, contemplation hangs in the air. You break the silence first, "So, what are we?"

He stops what he is doing and looks at you with an amused expression.

"Certainly not simply friends."

You smiled.

[hes-striker]

At St. An’s in the Sloth Ring

Striker steps into the clinic tucked away in a sleepy corner of the Sloth Ring’s hospital — St. An’s. The receptionist barely glances up, too engrossed in a slow-moving crossword puzzle to take much notice of him. He lets out a sigh of relief, figuring this visit might actually go off without a hitch.

But just as he’s about to sit down, he catches sight of two familiar figures: Moxxie and Millie. His eyes narrow, a flash of annoyance crossing his face as his hand instinctively moves to his holster.

Striker: Well, ain’t this a nice little reunion. *He sneers, drawing his gun and holding it steady on them.*

Moxxie flinches, his own hand darting to his weapon. Millie, with her usual fire, follows suit, eyes blazing as she positions herself in front of Moxxie protectively.

Moxxie: *Glaring at Striker, his voice taut.* What the hell are you doing here, Striker? Didn’t take you for the type to visit the doctor.

Striker: Funny, I could ask the same about you two. *He smirks, though his grip on his gun is as steady as ever.*

Millie: *scoffs, her eyes not leaving him for a second.* And what, exactly, does a lowlife like you need with a doctor?

Striker: *his smirk fades slightly, though he doesn’t lower his weapon.* None of your damn business. Just keepin’ to my own, like you oughta be doin’.

The three of them stand locked in a tense standoff, the sounds of the quiet clinic and the oblivious receptionist in the background only amplifying the tension.

Millie: *Her voice steady and dangerous.* We don’t have to make this messy, Striker. You could just walk away.

Striker: *chuckles, though there’s a hint of strain in it.* Walkin’ away ain’t usually my style, darlin’. Besides, you think I’m just here on a friendly little visit?

Moxxie: *narrows his eyes, his suspicion mounting.* Why are you here, Striker? Last I checked, you weren’t exactly the type to keep up with… routine check-ups.

Striker: *gaze hardens, and he gives a slow, bitter smile.* Guess people change, huh? *He shifts uncomfortably, realizing he’s not about to give anything away to Moxxie and Millie. But with them blocking his only exit, he’s cornered.*

Millie: *Tilting her head, catching his discomfort.* You look like you got somethin’ to hide.

Striker: *snarling slightly* Don’t flatter yourselves. I’ve been in worse situations. *He glares at them both, lowering his gun just slightly.* How ‘bout you two mind your own damn business and let me get what I came here for?

Millie and Moxxie exchange a glance, both unwilling to back down but curious enough not to pull the trigger just yet. After a beat, Moxxie lowers his gun, though she keeps it within reach.

Millie: Fine. But if we catch you causin' trouble again, don’t expect us to go easy on you. You’re lucky we’ve got other priorities right now.

Striker: *grumbling* Fine by me. Would rather not have to deal with the likes of you anyway.

Receptionist: Mr. Striker! The Doctor will see you now!

With a final glare, he shoulders past them, making his way deeper into the clinic, though he can feel their eyes boring into his back. He’d gotten off easy this time, but he knew they’d be watching for him—and that this secret of his wouldn’t stay hidden forever.