#I just didn’t know what else to title it yet somehow that was enough to be rude to my fucking face and even comment further to basically

[frederickkittens]

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[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 1)

part 1 / ? .

❝ a less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious. ❞ ❝ you say all the right words, but i’m not sure you mean the right things. ❞ ❝ i know somewhere quiet. somewhere intimate. somewhere we can…indulge in each other. ❞ ❝ eugh, don’t be nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back. ❞ ❝ we needn’t be enemies. there’s plenty of those to go around already. ❞ ❝ there’s a steeliness to you, an unwavering tenacity in the face of, to be frank, quite dire odds. ❞ ❝ even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. ❞ ❝ i appreciate anyone that opens a conversation with threats of bodily harm. ❞ ❝ oh, you know me - ever the optimist. i’m trying to focus on the positives. ❞ ❝ i’m not easily impressed by people, but you’re stronger than i gave you credit for. ❞ ❝ there’s an air about you. something alien. ❞ ❝ loosen the grip on your pride for one blasted moment, won’t you? ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that. ❞ ❝ there’s something odd about this village. people skulk around like they’ve something to hide. ❞ ❝ you know, if you want to spend time with me, you only have to say so. ❞ ❝ i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. what you see. ❞ ❝ what’s better than a devil you don’t know? a devil you do. ❞ ❝ you must know that you’re…that you’re very special to me. ❞ ❝ the gods are nothing if not vindictive in their vengeance. ❞ ❝ stay with me a while, will you? day will come all too soon. ❞ ❝ here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. ❞ ❝ i am terrified. i will not claim otherwise. ❞ ❝ my apologies. i’m not quite myself yet. i had the strangest dream last night. ❞ ❝ we didn’t die today. tomorrow, perhaps. but not today. ❞ ❝ leader’s need to make tough decisions. we do what we must. ❞ ❝ i think that unknowable powers come with unknowable consequences. ❞ ❝ i’ve had a lifetime’s fill of watching little men puff themselves up with grand titles. ❞ ❝ in these times, all we can trust are the blades in our hands. ❞ ❝ it’s not easy to turn away from one you once loved. ❞ ❝ much has been promised to you, hasn’t it? but what has been taken from you? ❞ ❝ damn it all. i can do nothing right - not a damn thing. ❞ ❝ every instinct i have tells me that nothing’s changed. that i’m still just a means to an end. ❞ ❝ do not speak of a story you only know the half of. ❞ ❝ i dreamt every night that you’d come back to me. that somehow it was all a nightmare dawn would undo. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ your eyes. there is pain, endless and deep. but also devotion - blazing like the sun. ❞ ❝ you’re adorable even when you’re teasing me. ❞ ❝ i don’t need your help, and i don’t need your pity. ❞ ❝ i’m more than what i was. and i’m not afraid of anything any more. ❞ ❝ i said exactly what i meant: i love you. you should never, never doubt that. ❞ ❝ this is all like some sort of terrible dream. but it’s real, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ there is no redemption. can’t you see? it is too late. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that it was brave. i just know that it was right. ❞ ❝ you took those bastards down like it was nothing. it…was amazing. ❞ ❝ they underestimated me. so they paid the price. ❞ ❝ we fight, we die, and we just hope that when our time comes, there is someone else to take our place. ❞ ❝ unfortunately for me, you’re my friend. rescuing you from mortal peril is my right. ❞ ❝ what did you think i was going to say? 'oh, come here, i'll kiss you better'? ❞ ❝ flowers are so overrated. they're bright, gaudy, and almost never make good poisons. ❞ ❝ i’ve been lied to, my whole life. and i was gullible enough to just believe it. ❞ ❝ you know, i never pictured myself as a hero. never thought i'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. and now that i'm here…i hate it. ❞ ❝ you know, i feel a connection between us. like we're two souls walking the same path. ❞ ❝ the forgiving sort, are you? you should be careful. plenty would take advantage of that. ❞

❝ it’s as if god made you just to ruin me. ❞ ❝ perish the thought. every word i said was nothing less than true. ❞ ❝ you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it. ❞ ❝ i got my eye on you. you got the look of a troublemaker. ❞ ❝ i’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel. ❞ ❝ it seems you know me better than i know myself. ❞ ❝ you…you have no idea what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair’s breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity. ❞ ❝ oh, it’s you. don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives? ❞ ❝ good morning! thank you for not killing me the other night. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ it is good to savour the moment of victory - but pace bg3 syourself. our fight is just beginning. ❞ ❝ i was too hasty to judge you. i thought you were witless, gutless, unimpressivably bland… ❞ ❝ yours is the first happy face i’ve seen in a good while. ❞ ❝ when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair – that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door. ❞ ❝ thank you, my friend. maybe we’ll meet again, in another life. ❞ ❝ you’ll regret sticking your nose in my business. ❞

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Clingy.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Modern AU, Non/Con, Blood, Intimidation/Threats of Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Slight Financial Abuse, and Codependent Behavior.

[Part Two]

On your third date, your boyfriend-at-the-time demanded that you give him a spare key to your ‘shitty shoebox of an apartment’, despite refusing to so much as let you into the penthouse Ei had leased for him while going to a university a hundred or so miles away from the multi-story, marble sculpted, beachside mansion he’d reluctantly flown you out to when he got sick of listening to you ask why he still hadn't introduced you to his moms eight months into your relationship. That probably should’ve been your first red flag, but somehow, you’d persisted. He brought out your competitive side, like that.

He made you want to dig your nails in, plant your teeth in your neck, and refuse to let go. It wasn’t good for you, but nothing he did was good for anyone. That never stopped him from doing it, though.

You could only assume that this – Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend of eighteen months and your ex-boyfriend of one, splayed across the couch in your living room, the keys he’d never given back dangling from his ring finger and the phone you’d forgotten when you left for work that morning in the other – wasn’t going to be good for you, either.

You didn’t say anything at first. It was all you could do to groan, to shake your head, to pretend you didn’t see him or didn’t care long enough to throw your messenger bag onto the nearest chair and tear off your jacket. He’d clearly made himself at home. A textbook was open on your coffee table, a drink from the cheap, trendy café he’d always whined about having to take you to sitting half-empty next to it. He wasn’t looking at either, though, his attention entirely centered on your phone. You didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. He used to like to go through your conversations and delete the contacts he ‘didn’t trust’ when you were together, too, but you’d been more willing to write it off as the cute-but-concerning tick of a jealous boyfriend, back then. You must’ve fallen out of practice after your breakup.

You opened your mouth, but he was ultimately the one to break the silence. “You know Ajax?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I know you’re in the same microbiology course, but c’mon, him? The fucker couldn’t tell a proton from a nucleolus. Honestly, I’m surprised he hadn’t flunked out yet. Give it another semester - he’ll be gone by spring, I promise.”

“I didn’t say you could come over.”

“I texted you last night. Did you try to block me again?” You’d blocked him, then reported his number, then changed yours when he’d started using burner phones to drunk dial you in the small hours of the morning and leave disjointed, rambling voice mails about how well he was doing without you, how much time he had now that you weren’t pestering him, how many people he’d slept with since the last time you'd seen each other. All of it was bullshit, obviously, but it was his bullshit. Somehow, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Scratch that – I’ll take care of it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to get through a month without my help.”

You grit your teeth. Swallowing as much of your anger as you could, you stepped in front of him, snatching your phone out of his hands and retreating before he had a chance to take it back. You were tempted to look at what he’d been scrolling through, see which conversation had gotten him so upset, but you forced yourself to turn off your phone completely, to set it down on the far side of your coffee table and think about something else. It’d take hours to fix the damage he’d done, to unblock all the acquaintances he didn’t approve of and the apologize to all the friends he'd insulted under your name. You’d rather get rid of him first, then try to fix everything he'd already started to tear apart. “Get out.”

He scanned over you, his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in your button-up shirt, the cheap material of your dress pants. “Y'know, if we were still together, you wouldn’t have to put up with that shitty job. You could just quit and finally move in with me.”

Once, you’d let him buy you a new laptop when yours gave out in the middle of the semester and you didn’t think you’d be able to scrape enough up for another before you next exam. It’d been a used model, already a few years out of date, and you swore up and down that you’d pay him back when you had the money, but he’d held it over your head for months, smirked and gloated and taken every opportunity to remind you how grateful you should be to have a boyfriend so willing to spoil his oh-so-unfortunate partner. He hadn’t let you pay him back. He hadn’t let you pay for anything until he’d gotten tired of playing savior and went back to acting like a brat, too desperate for your attention to care if he was in-charge. You doubt he’d be any more bearable if you actually moved in with him, if you lived in his house and relied on his good-will. If you actually depended on him.

But, rather trying to say any of that in a way he’d understand, you sighed, clenching your eyes shut. “It’s an internship and I need it for my major. Get out.”

His scowl wavered. “When did you get so bossy? This isn’t going to work if you think you can tell me what to do.”

“I’m not bossy, you’re just a prick. Get out.”

He sat up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Cut it out. I’m not going to want to get back together if you keep acting so immature.

“I don’t want to get back together with you.” And then, gesturing towards your door. “Get. Out.”

If nothing else, that seemed to shut him up.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, he responded. There was an airy laugh, a thin smile, a certain air of hurt disbelief as he sat up. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

You didn’t indulge him with a reaction. Rather, you watched with a pressed scowl as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward you. He was in his usually ‘too cool to try, but too bored not to’ get-up – ripped jeans and long sleeves striped in black and violet, half a dozen rings and bolts pierced into the curve of each ear and a belt from a brand you couldn’t name, but knew you were supposed to tacked on to further feed into his ego. He must’ve been here all day. His short hair was more disheveled than he usually liked it to be, and you could see more irritation in his dark eyes than you were used to, paired with a certain type of frustration that only ever slipped out when you managed to keep him waiting. You hadn’t, technically (you couldn’t be late to meet someone who you didn’t want to see), but you didn’t bother trying to point that out.

“I thought it’d be nice to see you after… How long? Five weeks?” He glanced down, starting to toy with something in his back pocket. “I thought we could order lunch, talk for a while, maybe watch a movie or something. Then, I don’t know…” His smile took on an apologetic lull, almost pleading. “Kiss and make up? It’s not like any of this is new for us.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been together for a year and a half, and most of that had been spent caught up in ear-splitting, tear-inducing, world-ending fights. He’d burn the notes you borrowed from your classmate, and you'd refuse to talk to him for a week. You’d decide you were over his constant mood swings and go on a date with the cute guy from your calculus class, and he’d mail a slab of raw meat to your best friend because, in his own words, ‘you couldn’t come up with such a stupid idea by yourself’. It wasn’t balanced, you would never be able to give as much as he took, but still. When he started yelling, you did too, and when he showed up at your door a few days later, his eyes still bloodshot from crying, you always took him back. Because he was Kunikuzushi. Because you loved him.

Because you knew he’d make your life hell, if you didn’t.

Which was exactly why you couldn’t just… kiss and make up, this time. Not if it’d mean swallowing your pride and letting him get everything he wanted.

You sighed, but kept your arms crossed, your expression stern. “I’m tired, Kuni. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You paused, bit down on the side of your tongue. “It’s not good for either of us. We’re not good together. I don’t want to pretend that we are.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t fall. “What do you mean, babe?”

“I mean,” You braced yourself, shut your eyes. “I think you should leave.”

At least he seemed to hear that. You watched with as little sympathy as you could manage as his grin cracked and fell away, as his shoulders slumped downward, as he let out an airy chuckle that cracked halfway through. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“We broke up a month ago.” And he’s been insufferable ever since. “And we’re not getting back together.”

Parted lips, glassy eyes. He raked a hand through his bangs, doing what he could to blink away the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t new, and yet, you still found yourself struggling not to break, not to embrace him and mutter soothing nothings while he sobbed quietly into your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist and, inevitably, ended up on his knees, his face buried between your legs as he made you cum until you forgot why you’d been mad at him in the first place. “Fine. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s great. I don’t know why I’d ever want to be with such a heartless bit—” His voice broke before he could finish. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe at his eyes, but that only drew more attention to the tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks, only made you more tempted to pull him into a kiss and act like this had never happened. “Fine. If you’re really that sick of me, I’ll go.”

He pushed past you, starting towards your door. That was what you wanted. Kunikuzushi gone, your apartment empty, your life just a little less fucked than it always seemed to be when he was a part of it. You should’ve let him go. You should’ve stood there until he was gone. You should’ve let him leave.

But you heard another hitched sob, a string of muttered swearing, and something in your chest broke open. With a shallow sigh, you dropped your arms to your sides, forcing yourself to speak through clenched teeth. “…do you want a hug before you leave?”

Kunikuzushi glanced over his shoulder. “A hug? What do you think I am, a toddler?”

“It's the only thing I'm putting on the table. Do you want it or—”

You never got the chance to finish. His arms were already around you, pinning your arms to your torso as he buried his face in your shirt. You choked back your protests, forced yourself to fight the instinct to push him away, and in a few excoriating seconds, his hold on you loosened, his back straightening, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his lips pressing into your neck. There was a lingering8 kiss laid onto your jugular, then another to the corner of your jaw, but you didn’t bother to try and push him away. Instead, you only shifted in his arms, nudging at his chest. You’d gotten yourself into this, called him back when he was a few steps away from leaving. You only had yourself to blame. “I didn’t say you could—”

“I knew you’d change your mind.” A hand fell to the small of your back, the heel of his palm pressing into the base of your spine. “You always do. You always make the right choice, in the end.”

You opened your mouth, ready to remind him that you weren’t taking him back, but you hesitated. He was always weird, just a little too hostile, just a little too desperate to keep you close to him, but you didn’t trust the levity in his voice, the way his smile pressed into your skin despite how close he’d come to crying a few minutes ago. “I think…” You trailed off, bit down on the side of your tongue. “I haven't changed my mind. You have to—”

Something flat and stiff pressed into your back – the blunt edge of a switchblade. His switchblade, you realized, dredging up hazy memories of bandages wrapped around thighs and hollow promises that he’d be more careful, next time. You heard his nails drum against smooth metal, felt something cold and sharp cut into the skin above your shoulder blade, and you froze, your mind instantly going blank.

He laughed, the noise cracking and airy. Warm breath fanned over the crook of your neck, and he melted into you, nuzzling into the curve of your throat. “I love you.” And then, pressing the blade into your flesh. “Say you love me too.”

Automatic, robotic. The only thing you could spit out through grit teeth. “I love you.”

Another laugh – more giddy, this time, more eager. If he noticed your reluctance, it clearly didn’t bother him. The switchblade was pulled up to the nape of your neck, then drawn in a loose arch to your collarbone, the tip never leaving your skin. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s why we get to stay together, even when we’re at each other’s throats.”

He paused, burrowed into you. In turn, you were dragged further into his chest, but pushed away just as quickly, allowed to get just far enough to make it possible for Kunikuzushi to raise his free hand to the collar of your shirt and drag you into a clumsy, rushed kiss – too rough and too forceful for anyone but him to enjoy. His teeth scraped against your lips, his tongue dragging over yours, but he pulled away with a breathy groan, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes still glossed over. “…you didn’t get with anyone while I was gone, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

How could you? He hadn’t given you room to breathe, let alone get past anything more than a first date with someone new. Even when you’d been together (actually together, not fighting or on a break), he’d been so suffocating, so possessive, you’d never been able to get any further than heavy petting, oral, his body on top of yours and your legs wrapped around his waist before he said something you couldn’t brush off and the night devolved into something... less romantic. It was hard to be with someone like Kunikuzushi, someone who acted like they’d rather give up the air in their lungs than a second of your time. Even after a year and a half, it was hard to let your guard down around him when he seemed so willing to give you every reason you ever could've needed to keep it up.

You guessed you should’ve expected this, looking back on it. He’d was bound to get tired of waiting for you to trust him eventually.

This was just his way of letting you know that he’d never really needed you to, in the first place.

Stiltedly, you shook your head, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. That’s why we’re supposed to be together.” He kissed the corner of your lips, then your forehead. “You’d never hurt me.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he took you by the hand – his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned and tugged you forward, moving to lead you further into your apartment. The switchblade left your skin, falling momentarily to his side, and for a few brief seconds, you considered trying to get away, jerking yourself out of your hold and running as far away as you could get from him and his fucking issues. You made a passing effort, but Kunikuzushi’s grip turned crushing as soon as you began to shift, and you gave up before he could break something more vital than your heart. He was between you and the door, you and your phone. He had a knife, a weapon. He had you, and until he decided he was done, he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

With little ceremony, you were drawn out of your living room and into your cramped bedroom. Kunikuzushi let go of your hand, but you didn’t have time to run before you were being pushed onto your unmade bed, before he was straddling your waist and pinning you to the center of the mattress. The knife was brought back to your neck, but quickly plunged lower, slid beneath your uppermost button and used to separate thread from fabric. Somehow, annoyance managed to overshadow your panic, if only for as long as it took for one rational thought to be followed by another. This was your nicest shirt, one of a handful you’d splurged on for your internship, but it wasn’t like Kunikuzushi would ever understand anything like that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to, before.

The tip caught on the slight dip below your diaphragm and you winced, a few dots of red immediately seeping into white fabric. You winced, beginning to protest on reflex. “Kuni’, that—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Absentminded, only half conscious that he was speaking at all. He reached the hem, pulling his switchblade free and letting your dress shirt fall away from your chest and over your shoulders, as useless as it was embarrassing. “I’ll take care of everything when we’re done. Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut for a while.”

Really, you could only wonder why you hadn’t dumped him sooner.

Your pants were next, slits carved into the material over your hips and ruined fabric torn away. He moved to cut off your boxers, too, but seemed to hesitate, to linger, to find the strength to pause just long enough to drag two fingers over your clothed slit and press the pad of his thumb into your clit. You hissed at the friction, but Kunikuzushi only smiled, dipping his head low enough for his lips to ghost over your collarbone, then the midline of your chest, then the tender spot just below your navel. The last was accompanied by a slight groan, throaty and deep. You did what you could to block it out. This would be better if you didn’t think about it, if you just imagined he was trying to win you back after a fight, that there was a wilting rose in his other hand and not a knife already stained with your blood.

It was almost a mercy when his hands finally slipped under the hem of your boxers, doing away with your last layer of protection with only a slight laugh and a lilting smile. You did what you could to relax, to lean back and close your eyes, but Kunikuzushi’s weight was an ever-present anchor to reality, only made worse as he shifted lower, as he pulled your legs apart and threw them over his shoulders. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, his teeth ghosting over tender flesh as he sucked harsh bruises into whatever he could reach. This was his favorite part, by far. He’d always been clingy – possessive to the point of total, nail-biting, jaw-locking paranoia. At first, you’d been able to write it off as a sort of overeager enthusiasm that came with a new relationship, but he’d never stopped. He was always ready, always desperate to dig his teeth into your skin and leave as many marks as you’d let him – or rather, as many as he possibly could before you were able to pry him away. Even then, you’d tried to think of it as cute, just one of the quirks of your immature-but-loving boyfriend. Now, all you could do was hope it’d be over soon.

It took him full minutes to actually reach your cunt, for his tongue to lave over your slit. Instantly, you stiffened, clenching your eyes shut and attempting to ignore the heady sounds of his whimpering moans, the feeling of his tongue tracing patterns in your entrance. It was sloppy, messy, all drool and teeth and clutching hands, but warmth flooded into your core as the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, as his hands wrapped around your hips and dragged you that much closer to his mouth. Everything he did was dirty, but he knew you, knew your body, knew that you’d have to spread your legs as soon as his tongue thrust into you.

You arched your back as two fingers slid into your entrance alongside his tongue, scissoring you open while his attention shifted to your clit – his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves while he sucked gently. If he hadn’t been so vocal, it might’ve been more bearable, but no, he couldn’t seem to stop whining into your cunt, to stop sending waves of those awful reverberations from your clit to your core every time he whimpered or grunted or moaned. Before you could stop yourself, your hips were rolling weakly against his mouth as he nursed you through your sudden climax. When you fell limp, his mouth fell away, but his hand still cupped your pussy, his fingers still curling and thrusting inside of you.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, not until you were crying out and clenching around him, not until you could feel the slick running down your thighs, soaking into your sheets. He didn’t stop until you were babbling – spitting out incoherent pleas for him to slow down before the overstimulation turned from overwhelming to agonizing. You were forced to endure another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the wet sound of his tongue running over his fingers, but he pulled away in a few seconds, finally letting you have just enough space to breathe. Even that was temporary, cut short by his lips crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, as little as you wanted to. You could feel him panting against your lips, and it was all you could do not to scream.

He pulled away abruptly, grinning. “You’re a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question, but you found yourself shaking your head, denying it on instinct. “I never—"

“You didn’t have to.” There was a peck to the corner of your lips, another to your cheek. “I know everything about you. Your parents were too strict to let you date in high school, and none one’s ever lasted more than a couple of weeks with you before me. Since you wouldn’t so much as take off your shirt around me before our three-month anniversary, I’m going to assume you weren’t a total slut before we met.”

You narrowed your eyes, shoving gently at his chest. You just needed space. You just needed him to get away from you. “So?”

“So,” he leaned in, his smiling growing that much wider. “I’m going to ruin you.”

It was something about his tone, the dark glint in his eyes as he leered over you. Your heart dropped in your chest, and very distinctly, something very large and very sharp began to crawl up your throat.

You started to shake your head, but he was already edging jeans downward, already freeing his cock – the flushed tip leaking precum in fat, white pearls. His weight was enough to keep you pinned down as he aligned himself with your entrance, as he traced the head over the length of your slit, and his eyes never left your face, your expression painted with heavy strokes of horror and disbelief. He never wavered, never blinked, even as he thrust inside of you, bottoming out in a single uninterrupted motion. Even as you cried out, the sound more pained than anything else. Even as you felt a single, warm teardrop fall off of his cheek and onto yours. You hadn’t realized you’d shut your eyes, not until you forced yourself to open them, not until you found him cloudy-eyed and grinning above you.

He was crying, again.

Huh.

You thought he would’ve given up on that, by now.

He wasn’t gentle. He’d never been delicate with you, but right now, it felt like he was trying to be rough, to pin your legs against your chest and split you open every time he moved his hips, every time he found a way to hit something deeper and more sensitive inside of you. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, strangling itself into something more akin to a cracked whine and a few broken whimpers. The stretch, the pressure was more than you could take. You couldn’t stop yourself – going rigid underneath him, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open in a silent, agonized cry. Your reactions, however involuntary, only seemed to spur Kunikuzushi on, his pace growing more erratic and his breath now coming in quick, shallow pants. No matter what you did, it just made him worse.

You could hear him talking, distantly – little mumbled tangents forming between thrusts. “You’re just so—” He cut himself off with a long, wordless moan. “We’ll do this every day, until— until you know you don’t need anyone but me. Then, you’ll love me, and you’ll never have to—” He thrust deeper into you, letting out a fracturing laugh. “And then, I’ll rip out your tongue and cut off your legs if you try to leave. We’ll always be together. No one will ever, ever take you away from me again.”

You weren’t with him. You didn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t for his immaturity, his manipulativeness, his fucking knife, this wouldn’t be—

His knife.

Both of his hands were on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh, keeping your knees pressed into your chest. He wasn’t holding it. He couldn’t be.

Without daring to look away from him, you groped around the mattress blindly, your fingertips eventually brushing against something cold and metallic – his switchblade lying abandoned on the edge of the bed. You took it up before you could hesitate, gripping the handle tightly enough for the sharp corners to bite into your palm, for your hand to cramp and go numb by the time you found the strength to actually lift it up. You didn’t aim. You didn’t have time to, not unless you wanted to think about what you were doing, not unless you wanted to let Kunikuzushi win. Not unless you could—

The curved tip just barely made contact with the skin above his collarbone before you faltered, before he had time to catch your wrist in an iron-clad hold. You tried to let go of the switchblade reflexively, but his hand shifted to wrap around yours, to keep the blade pressed into his chest – applying just enough pressure to break the skin. “Do it.” Soft, drawn out, too eager to mean anything good. “I’d let you carve your name into me, if you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask.”

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to. You didn't want any of this, but Kunikuzushi pressed the blade in his skin regardless, letting out muttered confessions of love and loyalty as a thin red line formed in his flesh, as blood dripped down his chest and disappeared behind the loose collar of his shirt, blotting against the dark fabric. He guided your blade to his lips, next, making a small nick in the corner of his mouth before taking the switchblade out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor, out of your reach. It would’ve hurt less if he’d tried to hurt you, too, taken the blade to your skin after his own. If would've hurt less if he’d acknowledged that you’d tried to do anything at all.

You didn’t have much time to linger on that thought, though. He was already moving again, already making up for time lost by fucking into you like a man crazed. With no preparation, no warning, he jerked forward, his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you, as he forced his tongue past your teeth and smeared his blood over your lips. It felt like you were drowning in nickel, being slowly suffocated by some nameless, slick, oppressive force. It felt like you were choking, despite being able to breathe, to think as clearly as you’d ever been able to around him. It felt like you were going to die.

But, you weren’t. He’d never be so kind, he’d never let you have that kind of comfort, not when he was still grinding into you, not when his cock was twitching against the walls of cunt and he was groaning into your mouth without reservation. You could feel your poor overstimulated pussy clenching around him, your vision burning white around the edges as, for lack of anything more stable to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around his neck and raked your nails over his back, clawing into whatever you could reach. If he noticed, if he cared, it only worked to drag him that much closer, to leave him as deep as he could possibly be when he finally finished, when you felt something warm and vile flood into you.

He stayed like that for a long moment, silent and unmoving, his chest pressed into yours and his lips trailing from your mouth to your throat, settling just above your jugular. It was a small mercy when he finally pulled away and straightened his back, easing himself out of you and wiping the blood off of his face, his neck. You watched from a distance as he fixed his clothes, before pushing himself to his feet, never sparing you so much as a second glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Pack your stuff, and make sure you’ve gotten your shit together by then. I’m not letting a mess like you into my apartment.” He paused, lingered long enough to smile. With no sense of visible urgency, he walked to the side of your bed, retrieving his switchblade and kissing your forehead softly, gingerly, with a kind of tenderness you could only wish he’d found a few hours earlier. “I love you, babe. Even when you act like a fucking idiot.”

His grin pressed into flesh, cutting and cruel.

“And I’m so, so glad you’ve realized that you love me too.”

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds

  Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. Violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, curse words. Not proof read.

word count: 4k+.

Author’s note: I’m sorry I’m so late with this. I don’t even know what to say anymore, thank you for keeping up with me. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

“It’s alright, just breathe,”

There’s warmth against my forehead, and the words are a soft breath against my skin. I feel like every bone in my body has locked me into place, a prison, and I can’t move, I can’t breathe. 

The dark pit that has opened in my gut threatens to devour me whole and I recognise its numbness. It’s beckoning me to let go, to embrace it. A gentle, soothing  touch at my back it’s the only thing that’s keeping me anchored to reality, red and gold it’s all I’ve been staring at for what feels like an eternity. 

“Easy, dove.”

Cassian. Cassian is here. He’s enveloped me with his wings into a cocoon, a shelter against the world, his forehead is pressed against mine and he keeps rubbing circles between my shoulderblades. Some distant sense of self is returning to me, barely enough for me to turn my head and look at him. Dark hazel eyes stare back at me and the similarity to that other pair of eyes makes it almost unbearable to keep looking at them, my chest aches and I want to pull away. But Cass holds firm, strong hands holding my arms as he inhales deeply, motioning me to follow. 

I took one pathetic shuddering breath, two. My racing heart started to slow down and cool air flowed to my lungs. 

“There you go…” He hummed. 

Once I’m settled back into myself and my limbs don’t feel nearly as stiff as before, he slowly pulls away, allowing me to take in my surroundings. We’ve moved to the balcony outside one of the guest rooms, somehow. When did he even show up?

“Rhys called me, and told me what happened. How are you feeling?” His voice was so full of concern.

I shook my head, how could I put it into words? Was this what he felt every time Nesta slept with someone else? Was this what Rhys felt while Feyre was still with Tamlin? I knew Azriel fancied Elain, and I knew it was reciprocated. So why did it hurt so much to see it now? 

“Cass, he’s my—”

Mate. The word burned on my tongue. I couldn’t pronounce it. 

With each time I thought about it, the word lost a bit more of its meaning. I damned the Cauldron and the Mother for mating us; it was supposed to be something special, something that didn’t happen to most Fae, and if it did you were one lucky bastard. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard. But for me? It meant nothing. The bond only brought me pain and unrequited feelings, unwanted feelings. 

“I know, Rhys knows too,” he whispered.  

“How?” I asked, blinking away the dampness in my eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter now, dove, I need to know if you’re going to be ok” His eyes 

were so gentle, so understanding. 

I swallowed dry and nodded slowly. I remembered then that Lucien was looking for me and guilt tripped up my spine. How was I supposed to tell him what I saw?

“Cass, where is Lucien?” 

“I told him you weren’t feeling right and sent him home. He left something for you.” Cassian handed me a carefully wrapped package. For the looks of it, it was either a box or a book.  

“I have to talk to him.” 

I tore open the envelope, it was an old beautiful book, brown and gold and red. “Myths of the world” read the title, the author unknown. I hadn’t seen anything like this before.  It didn’t belong to Prythian, this book came from the mortal lands. 

Lucien saw this book during one of his journeys, and thought of me. My heart felt heavy in my chest  just thinking about the hurt I was going to cause him by speaking the truth about tonight.

“You can’t tell him anything, Y/N;”  Cassian’s tone was considerate yet firm. I frowned. 

“If it was the other way around he would tell me, Cass. He’s my friend…” 

“I’m your friend too, and I understand, but I’m asking you to wait. Please, let Rhys handle this or it can get really messy.” 

“Things are already too messy.”

With trembling fingers I dive between the first pages, it was a little worn around the edges but well kept, surely a loved book. One  particularly page caught my attention, it had dedicatory written in very polished handletter: 

“I don’t know if there’s proof of other worlds coexisting out there, but I hope you may find exciting ones within these stories.” 

More often than not, Lucien caught me late at night curled around the fireplace, a blanket thrown lazily over my legs and nose buried deep in some book about portals to other worlds, myths and legends, the old history and so and so. That sort of thing that has always called to me since I was a kid, more than curiosity I felt a pull towards it, as if I could feel the history of the universe in my veins. I never told anyone about it before, it seemed silly, I didn’t have proof of anything, it was more like a sense of the otherworldly. I felt ancient and new, vast and empty, all at the same time. The last time I experienced something like that Feyre had still been pregnant with Nyx, I remember feeling like my mind had been split for a moment, allowing me to experience reality both through my own person and through someone or something else’s eyes. I ended up throwing up that night, and Azriel had found me passed out on the floor of the living room. No one asked any questions, but Lucien had noticed. 

I sighed and closed the book, returning my attention to the worried-looking Illyrian in front of me.  “He’ll hate me if he finds out and I knew all along. I can’t have him hate me, Cass.” 

I can’t have him hate me too. 

“He won’t hate you dove, that’s just impossible”.

I shook my head, “Can you just take me home please?” 

“Of course,” He didn’t hesitate to scoop me up in his arms and take to the skies. 

The wind whipped through the night sky as Cassian soared gracefully, his wings beating rhythmically against the air currents. Beside him, I clung tightly to his muscular frame, my grip tightened unconsciously with each passing moment. The journey back to the House of Wind was filled with a heavy silence, as I wrestled with the weight of my thoughts and emotions.

Finally, the grand structure came into view, perched majestically atop the cliffs. Cassian gently landed, his powerful wings folding behind him as he turned to face me. His cobalt eyes searched mine, brimming with concern and curiosity. He paused, probably sensing the turmoil underneath, and waited patiently for me to find the courage to speak.

With a heavy sigh, I took a step back and looked up at the towering residence. "Cassian," I started, voice tinged with a mix of determination and sadness, "I’m leaving the court. I've made a decision... I'm going to accept Helion's offer."

Cassian's brow furrowed, a mixture of surprise and worry crossing his features. He reached out, his hand finding mine in a reassuring grip. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You know the risks involved, the dangers that lie beyond our borders. The Night Court is your home, with friends who care for you."

My gaze followed the distant horizon, already feeling that curl of longing and uncertainty in my gut. "I understand the risks, Cass," I replied softly. "But I can't ignore the chance to make a difference, to find my own path and discover who I truly am, what I could do. I've always felt like I'm in the shadow of others, and maybe... maybe this is my opportunity to shine."

Cassian's grip on my hand tightened, his voice filled with earnestness. "You don't need to leave to find your purpose. You have friends here who believe in you, who will stand by your side no matter what. We can face the challenges together, as a family."

Tears welled in my eyes as conflicting emotions tugged at my heart. I wanted to believe in the strength of these bonds, in the safety and comfort of the Night Court. But a flicker of determination remained, whispering promises of self-discovery and growth. I looked back at Cassian, voice trembling but resolute. "I love you Cass, and I’m deeply grateful for everything the Night Court and all of you have given me, but I have to do this. Please understand."

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that escaped my eye. He took a deep breath, his voice filled with unwavering support. "If this is truly what you want, then I won't stand in your way. But remember, you will always have a home in the Night Court, we will be here for you whenever you need us. And I can still kick Azriel’s ass for you."

He joked and a small smile broke through my lips despite the anguish. “I don’t want him to know, let’s just keep this between us for now, alright? I’ll tell Rhys tomorrow.” 

“Alright.” He whispered and brushed a kiss to my temple. 

We just stood there for a moment, embraced by the cool night breeze, letting all the events of the night sink in. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later. 

The frozen landscape stretched endlessly before our eyes, a harsh and unforgiving terrain that mirrored the tensions between me and the Shadow Singer. The mission to track down the slavers had brought us to this desolate place, where the biting cold seemed to seep into our very souls. Yet, it was the icy atmosphere between us that threatened to shatter the fragile alliance.

We hadn’t spoken a word since last Solstice’s party, and I hadn’t seen him around either. I still couldn’t shake the weight of that awful look he gave me that night, it didn’t help that he looked on the verge of ripping my head off. I just didn’t understand, we were sort of alright at some point and then he just went back to hating me, as if some switch had gone off inside of him. 

As we trudged through the snow, our breath crystallizing in the frigid air, the silence grew heavy with unspoken accusations. I just couldn't bear the weight of Azriel's distrust any longer, it was making me anxious and angry. Whatever it was that got him so mad at me I didn’t deserve it, and we couldn’t keep working like that. 

With each step, the tension escalated, until it reached a breaking point. Finally, unable to contain my frustration, I turned to face him, my voice came out  laced with a mix of fury and hurt that I didn’t intend. "If you have something to say, just say it already and be done with this stupid silent treatment."

Azriel's expression hardened, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of regret and stubbornness. "Why? so you can run and snitch to Rhys about it?"

My hands balled into fists, body trembling with indignation. "What the hell does that mean?” I hissed. 

“You know what it means. I seriously thought about giving you a chance, that I may have judged you wrong. Then I turn around and you pull the bullshit you did on Solstice. I didn’t think you could stood so low as to drag Elain into this mess.” 

“What bullshit? What are you even on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you called Rhys on us. Are you going to tell me that it was all a coincidence? That you just happened to walk right into the room I was in with Elain, and Rhysand followed you? I see the way you look at her, are you really that envious?”   

A humorless laugh escaped my lips, anger boiling in my veins. “Is this what got you so pissed? You are a bigger asshole than I thought. I didn’t even know you were in there, even less that you were with her. Do you think I give a fuck about who you’re fucking?You're always so quick to judge, to assume the worst of me. You know what? I'm done. Fuck you, Azriel!"

“You’re a cunning bitch, ever so observant, ready to pry into other people’s business; lying is like breathing for you, so why should I believe you? Why else would you happen to be there? Every time something goes wrong you’re in the middle of it!”

“Oh don’t try to blame me for your fuck ups, you dug that hole yourself. We were there because we were looking for you, because I wanted to give you this.” I shoved the little black box against his chest, hard. I had been carrying it with me since that night, its weight had been unbearable. “Happy Solstice, Azriel.” I spat with irony. 

He just stood there, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his anger at bay, eyes glued to the object now lying in his hands. 

Silence engulfed us once again as the bitter wind whistled through the barren landscape. Our breaths mingled with the frosty air, hanging between us like an unbridgeable chasm. 

“What is this?” he finally dared to ask, his voice cold and calm, distant but not nearly as angry as before. 

I cursed the slight tremor of vulnerability and turned away, already feeling a headache forming.  "You can throw it away if you want, I don’t care. I’m going to scout the land, don’t follow me. And keep your shadows to yourself."  My own voice came out barely above a whisper.

With that, I stormed off, leaving Azriel standing alone amidst the frozen wasteland. The ache of the fractured connection between us weighed heavily on my heart, mingling with the anguish of this mission and the bitter chill of the land. There was really no hope for us, to believe we could be friends again…that had been a foolish mistake. 

For a long while I walked and walked and walked, there had been no sign of any other living creature in hours. The night was starting to grow heavy and the cold unforgiving, I could barely see anything beyond the frozen forest, the small faelight I brought with me doing little to light up the path but I couldn’t risk giving away my position. It felt like I had been walking around in circles, never finding the exit to the forest. I could’ve sworn I passed the same twisted tree four times now, it looked like a giant claw tearing open the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have left on my own. I had a bad feeling about this, it was all strangely silent. 

Just as I spotted a clearing, a familiar scent caught my attention. I haven’t felt that in nearly two centuries, but I remembered it like it was yesterday, sweet and strong and dangerous. My heart dropped to my stomach, and dread spread along my spine. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I had killed him.  

All my alarms went off almost immediately, I turned the faelight off and walked as slowly, as silent as a wrath towards the clearing. I had to squint my eyes to adjust to night vision, avoiding the branches and bigger patches of snow. A dim light appeared on the other side of the woods, floating beside a big shadow. As I came closer I could make the shape of wings, huge membranous wings. I wouldn’t mistake those wings in a thousand years. 

“Azriel?” I asked, low. Not entirely giving away my location still inside the forest’s safety. 

His back was turned to me, and he was standing predatorily still. A glimpse of metal flashed in the dim moonlight, Truth Teller was clutched tightly in his right hand, something dark and sticky dropping to the snow. Blood. The copper tang of it hit my nose a second later. It smelled like him. Was he hurt? 

I scanned the land beyond him, searching for the threat. If I had scented it earlier, probably he did too and found them sooner than I did. 

“Azriel was going on?” I tried again, walking closer. 

Past the shadows that engulfed him a figure lay on the ground, they were kneeling. There was so much more blood around them it was hard to tell if they were still alive. Whoever that was. 

I stepped beside him, my own blade in hand, ready to strike if needed be. But what struck me was the sight in front of me, Azriel was kneeling on the frozen ground, wings dropped and bloodied, a gag was pulled tight against his mouth and his eyes were wide, desperate. He grew wild when he saw me, thrashing against an invisible barrier. I turned around, confused and alarmed. The Shadow Singer stared back at me, a sinister smile tugging at his mouth and he launched forward, shoving the blade between my ribs. 

The Azriel on the ground tried to scream against the gag, eyes glazed over with rage. I wanted to reach him, free him from his restraints, but I couldn’t move. The male in front of me twisted the knife still inside my flesh and I let out a cry of pain. It burned like hell and I felt myself starting to get dizzy. Faebane, for sure. 

Hazel eyes turned darker than the night itself, and that pretty face morphed into something half beautiful, half monstrous. Brutal and scarred. I watched in horror as the male of my nightmares appeared in front of me. Demian, Kier’s first born son, alive and here. 

“Did you miss me, wife?” He purred into my ear. 

“RHYS! RHYS!” I tried to desperately call for the High Lord, but the mental channels between us felt distant, my voice sounded like an echo traveling through a never ending tunnel. 

I tried to take a step back but the world started to blur into darkness quickly. The last thing I saw was Demian’s monstrous face smiling down at me. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel. 

The cavern was shrouded in darkness, its oppressive air thick with a sense of impending doom. The flickering light cast eerie shadows across the cold stone walls, as his eyes darted around, desperately searching for any means of escape. Azriel had been awake for a while now, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage at the scene in front of him; Y/N struggled against the coarse chains that bound her wrists, barely conscious due to the bloodlost. 

He had never felt more helpless and stupid. He should have said something, apologize, go after her, make her stay. Azriel still couldn’t believe he fell into  this motherfucker’s illusion, he should have known better. But it had been so real…the look of despair in her face, begging him to save her, as if Demian had known what she looked like, as if he had seen her like that before. Rage boiled in his veins.  Oh, once he got free of this invisible prison he was going to kill him, and he was going to take his sweet time doing so. 

"Azriel..." she whispered his name, her voice barely audible in the silence. The sound carried a mix of longing and worry, it made something crack inside his chest. 

The heavy stone doors groaned open, revealing two figures emerging from the depths of darkness. Demian, a malevolent presence wrapped in darkness, stepped forward with an insidious smile, his eyes glittering with a sinister delight.

Azriel’s shadows were frantic, desperately trying to leak beyond the barrier holding him and reach Y/N, but it was no use. Even his siphons couldn’t break the spell containing him, the strange marks painted on the ground around him seemed to absorb every futile attempt of his power to set him free. 

"Ah, Y/N, lovely to see you again", his voice dripping with malice. "We still have some unfinished business, darling."

Y/N narrowed her gaze, refusing to show her fear and spat on his face. “I don’t know how you’re still alive, but you’re as delusional as I remember.” 

Demian's laughter echoed through the cavern, chilling her to the bone. In his hand, he brandished a wickedly sharp blade, the metal gleaming with malicious intent.

"Perhaps," he sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "But this time I’ll succeed, you’ll pay for what you’ve done, you and your stupid High Lord. There’s no escaping your fate this time."

A weak groan managed to escape Azriel’s bloody lips, and Y/N's eyes filled with dread as she spotted him, chained to a wall, his body battered and bloodied. 

"Azriel!" she cried out, straining against her restraints. "Leave him alone!"

Demian's twisted grin widened, feeding off her anguish and desperation. "Oh, my dear," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I plan to make him suffer just enough to ensure your compliance."

Tears welled up in her obsidian eyes as she watched Demian approach him, heart breaking at the sight of her mate's pain. Their connection, their bond, was just a whisper of strength and vulnerability.

"Do not yield, Y/N," Azriel's voice reached her, laced with pain but filled with unwavering resolve. "Don't let him break you."

“Enough!” The other presence in the room raised his voice as he approached the light. It was a dark haired male, tall and slim, a bit ungainly. His skin was a sickly grey-ish pale. Y/N’s eyes widened and tears started to flow freely down her cheeks at the sight of him. “Hello, sister. Long time no see.” He smiled wickedly at her as he anxiously played with the blade in his hands. 

Azriel could recognise its signature darkness capable of absorbing even the light of the sun anywhere. Truth Teller. The bastard was holding his blade. 

“Ajax…” she whispered, almost pleading. 

“We thought you had killed yourself. Imagine my surprise when I saw you at war with Hybern,” Ajax let out a humorless chuckle. “tch, father is so disappointed in you, you made mama cry and all for this?” He pointed at Azriel, still fighting to get free. There was something animalistic and ferocious in his eyes as he watched Damien twist the blade into the membrane of his wings. 

“Stop! Let him go. This is between me and you, he doesn’t have to be here.” 

“Let him go? So you can pull the bullshit you did on your wedding night? I don’t think so. But you wouldn’t dare to do so now, no, you wouldn’t risk hurting your precious Shadow Singer.” He smiled mockingly and slid the sharp edge of Truth Teller along her jaw. “Pitty. You would’ve made such a pretty bride… isn’t that right Demian?” 

Demian’s deformed mouth twisted upwards as he looked her up and down, something dangerous darkening his features. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him and ran a thumb over her lips. “You could have been my queen.”

She spat on his face again. “Go to hell.” 

Ajax slapped her face. “You’ve always been an ungrateful bitch.” 

Wiping his atrocious face clean, Demian stepped forward grabbing Truth Teller from Ajax hands. There was such hatred in their eyes. “Let’s get this over with.” He threw Azriel a wicked grin and slid the sharp edge across Y/N’s wrist. 

The Shadow Singer watched with a mix of fury and desperation as the blade cut into her flesh, eliciting a tortured cry from her lips. He felt it too, the pain, as if it was his own flesh being torn open. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Azriel’s threat echoed through the walls of the frozen cave. 

They both laughed as they carved similar markings to the ones holding him prisoner into her    skin. In her arms, her chest, her legs. She was just a playtoy for them to feed their morbidity. 

There was so much blood everywhere. Demian’s filthy mouth closed around one of the wounds, drinking from her. Her blood, her power, her very essence, while Ajax recited something in a tongue Azriel couldn’t understand. 

The Shadow Singer saw red. Something primal took over his senses, the urge to protect Y/N was stronger than anything, determination surged through his weakened body, and with every ounce of remaining energy, Azriel fought against his restraints. He summoned whatever hidden reserves of strength he possessed, his determination overriding the debilitating effects of the faebane. Sparks of raw power crackled around him as his unyielding rage fueled his desperate struggle for freedom. 

Ajax's full black eyes fell on him, sensing the upcoming battle that was about to be unleashed upon them and slit open Y/N’s other wrist. 

“Let’s go, we got what we need” He urged the blonde male beside him. 

They retreated, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Y/N and Azriel gasping for breath, their bodies battered and broken.

As Azriel's body trembled with exertion, his relentless efforts finally bore fruit. With a surge of sheer willpower, the invisible barrier shattered like fragile glass, freeing him from its confinements. Gasping for breath, his eyes blazed with a mix of determination and wrath as he surveyed the now empty space where the two males had stood. He would hunt them down, to the ends of the earth if needed, to make them pay for what they’ve done; but first he had to take Y/N to safety. 

He turned to face her; the anguish in her eyes mirrored his own, but their connection remained unbroken, he could still feel the sliver of hope amidst the darkness thrumming through that golden thread between their souls. 

She held tight onto that bit of sanity left and muttered the words “I’m sorry” over and over again as her body started to give out. 

Azriel’s whole body started shaking “No, no, no. Stay with me, I’ll get us out. I swear.” 

He rushed to her side, untying her arms and cradling her face. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t winnow and his wings were too damaged to fly. At this point they needed a miracle, he wasn’t a devoted believer in the gods but he would pray to all of them to save her. 

They lied there, in the ground, her face was drained of color and the unforgiving cold was not helping. 

As if in answer to his silent prayers, the stone doors burst open, revealing the High Lord and the General of the Night Court in a state of utter distress. Azriel didn’t know when he had started crying  but he let himself hold onto the tiny bit of hope that they might make it alive.  

"Where are they?" Rhysand's voice boomed with unwavering authority, his power shimmering around him.

The shadow singer shook his head, Y/N was slipping away as they talked. “Please save her” 

Rhysand rushed to their side, cradling her in his arms. Her heartbeat was too weak, her breathing labored. Azriel’s own consciousness was starting to flicker and he could feel the bond beginning to dim. Panic took over his senses, he started fighting against Cassian’s hold just to get to her.

“Az, it 's ok. We’ll meet them back at the House, she’s going to be fine.” Cassian assured him as he took to the skies. 

And he would have believed him if it wasn’t for the exchange of worried looks that transpired between his brothers.

taglist:

@cmay25   @brekkershadowsinger   @cosmic-whispers   @h0peless-r0m4ntic888    @esposadomd   @hannzoaks   @tysynn   @i-am-infinite @sevendeadlyshins-blog   @angelshadowsinger   @buckysimp101 @baebeepeach @starswholistenanddreamsanswered   @leeknows-wife   @k07-1313 @valeridarkness @fall-myriad   @goradgirl   @feiwelinchen   @katherine-2007 @colorfulwinnerneva-blog    @lillithathecat @j-pendragonx @ummmmmwat @eviepeo @thelov3lybookworm @emturtles @chillicrackers @bubybubsters @perseflowers @goldenmagnolias @littleshopofwhoress @galla-lotus @weirdo-fun @moonlwghts @t0uch-starved-h0e @wannabewolf @awkwardturtle365 @notbellasstuff @nastynesta  

@nohxmanity @yasminsznn @thesnugglingduck   @anniebannanie0315  @elsie-bells   @highlady-ofillyria   @kodokunarisu-blog @starksweasleymain

If I forgot about someone please let me know :) It won’t let me tag some of you I don’t know why :(

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.4

a/n: i have no posting or writing schedule fyi. but here we go, we're truckin through. EDIT: previously titled perfect date

Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: swearing, mentions of an autopsy, descriptions of a dead body (not graphic) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

“Crackstone’s Crypt is overrated,” you groaned, throwing yourself onto Enid’s bed. “It’s gotta be somewhere else.”

“Nowhere else is creepy,” Enid said with a shrug. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“It’s not good enough,” you mumbled more to yourself than to her.

“Just go somewhere else,” Enid offered when you didn’t say anything else.

“I can’t,” you whined. “It has to be perfect.”

You pushed yourself off the bed and up onto your feet. With Wednesday out of the room, you had let your wings free and they shook as you started pacing. Enid had to admit, she rarely saw you this stressed out. You didn’t even freak out like this over finals, and everyone knew you should have been. And yet, somehow asking Wednesday Addams out on a date was going to drive you up the wall.

“It’s not supposed to be stressing you out this bad,” Enid said once you completed your fifth lap around the room.

“I’m not stressed, I’m devastated,” you said, stopping for just long enough to look at her. “I haven’t even asked her out yet and I’m already out of ideas.”

“Then we’ll brainstorm,” Enid said in as chipper of a voice as she could manage. She sat down cross-legged on her bed and started thinking. “What about visiting Nicky?”

“Out of the question,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Wednesday would love it-”

“-Nicky’s off limits.” Your hands shook as you lifted them to rub your face. There was a glassiness creeping over your eyes as you shook your head. “I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Enid said softly; you knew she had meant no harm, but she still regretted the suggestion anyway. “Then what else would be enough for Wednesday Addams?”

You both looked at each other dejectedly. Enid had agreed that something creepy would have been an excellent idea. You both knew she enjoyed autopsies, torture, and the occasional murder. None of those, however, were legal, so they were off the table. Who knew this was going to be so difficult?

“Are you sure they’re not coming back soon?” You asked as you gestured to Wednesday’s side of the room.

“She and Thing are at a hummer’s meeting,” Enid said with a shrug. She hadn’t asked questions because, quite frankly, she didn’t really care.

“A meeting?” You asked, turning your head back to look at Enid with furrowed brows. “But I wasn’t invited.”

“Are you a hummer?” Enid asked.

“I thought I was,” you mumbled. “Well now that’s just rude.” You turned back to look at Wednesday’s bed with a frown. Your feathers ruffled with your frustration.

“Y/N, focus,” Enid said with a snap of her fingers. “Date ideas.”

“Oh yeah,” you said, “let’s see.” You spun on your heels and started pacing the floor once again. “Wednesday… black… spooky…” Enid smiled to herself as the gears continued turning in your head. “Gothic… Victorian… old…” You sighed loudly and shook your head. “Abandoned… decrepit- Gate’s Mansion!” You shouted, turning quickly and pointing your finger at Enid.

“Great word association,” Enid said with a tight-lipped smile, “but you might get arrested for trespassing.”

“I bet she’d love it,” you shrugged.

“I don’t have enough bail money for the both of you,” Enid said with a sigh.

“That’s okay! You bail out Wednesday.” You looked off into the distance. “I bet I can convince Principle Weems to bail me out.”

“Okay!” Enid said, causing you to flinch and look back at her. “Next step, how are you finding a body?” You can’t just make one.”

“No, that’ s murder.” You cocked one hip and lifted your left hand to your face, rubbing your chin as you thought. “But homicide-”

“-absolutely not.”

“Fine, we’ll just dig one up,” you said with a huff. “She likes gravedigging.”

“How do you even know that?” Enid asked.

“She told me during tutoring one night.”

“You know what, I’m not questioning it anymore,” Enid said with a shake of her head. The fact that you weren’t disturbed even a little bit by Wednesday’s… hobbies just further proved her belief that you two were perfect for each other.

“Then it’s settled,” you said with a nod to yourself. “We dig up a body, take it to the basement in Gates’ Mansion, she gets to perform her autopsy, and it turns into the best date she’s ever had. No murder involved.” You smiled to yourself. “Thanks for the help, Enid.” You made your way to the door, not even gracing her with a goodbye.

Wait.

“Or homicide,” Enid chimed in before you could finish stepping out of the door.

“You’re a killjoy, Sinclair,” you said as you leaned back in. “What about involuntary manslaughter-”

“-no!”

—---

You had asked her on a date. You hadn’t used that exact word, but that’s what you were asking. You’re going out with me tomorrow, you had said before walking off before she could even answer. Every nerve in your body had been on fire, you couldn’t have waited to see if she would say no. Pretty brave, you would say.

But now you were standing beside a now-open grave, getting soaked to the bone from the rain, and watching as Wednesday continued to dig deeper and deeper. She wasn’t smiling - because why would she? - but it was clear she was having the time of her life. Never had you seen her move so energetically.

“Found you,” Wednesday said. She lifted the lid of the coffin to stare into the fairly fresh body within. “Can you carry him?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you said as you hopped into the grave. Don't be a baby, you thought when your knee ached upon landing.

Even though you were more than happy to be there with Wednesday, you weren’t as big of a fan of dead bodies. Maybe it was the trauma. It’s common fucking sense, you moron, your inner voice argued. No, it was definitely the trauma.

Wednesday stood back and made room for you as you bent down to haul the body over your shoulder. She warned you to be careful with it so it didn’t stretch too much; your stomach rolled at the thought of it stretching in your hands. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and held on to the body tightly, urging Wednesday out of the grave so she could help pull you up. Well, she tried to help pull you up; truthfully she was no help at all.

"Where to?" Wednesday asked, her eyes wide as she studied the body that you were desperately trying not to focus on.

"Short walk from here," you said and gestured your head in the direction of the mansion. God, the smell of this body was horrendous.

It was a silent walk; with Wednesday it normally was. The only true sound was the rain continuing to pour all around you. Your footsteps were drowned out by the squelching of mud, but it was almost comforting. Truthfully, it reminded you of home.

As soon as the Mansion was in sight, Wednesday's head snapped in your direction. There was a spark of joy in her dark eyes that wasn't unlike that of a child in a candy store. You kept your mouth shut but gestured toward the gates, and she practically ran over to pick the padlock while you trudged the rest of the way.

"Hurry up," you called out once you walked through the gate. "He's getting heavy."

She gave you that murderous stare that you liked so much, but led the way to the side of the house where a single door was located. It was locked; no surprise there. Your eyes trailed down to her boot when she bent down, taking something out of it and getting to work on a door.

“Do you always keep a lockpick with you?” You asked as she continued to work on the lock.

“Of course,” she answered. “You never know when you might need one.”

“Right, right.”

She pushed the door open after only a few more seconds of maneuvering. It was impressive, truly, the way her small lithe fingers could work a lock in less than a minute. But you didn’t stop to think about it before rushing inside to get out of the rain, lightening accentuating the atmosphere when Wednesday closed the door.

“Oh this is creepy,” you mumbled as you walked down the hallway.

You had no idea where anything was in this stupid house. When you had staked it out and brought everything, you had managed to slip through a small window to the basement. Not once had you actually surveyed the layout, so it could take ages before you found out where to go.

“Why do people live in places this big?” You asked when you looked into the fifth cobweb-filled room.

“The Addams mansion is bigger,” Wednesday mused, making you flinch when she silently appeared beside you.

“How do you remember where anything is?” You asked again. She started walking away and you followed behind her.

“Because it’s my home,” she answered.

Of course, you thought with a mocking shake of your head. The body on your shoulders shifted, sliding further down your back and pressing down painfully on your wings. With a grunt, you hoisted it up higher, easing as much pressure as you could and making the weight a little lighter on your legs. For a dead body, he was awfully heavy.

“Find the basement,” you said with a huff. “I’m about to drop him.”

Wednesday nodded at you once before using her sleuthing skills to find the stairs. Watching her work, even just to find something, truly amazed you. The slight tilt of her head when she was thinking, the movement of her eyes betraying her thoughts and emotions, the very methodical way she went through her thoughts. It was all enough to distract you from the burning muscles in your arms and legs.

“This way,” Wednesday called, and youfinally got moving.

Your legs protested, but you trudged your way to where she was standing. Looking down the stairs was probably your first mistake of the night. Digging up a body wasn’t? Your inner voice asked. It was pitch black down there and the stairs looked like they would break if a speck of dust landed on them. You had two bodies’ worth of weight, what if you fell through?

“I’ll go first,” Wednesday said after most likely noticing your hesitation.

“No, I got it,” you said quickly. No way in hell were you going to seem afraid in front of Wednesday Addams.

You took a deep breath in, then essentially fell onto the first step. It creaked, but stayed intact. With a few small nods to yourself, you continued moving. Your feet hit the wood hard with each step, your muscles telling you to stop or they would let you fall down the stairs. But you kept it up, focusing instead on Wednesday’s boots behind you.

When your feet hit the solid floor, you let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was done, and now the real fun could begin. At least, it would if you could find the lights…

The switch flipped and light flooded the room.

“What’s all this?” Wednesday asked, and you turned to face her with a smile as you could finally explain your plans.

“It’s an autopsy da- um.” You looked away. “Party.” Now that’s just stupid.

“For me?” Wednesday asked, looking up at you. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted ever so slightly; she was surprised.

“Well, you took me birdwatching, so.” You shrugged. “And it’s not like I’d dig up a body for no good reason.”

You walked over to the metal table you had moved to the center of the room and finally, finally placed the body down on it. Even with the body off of your shoulders, you could still feel its weight. The decomposition had stained your shirt and you just knew you would never get it out. Dammit, you liked that shirt…

“Are you going to join?” Wednesday asked as she stood beside you, looking down at the body with a joy that you rarely if ever saw.

“I’ll just be your assistant,” you said with a nervous chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your experience.”

She turned to face you quickly, the smallest fraction of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. You inhaled sharply as your heart stuttered in your chest. She didn’t even truly smile at you and your heart felt like it was going to explode. You turned around quickly. If she kept looking at you like that, you were going to give her a fresh body to perform her autopsy on.

“Want some?” You asked as you held the Vick’s vaporub out to her.

“No need,” Wednesday said as she turned back to the body. “I enjoy the smell.”

“Well I’m using it,” you mumbled to yourself as you scooped out a generous amount and smeared it underneath your nose. It helped, but by no means did it erase the smell still clinging to your clothes.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Wednesday asked, that miniscule smile appearing on her lips again and a crack of thunder as added theatrics.

Oh, tonight was going to kill you.

—---

“Good night, Wednesday.”

Enid sat up as soon as she heard your voice from the other side of the door. Her phone read 11:29pm; you had both missed curfew. Did that mean the date had gone well? Wait, neither one of you had used the word. Did the outing go well? Surely it had, nothing was more tailormade for Wednesday than this.

“Good night.”

She didn’t even pretend to be asleep when Wednesday finally came back into the room. Her movements stuttered when she saw Enid sitting there, staring at her with enough excitement that she felt she was going to explode. This was going to be the best night ever.

“Did you have a nice night?” Enid asked immediately.

Any normal person would have thought it had gone bad. After all, Wednesday was soaked to the bone, coated in mud and grime and… other things, and smelled like a dead body. By Enid’s standards, it would have been the biggest disaster in the entire history of the world. But for Wednesday? 

“It was adequate,” she answered.

She immediately went to her closet and grabbed her pyjamas before heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for bed. But Enid saw the darkening of her cheeks and the small pull at the corner of her lips before she closed the bathroom door. Thing gestured to Wednesday, and Enid nodded in agreement.

“Our ship is sailing,” she said with a smile, giving Thing a fistbump.

Oh yeah. This was going to be amazing.

[mgnifique-tion]

— from the heart.

summary || ``the scientist, y/n l/n, finds the key to the god of mischief’s hardened heart.``

pairing: 2012!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: i’ll be your man - btob / covered by park jeup, choi suhwan, and kim seunghun (build-up) lowercase is intended… »» read part 1 here

— themes and warning/s: open-ended (yet again), very mild swearing, the enemies have turned to complicated lovers, religious/christian metaphors, angst, death of family member (mentioned), thor mentioned 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥 (just a heads-up)

— a/n: entry for april! what the hell, y’all… how did i get so active writing about loki, i’m not even into the mcu that much anymore (idk, probably because he turned into a tree and that was sad?) anyway, this is the second part to “human reaction” so if you haven’t checked that out, just click the link on the title for some backstory. this has also turned out longer than earlier so wow, i think i’ve gone crazy for loki (thanks a lot, tom 👍) — edit: hello, so this was supposed to be up for april but i'm posting it now on july because, unfortunately, i have a very busy life with unexpected events taking place. enjoy reading!

[ total words: 2.5k ]

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───── ❝ ❞ ─────

it was past midnight and that self-proclaimed god had brought you to the top of a hill, telling you to wait for him as he’ll be taking some time to converse with his allies.

allies in ruling the world? yes.

“faen!” you heard him growl into the darkness, which startled you from the rock you were sitting on. but of course, that sudden shock died down due to how tired you already were; sleepless and alert from anything that could happen if you’d ever close your eyes. there was that fear that you may never open them again if you had left them closed shut even for just a little minute. 

there was a long pause until you decided that it’d be somewhat of a good idea to say something. a single word at least just to fill in the silence. “... so, did the meeting go well?–”

“oh, will you just not question it!?” loki grunted, startling you again. well, he did say he wouldn’t lay a finger on you so erupting like a volcano right at you wasn’t technically breaking any rule. “don’t you see? it’s obvious that nothing else had gone well, you imbecile! what else would i have to offer you in exchange for your eternal silence!?”

then, he proceeded to take in a deep breath, closing his eyes to collect himself and his emptied patience while you just stared at him. yes, of course, you hated his guts and the fact that you couldn’t really do anything against him but you never intended to offend him; that question was genuine.

in fact, every single response you’ve ever given him was genuine.

“sorry,” you blurted out, “i was just asking. i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or something... just wanted to know what went on.” the way your voice sounded so hazy and somehow breathy had given him the impression that you were already exhausted, not just mentally but rather physically. you couldn’t think of the words to respond anymore and maybe it would’ve been better if you had just said nothing.

but surprisingly, this was just another reason for loki to take interest toward your gift: humanity, as he’s said. “... did you just?–”

“yes… i did. i did apologize!” you didn’t even notice how your tone had changed; you’ve never raised your voice at him for the sake of him doing the same for you but you’ve had enough. you weren’t a friend, you weren’t even anything to him. you were just a total mortal stranger he spared, which does not give any reason for both of you to yell at each other but that rule has been broken.

after all, you’re just human and that is natural.

“i have never insulted after you’ve spared me,” you reminded him bitterly, getting up from that rock you’ve been sitting on ever since the past hour. you don’t even know why this god had brought you here and something about it was just familiar to you, just like the sacrifice of isaac. “i couldn’t sleep... i couldn’t eat... i couldn’t even ask you to stop whatever the fuck you’re doing to my world anymore but the moment i asked you about your stupid meeting, you just– you just blow up at me! is this what i get from saving you!?”

and that was the first time you’ve ever startled a god.

loki was stunned. slightly amused but completely out of words. just by staring at him, you’d know that he would start thinking of something with a smug smile but there was nothing on his face; he was fazed by you. 

“right,” he said with a low chuckle, “i must’ve forgotten you were human with feelings all over the place... natural... real.”

as the scepter started glowing again, panic rushed in your head and you damn knew that you had to run – just like the many times you’ve thought of that scenario but it just never took place. “you want a meal and an hour of sleep?”

“make it at least two–”

“four, it is.”

and despite the second peak of terror just occuring, that was also the second time he’s ever shown actual generosity. “you humans are too fragile,” loki commented with yet another chuckle as you huffed since that’s all you could do; you don’t trust his promises after all and you might never will. “... you really do need a proper leader. a god you can see, feel, and touch… not some written messiah.”

oh.

that statement must’ve crossed borders.

“... where do you want to eat?” he asked softly, almost as if he’s returning that genuine question he didn’t even bother to listen to. you were starting to wonder whether this was a symbol of your last meal. the last thing you’ll ever eat before your execution. 

who knows what else he could do with that scepter of his. “... well, in-n-out is open for twenty-four hours so…” you trailed off, looking away for a bit as your eyes scanned the area. every hill and path already turned into several landmarks in your mind as if you were the first person to discover it. “... would that be okay?”

once those uncertain words left your lips, the god of mischief smugly smirked back and nodded once. “i have one condition, however.” loki, of course, had to have some benefit from allowing you to take your basic needs as he stood before you, his hands clasped together and shown rather than his usual. “you’re not allowed to eat alone, therefore, once you purchase your cheap delicacies, we’ll come back here.”

so, a total bummer? of course, loki would know how to ruin your chances of escaping even if you hadn’t plotted against him… yet. “i wouldn’t want my apprentice to attempt freeing themselves, would i?” he knew what he was doing and you just had no choice; you needed to eat. you needed sleep. you needed to survive and in order to do so, you must abide by his rules.

he did spare you, didn’t he?

and as time passed by, you were now seated in the same mountain area, eating a take-out burger with a god. you didn’t know whether this was an early breakfast or a late dinner but nonetheless, you were somewhat grateful. “... are you not hungry?”

“gods don’t need to–”

“i bought you one, too.”

for some reason, loki just couldn’t say no to that as he continued to sit down next to you while your hands scrambled into the paper bag, searching for the other burger. at the moment, this was the only thing you could afford since he’s taken you under him once he’d given you that offer: wherein he or his blue-eyed minions couldn’t hurt you yet you still had to be somewhat his subject; a witness and a bystander.

after all, how could he lead humanity without being familiar with one?

“why aren’t you making attempts yet?” loki asked, “this is your perfect and only way of taking the hit and setting yourself free from my commands.”

“because i stick by my words,” you said back effortlessly, “i’ll be here until you let my co-workers– my friends go.”

he was silent again. in some way, he expected you to tell him that you were staying because you simply wanted to but a whiplash of reality quickly swept him away from his delusions. “so, you’re telling me that you’d wait until i let them go, huh? you’re willingly waiting for ages, then.”

the god hardened his heart and set aside any chances of letting your friends go as he chuckled before taking a bite from his burger. on the other hand, you just sat there, rethinking your choices; there’s no way nothing could convince him to let them go, right?

“yet i do admire your everlasting… hm… patience,” he pointed out, later letting out another low chuckle. “now that is something i don’t have… how do you do it?”

for the very least amount of times, he actually was genuine with that question. “well, i had a baby sister and she definitely trained me a lot with my patience.” you laughed, the delayed silence seeping in little by little, which made him cock his head to the side, curious about the matter.

“... had?” he just had to ask about it. “she passed away.” and you just had to tell him.

hearing your solemn, guilty answer was enough to make loki hooked to that story behind your younger sister’s passing. it wasn’t something you’d openly talk about but it surely was the only thing you endlessly blamed yourself for. 

“... oh,” loki uttered with a rather bitter tone, “i’m sorry for your loss… how old was she?”

“twelve.”

considering the fact that he was thousands of years old, his eyes widened after finding that out. “... that’s young,” he commented rather blankly but the look on his face was otherwise; you weren’t the only one terribly heartbroken about the incident. loki took the lives of eighty individuals in two days but never did he think of taking the life of a young child.

so, that was terrifying to think of. “and that happened because of?”

“... terminal disease.”

no matter how casual you sounded to him, your heart shattered. “well, actually, it could’ve been her twenty-second birthday last month if she made it… i’m a bit sappy now, aren’t i?” reality woke you up and told you to snap out of it; you weren’t talking to a friend, you were talking to a dictator. an alien. the god of mischief.

this story was not supposed to be and shouldn't be disclosed with him. “be sappy all you want,” he said, taking a sip from the straw of his cola. “after all, a god should be able to listen to his people’s messages, right?”

narcissistic? yes. but empathic? weirdly, that too.

“... that thing you used earlier,” you took a pause, letting out a sigh and then, a laugh. “it was supposed to be for her… well, for people like her at least.”

loki was giving it his best to not feel sorry – guilty for using the thing you’ve made but who knew that a sibling tragedy would soften his heart? he wouldn’t admit it, of course, but it was there. present at the moment and served as a reminder that he too had a sibling.

well, has.

“it was up for testing but of course, it was used for something else,” you said, eyeing him down as he managed to fake a chuckle; he couldn’t let himself show weakness after everybody else in his life made him feel like a nuisance – a tiny, little problem they’d have to deal with every day. not ever. never again. “... but i guess i still saved someone? and i still don’t know if i should be happy about that but it still provided its purpose.”

“oh, please.” he laughed, facing you more than he ever did before. “you saved me, your god and not anyone else… you should be celebrating this for your whole life.”

“you’re not the god i worship, loki.”

“well, i suggest you must. it’ll make this all easier for you.”

and he talked like a noble deity while eating a french fry. cheap and comical but it didn’t lower his status. “and, oh, if you do, there would be a lot of kneeling that’d occur.” that statement made you turn around and look at him with your brows either furrowed or raised; you had no idea how to react properly to it.

“... what–,” you were then stopped midway.

“i meant in praying.” he choked out.

this was one of your weirdest, most out of place conversations with the god so you just had to slowly turn away again and face the hills below both of you while munching on the burger in your hands. and then, he told you the truth you’ve kept deep in your chest, “... oh, i see it clearly now… you saved me because you want to prove yourself that you’re capable of keeping someone away from death. that you’re… worthy of things.”

it felt like time had stopped the moment you listened to him say that. for the first time, he was actually right with what he’d told you. he’d always claim the most bizarre things about humans and gods but this time, he was so close to the truth that he just blatantly told you what it was.

you were guilty because you couldn’t save her.

“i have a brother,” he added, “that’s why i… um… figured it out.”

“well, where is he, then? did you kill him?”

loki laughed at that. despite the hatred and fueling anger he had for his older brother, he wouldn’t end up killing him even though he’s close to it. the scars of the past made him into who he was now but the wound that his brother’s death would leave him absolutely destroyed. alone. all by himself. consumed by nothingness. just like what his old, so-called friends would tell him.

“he’s alive,” he said so soothingly, “and he’s living against what i had planned for this world.” those following words were much bitter, angrier than what he’s said before. it’s almost as if he’s relieved to see his brother again but upset enough to know that he wasn’t on his side.

“oh, you totally miss him.”

“... silence, peasant.”

and yet another unexpected scenario happened: sharing a laugh with the god of mischief who wants to rule over your world like a second hitler. “... but you can’t show that, can you?” you questioned and he nodded right away, politely letting you finish despite already expecting that you’d ask that. 

when the cold air and the rustling leaves collided, it was time for you to ask him the question that might just change the entire situation.

“is everything all from the heart?” you asked, pointing towards your chest as you stated him down. “... are you saying all of this from the heart?”

it took loki a while before he accepted it; he did speak about all of it from the heart. all of it. no lies were told for once and it was chilling for him. he didn’t even know that he was capable of opening the doors to the secrets he’s kept locked and buried in but that was the effect of the midgardian sitting next to him; the human who made him realize why thor loved jane.

the human he was willing to rule and to love. “... if i asked you now, would you kiss me?”

and for some reason unknown, your lips did brush against his, caressing them softly while you brought your hands to the back of his head, tangling your fingers around his waved locks. maybe you had been caught up by the moment but for him, this was real. this was the moment he understood why thor wanted to protect this world.

because humans spoke from the heart. 

but how could he take everything back when the damage had been done? when the chaos had taken over?

he pulled away and asked with teary, glistening eyes, “what have you done? why did you do it?”

one thing about him was that his need was also his one and only fear; it was love. 

you were startled once again, still keeping your hands behind his head. was it a trick? was it some test? you didn’t know anymore. you were bound to do whatever it took to save your friends and if a kiss that you’ve been longing for could do it, then what else could go wrong?

well, things may have not gone wrong for you but to loki, this was his one and only wake-up call.

wake up, loki.

you’ve fallen for the human.

[uyuartik]

I'm Starving, Darling (modern obi wan kenobi x reader)

tags: modern!obi wan, teeth rotting fluff, suggestive themes, mention of anakin and satine, this is basically my love letter to the perfection that is obi wan, yes i used a hozier title sue me, y'all are so lucky that this was before "too sweet"

summary: Obi Wan wakes you up from an unplanned nap.

a/n: back dated fic now on tumblr | link to ao3

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

enjoy!!!

word count: 1078

You wake up to the feeling of the bed dipping and you hear him, seeing him. “Time to wake up, love.”

Bed? When did you even go to bed? Have you fallen asleep? Why does everything look so bright and so orange?

His voice doesn’t help you to establish a sense of reality, prolonging your stay in the dreamland. It is so deep and rich, filled with sweetness, and so close to your ear. You can practically feel the words touching your skin.

Then again, the same sweetness pulls you back to the world, for how could you deny his wishes? Your eyes flutter at the warm rays that slither from the window, desperately fighting back to be closed. It must be sunset, your mind somehow gathers as the struggle continues. Hi, you want to say back, how long has it been.

It remains as a thought once you see his face, illuminated by the golden hour of the day.

Every word dies in the tip of your tongue as you get to see him properly, pupils adjusting to the light. How could you ask him anything, when he looked this angelic under the afternoon sky? A face straight out of paintings. The shadow of his beard only enhances the contours of his prominent cheekbones, and does nothing the hide his plush lips, the corners of it humorously twisted upwards. Even the unruly piece of hair that hangs right in front of his eyes takes nothing away from his perfect image, and above all, his brilliant blue eyes, gazing at you with all the adoration in the world. In older times, he would’ve been titled a prince, capturing every heart in the kingdom (and even beyond), and breaking it all, except one. Yet, here we were, hovering over you, dedicated to making his love known from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to sleep. This is what heaven must be like, and nothing else, you conclude. How did you get so lucky?

Oh, and lucky you were indeed, and devastatingly patient. Not like you had any other choice, you knew from the moment you met him that he would be the one, and only one. His charm had worked too well on you, and every kind gesture, every mischievous one-liner amplified your crush, which had turned into pure love in no time. Yet, you never had to courage to confess your feelings. When you found it though, the predicament had transformed into a timing problem. You didn’t feel okay with bringing up this subject when he was dealing with heavy issues; Satine’s death, Anakin’s betrayal… You couldn’t leave him alone, and you couldn’t stay too close in fear of somehow feeding your selfish compulsions. You still remember how your hands shook as you texted back your reply to his proposal for a date. That was the last time you cried out of happiness, because Obi Wan took great care not to make you cry, even when he filled your soul with joy.

You blush as his hand removes stray hairs from your face, oh god, you must be an absolute mess right now, with puffy cheeks and a bird’s nest on top of your head, and turn red as his hand travels to your chin, kindly pushing your mouth close with a quiet laugh.

Great. You were literally ogling him with your jaw hanging wide.

You bite the inside of your lip, fighting hard not to hide behind your palms. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

His eyebrows furrow, finding your need for an apology nonsense. “You seemed like you needed it.”

It is your time to challenge his words, scrunching your face. You weren’t even tired, just lazy enough to pass out.

“Besides, you look so cute when you’re sleeping.”

This one actually has your head shaking side to side, yet his words find a way into the depths of your chest, like a thousand butterflies fly in your insides, their wings tickling your soul.

You look out of the window for a second, trying to gather your wits. “What time is it?”

He lowers himself further, resting his weight on his elbow. As your eyes meet again, he dips enough to let your lips touch, stealing a small kiss. Your hand is too slow to bury itself in his hair, but you continue to do so, caressing his soft strands. He releases a content hum, and answers. “19.00.”

Fuck. You two usually have dinners earlier than this hour, and you feel guilty about this unnecessary nap, knowing how much he loves to enjoy the meal with you. And not only the meal, the preparation process, and setting the table… It is the time you talk about your days, catching up on each other's lives and occasionally, gossiping.  Yes, he loved his tea, and you loved the subtle color on his cheeks whenever he got too self-aware while doing it. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I waited for you.”

“Obi Wan…” You whine, remorse settling in even more. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but his stomach decides to take on the role, the grumble echoing in the silent room. You are horrified to hear that, yet his chuckle encompasses the atmosphere, his head thrown back, then landing in the crook of your neck, his battle to stay upright lost.

One hand tries to push him off of your body, the other landing against the sheets to pull yourself up to your feet. He defies all attempts as he keeps laughing. His arm envelops your waist, pressing your bodies closer. You can feel him vibrating, and his nose brushes up against your skin, calling the butterflies back when you hear him inhaling your scent.

“That’s why I am waking you up,” he wanted to say, before getting distracted by your sweet essence. “You smell so good.” He murmurs, the sound barely meaningful by the time it reaches your ears. You don’t know how to answer, and he continues to rub his face against your neck, the faint abrasion from his beard all but welcomed in your eyes. “And you are so warm.” He wraps his arm around you even tighter and places a kiss wherever he can reach, then another, then another, each one sultrier than the last.

“Come on, Obi Wan.” You usher, your voice shaky. “You are hungry.”

“Starving,” He corrects you. “Though, not for dinner.”

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] telling them corny jokes during a mission — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says, tf141 reacts to you telling them some corny dad jokes during a mission!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], bad jokes.

note ME AND MY 23 FOLLOWERS ARE STRAIGHT CHILLING RN. i love all of u. anyway gaz is in this one!! yippee!! i thought about ghost and his jokes in that one part of one of the cod games idk ive never played them i watch other people play it but you guys know what im talking about. i also just figured out that i should probably specify gender neutral reader for my fics?? so i'll start doing that! ANYWAY enjoy!! this is all fluff and has some classic tired parent & hyper toddler energy in the first part :}

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ insert exasperated sigh here.

➥ he will let you keep telling him jokes, however he will only respond to them with a simple, tired, “Uh huh. Good one. Very funny. Nice one.”

➥ tired dad energy.

➥ the first one you told was okay. he laughed at that one. the tenth one? please, god, just stop talking and put him out of his misery.

➥ he wonders how you know so many jokes, and then wonders if you got them all from ghost.

➥ if you did get them from ghost, trust that he will be telling the man himself all about how you constantly told him bad jokes over comms.

➥ if you just happen to know all of these, he won’t be surprised.

➥ he’ll put up with all of the jokes, for your sake, of course.

➥ the first time this happens, you’re both on a pretty insignificant mission compared to other ones you’ve done.

➥ you’re both talking over comms, just making sure you’re both okay.

➥ that’s when you started your attack.

—

“Captain?” You’d asked, listening as Price hummed in acknowledgment of you talking, “Wanna hear a joke?”

You could practically hear his hesitation, before he responded with a tentative, almost scared, “... Sure, [c/n].”

A delighted grin split across your face as you asked him, “How does dry skin affect you at work?”

He thought for a moment before asking, “How?”

“You don’t have any elbow grease to put into it.” You heard Price give a small chuckle, and decided to ask, “Wanna hear another one?”

Price’s second mistake of the evening, “Sure.”

“Where do boats go when they’re sick?” You asked, still keeping a lookout on your surroundings on your end while focusing on telling your Captain shitty jokes.

“Where?” Price asked.

“To the boat doc.” It took Price a moment, before he huffed out a small laugh and muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “Jesus, that’s terrible.”

Without warning, you tell him another one. He asks why, when, how, or what, whichever was appropriate for the joke you told, and slowly but surely his questioning tone became tired and exasperated. You don’t know why, but somehow his miserable tone made you even more motivated to tell him corny jokes.

“Do you just… memorize all of these?” Price asked in the middle of you telling a new joke, sounding almost astonished.

“Yes I do. Just for these missions, I do,” You answered confidently, smiling when Price sighed. You continued on with your joke, and even though Price didn’t respond verbally, you still told the punch line. You had repeated this for at least ten minutes, all of those minutes appallingly slow to Price, the poor man having to endure your bullshit for such a short yet such a long time. At the tenth minute, the only thing that stopped you from continuing was Gaz’s voice coming on over comms and interrupting you, telling everyone else on the mission that they could head back to the rendezvous point. Price, relieved at the interruption, gave a thankful sigh and you could hear him getting up from his spot before he muted himself.

You sighed as well, yours a direct opposite of Prices, full of disappointment, but you let it go. Besides, you’ll always have more opportunities to terrorize Price with your jokes on the ride back to base!

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he has the same reaction he had with ghost telling him corny jokes.

➥ he’ll call your jokes terrible, but will still laugh at them somehow.

➥ will 100% put up with your jokes, will laugh every time, even if his laughter slowly becomes more and more strained, he’ll laugh.

➥ tells you some jokes back, but after your 4th joke, he gives up and accepts his fate.

➥ he will suffer for your entertainment, guaranteed.

➥ he will be sure to remind you of how terrible your jokes are though!!

➥ he’s honestly impressed by how many jokes you’ve memorized.

➥ he’ll happily support you doing this to other people, no matter how much it damages his soul when you do it to him.

➥ the first time you do it to him, he starts getting deja vu from when ghost did it to him.

➥ “Oh, God, no’ ye too,” he’d groan playfully the moment you start telling him jokes, getting flashbacks.

➥ enjoys your jokes, even if he would do anything for you to shut up, he still enjoys them.

—

You and Soap were camping out in the same spot—atop a roof of a tall building that was just tall enough to give you a view of practically every other building in the area as well as the ground. It was cold up there, the air so cold that every time you’d exhaled, your breath turned to white condensation before fading into the clear sky.

It was fair to say that you and Soap were fairly bothered by the cold, so you really had no other option, you just had to start telling your jokes. How else could you warm the both of you up? Sure, it wouldn’t do anything physically, but mentally? It was sure to practically melt Soap’s brain.

“Soap?” Soap hummed and looked over at you, “Wanna hear a joke?”

Soap smiled, and decided to humor you, “Sure. Joke ‘way.”

“Why couldn’t the bike stand up by itself?” You asked, turning fully towards Soap. He didn’t bother to think before asking, “Why?”

“Because it was two-tired.” It took him a moment, but eventually he huffed out a small laugh and nodded.

“No’ bad,” He’d hummed, “Want me to say one?”

“Go ahead.”

“How did vikings communicate with one another?” Soap asked, turning fully towards you in turn.

“How?”

“By Norse code,” Soap had said with a grin on his face, clearly proud of the joke. You laughed quietly at it.

Without asking, you tell another joke. “Why did the bed wear a disguise?”

“Why?”

“It was undercover.”

Soap chuckled and turned back down to the ground, assuming you were done. But, oh boy, did he assume wrong. You told another one. He asked for the punchline. You delivered. You told another. He asked again. You delivered, again. Can you recall just how many jokes you told that fateful night? No. Does that make the memory any less funny to look back on? No.

Soap’s expression slowly turned to one of misery, his laughter becoming strained and slowly coming to a stop, the light in his eyes fading away as God himself seemed to appear behind you and reassure him that it would all be over soon. God, how he wished that were true.

Soon enough, you were both told over comms that you were able to safely make it back to the rendezvous point, and Soap couldn’t be happier.

He let you tell him more jokes during the walk over there, of course, and made sure to tell you how awful they were, but still endured them for your sake.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ it’s like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life.

➥ he’ll put up with your jokes and will tell you a joke back every single time.

➥ at some point you guys will probably use a joke on each other that the other one told you.

➥ he actively enjoys the joke-telling.

➥ he probably tells the first joke and that’s what triggers you to tell him your own.

➥ he’s annoyed soap, gaz, price, and a few others with his jokes, yet you’re the first one to go back and forth with him.

➥ every time you tell him one he’ll make a mental note of it and remember it for annoying people on future missions.

➥ probably thinks some of the jokes are genuinely funny but still knows that it annoys people.

➥ if you tell him a corny joke related to ghosts, he’ll probably laugh more.

➥ i am aware that that is pretty corny in itself but look at the title man what did you expect.

➥ he’ll probably tell some jokes about your [c/n] to you back.

➥ he’ll know when you’re reusing a joke and calls you out on it.

➥ “Does this require more creativity than you expected, [c/n]?”

➥ [in a perfect imitation of matpat’s voice] i find his jokes delightful! [in regular voice, now whispering as if scared i’m going to get caught by ghost saying this] i’m lying. he’s my fictional father figure so i am very much obligated to enjoy his jokes.

—

”[c/n], how copy?” You heard Ghost’s voice crackle through over comms, and pushed the PTT button on your small ear piece to respond.

“Copy, doing just fine,” You responded, “Little bored, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“Oh really?” Ghost breathed out, sounding amused. You could hear some gunfire on his end, and the wind his his earpiece making the annoying whoosh noise you hated. Just a few moments later, Ghost spoke up again, “Y’wanna hear a joke to ease your boredom?”

“Sure,” You’d hummed, looking around to make sure you were still safe to just stay where you were and chat for a moment.

“What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?” Ghost asked, his voice dry and sarcastic. You thought for a moment before shrugging—even though he couldn’t see you—and asking, “What?”

“A stick.” Ghost delivered. The stupid joke made you huff out a small laugh and mutter under your breath something about how good it was, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear Ghost’s self-satisfied smile.

“Another?” Ghost offered.

“How about I tell one?”

“Alright. Go ‘head.”

“How do ghosts stay in shape?” You asked, listening to Ghost’s amused huff on the other end of the line, like he knew where you were going with the joke but decided not to say the punch line for you.

“How?”

“They exorcize,” You responded, grinning, proud of yourself for thinking of that one.

“That’s not bad,” Ghost hummed, “Not bad at all.”

Ghost stayed quiet for another moment before asking, “Where do fish keep their money?”

“Where?”

“In a river bank,” Ghost said, his smile almost audible in his words.

“Nice one, L.t,” You breathed out, laughing quietly.

“We could do this all night,” Ghost mused, oddly happy at the sound of your quiet laughter, a little rustling audible on his end.

“Is that a challenge?” You asked in response to his musings, to which Ghost responds with a simple, affirmative hum. You think for a moment, before asking, “Why can’t a leopard hide?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s always spotted.”

Ghost hummed, mentally writing that one down before asking, “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

“Why?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Ghost delivered. With each joke you cringed more, and yet you kept responding with the same bullshit. The two of you went back and forth with the shitty jokes, eliciting responses from each other like, “That’s a good one,” or, “God, that’s awful.” It really had no in between, it was one or the other.

Eventually, and just in time because you were beginning to run out of jokes, Price’s voice crackled through over comms, letting you both know that everything was now under control and gave you both the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Before you get up from your spot, you can hear Ghost asking Price, “Wanna hear a joke?”, and Price’s quick response of, “I’m good”, the quick interaction making you laugh quietly.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” You muttered, voice full of amusement.

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Ghost huffed out, chuckling quietly when Price groaned and muted himself.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ he just gives up and accepts his fate.

➥ i’m actually in full belief that he’ll just let you tell jokes and won’t even respond.

➥ if y’all are in the same spot, he’ll just stare at you in astonished silence, wondering how you know all of this and also wondering if he’ll make it out of this alive.

➥ i think he’s lovely, i also think that he would just let you do whatever.

➥ it’s like an older brother participating in his younger sibling’s tea party with their stuffed animals and bright pink plastic tea cups and fake tea.

➥ he considers taking out his earpiece but then realizes that that’s a bad idea so he just suffers through it.

➥ surprisingly, it’s easy to focus on his tasks even with your voice in the background.

➥ he’s only heard of ghost’s shitty jokes, and thinks that this might be worse, somehow.

➥ i mean, it’s not like he can’t ignore it, but he feels kind of bad that he does.

➥ he hums every now and then to remind you that he’s listening but he’s too caught up in pretending to listen to actually listen.

➥ when the mission’s over and you eventually stop telling your jokes he realizes how quiet it is without your voice in the background laughing at your own jokes.

—

“Why do bees have sticky hair?” You asked, this being about your twentieth joke of that evening. Gaz hummed in response, tone questioning, and you delivered the punch line, “Because they use a honeycomb.”

Gaz didn’t pay much attention to any of your punchlines, really just letting you get all of this out of your system, figuring that if you didn’t do it now it’d happen to some poor soul later. He accepted his fate early on, the moment you told your third dad joke, he knew it wouldn’t end. Call it a sixth sense of his, knowing when you’d be persistent in your quest to annoy every member of the 141, but he just knew.

“Where do surfers learn to surf?” You asked, giggling quietly at your own joke, despite the punchline being stupid. Gaz didn’t even respond, yet you still delivered, “At boarding school.”

Gaz considers taking his earpiece out for a moment, then thinks again and decides it’s probably better not to, knowing Price’s voice could crackle through into the earpiece and let you both know to head to the rendezvous point. Sighing quietly, he continued to look around him, scanning the area as he walked around, making sure no enemies were left alive. Your voice still hummed in the background, the sound becoming more normal to him and less distracting.

“Why did the tourists feel disappointed after seeing the Liberty Bell?” No response from Gaz. “Because it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

“What do rabbits need after getting caught in the rain?” A small, questioning hum. “A hare dryer.”

You continued to tell your jokes, and in the middle of one, Gaz interrupted.

“Y’know,” He started, “If you didn’t already have a call sign, we’d be calling you Jester.”

“I’d love to go by Jester,” You laughed quietly, lightly, “I feel like it’d be more fitting.”

“Probably, yeah,” Gaz chuckled quietly, about to say something else before Price’s voice came through over comms and let you both know to head over to the rendezvous point. After you stop telling your jokes and mute yourself, Gaz can’t help but notice how quiet it becomes.

He got a bit too used to your voice, it seems. He muted himself and sighed, pulling up the coordinates to the rendezvous point and heading over there.

[sheepiemc]

your touch (a craving)

part 2: arm (first)

You were on Diavolo’s mind again. 

This seemed to be happening more often than not these days, especially after that infamous bus ride a few weeks before. The warmth of your thigh on his still made him crazy whenever he thought about it. The strength of his willpower was astounding; how he didn’t end up just pulling you onto his lap because of that touch was beyond mortal comprehension. Such were dangerous thoughts for the future King of the Devildom.

Something you had said that day kept bringing him back to that conversation. Somehow, you got on the topic of Devildom flora and he mentioned the Flowers of the Abyss in the school garden would soon be in bloom. You said you hadn’t gotten to explore the gardens much, as it wasn’t a part of the very brief tour you got from Mammon that very first day. 

“We’ll need to rectify that immediately,” he remembered himself saying, leaning ever so closer - just as you did to him earlier on the bus. 

You tilted your head as if you were surprised by the prince's sudden boldness. “I would really appreciate that, Diavolo. Thank you.” 

The way your eyes brightened with your genuine smile made his heart soar; he'd been riding that high ever since. And he definitely clocked you dropping the honorific in his name. He had never been so excited to be disrespected (something to unpack at a later time). 

And so, it was time to fulfill his promise. 

He had finally cleared up his schedule and worked some magic behind the scenes to make sure you had the same time off. He texted you as soon as he was done to ask if you were available for the tour (even though he already knew the answer). You texted back almost immediately that yes, you were free and you would like to cash that rain check now. 

Diavolo looked out the window. It wasn't raining. 

You texted back, “I'll meet you at the garden gate.” 

He tried to control his excited gait as he made his way to the garden from the student council office, but if anyone saw how fast he was hustling through the halls, they would know something was up. 

Approaching the garden gate, he stopped when he saw you - close enough to observe but far enough away for you not to notice him yet. You were looking away from him, leaning against the fence that surrounded the perimeter of the garden. 

He admired the way your hair looked in the eternal Devildom starlight, though it made him wonder what it looked like in your natural environment. What did it look like in the sun? Did it feel as soft as it looked? 

You looked down at your phone and he could see your face in profile. He leaned against the fence now too, gently enough so as to not alert you to his presence. He wanted to memorize that profile, to become so familiar with it that he would be able to recognize you by its shadow. You smiled so fondly at whatever you found on your phone, and it made Diavolo's chest tighten. It was a stunning sight, to be sure - but he felt a sting of envy that he wasn't the reason for that smile.

“MC!” He waved and you looked at him, only a little bit startled.

“Hello, Lord Diavolo.” You put your phone away and turned to him, smiling wider.

He stopped short at the formality, leaving a respectable distance between you. Of course you would use his title here, in the hallowed halls of his very own institution, but that didn't make the blow land any softer. 

He schooled his features into his “jovial prince indulging another of his whims” mask and asked, “Are you ready for your first official tour of our gardens? I can't believe it took this long for you to get to see them. We'll have to fix that for the next group of exchange students we bring in.” 

“Yes, well,” your smile faltered infinitesimally, so minutely, anyone else might not have seen a difference. But Diavolo did. Demon that he was, he felt slightly vindicated but it didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it only reminded him that your stay here was temporary. “I'm glad you're the one that gets to show me, My Lord .” 

He was startled by the emphasis on his title. Could you really see right through him? He almost shuddered at the thought before fully turning away from you to open the gate, allowing you to walk inside. “It's a huge garden and we have much to see so let's get on then, shall we?” 

You walked past him, your smile ever so slightly morphing into a smirk. Diavolo released a breath he didn't realize he was holding and closed the gate behind him. 

You wound the serpentine trails of the garden at a decidedly uncomfortable distance. Diavolo kept you at more than arm's length, a distance he maintained every time you stepped a little bit closer. He named every interesting plant you pointed out because what else is a prince to do for millennia if not memorize every plant name in his domain? 

When you arrived at the section affectionately called “the flower fields”, you couldn't hold in your enthusiasm for all the strange, beautiful, and entirely unfamiliar flowers that populated this part of the garden. Your glittering expression softened Diavolo’s heart, reminding him why he chose to bring you here in the first place. 

“Those would be the Flowers of the Abyss.” He gestured to some flowers with dark purple petals with a black gradient and blood-red stamens, a combination you had certainly never seen on any flower on earth. 

“Can I touch them?” you asked. 

“Smart of you to ask,” he smiled. “If you wish.” 

He watched you, standing on the other side of the trail, as you tentatively reached out for the plant, rubbing its petal between your fingers. Your lips parted in a near-silent gasp. Diavolo gasped too, albeit involuntarily, his attention oscillating between your fingers and your face. 

“It's so soft,” you whispered reverently as you gently cupped the flower in both hands. You leaned in, bringing your face closer to the bloom. Diavolo swallowed hard. Was he really getting jealous of a flower? In trying to feel the petals against your cheek, you managed to get some pollen on the corner of your mouth. “And they smell delightful,” you sighed, standing up straight, and releasing the flower from your grasp. 

“MC, you have-” he couldn't finish the sentence, so he only vaguely gestured to his mouth, wishing he could get it off you himself. 

“Oh,” you wiped it off with your thumb and looked at it quickly before sticking your thumb in your mouth. “Mmm, sweet, too.” 

At that, Diavolo had to look away or else he might end up doing something he would certainly regret. That's when he noticed all the Hell Jasmine growing on his side of the trail. Stepping away from them, Diavolo cleared his throat, saying, “Yes, well, there is still more garden to get to so let's-” 

“Of course,” you interrupted, “I know you're very busy, you must have something more important to attend to today.” 

Anyone else listening to you might have taken that statement at face value, as someone being considerate of a prince’s schedule. But if you could read him, then he could read you just as well. 

He heard the subtle hurt. 

And it crushed him. 

“That's not-” he started. 

That's when time slowed down. As Diavolo approached you to try to assure you that you had his full attention, you stepped toward him as well. What you didn't see was the creeping vine that caught your foot as you stepped away. 

You were falling. 

You reached out for something - anything - to steady yourself, to catch yourself before you hit the ground. That something just happened to be Diavolo. His arm to be exact. The desperate grip short-circuited his brain and all he could think was please, don't let go. Long dormant synapses were firing in his brain and his eyes were only focused on where you two were touching. When you looked up at him, you realized just how close your faces were. You could've been standing there for an eternity, or only a few seconds - the Prince was absolutely transfixed.

You could've been standing there for an eternity, or only a few seconds. “You saved me, Diavolo. Thank you. I almost got your uniform dirty,” you joked in an attempt to snap him back to reality. 

He looked at you. 

You looked back at him. 

“Yes, well,” he said, his voice a little strained, “we couldn't have that now, could we?”

You nodded and straightened out, releasing his arm at the same time. He mirrored your posture and placed his hands behind his back, out of sight, so you could not see the vice grip he had on the arm you were just holding. “Shall we continue the tour? We haven't even seen the restricted part of the garden yet.” 

You smiled at him again, “I would love nothing more.” 

And you walked side by side with only a few inches between you.

(next)

A/N: Hell Jasmine is a pale blue, glowing flower with a sweet aroma. Breathing in its fumes makes demons extremely needy and affection-craving. (Obey Me Wiki)

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Let's Talk Peter B

@iwasbored777 (Since you ask to be tagged)

Okay! I was on the fence about writing this post, but after doing this response and some encouragement, I decided that fuck it, let’s do this.

While I had seen multiple things about Gwen being a bad friend, a bad person, and other things I don’t want to say because I will start ranting- Peter B for the most part, has come out scotch free.

Don’t get me wrong, I had seen some people address his issues, but it has been a few posts in a sea of him with Mayday and people shipping with Miguel. Which hey, is okay with me, but when you see you a character you love be given the short end of the stick despite the circumstances yet another character that has much less to lose has their mistakes largely been ignored and basically be woobify.

Is not just Gwen, I had also seen people take beef with Jess as a mentor yet somehow leave Peter out of that conversation. Don’t get me wrong Jess is far from perfect (which is something I discussed before,) but again, Peter is far from perfect too.

Does this has to do with Peter being a beloved main character in the first movie? Yes. Does it also has to do with misogynoir and misogyny? Oh I don’t doubt it.

I don’t hate Peter B, far from it, I think he is a great adaptation of our spidey, and while I am not the biggest spiderman fan out there, I did grew up with Peter Parker in movies and cartoons so I do have love for this characters as well as his incarnation in Sony movies.

I will do my best to remain as unbiased and neutral as possible, but not gonna lie this entire thing is annoying me enough that I will say when I am aware of my own biases, as I always try to do.

But if you think liking a character stops me from calling them on their bullshit you are wrong.

I know this post is more about how Peter is with Miles and his role as a mentor, but I decided to address some other things I had seen people talk about because there is a reason I choose "Let's talk Peter B Parker" as a title.

Believe it or not, I am fine with this. Seriously.

Peter wasn’t here when Miles arrived, and considering they did a small tour and got an empanada on the way, I think wouldn’t be odd to say he wasn’t around when Miles arrived. My theory is that he was taking care of his own stuff, and once he knew that Miles was around, went to get Mayday to present her to Miles.

I think that’s pretty normal all things consider, he loves Miles and wouldn’t had fixed things with MJ and had his daughter without her, of course he would want the two of to met.

The enthusiasm is all things consider pretty sweet, and while I don’t approve of some things he does (like giving her a web shooter while being just a few months old?) Is one of those things that are part of superhero writing that has the children technically doing things that they shouldn’t be doing for their age, so I just let it slide because if I get hung up every time I see something like this, it would not end.

I’m the only one who is actually mad about this comment?

Yes, is a joke, I get that, and Peter is trying to take as much as steam off Miles by trying to frame him on the light that he messes up, but is just who he is.

It doesn’t make me any less annoyed.

For starters, I feel like I am rereading Percy Jackson again (No I will not explain that reference.) Because despite everyone more or less knowing what’s going on (Hobie said before he didn’t know what Miguel was hiding so how much he knows is unsure,) no one has attempted to explain the situation to Miles.

This is a trope I had seen enough (including WAY too many times in the books I mentioned,) and I really resent when characters act as if the protagonist or someone else is stupid just because they are unaware of something. ESPECIALLY if the characters saying so are aware they don’t know.

They are also letting him believe is a good thing he is in HQ, but that is actually not Peter’s fault. I am mad with Gwen on this one, but also Jessica, and Hobie well, he should have known enough to be able to tell him seeing Miguel is not good news. At least Hobie tries to warn him as subtly as possible.

Sure, Peter just got here, but the fact that he is already accusing Miles of just messing up with the universe carelessly is not something that doesn’t sit well with me. Either he knows that Miles doesn’t know and is making an insulting comment, or thinks Miles is aware of the situation and just acted recklessly. The second one is the best scenario, but I feel Peter is presuming way too much for someone that just came around and should have known better than believe Miles knew all of these details while Miguel basically has a giant banner of “Not Earth-1610 Anomalies allowed.”

Also, sidetrack but what exactly does Miles do that isn’t just your typical spidey behaviour? Yes he doesn’t always have full-formed plans before acting but you can say that about EVERYONE in the room at that moment.

“He wasn’t thinking, is not like he works!” My ass.

Want my two cents about this moment? Peter has zero business telling this to Miles.

When Miles asks Gwen about her dad, she is crestfallen, she doesn’t like to believe this more than he does; but unlike anyone else in this room, Gwen cannot return to her home dimension. The best case scenario is if she isn’t there, her dad may not die; but that’s the best case scenario, and that involves again, not stepping again in her home dimension ever again. Her best bet is never to see her home, or anyone she knows including her dad, because not only she may end up in prison, her presence may lead to the death of her dad.

And who knows, it may happen regardless; he may be dead already because he is a police officer and she couldn’t be there to give a hand or save him (As she said she did in Into the Spider-verse, by the way.)

Yet at least, she is coming to this with the idea that her life is going to have to SUCK for a few years, things happening or not happening depending on where she is but none of this is pretty or fair.

Peter? As far as we know, he is done.

Considering the age range of the Spidey-characters, chances are Peter already lived the canon events he needed to live, at best they don’t know what’s next, which means he can operate as he feels is the best course of action.

Miles asked him if he would have let his uncle die, but Peter lost his uncle over twenty years ago, he had enough time to grieve, to accept the outcome, and find happiness after it. And to top it all off, HE DIDN’T HAVE THAT MORAL DILEMMA PLACED IN FRONT OF HIM BEFORE IT HAPPENED.

I find Peter’s words hollow because unlike Miles, he was never asked to not intervene in a canon event, he hasn’t needed to deal with someone from his universe dying while he let it play out.

I am not saying he didn't suffer, he did, and a lot; yet he was unaware that this would happen, is way different having someone tell you “Oh those tragedies you lived? It’s the destiny that keeps everything together, it’s rough but it is what it is,” than someone telling you “Oh you are going to live a bunch of different personal tragedies, and you need to suffer with the burden of this knowledge because is this or everyone in every universe dies.”

(How much do you guys bet someone will use this as an example of the trolley problem in a philosophy class.)

Since we are going in kind of a chronological order, let’s go to something a tad lighter both because it deserves mention, and so I can cool down before I start ranting in Spanish (which is not going to be saying pretty things about B precisely.)

Yes, Peter recognizes this is bad parenting, which is good because it certainly isn’t good; I also have trouble believing he didn’t know AT LEAST ONE spider that could stay behind and watch Mayday while he went to the chase.

However, I do think the chase was never going to be dangerous, nor Peter thought it would be. He has been Spider-man for a quarter of a century, he has been swinging around for so long is second nature to him, I bet he has taken Mayday on “strolls” which is him swinging around.

There is also another screenshot that really encapsulates that Peter didn’t realize how dire the situation is, but that’s for later.

There is also the possibility that he asked Miguel to do this as a way to distract him, but considering this is the only time he does this and is going around him being obsessed with Mayday (Which I think is a bit too much, but I blame more the writers than Peter for that.) I am inclined to believe this is not the case.

(Sigh) I promise to try to be neutral, so I need to bring this up.

What they were talking about earlier can be lumped to a bit later on, and I decided to bring this instead of talking about it when Miles and Peter saw each other (which is I didn’t bring because what I could say would be the same as this.) Because this is something really beautiful that I didn’t want to leave out.

I think that’s what angers me the most about this, because in a vacuum? I love this.

I am a sucker for found family tropes, I love the idea that Miles would grow to see people like Peter B, Noir, and so forth as a family. I love how Peter says how much Miles means to him and meeting him changed his life for the better.

Peter B loves Miles, he said that in the last movie; I can’t just erase that.

However, is exactly because of this scene, that what happens next makes me so sad.

Oh, Miles.

I didn’t mention it in the previous image nor did I took detailed screenshots for the sake of my sanity and to not turn this way too long. (Though I may do it in another moment- Ok I need to focus.)

Miles was obviously affected by what Peter said to him, it obviously means a lot because Miles also loves Peter; of all the spiders in the gang he was the one who he spent the most time initially; he wouldn’t be the Spider-man he is today without him.

And it breaks my heart how Miles says this.

Look at the angle, at his posture; Miles can’t even turn to say this to Peter’s face because it hurts so much. He looks so small in that shot, trying to emphasize how he is just a teen, how he really loves them so much, and it breaks his heart to know that they could visit him, and they didn’t.

Let’s remember what he was doing at the beginning of the movie; he was trying to study physics. He is great at it, and he was since the first movie, however, this is clearly not his passion; he loves his art and even if he didn’t know what he wanted to do yet in the first movie, you can see how much he loves what he does.

And he was willing to leave all of that aside, just to see Gwen, Peter and the others again; because as far as he knew there wasn’t any other way. Remember, he was aiming at Princeton; he would need to bleed and work hard to get there, and even after, being in this field it was not going to be a walk in the park; getting to make the dimensional travel work (At least without seeing Miguel’s technology like Hobie seemed to do;) was also going to be hard.

Miles wanted to do all of that for them, and them? They didn’t.

Now; I don’t blame Gwen in this scenario.

I had said this much in this post before, and a bunch of others too. Gwen was stuck with the Spider Society; and yet she risked losing everything, from homelessness to prison, to spend an afternoon with Miles the second she had an excuse.

What is Peter’s excuse?

He couldn't, he couldn't.

That's what he had to say for himself.

Here is the thing: I am not sure I buy it.

Gwen makes sense to me, Miguel didn't want Gwen to be involved since the beginning and obviously doesn't trust her when is about Miles; Gwen wasn't exactly wrong to fear she would get kicked out if she acted out of line.

Peter? I have my doubts.

We don't know Miguel's and Peter B's relationship (I know some shippers have some ideas, not my cup of tea but I have no problem if people like it.) However, we know that Peter B was there when Miguel's dimension collapsed, later in the movie we saw what Miguel did to Gwen for what happened (believe me, we will get there.)

Even if that was the case; Peter’s situation is much less dire than Gwen’s. Even if Peter could be kicked out of the organization for disobeying Miguel; he would still have his wife, his house, his daughter. He would had been in the same spot he was at the end of the first movie, if not better because now he would had a chance to know both him and Miles would be okay.

I am getting ahead of the post here, but I honestly don’t know how much of Canon BS Peter believes; he clearly doesn’t think Miles is bad for being an anomaly, nor his daughter (technically because Peter wasn’t supposed to meet Miles, he wouldn’t have his daughter. Is certainly a NO in the comics.) Miguel is convinced that Miles’ presence is enough to create more holes in the multiverse; Gwen obviously doesn’t share that view. Peter? I don’t know if he thinks there is actually something to lose for visiting him.

One way or another, he doesn’t really give me a reason here; who knows, maybe when Beyond comes there would be enough information for me to admit Peter did the right thing. For now? No.

Here, we have Miles telling Peter he wanted to meet them so badly, and even if Peter doesn't have a clue of how literal Miles is; you can hear it in his voice, in his posture, how he still cannot look at Peter because to that point it hurts.

And what's Peter's response to this?

(Deep breath,) Boy at moments like this I really wish I didn't think so hard about media.

It hurts me, and it angers me, because it is a pretty sweet moment, but when you think hard about it, it just becomes messy.

I could make an entire discussion about how Peter literally ignored Miles’ feelings about not being there, about how he and others (Gwen not really, the others eehhh hard to say;) didn’t try too reach him, which obviously makes him feel like they don’t care about him as he does. And Peter decide to ignored it.

But! I will try to give him the benefit that this is a tense situation, there is hundreds of spiders looking for them, and there only have so much time. I am going to believe, Peter couldn’t address that at the moment because they had other issues.

Yet even if we omit that point, do you guys realize this is literally no different that his entire spiel about Uncle Ben, right?

Because that’s what he is trying to say, “Spider-man has to suffer, but hey sometimes good things can happen anyways.” This entire conversation is about trying to make Miles follow him, do whatever Miguel is trying to do to avoid having Miles go to his dimension (or at least stop him from saving his dad,) and basically let her dad die.

Look, there is nuance to this situation; Peter isn’t saying this to manipulate Miles, he believes this. He truly believes bad things had to happen to keep the universe from falling apart; I am convinced Miguel’s second universe didn’t fall for his Canon theory, yet Peter B was there, I can’t blame the guy for drinking the kool-aid a bit more than the others.

This doesn’t change the fact that this scene has Peter ignoring Miles’ pain, and try to tell him he needs to suffer some more because “is just how the universe works!”

(Sidenote but anyone can’t help to see this and think of a random Christian telling someone after they lived a personal tragedy “Is just G-d’s plan”? Because I saw that a lot.)

Now, I guess the next question someone may be wondering is, do I believe Peter was being honest with Miles here?

...I don’t know, I really, don’t know.

I had seen this scene multiple times, and I lost count how many times when I was in the theatre, seeing this scene, and thinking “he knew” just for the next moment thinking “he didn’t know.”

If you want my two cents, the part that keeps tripping me over is how he looks at his watch, then Miles, then the watch, it makes me wonder if he is screaming that he doesn’t have his location to Miguel, or to Miles.

I don’t want to believe Peter purposefully drive Miles away so he could get trapped, when he says to Miles “I didn’t know, I promise;” I want to believe him.

The thing is, the outcome he hoped wasn’t that much different, now was it?

He wanted it to be Miles decision, yet again, he was trying to get Miles to not just abandon his morals (as well as the ones every Spider-person should have,) but also try to tell him he needs to suffer for the good of the world.

(I am having SO many flashbacks to things I read about cults, I need to continue working on that post about the Spider Society ffs.)

This is a small detail, but I gotta say; Peter do you really have nothing on your defense?

Look, feel free to believe I am playing favourites, but unlike many people who had a problem with Gwen, I don't blame her for hiding this.

No, I don't think what she did was right. Let’s not get things twisted. I definitely think Gwen shouldn’t had hide this stuff, yet she in general NEVER, had a good idea of how much to say and how much to keep with anyone she talks to; from her dad to Jess to Miles. Once again this is an aspect I can’t get mad at her because she is sixteen and traumatized with a minimal support network and irresponsible guardians.

Now Peter, what’s YOUR excuse?

Not just for not telling something to Miles earlier, I could believe he would have done it if the situation has calmed down. No, Miles asked them about it, and even a bit later says “That’s why you guys never came to see me;” (Which I think is kind of BS but let’s not get ahead of myself on this one.) The thing is that when he has the teen he mentored being manhandled by his ‘friend,’ and said thing asks them to answer him; Peter just ducks.

Like he cannot even see Miles and admit he shouldn’t have done that.

Gwen’s excuse isn’t much better but at least she is answering and you can see in her face how much she knows she fucked up.

I am going to be honest, this little detail wouldn’t bother me as much if what has happened before and what’s yet to happened didn’t exist, yet it does.

There is a difference in “Well you did a little mistake but I can let slide” vs “There are so many things wrong here that I will call you out even for the tiny ones.” Granted Peter isn’t that bad, but is a nuance I think a lot of people don’t think of.

Could Peter haven't said anything because the scene is trying to focus on Miles and Gwen for this part? Yes; it doesn't stop me from getting annoying.

Okay, Miles says this, do I believe it? Ehh not sure.

Gwen definitely not the case, if she truly thought him being an anomaly was a problem, she wouldn't have gone to see him directly.

Peter? Again, I have no idea how much of the kool-aid he has been drinking, the fact that he speaks highly of him and his daughter as good things that has happened makes me inclined to believe he doesn't.

We don't have an answer either way, right?

Not that Peter does much to help him feel better here. Yes yes trying to keep focus on certain characters I know.

(Looks at the camera like is the office.) And now THIS is the time where I wish I wasn’t aware of how writing works.

Okay, I know what the purpose of Peter is, aside of being here as a mentor, he is here kind of as a comic relief. He doesn’t have the same narrative weight as he had in the last movie, and he is here to be cute with his baby for the most part. That’s his purpose at this moment.

It-doesn’t-change-anything.

He has this recurring joke on the third act about if he is or not a good mentor, and it kind of has to do with the last movie, specially this joke, since at the end he was also talking how he taught him something he definitely didn’t do. Last movie I found it cute, here? Not so much.

I am trying not to be hard here and why I would not address the “son of a mother” moment (which I honestly really hate,) because this is not even Peter B’s fault at this point; the writers were trying very hard to have a way to make the situation a tad lighter while also having an important character be in character. I can’t say is truly out of character, but I’m not appreciating it.

Especially having him insist on being a good mentor after letting down his protege MULTIPLE TIMES.

Don't you guys love when you see a grown-ass adult go apeshit on a teen, and his friends aren't doing anything to stop him?

Sorry, yeah I understand that for narrative purposes, they have to be stuck to the ground, but after someone pointed this out a few weeks ago, I can't stop thinking of this shot so I needed to bring it out.

(BIG sidenote but, Margo is the biggest MVP here; girl met Miles once and probably has little to no context, yet she is helping him out. Queen behavior.)

Now let's talk about some bullshit.

I know this is technically not about Peter, considering this is Miguel talking to Gwen, yet I find LAUGHABLE this response.

I will give this to the spider//dad shippers, I would also be inclined to believe Miguel has a thing for Peter B if between the guy who had the "fugitive" in close quarters for a few minutes yet did not attempt to trap him, vs the teen girl who tries to help out her mentor to catch the dude (even if she didn't try too hard,) you decide the teen girl is the problem.

Is funny because really all this scene needs is Miguel saying "If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have come here, he wouldn't had know and the Spot wouldn't have escaped," at least that much couldn't have been said for Peter B.

I think the writers were trying to make Miguel just look less and less reasonable the more we saw on screen; which is why he would go with route.

It doesn't change the fact that Mighel accusing Gwen of not capturing him is laughable.

YOU 👏 ARE 👏 A 👏 TERRIBLE 👏 MENTOR.

(This moment could be addressed individually, but they are basically the same thing and this post is DEFINITELY too long; seriously I had written fics shorter than this wtf.)

Here is my problem with this: He just decides that oh well, what can he do.

SERIOUSLY?!

Forget the "Oh but he doesn't do this the story-" for a moment; are you seriously telling me that not only this guy knows Miles is in a PRETTY fucked up situation, but also that Gwen is in her home universe where she will be homeless (because there is no way in hell Peter B doesn't know what happened to her,) and you decide to just, go brooding in your dimension?

You know is absolutely amazing how I had heard people grill Miguel and Jess for their behavior with Gwen (which I agree with for the most part,) yet I haven't seen anyone say "Isn't it a bit fucked up that Peter B should have known what would happen to Gwen if she went home and didn't decide to help her?"

Miguel is on Earth 1610 and hellbent on finding Miles, you cannot tell me if Peter B left his daughter with his wife, and then went to fetch Gwen, Miguel would have noticed. At the very least Peter could had try to check on her.

Peter B has known Gwen for longer than Jess and Miguel, even if he couldn't be a proper guardian for her because he was busy with his life, he could have been more present. He definitely could have attempted to defend her better when Miguel was screaming at her, or to look after her when she was kicked to her universe.

Jess is determined to act as if Gwen is more of an employee than a teen, but Peter B should be known better.

But is not his idea to help Miles, is Gwen's; because right now he is too focused on his life and his duty as spiderman to think of the younger generations that are hurting. Just like Miguel and Jess.

Yet not the narrative, nor the fandom, truly recognizes that.

Let’s wrap this up, you guys have no idea the amount of hours I had spend on this and I would be surprised if someone got this far.

As a small detail, Peter is seen with Mayday, and this time I DO have a problem with it.

I honestly hope Peter isn’t with Mayday in Beyond, I will pretend Peter doesn’t have Mayday during the events on Beyond in my fics for as long as I can; because this is the moment where I feel the joke is being pushed too far.

They don’t know what would happen next, they don’t know in what type of situation they are in, they know whatever universe ended was one with no spiderman so it has to be dangerous; yet he brings the baby because that’s his recurring theme for this movie.

And truly, that’s really the problem with his character here: He was given a small role to do with very limited things to do.

I am not saying this is bad writing; I may not like Peter’s decisions in this movie, and I am really hoping beyond gives a big ass cup of “Adults need to start protecting the younger generations instead of insist they need to toughen up” to all of them. Because more than his role, I am annoyed that neither the movie nor the fandom is addressing the failings of Peter B.

He is not a bad character, I don’t even think he is a bad character in this movie. I like him, and even if writing all of this down made realize I am more bitter about it than I would had liked; I just don’t think is fair.

I want Peter to be better, as a mentor, as a father; and I am really hoping the next movie shows him grow that way too. I do believe the writers can pull it off.

Now, the fandom addressing that?...That I have MUCH less confidence. But not gonna lie this post was made mostly to get this out of my chest rather than expect a reaction out of it.

If anyone made this far, first of, wow; I know some people were interesting in reading this, but even I think I went for a while I put a lot of things that are small details but you guys now me, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t do that.

Be thankful I don’t talk about micro-expressions in frames or this would truly would had ended up as a novelette.

Second, thank you for reading! Give a like and your opinion if you want; because I am pretty sure this post is doing to have fewer notes.

[queenie-official]

Chapter Eight: ‘Coronation Day’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

a/n: i know i technically didn’t have to put out two chapters today but i feel like i had to spoil you guys since i didn’t get to post yesterday🤭

a failed honeymoon, that’s what happened. well you personally hadn’t considered it so, in fact you thought it rather successful after all you and Anakin where finally becoming a proper team. two people who cared for each other not just because of titles, but out of genuine like for one another. though as Eleanora had pointed out once she’d arrived back to the castle when your honeymoon ended and you’d told her all about what happened, she’d said you had failed to do one very specific and important thing. you did not consummate the marriage. of course you knew that no one else would be able to know that but eventually the pressure would be placed on you when the lack of an heir is apparent.

in your defense a lot had happened over the last seven days and proceeding to the next level was the farthest thing on your mind. for now however you decided to push the worry back as there where far more important things to concern yourself with then a failed honeymoon. for starters Anakin was still sick, currently laying down in his quarters probably out cold from the fever that refused to leave him and then there was of course the coronation which is supposed to take place in a few days. if Anakin didn’t get any better however the coronation day would have to be pushed back- you had no problem with that of course but the people might. as of now they have been without a ruler for over a year now.

when your father past away early last year becoming the next leader of Alderaan was the last thing on your mind, now it was all you could think about. not from lack of trying, but when you have thousands of people looking at you and all of parliament reminding you the longer the kingdom does not have a new queen the weaker it becomes it’s hard to avoid. you could only hope Anakin recovered fast. you hadn’t gotten the chance to visit him today but had instructed one of the guards to keep you tabbed with any updates on him so you could rest assured if anything did happened you would know. as of right now however you where attempting to look over a new bill the royal council and most of parliament wanted to approve of.

it was complete nonsense and made you sick to your stomach, parliament was divided and you had final say at the end of the day. and after coronation day you would have to deliberate to the council on why you would not be letting it pass. They wanted to take away education from those they felt undeserving- to undo the very law your father had passed a few years ago. you’d started pacing again, twirling the ring on your finger not nearly helpful enough of a distraction for something this big.

why was this a divided decision to begin with the answer was clear everyone who wanted an education deserved one regardless of there status and yet somehow there was now a bill trying to undo that. it made no sense, you remember being told it was a unanimous decision when the law passed unless that was a lie- which was entirely possible but your father never lied to you. another thought came that made your stomach twist just that much more, could he of been the one lied to? all agreeing with him in public but under the table the truth is hidden.

“are you alright?” you pause abruptly snapping towards the doors of the study, a breath of relief falls out of you and you find yourself running to hug the girl who stood there. “Padme, i missed you so much” she chuckles quickly hugging you back. “what is your husband that bad of company?” you can’t help but giggle as you pull away from her, matching smiles on each of your faces. “not at all, but i prefer your company” you say with a smile before walking over to sit down at your desk. “how is he? i’ve read all your letters” she says as she closes the door to the study, quietly sitting across from you as you shift some papers around to clear a space.

“you never corresponded” you point out with a small frown. “if people heard i was sending letters to the castle during the queens honeymoon it would of been a scandal” she sighs and you know she’s correct but you’d really missed your friend.“he’s alright, i’m hoping he recovers quickly.” you answer her previous question and she smiles softly “your worried for him.” you can’t help but blush slightly at her call out, turning your head to the side to try and hide your face “i can’t help it, it’s strange but it’s like he’s become a part of me.” she giggles at your reply “i don’t think it strange, he is your husband” you roll your eyes playfully, leaning back in your seat as you look at her “my husband whom i’ve only just met two weeks ago”

“the right person can come in your life and it’ll be as if they’ve always been there y/n, besides from the way you wrote about him i’d say you two have gotten pretty close” her response makes you feel a bit giddy and a welcomed silence proceeds.

“so is your pacing due from your worry for him or?” she speaks up, bringing back her earlier concerns to the surface. “no that is from a completely different thing” your honesty worries her more and you watch as her face contorts. “want to elaborate?” she asks not wanting to jump to conclusions.

“just read for yourself” you sigh, reaching over to the pile of papers you’d been going through earlier and handing them to her. she’s quick to skim through them, always was a fast reader. you could see the anger and disgust grow on her face when she realized what exactly the contents of the papers consisted off. “they want to remove the free education law! that’s ridiculous, you can’t approve this” she places the papers down, looking up to you in pure distress. “i don’t want to but this bill was drafted last week and im scared they’ll push for it to be passed- and if i have to push back coronation day..” her face falls more “you wouldn’t have the proper authority to fight it.”

“precisely, it’s horrible they want to undo my fathers work. i worry this bill is one of many” you rub the side of your face trying to calm yourself. “well when the other bills are drafted it’ll be to late, you’ll be queen and can stop them” she reassures you. “but what of the ones they draft now. there’s talk padme” you’d heard they’d already had quite a few in the works right now, you weren’t sure which other laws they wanted undone but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more of the ones your father had passed.

“you’ll have to convince them” she’s right of course but that was easier said then done. “how do i convince half of parliament and the entirety of the royal council they are in the wrong” you sigh. “a speech?” she suggests, your brows knit together “a speech” you repeat not really feeling like that would be much help.

“or a well drafted essay explain how their all idiots, both might have to do actually. one way or another you’ll eventually have to deliberate and provide a speech regardless. might as well do it now with just the council. get them on your side and then convincing parliament won’t even be in the question” once again true but way easier said then done. “it’s not like you have many other options” she said once she noticed your hesitation.

a speech it was.

to your relief Anakin had finally recovered. it took until day of but he was finally good enough to stand in front of thousands without looking like he’d pass out at any moment. he was still a bit sick but it was coverable, and once you where sure he could handle the pressures of the day- a lot of reassurance on his part that he wasn’t lying this time and truly was fine- you where able to worry about the day itself rather then him.

for once you’d made it past getting dressed without dragging it out too long, now it was just going through with the ceremony.

you fiddle with the gloves on your fingers, unable to twist your ring from underneath so this was the next best solution. that or to begin pacing which really wasn’t an option since you where stood beside Anakin and didn’t want him to think you where a crazy person. how he was calm you would never know, though in all fairness you shouldn’t be shocked. he had an odd talent for acting as if everything was okay even when it wasn’t.

you let your arms fall to your sides tightening your hands into fists as your mind continued to race with everything you had to do during this as well as everything you’d have to do once you where done, when all the real responsibilities kicked in. you felt his hand on yours, pulling you back to reality and grounding you. you look over at him his calmness comforting you, carefully he pulled your hand up to his face and kissed it gently. you felt yourself fully relax, lacing your fingers with his before leaning into his side a bit. he didn’t say anything he didn’t need too, besides if he did the walls where paper thin here and you where pretty sure everybody who’s gathered there today would hear your conversation.

you both heard trumpets begin to play and new it was time, standing tall and releasing your hands from one another you where to walk in one at a time. and as the doors opened you held your head up just a tad higher, a soft smile gracing your features as you face your people and begin to walk down to the center of the room where two thrones were. the sound of your heart racing was drowned out by the cheers of your subjects, you weren’t sure if that was for the better or worse- you never quite liked loud spaces. once you made it to the thrones you turn to face your people.

the archbishop beginning the ceremony by introducing you before you stood in front of your throne. then the trumpets played again and the doors to the hall opened once more, it was anakin’s turn.

as soon as he was announced by the archbishop the actual crowning begin. reciting an oath to the people and then watching Anakin do the same- it was a repetitive process of back and forth. always starting with you and ending with him. holy oil splashed over you and then splashed over him. a scepter placed into your hands and then one placed into his. it was more boring then stressful and you where pretty much dissociating through it.

it wasn’t until the heavy crown was placed on your head that you where reminded of where you were and who was watching. and once the crown was placed on Anakin’s head you both moved from in front of the thrones to each other, facing the people as a couple holding your hands as the service was closed.

Finally you were the Queen, finally you could rule for your people without being told you had no authority. the weight of the crown on your heads serving as a very real manifestation of the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders. the hand that squeezed your own reminding you that you where not in this alone.

now the real work begins.

part 9

Tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06

alright lovies here’s chapter 8 🤭 strap your seatbelts in for chapter 9 tomorrow because oh boy 😀 anyways i hope you enjoyed this 🥰🥰 let me know your thoughts or predictions i’m curious as to what you guys might think is going to happen👀👀 have a good day huns Xx<3

[thecoffeelorian]

(De)Stressing: Howzer x Reader

Title: (De)Stressing Fandom: Star Wars--The Bad Batch Word Count: Under 1K Alignment: Captain Howzer x Reader Rating: SFW/No Funny Business Brief Description: After one of the worst work days ever, a certain Captain decides to give you what nobody else has--a little tender, loving care... Special Credit: The divider below was made by @saradika-graphics. Special Notes: As described in this poll, the word 'pika' in Twi'leki means 'beloved person', or 'held close to the heart'. No-Pressure Tags: @darthnihila @ci-avmovies14 @vrycurious @gun-roswell and anyone else who wants to see more Howzer x Reader tales! <3<3

Your day officially started going downhill the moment someone in Produce called off of work…and, much to your dismay, it hasn’t seemed to want to let up since then.

For starters, it rained for half the day, and the change in air pressure bothered your already aching head bad enough to force you to pop a few pills, if not also pray they kicked in as fast as possible.

No luck there.

For another, no sooner had you been forced to switch cart duty with the guy they called up as the replacement, a bunch of other workers decided they would start calling you up to do other tasks as well...not that you had that much to do.  No, you obviously needed some more work alongside your original duties, so for today, this would include having to scrub down the outer doors (because the usual cleaning crew had decided to avoid them), going out on another hour of carts (all the other baggers were already out there), and almost having zero time to do any of your daily computer training.

Surprise, surprise.

And if that wasn’t enough to suggest that the vast universe itself was suddenly outraged at your existence and wished to thoroughly punish you for it…that “My Hero and I” fanfiction you’d struggled all of one year to finally update received zero engagement from everyone on the holonet.

Figures.  You work your butt off all day, and yet NOBODY notices a single thing…!

In other words, the planet seemed to see you as either the maid—someone to clean up everyone else’s messes, fix everyone else’s problems, and somehow never need anything in return—or else the Invisible Woman, only being alive for everyone else around you to totally ignore and move past.

Small wonder, then, that you were just about chomping at the corner of your mouth by the time you were able to return home for the day, even if only as an outlet for the mountain of stress that had been dropped upon your head.  And not just that, but your head had started to ache a little worse by then, your nerves were pretty much shot, and anything enjoyable you might have otherwise planned with your live-in boyfriend had been driven out of your mind a long time ago.

In fact, when you finally had a moment to collapse into your chair and relax…you might very well have started banging your head against the nearest wall as your own weird form of stress relief.

At least, that’s what you would have done if Howzer hadn’t been there to meet you at just the right moment, thus saving you from a surprise trip to the hospital, a few hours’ worth of embarrassment, and an equal amount of pain on his end.

And, wouldn’t you know it…he already had your afternoon coffee ready.

“Hard day?”

You manage a quick nod alongside your scowl, the horrors of the afternoon still fresh in your memory as you rub silently at your forehead.  It’s a wonder they didn’t drive you into a screaming fit—and that was just before noon.

“Zat bad, hmm?  Did your coworkers drive you crazy?”

Another nod.  You weren’t ever much of a talker whenever you got scared, or sad, or angry enough to bite…but lucky for you, this good Captain of yours took it all in his stride, even if one day at a time.

If only you could make it up to him the moment you felt more like yourself again…but how?

“Well, it’s over now, I’m sure…so let’s not think of zem any further. Take zis instead.”

He’s careful to pass the coffee to you without spilling a single drop, a trace or two of his experience handling explosives manifesting itself—and yet, when your hands make contact with his so that you can start in on the long-awaited drink, both of you come close to losing your grip upon the cup.

“Careful, goofus!  You’re gonna make me drop it!”

“Me, make you?  Ze hero of Ryloth, a saboteur?”

Howzer fakes an air of dismay at your words, and just as though he were an actor upon the big screen, places a hand over his heart as he pretends to stagger backwards.

“Oh, pika!  How you so mercilessly wound me!”

“Save yourself, then, and get over here!”

Feeling your first laugh in hours start coming over you, you’re careful enough to set your cup down before pulling Howzer down beside you, there being just enough room upon the arm of your chair for one more.

Together.  Yes, sitting together could be a good start here. 

“So…how’s this?”

You weren’t the best of planners either on or off your work site, unfortunately—but this could actually work.

“How’s what, exactly?”

“Us sharing a chair…are you comfortable?”

As though to confirm your thoughts, Howzer’s balanced himself upon the chair’s arm just as easily as he would any other vantage point, both eyes locked upon yours. “Well, it’s not a spot in the Ryloth jungle, zat’s a certainty.” He’s also careful not to try and fall over this time, and so allows you both more than enough room to guide you into a comforting embrace. “And I’m no lylek…right?”

It’s finally here that the stresses of your crazy day begin to let up, and as you’re able to rest your head upon Howzer’s shoulder, so, also, are you finally able to relax. “More like a can-cell,” he teases, rubbing circles along your back to help loosen you up a little at a time.  “But at least you’re mine.”

[camels-pen]

The Law of Fenton

Summary:

The more a Fenton tries to be scary, the funnier and lamer it is.

The vice versa, however, is also true.

based on @notoverjoyed's prompt "Danny goes to college and dodges the attention of the campus paranormal club as they try to figure out just what the hell he is."

Ao3 Link

“There! He’s over there!” 

Danny sprinted down the path, just barely managing to scramble around the corner and pulling tight to the wall as a thundering cloud of footsteps ran past him. He waited a moment, straining his hearing for any sign they were turning back. After a long enough silence, he slumped against the wall with a breath of relief.

“Danny! I just have a few quick questions.”

He jumped, flailing his arms. “What the fuck?! Where did you even come from?!”

The man chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, just answer my questions, please.”

“Are you sure you’re not the paranormal one?” he muttered. “And I already told you no, I don’t wanna be interviewed.”

“We never mentioned a full interview, but if you’re willing—”

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you want an interview? Talk to my secretary, she’s behind you.”

The man whipped his head around… only to furrow his brow at empty air. He turned back only to curse as his eyes darted around the side of the building.

Danny shook his head with a smirk, invisibly watching as the man got increasingly frantic as he searched the area. Well, at least the President was as gullible as the regular members. 

---

Off and on, Danny struggled to get through his classes because, despite being more than a state away from his hometown, there were still people trying to ruin his life.

He thought it would be better here—no ghost attacks, no ghost hunters, no Dash—and yet, somehow, it was worse.

If he could go back and smack his younger self from 6 months ago, he would— deciding to use his ghost powers late at night to sneak into one of the lab rooms to staple an assignment together was so not worth it.

Someone else—sneaking in without ghost powers—seemed to catch him in the act and a picture started spreading around campus of a floating stapler, his name on the cover page of the assignment in. 

Full. 

View. 

Ever since, he’d been hounded by these chuckleheads calling themselves the “Paranormal Exploration Experimentalists” between classes, outside his dorm, in other clubs.

They used to try getting to him during classes too, but his professors quickly put a stop to it. Whether out of the goodness of their hearts or out of hating students talking over them, he didn’t know and didn’t care. 

He grumbled to himself as he angrily munched on a bowl of cereal on the couch, having pulled an all nighter and having a physics class in an hour. A rerun of some older cartoons were playing on the television.

Danny sighed. Oh to be a prey animal in a cartoon. It seemed like such a good life: going wherever you want and not having to worry about having the money for it; sneaking food from restaurants or unsuspecting humans; (third thing).

He continued to yearn for the simple life of a road runner when Looney Tunes ended. Class time was coming up soon and he was just about done with his sort-of-breakfast sort-of-dinner. Just as he grabbed the remote though, the title card for the next cartoon came up. In an instant, it was like a lightbulb went off in his head.

He couldn’t live the simple life of a cartoon prey animal—maybe temporarily if he jumped into the tv with his powers—but he could treat that pesky club president and the other jerks in the P.E.E. club to the same karma as an unlucky cartoon predator animal.

---

The following few days lent itself to preparation. After all, he had lots of reality breaking powers at his disposal, but without a plan, he’d just end up peaking their interest as some strange entity haunting the campus or, worse, they’d take it as some kind of proof that he wasn’t human. Which is true, but he didn’t want them to know that.

So, he set up a call between himself, Sam, and Tucker—he was going to include Jazz, but she’d probably yell at him or something for being so petty about this—and they plotted how exactly to scare the P.E.E. club shitless in a way that didn’t lead to Danny’s human identity, with many of the best ideas surrounding an item featured frequently in the cartoon that inspired him.

It was fairly simple: ‘Tom’, as Danny had started calling him, would be the first victim.

---

“Hey, president guy!” he waved a hand at the man, walking up to him in the hallway where he was sitting outside a closed door, papers and binders spread at his feet. “I’m ready for an interview.”

‘Tom’ raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yup!” Danny squatted down in front of him. “If you get it done, you’ll probably leave me alone. So the sooner I get this over with, the better.”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” The guy pulled out a faded agenda and a pencil from under one of his binders. “When are you free?”

---

“I’ll agree to an interview with Tom.”

“To lure him out?” Sam asked.

“Well yes, but also to have all his club members’ attention on me.” 

“They already have all their attention on you. I thought that was the problem?”

Danny grinned. “Yeah, but this way they’ll be more focused on hearing about the interview than poking around for other supposed paranormal stuff around campus. Including anything my duplicates get up to.”

---

Danny Duplicate #13 roamed the skies above the building the original Danny was currently sitting in. The duplicate combed the roof and jammed the lock by phasing some wood in it just for good measure.

“So, you’re some kind of invisible man?”

“Starting off strong, huh?” ‘Tom’ was no journalism major, but he was expecting some lead up questions. “Well, not really. Everyone back home can do this kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff, exactly?”

The duplicate began poking Danny on equipment placement. A little further from the door, he mentally responded, don’t want to actually get anyone hurt. Absentmindedly, he said, “Oh, lots of stuff. It’s like magic with how versatile it is.”

“Okay, but what is ‘it’?”

“Ectoplasm,” he said, before his thoughts caught up to him. Fuck fuck. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

---

“And you’re gonna direct a bunch of duplicates while also trying to avoid spilling everything in this interview?” Sam said, squinting.

“What?” he said, crossing his arms, defensive. “I can do it.”

“Danny, I love you dude, but you remember what happened during that scramble at graduation, right?”

“No.” He blushed. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Tucker smirked. “I have the video saved on my phone if—”

“ANYWAY,”—he interrupted loudly—“I’m older now—”

“You’re, like, six months older—”

“I’m OLDER now. It won’t happen again.”

---

God. He can’t believe it happened again.

Danny’s duplicates froze where they were setting things up. Danny himself laughed awkwardly. “Y-Yeah, y’know. There’s always been a bunch of ghost sightings around Amity Park, y’know? So, uh, the most popular theory is that sometimes the ghost’s leave weird energy stuff behind and we call that ‘ectoplasm’.”

Tom was furiously scribbling on his notepad, nodding along. “And how does that relate to your powers of invisibility? Does this mean everyone in your town can turn invisible?”

“Uhh—”

---

“So,”—Tucker spread his hands, voice low and promising with ideas—“you could set up a giant mouse trap right on top of the roof. Then drag him up there with an invisible duplicate so Danny Fenton has an alibi from the victim himself.”

“Don’t call him a victim,” Danny said. “You’re making it sound like I’m gonna maim him.”

“Oh, and he could conveniently look away as Fenton while his victim is being taken—” Sam continued, speaking right over him.

“Guys—”

“Yeah, and then Danny can, like, turn up the ghostliness to the max on his duplicate and threaten them not to meddle in some completely unrelated supernatural rumour on campus.”

“Then Danny Fenton can pretend to be a scaredy cat and panic. Maybe call for help from the people eavesdropping on the interview to help look for the kidnapping victim too. So he can build up eye witness reports that make it seem like he couldn’t be the perpetrator.” 

Tucker slapped a fist on his palm. “Oh! During the interview, he could bring back the fear of ghosts excuse from high school, which would help when he inevitably slips up too.” Sam nodded. “He could say he doesn’t know any specifics, but that he knows that weird stuff happens in Amity all the time.”

“I hate that excuse,” Danny grumbled.

Sam snorted. “Well, unless you want to gaslight the entire club or admit to being an amateur magician, suck it up.”

---

“I’m not too sure,” Danny said, grinding his teeth a little. “I’ve been afraid of ghosts my whole life so I tried to avoid learning any specifics.”

“Then, the picture?”

Fuck. The picture. “Uhh, the—the picture.” Oh, he really had to use that gag back up excuse, didn’t he? Ugh. “I really didn’t want to give it away, but you guys have gotten really annoying with the constant pestering.” He sighed. “I’m an amateur magician. I was using a really thin wire and hooks.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, yeah,” Danny said, putting on his most condescending voice. “It’s pretty obvious when you look for it. I’m surprised that wasn’t the first thing you ruled out.”

---

“You gotta scream.”

“I’m not gonna scream!”

“Danny, you have to scream,” Sam repeated. “No one’s gonna buy it if you don’t. You suck at acting.”

God, he hated it when she was right.

“Fine, but I draw the line at calling for help. I’m not gonna be some dude in distress.”

---

Danny Duplicate #1 hovered behind Tom, ready and in position. It seemed the other duplicates were prepared too. Good. He just needed to plant the idea in the guy’s head that he was a regular human and then he could strike.

“We did rule it out. We ruled out many forms of illusions from stage magicians. Professional ones,” Tom said calmly, tapping the end of his pencil on his paper. “We also ruled out photo editing as the person who took the footage is not only part of this club, but also a good friend of mine.”

Fuck, are you serious? Stupid Fenton luck at it again. “Maybe they should get glasses then?” He slumped back in his seat, putting on his most pathetically tired look. It wasn’t hard. “Look, I’m not trying to call your friend a liar or anything, but I really was just practicing some tricks.” 

“Of course,” Tom said, disbelief clear in his voice.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t even mind you throwing around rumours or anything, just quit hounding me everywhere I go!”

At that, Tom did start to look a little guilty. “I guess, regardless of if you’re telling the truth, we should probably back off a little.” Oh thank god. Maybe Tom was reasonable after all. Maybe he wouldn’t need to even go through with—“After all, we aren’t sure what you’re capable of, and if you get upset, you might hurt someone.”

Wow. Wow. This guy really just said that to Danny’s face. Suddenly, he was glad he decided to amp up his threat from the original idea.

---

“The mousetrap isn’t enough though. If I was Tom, I wouldn’t give a shit about a single ghost threatening me.”

“Your viewpoint is skewed,” Tucker said. “You’re, like, Ghost Threat Georg; you get threatened by ghosts so often that you think people get ghost threats all the time, which is very much wrong.”

“Your viewpoint is skewed,” he said petulantly.

“Look, I wouldn’t have believed it either, but going to school in a place with basically no ghosts means most days I don’t get a single threat.” Tucker shrugged. “And the ones I do are usually some of your old rogues trying to ask to hang out somehow. I haven’t gotten a legit ghost threat in ages.”

“Yeah, same here,” Sam said. “It’s kind of weird, but Tucker’s right. I’m pretty sure the trap is enough.”

“No,” Danny shook his head. “It needs something more. It needs something to really send the message home.” He grinned. “And I’ve got just the thing.”

---

“A very bold claim you’re saying to the face of said person you think might hurt someone.” Danny strained to stay loose and relaxed. “If you’re so worried, why not go to campus security or something?”

Tom waved a hand. “Security guards are functionally useless in this situation. I’ve prepared myself and my club members on how to defend themselves and others against paranormal threats”—oh good, Danny thought gripping his leg, another GIW scenario, just what I needed—“using purified salts, stakes, holy water, etcetera. The basics.”

Okay, the lack of any real anti-ghost stuff made him feel a little better. “Right. The basics.” Wait a second. “Just out of curiosity, what exactly do you think I am? Just some guy with invisible powers?”

“We haven’t pinned anything down, but none of our theories are that simple,” Tom flipped through his notebook. He stopped on a page and read aloud, “Shapeshifter, shapeshifter, dragon with camouflage abilities, shapeshifter, a human shaped chameleon, shapeshifter, creature made entirely of string that can unravel at will, and shapeshifter.”

Huh. 

He really shouldn’t ask, but—“Why didn’t anyone think I was a ghost?”

Tom laughed. Fully belly laughed. “Danny,”—he wiped a tear from his eye—“you might be elusive, but you’re nowhere near scary enough to be a ghost.”

“I could be scary!” he protested. 

“You were the only entry in the haunted dorm room competition back in October to make everyone laugh their asses off.” Tom grinned. “I still watch the video sometimes to lift my mood.”

“Hey, I worked really hard on that—”

“Anyway, it’s just not possible.” Tom said, talking over him. “You don’t have it in you to be some spooky spectre come back from the grave to haunt the campus. You don’t have a single scary bone in your body.”

Okay, well, Danny’s had enough of this slander. Clearly, Tom didn’t believe in Danny being a ghost so, whatever, fine. That was what he wanted in the first place. He was fine with it. Didn’t make him want to spill his guts just to prove the guy wrong at all. Nope, no sir.

He did wish he’d put more effort into making his plan more fear-inducing, but whatever. It might not be that scary, but it was gonna get Tom off his back forever and Danny was done talking with this jerk.

---

“And you don’t think this isn’t… a little much?” Tucker hedged.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s probably gonna scar him for life,” Sam said. “It’d still fix your problem, but I didn’t think you liked going that far.”

“What? No.” Danny shook his head. “You guys probably have a messed up sense of fear from fighting ghosts and stuff for four straight years.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You were fighting those ghosts too.”

“Yeah, but I’m just built different.” He looked through the list of equipment he’d written down next to him. “This is gonna be hilarious. He’s either gonna laugh his ass off or, if his sense of humour sucks, call it lame and move on. Either way, I’m freed from those stupid P.E.E. stalkers.”

“I don’t like this slander against our sense of fear,” Tucker said. “I have very normal fears. This is definitely one of them.” Sam agreed.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Fine, maybe, by some miniscule chance, you guys are right and his sense of fear’s messed up like yours.” He raised a finger. “But! At most he’ll probably get a little spooked and end up staying away because of it! So, I win regardless.”

Sam hummed disbelievingly. 

---

He sent the signal. Off to the mousetrap with him.

He couldn’t see it, but he felt Danny Duplicate #1 salute him. On it boss.

“What—?!” Danny Duplicate #1 grabbed Tom around the middle. Tom wiggled in the chair, unable to move his arms or get up. His notepad and pencil fell to the ground. “Hey, what the fuck?! Did you—?!”

Despite how he hated it, Danny’s best blood curdling scream was so impressive it shocked Tom into flinching, even stopping his struggling to press his ear to his shoulder with a wince. At least the guy would totally believe Danny’s excuse after this.

The faint chatter outside the room silenced. Then all at once, people were yelling, jiggling the locked doorknob—one of Danny’s conditions for the interview, being alone with Tom so as to ensure his plan went off without a hitch—and Danny jerked his head up towards the ceiling. The duplicate nodded and quickly phased through the ceiling, Tom in his arms.

Now, what to do about the bystanders….

Oh, duh. 

“A FUCKING SPIDER, OH MY GOD!”

The yelling and lock jiggling quickly started to peter out after that, followed by the faint sounds of laughter and one, “Jesus Christ, the lungs on that guy,” which Danny would take as a compliment.

He chuckled to himself as he shared his senses fully with his first duplicate.

The plan was going perfectly. Sam and Tucker didn’t know shit.

---

“It’s really not that bad!”

“It really is,” Sam and Tucker chimed in together.

“It’s not,” Danny sent a picture through their chat. “Look, see! It’s cute!”

“Danny, this is fucking horrifying,” Tucker said.

“Fuck, that’s so cursed, what the hell?” Sam said. “Why did you choose this one? Where did you even find it?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Also, they’d probably tell him not to buy stuff from people hanging out in the rundown bathrooms in the engineering building every time he happened to pass by. “What does matter is that it’s fine.”

“Danny, your plan is to restrain and drag someone to the roof, put them in front of a giant mouse trap prepared to go off, and have him surrounded in a circle of your duplicates, who are going to be backlit by green flames and wearing the most cursed version of a Jerry costume I have ever seen in my life,” Sam said. “This is not fine.” Tucker nodded his agreement.

“It is!”

“You’re not gonna be right about this.”

“I’m gonna be so right about this. I’m gonna be the most right anyone’s ever been about anything.”

---

Tom pissed his pants and fainted.

Damn, Danny thought as he phased the guy back into his club room, I can’t believe Sam and Tucker were three for three on this.

[twst-drabbles]

I don’t think this counts as a request because it’s more of a question about a situation that would lead into a total AU of the pet AU lol but if it is a request please tell me so I have a better understanding of what a request is and what just a question is because I’ll admit I’m a little confused on that…

In the pet AU, you’ve mentioned that obviously the Caretaker can’t form a familiar bond with the pets because they don’t have magic of their own. But I am a curious being and as I just literally finished going through all of the AU, I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if the Caretaker suddenly DID develop magic somehow.

Like, if they developed magic and chose to have one of the pets become their familiar, who would they choose?

Or… oooh better yet… what if Caretaker didn’t REALIZE they had developed magic somehow but maybe the pets can sense it? Would all of them be vying to try to form a familiar bond with them? And the Caretaker is just sitting there like “wtf is with all of you lately???” I know with a bond like that the mage at least would probably need to know and agree but the familiar wouldn’t necessarily have to consent *glares at the villains in the sanctuary AU* but maybe the Caretaker loving them all is enough? If so, with the Caretaker not having any idea, and all the pets vying for the title of their familiar, who would win out in the end?

And then I imagine Crowley coming over and he sees his child neighbor not only has magic but now has a familiar and he just passes out in a dead faint and the Caretaker is like “????!!!!!!”

Sorry for the super long ramble. And again sorry if this is more of a request than ask? Like I said I’m not super sure what makes the difference?

(I also wanted to say thank you for writing a person with visible and undeniable depression. I know you have said you have it so the Caretaker’s experiences are probably based off of yours and they are so relatable and it’s comforting to feel seen. Always sucks to know others suffer too, but it’s also nice knowing you don’t suffer alone. So yeah… thanks.)

- 💜

No need to worry, a request is specifically when people want me to write a drabble of what they're asking. Yours is just a question asking for my thoughts, so you're good.

So anyways...

Now if I were to have the Caretaker suddenly have some kind of magic, it wouldn't be a lighthearted affair. The Caretaker, if they knew they developed magic, wouldn't be jumping for joy or simply just shrug their shoulders and go "Well, this is my life now."

The Caretaker would be bitter. Even more bitter than their already bitter self. Because where the hell was this magic when they needed it most? They're already past the age when they're absorbing knowledge like a sponge, and all classes and clubs that are dedicated to teaching people about magic are for kids or for people who are going to use their magic for a professional profession. Places like that already expect people to know the basics by the time they're adults, and no place wants to take the time to teach the Caretaker about these things, so they'll be viewed as someone not worth investing in.

So, simply put, the Caretaker would refuse to use their magic, because to them, there's no point. Any small use of their own magic would remind them of how their body lied to them for years. Had them suffer disappointment after disappointment because of some vague requirement that they somehow don't meet that everyone else was able to meet. That apparently they are so slow that it took this long for their magic awaken when these events were happening to toddlers.

Not only that, but their magic feels like a lie. The Caretaker doesn't believe that this magic is here to stay. It suddenly just appeared one day, it could very well disappear just as quickly. They don't want to get attached to this.

As such, the Caretaker would actually shut down any attempts of the pets trying to be their first familiar.

Now, exploring the different scenario of the Caretaker not knowing they had developed magic, it would be a time of denial that would almost lead to some new self destructive habits. If, say they're cooking one day and a spoon just floated to their hand when they almost dropped it, they won't be looking at the spoon again. And if new utensils keep coming to them, they'd end up avoiding the kitchen altogether and would settle for take-out.

Probably might even scare one of their pets when they start their familiar-courting-ish behaviors. Giving little gift and doing little dances in the hopes the Caretaker would consider them for being a familiar. The Caretaker, once it clicks with them that that's what they're doing, that they meet the requirements to have a familiar, would ask the pets to just, leave them alone. Stop it. They don't want this.

Either way, this is not going to be an easy period for the Caretaker.

Alrighty now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, let's entertain a more lighthearted scenario of after the Caretaker accepts that this magic is here to stay and has integrated it in their daily life. And after Crowley teaches the Caretaker to have better finesse over their magic so they can choose to hide it or use it.

The amount of familiars a mage can have is entirely dependent on how much magic they have and how well they can control it. And, well, having more than one familiar is a burden upon the human body. However!

However... in order to keep the pets from fighting one another for that familiar spot, there is a set schedule for who can be the Caretaker's familiar. A familiar contract can be formed with consent, and it can be broken with consent. There's no limit to how many times a contract can be broken and re-established. As such, there will be times when Ace is the main familiar, or Deuce, or Jack, or Ortho, or Riddle or anyone really! So long as they follow the schedule. There's no risk for the pets since contracts are just a means of getting their bigger forms quicker and forming a closer emotional bond with their Caretaker.

But of course, there will be little shitheads that will want to hog the spot for longer than is set, but they have to let someone else take their turn in the end because they don't want to make the Caretaker angry. Just imagine Leona burying Ace under sand because it's his turn but you can't re-established the contract if you can't find him.

[hyuckmov]

haechan — be my birthday

ex!haechan x reader, (feat. best friend jaehyun, mark and renjun being besties) 4k, angst for the most part, but then fluff, ends happy. a/n: when i said i was thinking of writing something else it was not this... but i just suddenly had the idea for it because i was thinking of birthdays i guess. oh and because i am unoriginal and running out of ideas this is inspired by a few songs too. the title is a song featured in the drama my liberation notes which i absolutely love! anyway i'm sorry if the ending is kind of bad, i wanted to flesh it out but also i wanted to leave it at that. additionally the flashbacks were HELL for my tenses so i apologise for any inconsistencies in grammar. thank you for reading my past two works, and do send me an ask if you enjoyed any of them, or this, or if you would just like to say hi! loosely includes sequences based on 21 by gracie abrams, and me and you together song by the 1975 so i recommend listening to those!

“we forgot the candles.” 

“who’s we. you’re in charge of the cake for the night!” 

“yeah but that doesn’t include candles.” 

“mark!” 

mark looked sheepishly up at renjun, who glared at him fiercely, a look that mark could see even in the dim light of the pantry. outside, the party raged on, and if mark and renjun had to hazard a guess, haechan should probably still be on the pool table, doing a dance as the crowd cheered him on. it was his birthday, so everyone gave him a free pass that meant he could do whatever he wanted. to be precise, it was his birthday week – a week which gave him a free pass to prank, to bicker, and to take the last piece of whatever food was in the fridge. 

but really, it was a lot more than a birthday week. birthdays always reminded haechan of you, and this was his first birthday without you by his side. that was enough for his friends to be gracious, to let him be as obnoxious as he wanted, if only to distract himself from the fact that he wasn’t bothering you about his gift, and you wouldn’t be there to smear cream on his cheeks. 

“renjun, what if we asked y/n to bring some candles over. i know she always keeps some birthday candles in her kitchen drawer.” 

“are you insane?” renjun hissed, and even though they were the only ones in the pantry, he looked around to make sure haechan hadn’t materialized at the sound of your name. “no way. she wouldn’t show up, and i doubt seeing her here, not as his girlfriend, would do haechan any good.” 

mark mumbles to himself about how it was just an idea. “who else do you think has candles at this hour?” 

“i could run back and check. but you’ll have to tell everyone to wait-” 

“what are you guys doing in my pantry?” 

mark and renjun both jumped at that. haechan was standing at the entrance, his brows furrowed in suspicion. slowly, he frowned and asked:

“are you two fucking?” 

“what? no! haechan what the fuck!” flustered, mark ran his hands through his hair and renjun made a gagging noise, distracted from their relief that he hadn’t noticed the party hadn’t brought out a cake yet. 

“it’s just a little suspicious, but okay i believe you.” haechan leaned against the entrance. “i was just coming to tell you guys that i’m a little tired. could you guys keep the party going? i just wanna take a break.” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

renjun looked at his friend in concern. most people believed haechan loved being at the center of attention all the time — loved being the loudest and brightest presence in the room. and he was good at that: was good at making everyone feel comfortable in the room, somehow magically easing any awkward tensions or filling the silence easily and casually. but it would be too much for anyone to take on that role at all times. you had always been there to sit with him when he wanted to be quiet, pulling him away from the party when you noticed his smiles faltering and his eyes glazing over. and now, without you by his side……

“of course.” he settles. “do you want one of us to keep you company?” 

“nah.” giving his head a shake, he bounced on his toes, ready to go. “thanks guys. you two keep making out.” 

and with that, he disappeared up to his room.  

x

leaning against his bedroom door, haechan closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. the party should have been fun: they played his favorite songs, all his favorite games, mark was pushed into a pool…and yet it really didn’t feel the same. he hated himself a little in that moment, for letting you become such an irreplaceable part of his birthday, something he couldn’t avoid or escape from. he wondered how many birthdays he would have to go without you to finally be able to forget. 

and although he had been trying to avoid it the entire night, he thought about his 18th birthday, the day he confessed to you. 

it was a party not unlike this one. he remembered sitting next to you for most of the night, your cheeks flushed as you leaned in close to him to ask “are you having fun?” for his birthday wish, the one you insisted he couldn’t say out loud because it wouldn’t come true, he had wished that you would like him back. 

after the cake-cutting, mark had spilled punch all over your shirt, and that was everyone’s cue to go home after the party. he remembered sitting in the bath-tub, you in your camisole washing your shirt in the sink, complaining about mark and whoever had let him anywhere near the punch bowl. and he just couldn’t help himself: the warm bathroom lights framing your face, something so domestic about the way things were. this is how i want it to be for the rest of my life, he thought to himself, giddily.

“-next time we have to mark-proof our things so mark can’t get his hands on them, -” 

“y/n?” 

“-one more time i swear, haechan-?” you had turned to look at him, his serious tone taking you by surprise. 

“will you go out with me?” 

“oh.” you swallowed.  

haechan grimaced, because this was as good as a rejection, wasn’t it? stupid birthday wishes he thought. it’s all the same, whether i say it out loud or not. never wishing for anything ever again. you’re looking at him, really looking at him, as if you’ve never seen him before in your life. you hasten to say, “not in a bad way! it’s just…” 

we’re best friends. it doesn’t feel right. i don’t like you like that. 

“it’s fine.” haechan pushed himself out of the bathtub, everything felt too cramped, the bathroom suddenly too small for the both of you. you were looking at him with confusion and conflict written all over your face, so he put on his easy smile. “i was just messing.” he forced out a laugh, the hollow sound bouncing off the tiles. “it’s fine, i swear. i didn’t mean it.” 

he had no idea why, but he seemed to have made it worse. your face flared red, and you turned back to the sink, scrubbing at your shirt even though it was practically clean already. “that’s okay.” 

worst birthday ever. that’s the last thing he thought before dozing off on his bed, you having rushed home immediately. but suddenly, not even 10 minutes later, he was being woken up, the doorbell ringing frantic and loud. realizing you had forgotten your shirt in the bathroom, which he was having trouble looking at, he wrung it dry and ambled over to the door, hoping you would just take it and go. 

but the moment he opened the door, he immediately had his arms full of you. you had jumped into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, his hands supporting you reflexively. you had pressed your forehead to his, and you were so warm. i’ve liked you for years, you idiot. he couldn’t believe his ears. it’s you, it’s always been you.

in present day, haechan shook his head to rid himself of the memory. he could still remember every moment of that night clearly: the look on your face. how it felt to hold you for the first time, in a different way than he had ever hugged you before. waking up next to you, in his shirt. it was all too much. he wished you were right there, with him, that very moment. he wished he said something when you were walking out of his life. he wished he had held on to you when you came back. 

x

“are you sure you don’t want to go over? we can still make it. they’re probably stalling because they forgot the candles or something.” 

“it’s okay.” you say, in a small voice. you’re staring up at the ceiling, your mind wandering to the gifts in the back of your closet that you had bought for haechan in the months leading up to his birthday. before you broke up with him. and before he wouldn’t take you back. 

jaehyun sighs and comes over to you, sitting down at the edge of your bed. “y/n, today means something to the both of you. are you sure you don’t want to go?” 

“he doesn’t want to see me anymore,” you insist. “i don’t want to ruin his birthday.”

because those were the exact words he had said to you when you showed up for jeno’s birthday dinner, sitting diagonally across the table from him. your heart was beating out of your chest the entire time, especially when he joined you as you leaned against the wall, asking you how have you been. 

“i’ve been…” you trailed off. admittedly, not very well without him. unsure if he wanted to talk  about the breakup, you went with “i got a promotion at work.” 

“that’s great.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. as if he wasn’t there with you as you were finishing up presentations to get this promotion. as if he hadn’t made you coffee in the dead of night when you had to take a call from an overseas client. 

“how about you?” 

“i can’t do this y/n.” haechan exhaled, and you felt like a child who had been caught red-handed: in that moment you knew he saw right through you. 

“can’t do what?” 

“the small talk. the pretending we don’t know each other, the pretending that i haven’t been falling asleep next to you and waking up next to you every day for the past few years.” 

you felt a pull at your heart. surely, he was willing to forgive you if this was how he felt? surely he still wanted to hold on to you? the words came out in a rush. “haechan, i’m here to say i’m sorry. i am really, really sorry. i was scared we were moving too fast, you’re the first person i’ve ever loved and put so much of myself into.” haechan closed his eyes, and you hated that. you hated that you couldn’t tell what he was thinking anymore. talking faster, you tried to get through to him. “i got scared. but these past few weeks have shown me that no matter how scared i am it is 10 times better, no, a 100 times better if i’m spending it with you. i love you haechan, -” he winced at that, and you wanted to disappear. “i love you. please say you’ll be with me again.” 

haechan took his time, and you hoped he was listening. you hoped he understood exactly how you were feeling. but a part of you saw it coming when he said no. 

“you don’t get to do that, y/n.” he opened his eyes, and you immediately wished he hadn’t because there was so much hurt inside them. “you don’t get to end things when you’re scared, and come back when you realise you need me.” 

“i know that.” you plead with him, the guilt stabbing at your chest. “i’ll never do it again, haechan. please believe me. ” 

“that’s just not good enough y/n.” he lowered his head. he was sorry too. “i just…don’t want to see you anymore.” 

you felt like you had been struck. but you knew somewhere, that you deserved some part of this. and so you gave jeno your present, hugged him goodbye, and left. and you hadn’t seen haechan since. 

today, you been unable to take your mind off him. you wish you could fall asleep, but something about it being haechan’s birthday kept you awake. after hours and hours of spiralling, you called jaehyun hoping he would help you go through things so at least you could stop feeling so helpless. 

in the first hour, jaehyun scoured his social media for you, finding photos of haechan at the party and zooming in on them as the two of you debated whether he was happy or still upset about the breakup. 

photo of him sitting poolside with another girl? “she’s dating jaemin”, jaehyun clarified quickly, before the hurt could sink in.

photo of him bent over his mug? “he looks so sad.” jaehyun insisted. “he definitely misses you.” 

“he has bad posture, we all knew that.” you scowled. 

jaehyun glared back. “do you need a photo of him bawling his eyes out?” 

“if only he didn’t look so undeniably like he was having the time of his life!” 

“that is so untrue.” jaehyun swiped to refresh his stories, and hurriedly clicked on one uploaded by jeno. haechan, doing the liam payne dance on a table, throwing a wink at the camera. the screen went dark as jaehyun threw his phone against the wall. “oh no, my phone is dead. let’s do something else.” 

“jaehyun…” you whined. “i just want to know how he’s doing.” 

“we need to disconnect from social media, y/n.” he insisted. “it’s ruining our brains.” 

eventually the verdict, made with the web version of instagram on your laptop, was that haechan was perfectly fine — and although jaehyun pulled up a blurry photo where haechan was making his way to his room as counter-evidence, you dismissed it because he might have just been on his way to the bathroom. 

“if you just go see for yourself-”

“no!” you sit up. “if you go about this logically, i broke up with him. that was my move. and despite that, i went back to him, then he rejected me. i can’t go back again. i can’t take another turn.” jaehyun looks at you sympathetically, because if you put it like that, you’re truly not allowed to go back. 

“so that’s what we’re going to do? we’re going to wait for him to come to you?” 

“but he’s not going to, that’s the thing.” jaehyun bit his lip. he didn’t want to give you false hope, because the way you put it: when you told him the whole story, it was highly possible that you and haechan had just been right for each other at the wrong time. 

you were distracted with the ceiling again. as casually as he could, he retrieved his phone, and decided to text mark. 

jaehyun: mark? u there?  mark: yea mark: bruh this party is not going well jaehyun: REALLY mark: we forgot the candles

jaehyun: oh  jaehyun: how's haechan doing mark: ngl he’s not doing too well i think mark: he misses y/n  jaehyun: what???? i thought he rejected her mark: yeah but he lowkey wishes he didn’t. actually idk or something along those lines

jaehyun: should she go to the party  mark: i have no idea. does she want to? jaehyun: she’s scared he doesn’t want her anymore mark: :(  mark: i genuinely don’t think that’s true

“who are you texting?” you look up at jaehyun, and he flushes with guilt. 

“no one. look, y/n,” he turns around to face you completely. “what if haechan regrets rejecting you, and he really misses you. would you go to the party?” 

you screwed up your face in thought. “no.” at jaehyun’s sound of protest, you repeated yourself, “no i wouldn’t. if he regrets something he has to come over and tell me. like how i went over and took back my breakup.” 

jaehyun groaned. you had a point and you were being stubborn about it. 

jaehyun: well she won’t go over. he has to come over and apologise if he wants her back

mark: really? 

several minutes pass. you’re drawing random shapes on your duvet, and jaehyun stares at his phone. and then- 

mark: asked haechan what he would do if hypothetically she was willing to make up  jaehyun: what’d he say  mark: does she really?  jaehyun: what’d you say 

mark: jaehyun this is haechan 

mark: does she really? 

x

“we need more snacks if we’re going to start a movie marathon now.” jaehyun put on his sweater, and grabbed your keys. “i’ll run to the store and get some. don’t fall asleep okay?” 

you nodded. you had finally come up with a viable solution, which was to distract yourself with as many movies it would take until you fell asleep, enough soju to knock yourself out, and a lavender scented candle. jaehyun had been surprisingly supportive, but you knew you had been difficult to comfort today and he was just glad to agree on something that wasn’t mindless guessing and guilty rants. walking to the kitchen to get out a bottle of soju, the sound of your doorbell suddenly pierced the quiet. was jaehyun back already? padding over to the door, you called out “already? also, didn’t you bring the keys-” 

the door opens, and you think you’re hallucinating, because haechan is standing there. no, he’s not just standing there, he’s moving towards you, and suddenly his arms are wrapped around your waist, and he’s buried his face in your neck. 

“haechan.” what are you supposed to do if you’re not sure if this is reality or not? you dig your fingernails into your palms and it hurts. you bite your cheek, and it stings. 

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles into your skin, and you’ve missed this: his lips moving against your neck, the low rasp of his voice when the hours drag past midnight. he pushes himself away from you, and through his bangs you can see his eyes. you haven’t seen them up close in a while. “i thought, if the feelings went away, if i could just stop thinking about you…” incoherent, stammering, and absolutely the picture of the boy you were sure you were going to love your whole life, he pressed on. “but i couldn’t. i can’t. i miss you all the time. you’re sorry for walking out on me, and i’m sorry for acting like i never knew you. i mean, it’s you-” he puts his hands on your cheeks, and his eyes shine like he has his whole world in his palms. “leave all you like. get scared, and run away. i’ll be waiting. i know you’ll come back to me. i love you.” 

you can feel yourself start to cry. “i was so sure you weren’t going to come over today.” 

“i was so sure too.” he lets out a breath. “so, so sure. i didn’t think you’d want me after what i said.” 

“oh haechan.” you hold him against you. “who wouldn’t want you?” 

x

instead of the movie marathon, the soju, and the lavender, you and haechan opened the presents you were going to give him. jaehyun had disappeared for the night: you would thank him some other day, but not now — today was for haechan and haechan alone. 

“you left your own birthday party?” 

“it’s okay, they don’t miss me.” haechan yawned a little, as he followed you in, his hand firmly in yours. neither of you wanted to let go: and so he clung to you as you went to get a glass of water, stumbling back to your bedroom, giddy at the feeling of having the other by your side again. 

crossing over to your closet, your hand still in his, you rooted around in it. “i have so many presents for you, you should open them right now.” you begin tossing them out onto the bed as haechan sat on the edge, playing with your fingers. 

“it’s not even my birthday anymore.” haechan’s head was reeling, as he realised he was sitting on your bed, in your room. he missed it too much. he hadn’t been here in months. but still, he pointed at the clock, which read 1:11 am. 

“i don’t care.” dragging out the last of the parcels, you looked at him tenderly, the both of you basking in the light of the relationship just healed. you felt like you were falling in love for the first time again, feeling inexplicably shy when he took your hand, as if he had never done so before. had he always looked at you so fondly? was his hair always this mussed up and lovely in the dim light of your room? was it too soon to kiss him? “i’ve really, really missed you haechan.”

your eyes flickering all over him were driving him insane. groaning, he swept the gifts to the side of the bed and clambered over to you in one swift motion, and before you knew it, his lips were slotted against yours. eagerly, you pushed your body against his, and once again felt his arms come up to hold you against him. the feeling of everything being new and exciting buzzed through your veins, as he ran his hands up and down your sides, your eyes closed and savoring every touch. 

coming up for air, you leaned back to look at him. his lips were swollen and his hair a mess, but the look in his eyes, his pupils dilated and his gaze unwavering, stirred something inside you. “someone’s hungry today.” 

he let out a laugh, and you felt like you wanted to press your ear against his chest to hear it vibrate against you. “i didn’t even get to have cake. stupid mark and his candles.” 

suddenly, you gasped. “haechan!” 

pulling away from you reluctantly, he blinked. “baby? what’s wrong?” 

“i haven’t said happy birthday to you.” sadly, you press your face against his, just like you had all those years ago when you told him you liked him. “happy belated birthday haechan,” you said, softly. 

he smiled, and the look lit up his whole face. it was that look that told you things were going to be okay. 

x

'you are cordially invited to haechan’s second 22nd birthday party. '

mark read out-loud off his phone to renjun the next day. renjun was nursing a terrible hangover, and moping around the kitchen trying to find the coffee machine (which mark could’ve sworn he saw chenle steal last night). mark and renjun were the only two who stayed over last night to watch haechan’s house while he left to do god-knows-what. 

“again? another birthday party? but his birthday’s over!” 

“that wasn’t a real party. i’m having a do-over.” haechan sauntered into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter. he was really only here to pick up the toast you liked to eat for breakfast, and he wanted to get back to you immediately. 

“why?” renjun complained, giving up on the coffee and peering in the fridge. “it certainly felt like one.” 

“y/n wasn’t there.” haechan says confidently, and way too brightly for mark and renjun’s taste. “and plus, you guys forgot the candles to my birthday cake and just didn't bring it out. what’s a birthday without a cake?” 

“you were the one who left. also, ignoring that. ” renjun straightened, looking at haechan. “did you get back together with y/n?” 

haechan smiles, and it’s a dead giveaway. “yeah.”

mark let out a sigh of relief. “thank god. someone will bring the candles this time.”

[goodlucktai]

three clicks and i'm home

rise of the tmnt movie canon divergence word count: 2k title borrowed from i know the end by phoebe bridgers

set in my role reversal au now the darkness comes alive, this was written for @mad4turtles who requested leo's pov of the krang interrogation scene

read on ao3

x

Leo is in and out of consciousness, only aware of the white-hot pain in his chest and the sound of his oldest brother screaming.

He’s never heard Raph sound that way before.

Everything blurs together, unfamiliar, unsafe voices crowding around him. Something is wrenched from his shoulder with a sickening sound and the agony of it knocks him out for real. 

“Disgusting,” he wakes up to hear someone say, “it’s getting its muck everywhere. Can’t we just kill it?”

Oh, Leo thinks, gazing dazedly down at himself, blood oozing down his cracked plastron and dripping from one of his bound arms. I think she means me. 

His senses return one by one, and start sprinting around to gather the facts of his situation. He can feel movement beneath him, a constant, steady vibration, that makes him think the ground is moving. No, not the ground—the floor. They’re on something that’s moving. Lifting his head enough to let his eyes dart to the side, he takes in rows of stacked shipping containers, all strung up with pink slime. He traces a few webs of it back to himself, his arms stretched to either side almost to the point of pain and bound in place. 

“Patience, sister,” a second voice says. “I need something from it first.”

The alien that enters his line of sight wakes Leo up fast. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. It stares at him with bulging eyes the color of jaundice, contempt in every inch of its face, and Leo stares back, hoping that his racing heart doesn’t give itself away somehow. 

“You’re smarter than you look,” the alien says after their momentary standoff. 

“And that’s saying something,” Leo says with a toothy grin. It’s easy to fall into this role, talking nonsense to create room to think and observe, to get a solid read on this guy. “‘Cause I look damn good.”

“You’re not human, not entirely,” the alien goes on. “Yet you fancy yourself their hero, do you? Why else would you care enough to put your life on the line for them?”

“You’ve got the wrong turtle, pal. Heroism was never really my bag.”

Two years ago, when his brothers first got the big idea, Leo went along with it specifically to make sure they didn’t bite off more than they could chew. It quickly spiraled out of his control, but by then he was fully along for the ride. Besides, he’s always been a follower—wherever his siblings were is where Leo wanted to be, too. 

He has no idea what Splinter was thinking, shoving him out ahead of them and expecting him to lead. Just look at what Leo’s capable of fucking up from the sidelines. He almost got Raph killed. He almost lost the key for good. He has no business calling the shots. His brothers were right to doubt him. Maybe after this, he’ll finally be able to convince dad to take it all back. 

After this, he thinks, clinging to the implication of an after. 

“Now this is a surprise,” the Krang replies with faux interest. “No tiresome drivel about honor? Sacrifice? The warriors we subdued from the planets before yours sang a much different tune. All of them were weak, with weak ideals to match. But you—you know better, don’t you?” 

Leo watches him warily, disquieted by how inhuman his mannerisms are. It’s hard to anticipate what he’ll say or do next, which leaves Leonardo feeling as though he’s running to catch up in this conversation. 

“For example, you know that the strong will devour the weak,” the alien says, approaching slowly, looming above him like a horror movie monster. “And you know that the only way to save your sorry hide is to give me what I ask for. You want to live, don’t you? How about I offer you a deal? You tell me where the key is, and I won’t leave you a pulpy smear for your comrades to find.”

For a moment, Leo imagines being stupid enough to consider it. Wistfully, he thinks it must be a peaceful way to live. 

Out loud, with more courage than he feels, he says, “Sorry, I don’t take candy from strangers.”

“Let me kill it,” the sister alien says, crowding in from behind so silently that Leo had no idea she was there until she spoke. Her breath is hot against the side of his face, teeth so close he can count them. “It won’t talk. It’s a waste of our time. I haven’t gotten to kill anything yet.”

Leo is sixteen, and has so far lived in a world where, generally speaking, people have compunctions when it comes to killing children. Draxum dropped him off a roof, but he seemed to believe that Leo would be able to walk off a fall from that height, or at the very least not die. Big Mama did make a targeted attempt on the turtles’ lives, but her cat-and-mouse games almost seem to be how she shows affection. Leo has a standing invitation to come work at the Nexus whenever he wants—and another standing invitation for a poker game every other Saturday. He hasn’t told dad about either, because he doesn’t think that would go over very well, but he has taken her up on the poker games. Hypno and that worm guy are constantly causing trouble (case in point: stealing the stupid key for the stupid Foot Clan) but they also sent the Hamatos RSVP cards for their wedding next summer. And, like, Leo and his family are going to the wedding. 

The Shredder was another story, but he wasn’t really a person. He was a spirit, trapped and warped inside a curse until barely anything remained. It was the dark armor they were fighting, really, a construct of malice. 

Leo has never been here before. Held helpless between two powerful creatures who swatted his family around like flies, who are discussing his death the way people discuss dinner plans. He’s frightened. He wishes he wasn’t alone. 

When he reaches inside himself for bravery, he finds the memory of Raphael leaping off the rooftop after him. No hesitation. No plan. Just courage and conviction and love for Leo that was louder than anything else. 

I can do that, he thinks, clenching his fists and squaring his shoulders. I can be fearless, too. 

“You may be right,” Krang One says, unbothered by Leo’s lack of cooperation. “I’ll just have to see for myself, then, won’t I?”

It grabs him by the shoulder and bears down, and Leo coughs out a wounded noise he can’t help when it grinds intentionally against his open wound. 

Something burrows beneath his skin and climbs upward, little tentacles, worms, slithering, disgusting, inside his body, inside his head, reaching for—

Well, isn’t this interesting, the Krang’s voice says from inside his mind. How does a creature as small as you contain hatred this big? And with such a fearsome weapon, why point it inwards?

Memories fall in front of him like dominoes, outside his control. It doesn’t make sense. Someone else is rifling through them, someone else is trying to find something. 

Leo catches on with barely a second to spare. The Krang wants to know where the key is, which means he’s looking for information about the lair. Panicking, scrambling, Leo thinks really hard and really fast about the old lair, destroyed by the Shredder, everything reduced to nondescript rubble. It’s a clumsy deflect, barely more than a road bump. The Krang continues probing, annoyed now. 

Where is your home? the Krang demands. 

So Leo thinks of home—April’s bathroom, manicures and face masks and Snapchat selfies—home—any dim alleyway with Mikey and a couple cans of spraypaint, watching it all come alive with color—home—a darkly lit TV room and late night Spanish soaps that he learned to love because of the one-on-one time it granted him with dad—home—sitting with his twin on the curb outside their favorite bodega, sandwiches in hand, watching a video essay about any obscure topic on his phone—home—Raphie’s shoulders, anywhere—

“Useless,” the Krang spits out.

“Tell me about it,” Leo barely manages to bite back, exhausted.

He just has to hold on a little longer. They’ll come for him, he knows they will. 

“Oh, how cute,” the Krang says, picking up on the thread of that thought like a hound scenting out a fox. “You think they’ll save you?”

From Leo’s memory, he pulls forward the key again—Leo fumbling it, making a mess of the mission, Raph’s anger, the troubled expressions Donnie and Mikey wore. Leo is trouble, nothing but trouble, he only invites disaster. He did half of the Krangs’ job for them. In fact, it’s largely thanks to him that they’re here at all. 

“I should be offering my gratitude,” Krang One says meanly. 

As he speaks, Leo can feel him rifling through memories, taking advantage of Leo’s split attention. 

If Leo were anyone else, it would have been impossible to keep up. But this is where the peculiar manner of his existence really shines. 

Draxum designed the four of them meticulously. There are still moments he’ll look at them with a sort of reluctant pride when he thinks they’re not paying attention. Once, after an uncomfortable family dinner, he let slip that he had intended for Donnie and Leo to be a working pair, which is why it amused him that they decided to be twins entirely on their own, even removed from his influence. 

And while Raph was built to be a tank and a front-line fighter, and nothing and no one outmatched Mikey in speed and agility, the twins were always destined to be the thinkers. Draxum, who was an alchemist as much as he was a warrior, regarded both physicality and intelligence to be of equal importance. He had had a half-formed plan of Donnie and Leo running the lab together while he managed his army. 

With Donnie, that intelligence is easy to see. Like Leo, he has perfect recall, but he’s also a verifiable genius. Growing up with him, as isolated as they were, it’s easy for his family to take for granted how terrifyingly gifted Donatello is. No other nine-year-old is going to be able to build a working generator out of junkyard scraps through trial and error and a keen intuition. 

Leo’s secondary mutation is harder to pin down. He wouldn’t be able to design a working Rube Goldberg machine even if someone put a gun to his head, but he’s never lost to Donnie in chess, or go, or poker. He’s never even come close. He can tell at a glance when Splinter is lying to him, he knows before she opens her mouth when April has had a bad day at school, it will take at most ten minutes alone with a stranger before he’s reading their microexpressions and nonverbal cues with a very slim margin of error. 

Leo’s smart when it comes to people. But more than that, he knows how to position the board. He can pull strings that have even someone as tricky as Big Mama dancing in his palm. Not always, and not perfectly, but well enough. And learning how to portal reliably taught him how to think on multiple levels at once. He has to be aware of what’s in front of him and what’s going on behind and around him, too. If he’s going to move Mikey forward to cover Donnie, he has to be certain it won’t leave Raph outnumbered. His brothers dart through those doorways unflinchingly the second one appears, trusting that the other side is where they need to be, so Leo has to make sure that’s true.

And all of that feels like endurance training for this moment. He can only just maintain a single step in front of the alien rooting through his head. He feels like a guppy squaring up with a shark, but it’s just enough to slow him down. Throw out a parachute behind the speeding car and drag it back. 

“So much potential, wasted,” the Krang says derisively, his tone of voice markedly agitated by now. He probably intended to do a clean sweep of Leo’s thoughts, get what he needed, and call it a day. Leo is happy to make his life even slightly more difficult. 

He doesn’t think the alien is aware of the feedback he’s putting out. Leo can follow it like ripples across water, branching out from a central point. He doesn’t dare look too closely and call attention to the fact while the Krang is still actively present, tearing walls down in Leo’s head, but he would put money on this mental connection going both ways. 

“Ugh, you sound like my stepdad,” Leo wheezes, barely able to follow the thread of the conversation on top of outthinking the foreign body inside his brain. “As a matter of fact, the two of you would probably get along. You could bond over, like, wishing all of humanity was dead. I should get your number for him when all this is over.”

The Krang’s face draws itself into a snarl that will probably feature in Leo’s nightmares for the rest of his life. 

“I’ve had enough of you!”

Join the club, Leo would say, but the breath is punched out of him by the tentacle that wraps around his bleeding shoulder and squeezes. The white-hot agony of it makes him cough and struggle to inhale past the weight of painpainpain. He can’t help but make a subaudible turtle distress sound that would have had Raph crashing through a wall to help him if he was even remotely nearby. 

Raph, staring down at him with frightened brown eyes. Those hands that have always held Leo hovering above him instead, afraid to touch—

Not afraid, that voice in his head says with mean certainty. Disgusted. He didn’t want to touch you. After what you did? It was all your fault. 

It’s all Leo’s fault, of course it is, but that isn’t—that doesn’t matter. Raph loves him anyway. Raph wouldn’t have left him. 

But he did. Don’t you see? You’re alone. 

No. He’s alone because—he did this. He sent Raph away. He’s alone because he saved his brother and he took back the key and the Krang is just a bitter, angry old man who doesn’t know how not to be a sore loser even after a thousand years of nothing but losing—

The Krang roars, and digs into Leo’s wound even harder, and blood comes out faster than is safe or healthy, probably. Leo’s turtle noises become out-loud cries he would be ashamed of if he had room in his head for something as superfluous as shame. His pride abandons him quickly. It hurts. It hurts. 

A single crack in his shield, a hiccup in his uniformed thoughts, is all it takes. The Krang’s presence floods in like an ocean, black water rising, and Leo is drowning, drowning, drowning. 

“No one is coming for you,” the Krang says with cold conviction.

Once, when Leo was very little, he asked Raph and April to toss the clean bedding over him as they folded the laundry. He thought it would be fun—like a cozy cave to explore—but he was unprepared for how heavy the quilts and sheets would be. The weight toppled him down and he got all tangled, he couldn’t find the edges, he couldn’t find his way out. 

Within thirty seconds of that smothered, helpless feeling, he was clicking and crying so hysterically that Splinter came into the room at a run. 

Leo lasts almost a full minute this time, and maybe someday he’ll find that something to be proud of, but after almost a minute he’s screaming. 

“Help me,” Leo wails, all bravado gone, every inch of courage deserting him, writhing and clawing at the pink slime oozing up his arms, “help me help me—”

He wants daddy to run into the room and untangle him and scoop him up even though he’s too big to be scooped up by Splinter anymore. He wants to be lifted out of the mess he made and carried to where he’s always been safe, where they always take him back.  

He wants the smell of fabric softener and April and Raphie’s worried faces, Splinter’s warm fur beneath Leo’s tear-sticky cheek. He wants to still be little enough to be carried, to be someone’s baby. He wants to go home. 

He cries until he can’t breathe, until he’s choking on it, clinging to that tiny, fragile hope by his fingertips. 

But no one came.