#YES I FINALLY WATCHED TWIN PEAKS

[melonart]

Before Twin Peaks, before everything

[velvetjune]

I want to look up what the ending of the final draft is for Alan Wake but im half nervous it’ll remove some of the mystery left that I loved from the first ending

[biinaberry]

Did I make an au just for a rarepair? Yes, but heres my idea of a shen twin au

In my version Shen Yuan transmigrates into the body of 5 yr old Shen Shi, twin of Shen Jiu. It is very important to note that in this au SJ and YQ refer to SY with "A-Shi" and "Xiao-Shi" respectively, and SY takes up the identity of Shen Shi. SY is also fully cognizant when he migrates so he has the complete thoughts of a 20~ yr old while in the body of a 5 yr old. This causes some major dysphoria and also anger at the helplessness of being in a body that does not fit him and also the fact that he has no social nor physical power because he is a child. He also views SJ and YQ as his little brothers even if he is actually the youngest physically.

He eventually is taken in my the Qiu family alongside his brother. It is when SJ starts to bond with Qiu Haitang that it finally pieces together that his brother is going to be SQQ and grieves for the events that he knows is going to happen to him. The building rage and anger at the helplessness of the situation culminates in Shen Yuan starting the massacre with SJ instantly jumping in and causing the majority of deaths. When SJ carries out the unconscious body of Qiu Haitang SY realizes the opportunity in front of him. He knows that she is going to be the kickstarter of his brother's downfall and in that moment grabs the nearest weapon, and with a heavy heart, kills her as SJ watches in shock. He turns to SJ telling him "You can't leave any witnesses, they always eventually spill" before both run off. I dont know what to do with the Wu Yanzi so I'm ignoring it for now. And im also unsure if he gets a system but we'll see.

Eventually they meet up with Yue Qi now Yue Qingyuan and the anger SJ has towards him. SY is also angry but its more so for SJ's sake than his own. The two of them become a part of Cang Qiong sect and while SJ is taken in by the Qing Jing peak, SY is taken in by the beast and flora peak (which I do not have named). They both become head disciples and later peak lords. SY also is able to clock that SQH is not the original version due to airplane saying a modern phrase and a friendship forms. SY is also the one to start biting and defending his brother when QQQ or LQG take potshots at him. It's while they are still disciples that SY meets Su Xiyan while hes on a mission and they worked together for a bit before SXY split. They continued to meet up until eventually a friendship formed and SY meets TLJ a "companion" of SXY. SY clocks who the two of them are goes to SQH to learn all he can about them and their future. SXY and TLJ eventually fall for each other and SY makes sure to prevent the palace master from finding out as long as he can. He also warns them about the palace master and to not trust any letters not hand delivered by SY as he will act as a middle person to make sure no one intercepts them. It is also during this time that SXY and TLJ both gain interest in SY. Neither can explain fully why but his autistic swag, photographic memory and ability to name drop paragraph long information in seconds intrigued them. They start courting him, shen yuan is of course oblivious. It is also important that SY introduced himself to TLJ and SXY with the name "Shen Yuan" so only the two of them refer to each other as such. He also clocks when SXY is pregnant and tells her as such when symptoms start to show and again, not to trust the palace master. By this time he is now a peak lord alongside his brother.

Eventually the old palace master finds out and instead of targeting TLJ, he first targets their lynch pin, shen yuan. He sends letters to SJ and YQY about SY being a traitor. Showing him being a demon sympathizer and hanging out sect secrets that actually SQH was leaking due to the system. SY is captures, a trial occurs and SY is charged as guilty with the punishment of execution, but YQY and SJ object. Since it was CQ secrets he was sharing they have the official say. So instead of execution they instead lock him up on the beast peak using talismans and sigils. He is not allowed to talk to anyone besides fellow peak lords and his head disciple. He cannot leave the peak without another peak lord monitoring him and this also applies when teaching. This lockdown completely breaks him as he lost trust with his family and the confinement dives him crazy as a peak lord he commonly left to document and work upon his bestiaries. This leaves him in a depressive state and constantly paranoid as he cant trust anyone. And No One has told him definitive news if SXY and TLJ are safe, SQH has confirmed that TLJ was not captured and helped SXY but he has no clue where they are now and if baby LBH is with them. As SY is confined on his mountain he stops caring about appearances and starts wasting away seen in image 3. I havent figured the rest out with LBH but he does become a part of cang qiong sect under Qing Jing, the abuse he faces stays the same. If he is raised with TLJ and SXY or by the washer woman I do not know yet. LBH hearing about the rumors of a monster on the beast peak heads out and comes face to face with SY who is delighted to see him but also horrified that about 14+ years have now passed. This pushes him a little out of his depressive episode because now he has a son to take care of and he can't waste away in front of him. He needs to act strong. He teaches LBH the best he can while contained and tells him about his parents. The two form a father son dynamic where both cant really escape the situation they are in but at least have each other for company. SY also holds onto LBH's jade pendant so it isnt lost. He also tells LBH that if he meets a demon named TLJ, to mention the name Shen Yuan.

While on a mission LBH meets up with TLJ and tells him that he's met SY and TLJ loses it (pos). He asks where he is as SXY and TLJ have been trying to find him with no success. He is told that hes on the beast peak in cang qiong and has been contained there for the last 16 years. TLJ then hatches a game plan to free him and the decide to use the immortal conference as a distraction. Most of the cultivation world will be at that conference so minimal security will be held at the sect. They use this to their advantage. TLJ strikes a deal with MBJ to cause a distraction to keep the cultivation world on the two of them even if alarms go off that SY is escaping. MBJ agrees to this as TLJ allows him to target any huan hua disciple he sees (they dont tell SXY this). While they cause a distraction by appearing on the 7th day of the conference, SXY sneaks into cang qiong peak and works on the talisman and sigils. This works and eventually she gets to SY he sees the bad shape he is in, but it was better than what LBH originally saw. The two of them start crying and SXY activates a 2 way communication artifact with TLJ telling him it was a success.

TLJ then turns to MBJ and MBJ teleports, appears in front of SXY and SY and teleports the two of them to the demon world. TLJ then turns to his son who's demon seal now broke and decides to do some father son bonding and the two both go into the eternal abyss together, as this is a tradition for heavenly demons. The two of them return after 1-2 years and have MBJ teleport them out rather than using Xin Mo.

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!reader ❛ word count: 2.2k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: oral sex, face-sitting, multiple orgasms, biting

▸ preview: You feel his lips part against your inner thigh, and his fangs follow the broad sweep of his tongue, digging into the soft skin there before delicately piercing your flesh. Your blood stains his lips, delicious and sweet as he laps it up eagerly.

--

OR: Astarion is in a mood to indulge. As it turns out, so are you.

AO3 ┊ masterlist

No matter how many times you see – or feel – Astarion's fangs, you don't think you'll ever tire of them. That shiver of excitement you feel as he bears them behind a wicked grin, the way he sets your nerves alight when they graze your skin and he rewards you with another playful nip.

Sometimes you wonder how he can manage to remain so gentle with you. Especially on a night like tonight, when he's got you whimpering and pleading for more as though he hasn't touched you in weeks. 

Will there ever be a moment when even his slightest touch doesn't drive you mad with desire?

Your back bows off the mattress as his lips ghost against the twin marks that adorn your throat – his favorite place to feed. His hands are deliciously cool against your heated skin as they map the curves of your body, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Everywhere he touches you leaves you crying out for more, more, more, and as you arch into him to chase the sensation of his hands upon you Astarion makes an amused noise into the crook of your neck.

“Patience, darling. When I told you I wanted to taste every part of you tonight, I meant it.”

The evidence of his own desire is apparent; in at least a dozen places he has already bitten you, decorating the tops of your breasts, your stomach, and especially your neck with tender little blemishes that mark you as his.

Some of them will be visible above your clothing tomorrow. But the rest will be your little secret.

The low, possessive tone of his voice makes you tremble, but what excites you even further is the moment Astarion's head dips beneath your collarbones and his mouth drags a tortuous path to the stiff peak of your nipple. The taut bud slips between his teeth and he bites down just hard enough that you cry out again, eyes squeezed shut as you twist your hands in the sheets.

Not so long ago, the two of you hadn't had the luxury of privacy, and it took everything you had to keep your voice down when he'd visit you in your tent after sundown. But now there is no need to hold yourself back, and Astarion is nothing if not dedicated to coaxing as many pretty little sounds from your mouth as he possibly can. You can hear it in the growl that rumbles in his throat, feel it in the way he expertly explores your body.

He isn't blindly searching for the places that will leave you writhing desperately beneath him. He doesn't have to, because he's long since memorized them all, but that doesn't mean he can't have a little fun making you beg for the pleasure only he can provide.

And beg you do, not with your words but with the way you continue to angle yourself into his hands and let out a languid moan, instinctively telling him what you need.

Astarion takes his time with you, alternating between licking, sucking, and biting your breasts, humming appreciatively as he works to build your pleasure to a crescendo. Each time he passes over a particularly sensitive part of you, a jolt of white-hot heat explodes across your nerves, tethering to the growing inferno between your legs. You press your thighs together but it brings you little relief.

You swallow thickly, mouth dry from panting as Astarion slides lower down your body, over the planes of your stomach as he inches closer to the place you need him most.

Yes, you think, yes, yes…

Your vision slowly comes back into focus as you open your eyes, keen on watching the moment he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and finally claims you. Your cunt clenches tightly, arousal dampening the soft cotton fabric.

Astarion hovers over you for a moment, and when he angles his face up to capture your gaze you can clearly see the wicked gleam in his eyes through his delicate lashes.

“Not yet, my sweet,” he purrs, kissing across your thigh. You whine in protest, bucking your hips and reaching out to tangle your hands in his ivory curls. You feel as though you're going to explode, so needy for his mouth between your legs that you're having a hard time thinking of anything else.

Writhing against him does nothing but coax another laugh from him. You pout and shoot him a scathing glare, but he's far too busy elsewhere to notice.

“Careful,” Astarion murmurs in warning. You feel the telltale pinpricks of his fangs each time you undulate your hips. “You wouldn't want my fangs to slip, now would you?”

He's bluffing, of course. Every one of Astarion's movements is precisely calculated, but the thought of being bitten in such an intimate place makes your heart race and gooseflesh spread across your exposed skin. You answer his question by squirming against him, daring him to make good on his promise.

“Naughty little thing you are,” Astarion huffs with a click of his tongue. He doesn't sound displeased in the slightest.

You feel his lips part against your inner thigh, and his fangs follow the broad sweep of his tongue, digging into the soft skin there before delicately piercing your flesh. Your blood stains his lips, delicious and sweet as he laps it up eagerly. A low groan wracks his body, fingers digging into the space above your hip as he suckles gently on the place he's bitten you.

It hurts in a way you find intoxicating, a brief sting of pain that's quickly replaced with the most satisfying pleasure. 

Inhaling deeply, you push yourself up on your elbows and watch him run his tongue along your thigh, up, up, up, pressing tender little kisses as he goes. He can feel you watching him, and when his eyes flick up to find your face, your heart skips a beat beneath his hungry gaze.

“Astarion…”

A simpering smile works its way across his handsome face, brows raising playfully as he looks up at you. You know how much it delights him to see you like this, pupils blown and hair disheveled as you gape at him in anticipation.

“I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough, haven't I?” he muses, cocking his head to the side when you furrow your brow and scoff.

“Too long,” you scold him. “You're doing it on purpose just to torture me, you terrible, awful man.”

Another nip of your skin, this time at the place just above your hip bones. His long fingers glide over your stomach, and you suck in a breath between your teeth.

“Is that what you think?” he asks, the innocence in his tone betrayed by the smug expression he wears so elegantly. He toys with the waistband of your panties, feigning disinterest.

“You're doing it right now!” you exclaim, staring at him in disbelief. You open your mouth to voice another complaint, but Astarion acts faster, gripping your waist and tugging your body towards him, causing you to fall flat onto your back. The breath is knocked from your lungs as your head hits the pillow, and in your state of temporary disorientation you can only just make out the sound of Astarion's pleased little laugh.

“Hush, love,” he orders you. “Let me play with my food.”

You lift your hips obediently as he sinks his teeth into the fabric and tugs your panties down your thighs, and you shiver as Astarion parts your legs and exposes your core to the open air. The world around you spins as his cool breath fans out across your sensitive skin, and the first pass of his tongue through your slick folds wipes your mind blank in the blink of an eye.

Closing your eyes allows you to feel him more profoundly, lets you focus on the way his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs as he buries his face between your legs and feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere, gliding through your folds and brushing against your entrance. Everywhere but the bundle of nerves that throbs in protest, and despite his earlier command you can't help the broken cry that slips past your trembling lips.

“Astarion,” you beg, hands making their way back into his hair. “Please…”

With what seems like an impossible slowness, Astarion slowly lifts his head, and you shatter like so many fragile panes of glass the moment his lips finally wrap around your clit and suck.

It no longer embarrasses you how quickly he can make you come, not when it feels this good. Pleasure rips through your body and your fingers pull at his hair, voice hoarse as you scream his name and tighten your thighs around his head. Every swipe of his tongue prolongs your orgasm, and you lose track of time as wave after wave of euphoria cascades through you. Your chest heaves as you gasp for breath, fortunate that Astarion no longer needs to breathe because of how fiercely you've kept his face pressed against you.

At last you release him, and when you risk a glance at him the sight of his face between your thighs, covered in your arousal, is perhaps the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

Astarion licks his lips and murmurs his approval. 

“Was that what you wanted? Are you satisfied now, darling?”

“No,” you admit with a shaky laugh, offering him a lopsided smile.

“That’s my good girl,” he growls, sinking back between your legs. “I haven't yet had my fill of you either.”

He seems to enjoy the taste of you on his tongue a while longer before another idea strikes him, and as he crawls up the length of your body to kiss you, you wrap your arms around his torso and pull him close. Astarion's hands slip beneath your back with the same ease his tongue slips into your mouth, and in one swift motion he's flipped the both of you over, settling into the mattress with you on top of him.

When you part for breath, the press of his hands on your backside coaxes you forward, and at last you realize what he means to have you do. His expression is nothing if not roguish as your hips hover over his face, and he combats any hesitation you might still have by capturing your waist to tug you down.

You brace yourself on the headboard with both hands, white-knuckled as his lips and tongue bring you renewed pleasure. You roll your hips against his face with another delicious moan, throwing your head back the moment his tongue teases your entrance and slips inside. 

“Mmm…” he groans into your cunt, hands locked around your hips like a vise. His nose bumps against your clit, and you struggle to keep yourself upright as he has his way with you.

“That's it,” Astarion encourages you, and the vibration of his voice against your most sensitive areas has you panting, desperate for release. You grind yourself against his face, riding him with almost reckless abandon.

“Come for me again, darling. You can do it.”

Astarion's tongue swirls around your clit, and you swear you see stars. The sensation makes your entire body shake, and your whimpers and moans tumble from your mouth one after the other as your stomach tightens and you feel yourself spiraling towards the precipice once again. He works you diligently, each noise of his own between your legs only heightening your pleasure.

“Astarion –”

Your voice wavers, and you find it difficult to speak. The sound of his name on your lips is music to his ears, and his fingers dig more tightly into your skin, tongue licking one last teasing stripe down the center of you before it's too much to bear. 

You come for him again with a violent shout, hips bucking wildly as your cunt pulses and your body quivers. You lose your grip on the headboard but Astarion holds you tight, never once slowing down as he guides you through the height of your pleasure. He helps you settle once you remember how to breathe, and you straddle his hips as Astarion gazes up at you with such ferocious intensity that you feel your heart tighten in your chest.

“You always taste so sweet, darling,” he murmurs, tongue peeking from behind his lips as he licks them clean. You catch another glimpse of his fangs behind them as he grins at you in satisfaction.

You wiggle your hips, suddenly all too aware of his cock, which stands at attention against the swell of your ass. Your body is almost spent, but the thought of pleasuring him in return feels you with renewed vigor.

“My turn,” you say, lifting your hips again.

Astarion beams at you, wrapping his arms possessively around you as he tugs you down for another passionate kiss. His fangs graze against your lips before you open your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as he groans against you.

“As you wish, my love. There is nothing I’d like more.”

[papathe5th]

Please, please, please write about reader getting spit roasted by c and v

COME TOGETHER (TOGETHER AS ONE)

.* .* 🐀* . *. .* .* 🦇 * . *•* .* 🦇 * . *. .* .* 🐀* . *.

Papa V Perpetua x GN!Reader x Frater Imperator

Words: 3200

Rating: E (explicit)

Tags: power imbalance; degrading language; sweet talk & dirty talk; a bit of praise & a bit of degradation;

.* .* 🐀* . *. .* .* 🦇 * . *•* .* 🦇 * . *. .* .* 🐀* . *.

You’ve been supervising the renovations for Frater Imperator’s office for the past five months. Tonight, you’ve been summoned in person in his temporary working space.

“Here, dolce.” He’s been repeating the line for the entirety of those five months. “My final notes.”

The actual final note was passed to you by a Siblings of Sin that has been working with you side-by-side for five long months: Frater Imperator wanted you to meet him in his office tonight. Alone.

Tonight, you came to him alone. But he already had company.

Papa V Perpetua was wearing his clerical robe, the same black silk garments you’d admired during Black Mass this evening. He filled them well, yet you found yourself undressing him in your mind as you had every night since his return from preaching the Skeleta psalm around the globe. 

You’ve been finding yourself in the chapel every night after the end of his sermon, enjoying the silence alongside him.

This evening, Papa sat in the pew next to you like he had in your fantasies. Like he had seen himself in your fantasies. And he asked you: “Is there something you wanted to tell me?” It didn’t sound like a question, his voice didn’t raise on the last word and his left eye never let you look away.

“Yes, Your Unholiness” you confessed and watched the eye twinkle like the Evening Star. “I’ve been dreaming of you.”

“What am I doing in your dreams?”

“You’re at the pulpit. Your psalms inspire me. Your voice follows me in my sleep.”

“Is preaching all I do in your dreams?” 

The eye shot into yours, and entered the orbit like a burning comet. He had made it inside and could see what was hiding in the back of your mind. 

“No, Papa.” You couldn’t lie to him, but you couldn’t come clean about impure thoughts. He wasn’t the only one starring in them and you doubted that it would please him to hear it. And you wanted to please him. 

His arm was perched on the back of the pulpit, and you felt its heat behind you. He turned up the temperature when he slipped his gauntlet atop your clothed shoulder and slid you closer. 

“Was I doing this?”

His mouth caught yours before words could be formed on the tongue. Not that you had the words for the experience of exhaling your very soul into Papa’s hungry maw. When he breathed life back into you, he had yet to grant you back all of your senses. Or your sense. The words you tried to swallow down your throat then tumbled out of your tongue: “Yes, Frater.”

“What was that?” 

Papa peered into you, pushing through and threading to strip you to the bone. And you feared what he’d find underneath, so you slid to the edge of the pew and escaped his embrace.

“Forgive me, Papa,” you bowed, barely able to hold yourself straight. “Please forgive me.” Your head was down as you watched your feet speed out the chapel door. 

Tonight, there were two twin stars shining upon you in the office you’ve dedicated almost half of the year to. Frater Imperator welcomed you in for the first time instead of you doing it for him. He bowed down and held the door open for you. 

When he opened it, Papa V Perpetua was sitting when on the sofa you and his brother had picked the night he invited you to look at the catalogue with him while sitting in his lap. 

Tonight, Papa’s lap looked inviting, his legs spread like his twin’s had been, stretching his satin skirt and giving you a peak at his ankles. The mitre was missing, but the mask was strapped on as it always seemed to be. The sliver of skin you spotted under the loosened clerical collar got you hot under yours.

“After you, dolce.” Frater followed you to the sofa and sat on the opposite side leaving you with the spot in between him and his brother. 

“Is there something wrong, Your Dark Eminences?” You swallowed, your mouth watering with their scent surrounding you. “Is the room not to your liking?”

Papa ripped your attention away from his brother and rival. “You’ve done a great job with the place,” he smiled ever so slightly, his black lips twitching to uncover his teeth. “I saw the sad state C’s office was in—”

“We’re not here to talk about your lack of artistic eye, V,” Frater fired past you and towards Papa.

“We’re here to talk about your jealousy,” he fired back.

“I am not jealous.” With his own lips pressed together so they wouldn’t stretch into a scowl, Frater caught your attention again. And, with a hand on your thigh, he squeezed your flesh and made your skin burn like he had earlier this evening, while you were perched on his lap. 

You never wanted the fondling or the feeling to stop, but his brother’s title came out of your mouth when he made contact with your sex through your formal dress. 

“We wanted to talk about what’s been going on between the two…the three of us.”

“I apologise for any offence, Your Dark Eminences,” you started reciting the script you’ve written and rewritten in your head.

Papa placed a hand on your shoulder like he had back when it was just the two of you in the pews. “You have nothing to apologise for.” His thumb circled the cramping muscles and you surrendered to the sensation, sitting back on the sofa, into the pillows. And, when he pulled himself closer, you fell against his satin chest. 

“You want my touch, dolce, that much is obvious.” Frater’s fingers reached the intersection of your thighs for the second time tonight. And, this time, they fell wide open for him. “But you want my brother’s, too.” 

“Such a greedy little thing.” You felt Papa’s words before he spoke them into your ear and they shot like lightning down your spine. His chest moved under your head as he inhaled , his nose digging into your hair. “What are we going to do with you?”

“What do you want us to do with you?” 

They were making you beg, that’s what they were doing. You didn’t want their touch. You needed their touch. “Please,” you whined, your spine winding as your back became a bow ready to break at any second. “Please.”

If it weren’t for Papa’s metal talons around your throat and Frater’s fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, you would’ve tumbled off the couch. They saved you from falling, but they also trapped you between the two of them, stretching your body on the length of the sofa. Frater Imperator held your hips high up his leg, his knee between your own thighs, while Papa pressed his chest into your back and held you in place by your throat. 

“Thank you.” You rubbed yourself against Frater’s tailored trousers, slowly so as to not disrupt his fingers' descent into your own trousers. Papa peppered black kisses in the side of your face. Your temple was first, then came time for the cheek to be stamped. 

“You like that?” He spoke against the shell of your ear. “You like my mouth on you?” He pried an answer out of you by pulling on your lobe with his teeth. 

“Yes, Papa,” you moaned, making more room for his mouth by trying to tilt your head to the side. But that tight grip around your throat wouldn’t allow it. And you moaned again.

“Oh, dolce.” Frater unfastened your trousers and you finally had his fingers on your flesh. There was still a layer of leather saparating the two of you, but that made the slide down to your sex a torture so tender you stopped humping his thigh and held your hips high in place. “You called me Papa when I pressed the right button.”

“And you liked it, C,” Papa chuckled into the crook of your neck, teasing the tendon there with his fangs. 

“Shut up, V,” Frater barked, but you felt the weight of his crotch on your knee and it was hard and heavy. “I’m trying to hear those sinful sounds again. I’m going to make you sing, dolce.” His gloved hand was working with your hot and wet sex and you thought it was better that way. 

In your dirty dizzy thoughts, you might’ve burned yourself if it was his bare flesh against yours. 

“Sing for us, angel,” Papa smiled into the side of your neck. Hiis black lipstick was now kiss marks all over your skin, framing the love bites he left behind. “I love this song.”

“Yes. It’s my new favorite song,” Frater laughed, his lungs sounding empty after. 

Between the twins, between the tongue running over your lips and ramming itself into your moaning mouth and the hand making your thighs tremble, you sang for them. 

“Dolce, are you gonna come for us?”

“Come on my brother’s fingers, you filthy little thing!”

And you came on the last note you sang, your body slack on the new sofa and your soul leaving you for the ceiling. 

As you settled down, Papa’s mouth kissed the crown of your head while he threaded his talons through your hair. Frater Imperator used the same hand that tortured you into oblivion to soothe you. He slowly stripped your bottom half of all threads and settled himself between your shivering thighs, then offered that hand to his brother so that he could taste your come on the glove. Through the tears of relief in your eyes, you saw Papa lave the leather with his tongue, his now nude lips wrapping around the middle finger. 

“Sweet, right?” He smirked, proud to have predicted the flavour of his dolce. “I told you.” He pulled away the hand and finished cleaning the taste of you off the glove, popping each fingertip in his mouth.

“The mouth is a treat, too.” Papa grabbed your chin with his gauntlets. “Try it.” Lifting your face and resting the back of your head on his chest, he presented your purses lips to his twin.

And his twin leaned in, latching onto them, licking them, suckling them and eating up all the sounds that came out of your mouth. “Mhm,” he finished up tasting you by sucking on your tongue, and moaning in approval. “E certamente dolce.” 

He was as suffocating as his brother, but you didn’t even bother to breathe while he was sucking the air out of you. Your soul was theirs for the inhaling. Though you’d soon come to know it wasn’t your soul they were trying to own tonight. 

They do not collaborate often, or at all. So you’ve been told. Yet Frater Imperator helped Papa V Perpetua by holding you while he worked on ripping off your clothes, running his sharp-ended gauntlets up and down your torso. And they even agreed in silence to turn you on your stomach in tandem. One pushed your cheek into the soft cushions, the other pulled you up on your knees and up your ass into the air. 

Frater Imperator rose from his side of the couch, caressing the globes of your ass with his gloves still on, denying you his bare skin. And Papa was even crueler with the cold grip of his gauntlet on you. He slid the sharp tips down your spine and made it arch under his teasing touch. His other tips were threading through your hair. 

“Shit,” you squeaked like a toy the twins were squeezing between them. “Oh, shit,” you smothered yourself into the couch, nails digging into the cushions.

“Who do you want inside that dirty mouth?” Papa hooked the corner of your lips with the end of his thumb, pulling your head up and then pressing the soft leather pad of it on your tongue.

“Fra…Pa,” you drooled over his digit, delirious and drenched in your own juices. You needed to be baptised by Papa’s. And Frater Imperator’s.

“Who is this Frappa? Frappuccino? Al Pacino?” 

Papa laughed. If it was at your sorry state or his twin’s reply to the syllables you failed to string together, you didn’t know. All you knew was that the two made too good of a tag team. 

“Put that filthy mouth to use.” Papa put a gauntlet through your hair to guide you towards Frater, his own erection covered in the string of spit he used to stroke it. “Spit on it.”

Papa pulled his thumb out , a thick thread of the spit they were talking about following the tip. His other thumb latched onto his other threads, removing his robe with a button popping pull and then pushing his trousers down his thighs. The saliva wetting his thumb made the glide of his hand down his thick, throbbing shaft smoother.

Frater manifested himself in front of you, manhood in hand, mirroring his twin. 

You did as you were told and was satisfied to see all the spit that you covered his cock with. And Frater had girth, so witnessing how he made all of it shine made you proud. And it made you prouder still to see him shut his eyes against the sensation. “Satanas,” he praised the Dark Lord, and then you. “Sei davvero un angelo.”

“Un angelo caduto.” 

Papa pressed himself against his brother, and brought your head closer to their heads. They were crying for your mouth and you were rolling out your tongue to welcome them in. “You can take both of us, can’t you, dolce?” Frater looked down on you, his cheeks looking as hot as you felt on the inside. Papa’s face paints were over his mouth now, most of it in the form of markings on your own face and neck. 

“Yesh,” you panted, breathing in deep and tasting them in the air. 

Your tongue was all the way out and wet and they bumped their weeping heads on it. The truth was you couldn’t take both their cocks at once, but needed them inside you. And they knew this, petting your hair, stroking your chin and pushing in slowly, sliding against each other's shafts.

“Easy, dolce,” Frater cupped your cheek and caress it, and stroking the bulge his brother made into the side of your face. “Breathe through your nose.”

“Suck,” Papa pulled at the seams of your mouth with a talon, stretching you around their girth. “Fucking suck on it.” 

“Who’s foul mouthed…foul mouthed again?” Frater teased, his breath short while he instructed yours.

“Sssshut up,” Papa sneered, the air they shared between them running low. 

And so was yours. 

Sucking didn’t shut them up, though it did get them both to groan, grabbing onto each other as to not lose themselves inside you.You were overwhelmed, overstuffed and overjoyed to have such an effect on their Dark Eminencies. And when you sucked for a second time and moaned deep in your mouth, Papa pulled at your hair again while his twin released your face.

“Are you touching yourself?” Frater huffed, his hand now reaching behind you and smacking your bottom to stop you. “How dare you?”

You were touching yourself. How could you not? The twins enveloped you with their scent and drowned you with their taste, but neither of them could fill you up. 

“You need a cock on the other end, too,” Papa V Perpetua spit out, spraying your heated forehead with a few flying droplets. “Don’t you, you whore?” He pulled out and slapped you with the cock you’ve been slobbering on.

“All you had to do was ask,” Frater Imperator cooed, cupping your ass and soothing the spot with the same hand that hurt it. He was dripping with your drool when he pulled out, too. Settling on a knee on one end of the sofa, he prepared your entrance with the excess from his erection. 

In front of you, his twin took a knee too. You craned your head towards his cock, tongue reaching for him. Even seeing you eager to take it all didn’t satisfy him. He slapped you with his shaft again. “I want you to use your words.” He dipped his dick into the saliva pooling on your tongue and pulled it away before you could close your lips around it. “Beg for us to fuck you.” 

“Please, Papa,” you whined, nuzzling his shaft as he settled it on your cheek. “Please, Frater.” You wiggled your ass while the other shaft gilded between your ass globes. “Please fuck me.”

“Oh, V.” The man behind you had the hot tip of his dick burning at your entrance. “Wasn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard?”

“Whenever you’re ready, C.” The man in front of you rolled precum on your lips like a balm. 

Who knew all it took for the twins to come together was you being between the two of them? You were so happy you could cry. And you did. You cried out for them with a cock in your mouth and one in your loins. You cried and the vibrations shook their Dark Eminences like an earthquake.

Frater Imperator stretched you out, slamming his hips against your ass until you collapsed into the cushions and he had to continue drilling you into the couch. 

“That’s it.” Papa petted your head like you were a good dog. And a hard-working whore. He was teaching you how to take his own cock down your throat after all. “Take his cock. Take my cock. All of it. Yes. That’s it. My filthy fallen angel. Take it all.”

His brother curled around your body from behind until the chill of his broach was right up against the small of your back. His hand came around your throat and got a hold of your jaw. “Si, dolce. Bravo, dolce. You look so sinful with a mouthful of my brother’s cock, dolce.”

You were being crushed and rebuilt between their bodies. You were being suffocated with one cock and stuffed with the other. And you are sure your soul was also being skewered by them because it exited your body and you came as it hit the ceiling. 

“There you are, angel,” Papa V Perpetua was the first to greet you back, his cool gauntlet against your burning cheek as he cupped it. 

You tasted salt and it wasn’t just your tears. His come was covering your face and he was careful to get it out of your eye as you blinked back to life. “How are you?”

“Thirsty,” you licked the tip of the talon at the edge of your mouth.

“There you go, dolce,” Frater Imperator kneeled beside his brother, he was holding a cup of water with a Ghost straw in it to drink out of while stretched out on the new sofa. Through the haze over your mind, you saw how disheveled they both were, hair sticking to Frater’s forehead as it fell on his temple while Papa’s make-up was mostly missing, the porcelain skin of his jaw peppered by a black stubble. 

“You shouldn’t move too much,” Frater cleared his voice, looking over you to your legs where the prints of his slaps still felt fresh. The cushions he settled under your ass were sure to be covered with his come. And yours.

“You should take a bath.”

“Can’t we all take a bath?” You asked before your conscious mind could even catch up with what was going on. “I…I didn’t…”

“Sure.” 

“Sure.”

They answered at the same time. And they looked at each other as if they were as surprised by the synchronicity as you and everyone else in the Ministry was.

“Why not?”

“Why not?”

[bloodlineee1]

i’d love to see a jey uso x reader from you! something silly followed by some smut maybe. just light hearted relationship stuff.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Reader.

Warnings: smut Minors DNI 18+

i loved this idea so muchhh i hope you guys enjoyyyyy!!!!

I get out of the shower and realize I forgot to grab a towel. were at Jey's twin brother's house visiting and at home, we usually have towels in our bedrooms so it totally crossed my mind.

"babe" y/n yells.

"yeah?" Jey yells back from downstairs.

"Can you bring me a towel please"

"Can you bring me a towel please" Jimmy mocks.

"I heard that Jimmy" y/n laughs yelling at him.

"Man shut yo ass up before you get me in trouble" Jey laughs.

"yeah, one second" he gets up from the couch and throws a pillow at Jimmy.

after a few minutes, he finally walked in with a towel in his hand.

"here" he puts his arm out to pass me the towel.

"took you long enough" I walk towards him and try to snatch the towel.

"say goodbye to this towel 'cause you ain't getting it now" he snatches the towel back.

"babe, give me the towel." I bend around his back to grab it.

"say please" he smacks my ass and moves the towel again.

"Joshua come on it's cold" I smack his arm.

"say please" he taunts.

"Please, now give me my towel" I suck my teeth and put my hand out.

"say it nicer" he pushes more.

"Josh stop playing bro," I say purposely because I know he doesn't play that "bro" shit.

"oh, I'm bro now?"

"yeah, uce" I laugh.

"oh really? keep it up" he laughs too.

"Can you just give me my towel, Jules?" I say, his old stage name, which he also hates.

"Now you definitely not getting this towel" he chuckles.

"I'm not walking around your brother's house naked," I say annoyed at this point because its cold asf.

"what you gonna do for this towel?" he smirks.

"anything you want," I say obliviously.

"oh really? bend over then" he jokes he pulls me by my waist.

"Yeah, you crazy" I grab the towel and try to walk away.

"am I?" he pulls me in with the towel that he never let go.

"yes, you are" My breath hitches from how close he is we've been married for 3 years and he still makes me nervous.

"yeah?" he starts rubbing my clit.

"Yeah," I moan.

"you've been walking around with this stank-ass attitude all damn day I know this is what you've been wanting" he whispers in my ear.

"I don't have an attitude" I roll my eyes.

"yes, you have ever since you and Naomi went out with the girls last night." he puts a finger in.

"Well, when you come home horny from the club and your man is giving lectures about drinking "too much" instead of taking his dick out and fucking you till you cry you'd have an attitude too," I say annoyed and so horny.

"mhm ill give what you want like I said bend that ass over" he smacks my ass.

15 minutes later.

"Ugh! fuck babe!" y/n moaned loudly, trying not to break her arch in her back. She gripped the sheets, with her eyes rolling to the back of her head as Jey held her by the waist and drilled her.

"Baby wait" She whimpered, moving up some.

"Whea' you goin'? Huh?" he grabbed her by the hair and whispered into her ear.

"Mm, It's too much" She whined, reaching back to push at his stomach.

"This what you wanted, remember? Take this shit like a big girl" He let her hair go and fucked her deeper than before.

He slowed his pace down.

"Fuck me back" He demanded slapping her ass.

She let a short moan slip out and he stopped moving, waiting for her to do what he said.

She gripped the sheet again, moving her hips in a circular motion. He bit his bottom lip, mesmerized by how her ass moved so perfectly.

"Mmm," She muffled, holding in a moan before she started throwing her ass back on him.

"Fuck y/n." He groaned, watching her ass effortlessly jiggle.

He felt his peak near, gripped her hips, and put his leg up.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Take dis shit" Jey gritted, gripping her hips tightly as he pounded into her.

"Tell me you love me, baby," He said, knowing the state she was currently in, she couldn't say anything.

Moans were stuck in her throat, she couldn't form a sentence at the moment at how much pleasure she was feeling.

"I can't hear you" He taunted, slowing down.

She gasped "Shit! I love you!" She moaned "I love you so much"

"I love you too baby," He said softly

"You gonna cum for me?"

"I-I-I can't" She whined.

"Yes, you can baby, come on give it to me" He coached.

He could feel her body trembling below him, feeling his peak coming too but wanted to make sure she got hers first.

He put his leg down and pushed more into her back letting her body collapse. Not stopping his deep strokes as she now lay on her stomach and he laid on top of her.

"You like makin' me feel good right?" He whispered in her ear. She immediately nodded, feeling him in her stomach the deeper he grind into her.

"Then let it go, mama. Let me feel it" He softly kissed the side of her face and she kept clapping her walls around him as the tears that were building up in her eyes started to spring free.

"Make me feel good and cum fa' me" He whispered with a shaky voice.

"Oh fuck" She dragged out as the orgasm ripped threw her body

"Just like that baby. Good girl" He cooed, kissing the side of her face, stroking her through it.

His eyes started drifting close releasing himself inside her.

"damn," they both said in unison.

They turn our heads towards the door after hearing a knock.

"aye get yall nasty asses up and get dressed we going out to eat" Jimmy yells from the other side of the door.

"Aii," Jey yells back, still lying on top of me.

"and clean my sheets" he adds.

"See," I smack him on his chest.

"Jim, leave them alone lord knows what we be doing in their house," naomi laughs.

[throneofsmut]

Kinktober Day 7: Losing Virginity

Lucien Vanserra x Reader || WC: 1K

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you try to hold back moans watching Lucien kiss the soft skin of your inner thighs, still trembling from the orgasm he gave you from fucking you with his tongue. Then your hip bones. 

His russet eye gleams as brightly as his gold one does when he meets your gaze as he kisses your tummy. Your fingers tangling in his unbound silky red hair, tugging lightly. 

He smirks. Chuckling amusedly as his lips close around a peaked nipple. Sucking, swirling, and tugging. 

“Lu,” you moan breathily. 

He grins then gives your other peaked nipple the same treatment. Wringing a sigh of pleasure from you. Then he moves, kissing your neck and finally your lips. His soft lips caress yours with familiarity. Perfectly shaped by the Mother to fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Propping himself up on a fist next to your side, shifting his hips so that his hard cock is pressed against your aching cunt, his other hand strokes your hip. You tilt your hips against his subconsciously and he groans, pulling back, breaking the kiss. 

His eyes dart between yours only fluttering closed when you roll your hips against his hardness. Hesitantly. 

The crown of his cock rubs against your clit, soothing some of the ache you feel, but you want him to fill you. Stretch you. You whimper at the thought, pressing against him harder this time. Confidently. 

“Y/n,” he breathes, stilling your movements with the hand he has on your hip. His eyes dart between yours as you look up at him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You hold his gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you nod, “yes.” Your gaze falls to a small braid of his that hangs between you, to the gold charms on it. “I want you to be my first,” you mumble so quietly that you don’t know if he heard you.  

Lucien’s thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “Don’t worry, sweets. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promises with a reassuring smile. 

“I know, Lu. I trust you.” Lucien is the only male you’ve ever done anything with and he’s the only one you want to do this with. 

He nods. His eyes are glued to yours as he settles himself properly between your legs, fisting his cock, and running it through your wet folds. Your eyes flutter every time it rubs against your clit. 

“It's going to hurt a little before it feels good,” he warns you, “but I'm going to be gentle. We go at your pace.” 

Your brows furrow, “okay.”

He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Ready?” You feel the head of his cock notched at your entrance.

“Ready.” He licks his thumb and then starts stroking your clit and that’s your only warning before he starts guiding his cock inside your tight hole. Slowly. 

Your fingers dig into his muscular thighs as you suck in a sharp breath at the feel of the thick head of his cock being swallowed by your warmth. Followed by a sting from being stretched. 

He rubs your clit faster and you relax a bit. “That’s it. Good girl,” he praises. Leaning over you, his chest pressing against yours. He kisses your neck. You nod, body buzzing from the pleasure and pain. 

You feel him start to push in again, inch by thick inch, back arching, “f-fuck are you all the way in?” You feel so achingly full. 

“No,” he grunts. He lifts up, looking between your bodies. “I’m not even half way in.” You do too. Whimpering as you watch another inch of him disappear into your body. 

 “You’re so fucking tight,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Squeezing the fuck outta my cock.” He pushes in again.

“Gods it feels like you’re splitting me in half. You’re so thick,” you moan. Eyes screwing shut. He crashes his lips to yours and you moan, deepening the kiss. 

Your fingers dig into his thighs and pull him into you, sinking him the rest of the way in. Both of you suck in twin sharp breaths and you bite his bottom lip, drawing blood. He moans as you shudder beneath him. 

Pulling apart, he presses his forehead to yours still thrumming your clit to a melody only he can. Not moving as you adjust to his size. Just  peppering kisses to your face and neck.

You take a couple of breaths, your fingers on his thighs loosen and you breathe out one word. 

“Move,” and he does. 

Your walls clench and unclench around him as he slowly, gently, pulls almost all the way out. The tangy scent of copper hitting your nose. You sit up in time to see his cock not only covered in your slick, but blood too as he thrusts back in. 

You look back up at Lucien, finding him completely enraptured by the sight of his cock covered in your blood being swallowed by your tight cunt. He groans watching as he sinks all the way into you. His balls pressing against your ass. 

“Faster,” you murmur and Lucien grins at you, stroking your clit faster as he starts to fucks you faster too. 

Your moans, his groans, and the sounds of skin slapping skin fill the room as he gets you closer and closer to your climax. 

Heart pounding as your blood roars in your ears. “D-don’t  stop!” 

“Never,” he rasps out. Hips slamming into you as sure as a wave crashing into the side of a cliff. “Never, sweets.”

You jerk beneath him. “Deeper! Harder,” you cry out, so close to falling over the precipice and he gives you exactly what you need. 

Screaming out as he starts fucking you harder, deeper, tits bouncing with every punch of his hips. Hitting your g-spot every time. Your body suddenly goes still. 

The next time the head of cock hits your g-spot you explode. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you cum so hard you see stars. Quivering under him as he continues rubbing your clit and fucking you. 

Your first orgasm rolling into a second one. “Oh fuck!” Lucien grunts as your cunt grips him like a vice. Hips stuttering as he continues thrusting into you, and with one final deep thrust he spills himself inside you, cock twitching as his balls empty.

****

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[fervi-g]

Best twin peaks season in ur opinion

I’d say my favorite season is the third one — The Return. It’s a difficult question, because I love all three in different ways, but The Return mmhm there’s just nothing else like it. The idea of coming back 25 years later — as the show itself announces — and choosing not to indulge in nostalgia but to completely subvert it, that’s genius to me. Lynch and Frost could’ve easily given people what they expected: another quirky mystery in town, Cooper investigating a new crime, the same familiar tone. But they didn’t go for the easy way. If they were coming back to Twin Peaks, it had to be to revolutionize television again, just like they did in the ’90s. And I truly think they did.

They chose to challenge everything. They made something darker, colder, stranger and far more ambitious. Those 18 hours are some of the most important and brilliant ever created for any screen. What other show dares to be that abstract, that patient, that unsettling? Episode 8 alone is a landmark. And the way Lynch embraces digital — the textures, the colors, the eerie stillness — it’s masterful. The shift in aesthetic from the cozy warmth of the original series to this electric, disorienting modernity is one of the boldest creative decisions I’ve ever seen. He uses digital in a way that very few artists have mastered in the 21st century.

And I don’t think anything has ever affected me more than that final scene. It has haunted me ever since I watched it.

That said, I also have a deep love for the first season. It’s a comfort place for me. I enjoy every single rewatch: the introduction to the town, the characters, the atmosphere... it’s simply magical. Season two probably has the majority of the best episodes in the whole show, but also the worst. There’s a long stretch in the middle that’s genuinely tough to get through, and yet I’m fond of that too. I think even that is part of the Twin Peaks experience.

Still, the bravery, reinvention, and refusal to play it safe that Lynch and Frost achieved with The Return is legendary. No one had ever used the format of television the way they did. It’s auteur filmmaking, week by week. And to me, that’s the greatest thing ever created in any medium. So yes — season three is my favorite. It reinvented what television could be. A complete masterpiece.

[doctorcurdlejr]

Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

[manhattanstrawberry]

AND YOU NEVER KNEW, HOW MUCH I REALLY LIKED YOU...

Synopsis : Finally coming to see the famed Onigiri Miya after years of waiting, Osamu welcomes you with a meal from his very hands. But it seems as though you’ve both had moments that never got communicated over the phone and some news are a bit more shocking than others.

Tags: Onigiri Miya Osamu, old friendships, reunion, slight angst, mutual pining

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.4k

Author's note: when I said osamu brainrot I didn’t mean for it to be angst but I’ve been thinking about a bittersweet ending or an angst fic for osamu a lot so I did that first but trust! I will do a happy fic with a good ending for osamu soon!! I hope you enjoy! ღ

Song reference

Art credit: @Freaka_LoonyZ

It’s been a while, and the frosty tips of snow settle into your hair as you briskly cross the street, trying your best not to slip on shallow snow piles lining the asphalt road. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to go to the restaurant in person much since immediately moving to Tokyo for university after graduating high school. He’s sent you photos and videos of the whole process from the moment he toured it as an option to buy and the moment he opened up to the public. You’d been supporting him through it all and today after so long you’d finally get a chance to surprise him and well give your own greeting to the restaurant. 

You’re excited to see him as you walk into the restaurant, the ring of the little door bell and the warmer air inside immediately has your shoulders dropping from their tense posture before.

The lighting is comforting and a little dim from the warm lighting from the ceiling. There’s a few plants around and small dining tables. You can smell the lingering aroma from the kitchen traveling into the dining area and the faint smell of coffee beans. Taking a quick glance back at the little door bell next to the entrance had you grinning from ear to ear. It’s the same one you had looked at back in your third year at a little arts store on a field trip to Osaka. You suggested putting this cute little door bell by the door despite the fact that it wouldn't match the aesthetics of his restaurant at all. All in fun nature. But somehow the cute little bunny found its way to his restaurant, letting him know there was someone out there ready to try his food. 

Walking in you see a few workers by the counter, some on the grill while their customer watches, another garnishing a roll and another disappearing into the door towards the back— the kitchen you assume. But you don’t see Osamu, and you’re afraid you might’ve missed him this evening. You look a little through the door to see your assumptions proved correct as you see a peak of the sleek kitchen through the door, but still no Osamu. Your shoulders slump a bit as you take one of the high seats by the long counter, placing your purse in your lap. 

The most you’ve seen of Osamu as of recently, is really his twin on the television for matches or when you attend his games in Tokyo on a whim to visit an old friend. And you’re hoping this time you get to see the one with his real hair color instead of a clearly fake blonde. 

“Hi, what can I getcha?” 

The sound of a young male voice interrupts your thoughts as you come back down to reality. 

“Hi, is the owner here?” A little nervous to finally see him in his own restaurant and to be told that he left to do something at the very moment you came to visit. 

“Ya, he’s in the back finishing up something, do ya need him?” 

“Oh yes please– unless he’s busy I can wait.” You nod. 

The worker nods back at you before disappearing into the kitchen. You twiddle your thumbs and pull at the packaged chopsticks, tearing the paper and rolling it into little balls before you hear footsteps coming out of the kitchen door and your face lights up. You can see his eyes widen as his mouth slightly opens in shock. He’s shaking his head in disbelief teasingly and you nod right back at him. You're here. 

“Can’t tell if being on my feet the whole day ‘s starting to make me hallucinate or if yer really there. 

“I’m finally here!” 

“It’s been like what, 3000 years?” He’s standing in front of you across the counter, his hands on the counter as he leans closer to you. 

“Oh, stop. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to come here— I never ever got the time!” Your hands move along as you talk, punctuating every word you say. 

You still do that

He knows you’ve had a lot on your plate with graduating university and travelling. He doesn’t hold it against you, but he can feel his heart pumping blood 2x times more than the usual rate and the tips of his ears getting warm at the sight of your smile, in his restaurant. 

“I bet ya never went grocery shopping this week so yer stuck with eating out, yeah?” 

“You’re terrible.” 

He gives you a teasing smile that soon settles into a gentle one, soft and familiar. 

“I see the little bunny rabbit by the door.” You give a mischievous grin, as he gives a faux sigh of annoyance. 

“Ya, had some city girl pestering me about it a few years back.” He starts to shuffle some plates to his side as he teases you, his eyes glancing at you for one second as he works quickly. He doesn’t want to look away from you for too long. You’re too beautiful and he can’t have you disappearing again. 

“How did you even get it, I was with you the whole time.” You tilt your head, truly confused at how he managed to get the little door bell. 

“Ran back– no sprinted right before we left the city.” His face showed nothing but cockyness. “So fast, ya barely missed me.” 

You give him a laugh and he feels like he’s running through a field of tulips to meet you in the middle.

You go silent for a while and your smile goes soft. And he just looks at you, waiting for whatever you want to say to him. 

“Seriously Osamu.” You look around you slowly before focusing back on his face. “It looks— the restaurant looks amazing. Just beautiful.” 

His lips stay shut as you pause. 

“I’m really so proud of you.” 

He feels a little bashful. He can feel the blood rise to his cheeks and he can almost feel himself tear up a little. 

“Thank you.” He’s grateful with every fiber and bone of his body. “I couldn’t do it without ya— seriously.” 

“Please, I barely did anything and it’s been years.” 

“Ya supported me a lot though for the years ya were here for and the ones ya weren’t.” He pulls his Onigiri Miya cap off his head, before extending his arms to secure it on yours. “Take the thank you.” 

“Okay, you’re welcome.” You nod back to him, giving him a gentle smile. He’s come so far, from everyone thinking he was doing the wrong thing leaving volleyball to follow his real dreams and aspirations to owning his own restaurant. You couldn’t be more proud of him. 

“So want anything? On the house.” 

“Hm.” You slide the menu in front of you, humming as you look at the options. “Surprise me! And I’m paying, I have to.” 

He gives you a hearty chuckle, as if you’re an unbelievable talking dog. “Yer not paying for anything.” 

He places the steaming dish in front of you, your eyes lighting up at the meal. 

“Wow, it looks great!.” 

“Wait till ya have a bite.” He smirks a little as you reach for the onigiri on the plate. 

“Wow, ishs fanthatshic.” You muffle, with your mouth closed, as you chew down into the onigiri. “Cod?’ 

“Grilled salmon.” He nods. “And I get the best rice from Kita.” 

“Wow, that's great!” You swallow your bite before you’re going for another one. 

“Ya gotta a lot of wow’s tonight.” 

“It’s so good, Samu. You do takeout right?” 

Another laughs leaves his lips, he picks up a dish rag and wipes a clean spot over and over to avoid staring at you as you enjoy the food cooked by him. 

“Souta would love this.” 

His arm pauses for a moment, the clean spot— even more clean is neglected. He doesn’t remember any cousin of yours named Souta. Maybe he’s just a friend from university. 

You’re still chewing, and he can see the clear enjoyment from your face.

“Are you dating anybody?” You say in between bites as you go for another. “I wouldn’t believe it if you're still single and you cook like this. God, Samu. I think I have to move from Tokyo.” 

He laughs once again, and rubs the bottom of his nose with the sleeve of his arm. 

“No, I’ve got no time f’that.” He leans against the counter. 

You’ve got one last onigiri on your plate and you’re trying to restrict yourself from gulping it down. But you can’t help yourself and take a bite out of it. 

“God, no wonder I had the biggest crush on you in highschool.” And you’re gulping down another bite without a care in the world. 

“No, ya didn’t.” He laughs as he takes the plate from in front of you and places it on the counter beside him. 

“I did, you knew!” 

The both of you are silent, and the long pause has you looking away from the onigiri and at Osamu. His smile is gone and he’s got this unreadable expression on his face. Your face falls at the sight of his expression. 

“Osamu.” 

He chuckles a bit, before reaching for the rest of the things set up on the counter by your seat.

“I didn’t know.” 

You’re still silent, you don’t know what to say after he made that face and you’re still trying to figure it out. 

“That’s funny.” 

And he sounds a bit too serious for someone finding humor in something. 

“Are you laughing at my sad highschool crush on you.” You laugh softly, trying to ease the unsettling feeling in your stomach. 

“No.” He laughs again, it's strained. “I was completely in love with ya in highschool.” 

And he’s sure he still is. 

You put down the onigiri, afraid that if you take another bite you might end up choking. He stops organizing the plates or utensils or whatever's in front of him and he just stops, like it hurts to move. The silence is deafening, and crawls along the hairs of your skin. And for a moment you almost feel yourself tearing up but you don’t allow it. 

His heart has completely dropped into his stomach as he clears his throat. 

You blink and drink some of the water in front of you to push down that gnawing feeling in your throat. 

“Wow.” 

“Well, it’s in the past right.” Another pained laugh leaves him, as he goes to wipe the area where your plate sat before. 

He kind of wishes you’d stop him there, tell him you’ve still got those feelings of yours and that something can still come out of it. But instead his heart shatters into a million pieces from your words. 

“Well, duh. I’m engaged.” You hold your hand out a little for him to take a look. He knew he was still in way too deep when he could only look at you the whole time and not even realize the diamond on your finger. 

“Wow, that’s great.” He’s happy for you, he is. But he hides his dejected spirit well with a fake smile, choosing to say something positive. 

“The wedding’s in May, I was supposed to send out invitations next month, but I guess you get an early invite.” You give him a beautiful smile that pierces his heart even further. 

“Wow.” 

“You’ve got a lot of ‘wows’ tonight.” You tease him. 

“No, I mean that’s good, congratulations.” 

You can hear the hesitancy in his voice, it’s barely there and you wonder if it’s really there in his voice. But you can hear it. 

“Yeah…” 

He can see your face fall a little and he feels a bit guilty that maybe you caught on to his slight mood. 

“Tell me about it.” 

“Really!” Your face lights up immediately, clapping your hands and he gives you a genuine smile as he nods. And so you tell him about all the arrangements, the flowers you want to have as you walk down the aisle, the flowers you’ll have to decorate the venue, the venue where you want it, the dress and on and on you went. You talk with him about things too that you haven’t gotten to tell him over the phone, such as your new job and how you had to move apartments a while back because almost half the building was about to fall apart. 

And he listens. Sharing bits and pieces of his own life that he hasn’t gotten the chance to tell you about. The two of you falling back into that friendship all those years ago, even when you too were pining over the other. 

“It’s getting late, you should head out now.” 

You turn to see the last of the employees leaving the shop. You hadn’t even realised that everyone had left and it was already past 10 p.m. 

“Oh, you’re right.” You get up from your seat and collect your scarf and purse. “I should get going.” 

You stand behind the chair you were previously sitting at as he looks at you, a gentle smile on his face. You look back at him and for a minute you mourn the friendship that you once shared in your youth and the love you could’ve shared. And you don’t notice that he’s trying his best to fight back tears, maybe the gloss on his eyes is from the long day of work. A soft smile graces your features, almost as if you’d already accepted reality. You have. 

“Bye, Samu.” 

He gives you a nod, the smile never leaving his face as the little bunny by the door rings and you disappear into the night once again. 

He wonders if he should call Atsumu, to help lighten up the situation as he slumps down to the floor, holding his head in his hand. 

And maybe for once he should’ve taken Atsumu’s advice, all those years ago. But he didn’t. He never gave you that letter that’s been sitting in his nightstand since he was 17, and the flowers he got you had wilted and died a week after he had bought them. He graduated and ended his 3rd year without telling you anything about how he felt. He thought that maybe he’d have the chance later, when he was more prepared, more to offer you. 

And as he watches you walk down the aisle months later, with cheers of happiness in the back, his brother beside him with slow claps. He could only feel himself regret every single choice in his life that led him to sitting in the audience instead of the one in the black suit walking by your side.

A/n: I lowkey suck at writing the miyas’ accent, im sorry 💔

Divider creds: @hyuneskkami @enchanthings

© manhattanstrawberry please do not plagiarize or repost my work

[only-lonely-star]

Smitten (pt. 2)

Ponyboy Curtis x fem!reader!crush

Warnings: None.

Summary: A continuation of Smitten. I suggest you read pt. 1 first if you haven’t already <3

Author’s Note: I lowkey hate the way I wrote this… I feel like it took me sooooo long to get to the point. I apologize ahead of time if this is disappointing 🥀🥀

Word Count: 2.1k.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ ୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The last glimpse of sunlight shone onto your hair, barely peaking through the blinds of your bedroom window. After a long week of waiting and wishing each day to pass quicker than the next, it was finally Friday night. Your stomach had been in knots the entire school day, stealing every glance you could at Ponyboy during today’s English lesson. After class, he managed to catch you as you mindlessly stuffed your notebook into your bag. “How is tonight lookin’? Are you still up for the drive-in?”

His gentle voice was like a broken record in your mind; you couldn’t forget the sound of it even if you wanted to. Tonight had to be perfect. It was going to be the first night you’d ever hung out with him outside of school. Was it nerve wracking? Very. But after a week of waiting, your time had finally come. You shut your compact mirror, racing for the front door to your house. Bidding your folks goodbye, you strode down the driveway nervously. Ponyboy was to pick you up, courtesy of his brother, Sodapop. He almost lost his mind when you replied and said you would have to walk to the drive-in this evening.

Your skin absorbed every last inch of sunlight that remained. Surely Ponyboy would like today’s sunset; the bright hues of scarlet red ranging to shades of a pale yellow. It felt poetic to watch that rusted Ford make a stop just as nightfall took over.

Sodapop honked, flashing a smile your way. “Pony wants you in the back,” he said sheepishly, ducking his head in case of attack.

Ponyboy’s lips pursed into a thin line, trying to refrain from retaliation. He pushed open the door to the backseat, scooting over for you. He smiled shyly, “Hi.”

The tension caused by his brother didn’t go unnoticed. It was only a matter of time before you would be dropped off, and Ponyboy would be his normal self around you again.

“Hi,” you replied. Your hand pushed against the side of your head, trying to give it that last bit of volume. Your lips remained glossed and pink, a delicate way to enhance your beauty.

The beige backseats were a bit disheveled, but you didn’t mind. A free ride was a free ride. Ponyboy leaned back against his seat, his hands resting just between his legs. He seemed tense, almost nervous in some sense. If anything, you were supposed to be the nervous one. After months of growing closer to the boy, your longing for his love just about ate you alive. School wasn’t the best place to talk about such things. But tonight was supposed to be the night. No more stalling.

The drive was relatively quiet. Sodapop stole quick glances at the two of you, more specifically Ponyboy. After last week’s awkward run-in, you weren’t all too sure that he liked you. You saw him poking fun at you with his friend.

Thoughts of that night were shaken off as Sodapop parked just down the street from the Admiral Twin. “You kids need a ride home too?” he questioned, turning his head at an angle to be able to read your expression.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Sodapop chuckled, leaning in closer. “Ladies, ladies, one at a time,” he teased. “No, seriously. Agree to disagree.”

Ponyboy shrugged, looking to you for assistance. “I figure if it ain’t too chilly, I could walk you?”

More alone time with Ponyboy? Of course. “Okay then, it’s settled,” you beamed.

You were first to step outside of the Ford, smoothing out any wrinkles that dared to ruin your skirt. You didn’t iron it to hell and back for nothing. Ponyboy followed behind you. He grazed his palm over his hair, trying to make sure it was neatly greased back. No bumps allowed.

The door shut with a ‘thud’. Sodapop cracked his window, pointing a finger at Ponyboy, “You two have fun, alright? Darry wants change-!” He quickly made his departure, disappearing into the dimly lit road ahead.

Ponyboy’s lips slowly eased into a kind smile. There he was. That was the Ponyboy you were excited to see. “What?” you asked slyly.

He shook his head, leading the way to the chain link fence that surrounded the parked cars. “Nothin’. I’m just happy to see you,” he said simply.

You followed behind, chasing after that energy. There was more of it; you were sure of that. “Ponyboy, how come your brother didn’t drop us off at the ticket booth?”

“I asked him not to. We can sneak in,” Ponyboy replied, a strange gleam of mischief in his green-gray eyes. This was a new side of him you had never seen before. It felt performative, like he was trying to impress you.

“Sneak in? Like- like hop the fence?” you asked for clarification.

He nodded. “Go under, not over. I had a friend teach me. Only thing we would have to pay for is snacks.”

Though a wave of hesitation battled against your willingness to enjoy the night with him, you found yourself dusting your skirt off just moments later. You considered yourself lucky for not staining it, or worse- tearing it.

Ponyboy’s gaze scanned the area before nodding at you to follow him. He guided you towards the concession stand. “What would you like? I can pay for anything you want.”

“We can share popcorn if you’re down for that,” you suggested. You kept close by, your hand longing to hold onto his.

Ponyboy gave a quick nod. He led you towards the line, mentally preparing himself to order. A handful of change was pulled from his back pocket as he rummaged through nickels and dimes. As he held both of the drinks, Ponyboy squeezed the popcorn bucket between his elbows. He grunted, trying to position it so that it wouldn’t spill.

“I’ve got it, Pony,” you insisted, reaching for the flimsy bucket.

He shook his head defiantly, “No, it’s okay. You find some seats, how ‘bout that?”

With a reluctant sigh, you led the way down the aisle in between the familiar red seats of the drive-in. The area for those without cars was much closer to the screen as well as the concession stand. You walked steadily down one row, glancing over your shoulder at Ponyboy. He wobbled his way into the seat beside you, a few pieces of popcorn falling to the ground. He set both drinks down under his chair, balancing the popcorn on his lap. “See? I got it,” he smiled cheesily.

He was such a dork that it was oddly attractive to witness. Maybe he was done playing ‘Mr. Big Shot’ for the night, and he would drop the gentleman act now that you two had settled.

You reached for a handful of popcorn, scanning the seats around you to grow familiar with your surroundings. You shoved that same handful inside your mouth, covering your lips as you chewed and crunched relentlessly. Ponyboy took two pieces and politely placed them inside his mouth.

With a sharp inhale, you twisted your head his direction. “Ponyboy?” you asked, though it sounded more like a statement then anything.

“Hm?” he lifted his straw up to his lips and sipped slowly.

That uneasy feeling of anxiety washed over you once again. It hit you right in the gut, causing a look of discomfort. It was now or never. Confessing would hopefully kill the tension between you. If all went well, tonight’s movie ‘date’ would go even smoother than planned. You swallowed hard, “Pony, we’ve got to talk.”

He grew silent, his carefree demeanor faltering. “About…?” A million thoughts were running through his head at once. He didn’t like your tone - the way it came out nervous and unsure. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Well… I sort of thought that…” you mumbled, your hands fidgeting with your skirt. “You know since we’ve been friends and all…”

Ponyboy ducked his head closer to yours, trying to make sense of each word you spoke. His leg bounced up and down.

“I just wanted to say-,” you began, the projector ahead turning on. The opening credits for the movie began to play, and before you knew it, the screen had Ponyboy’s undivided attention. You choked back the rest of your words, deciding that maybe saving them for later was best.

Ponyboy was certain that he saved himself from whatever bad news was ahead. He simply stared at the projector and munched on the popcorn in his lap. He cleared his throat nervously, sinking into his seat. Ponyboy had been excited for tonight. Excited watch this highly anticipated movie? Yes, but also to see you. To spend time with you. He never had the chance to do so outside of school, and here he was, soiling it all because he was nervous. Ponyboy felt guilt seep deeper and deeper within him until he couldn’t even focus on the movie anymore. He tore his gaze away, shifting his focus back to you. “I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

You were completely caught off guard. “Oh, nothing. I was just going to ask… um… about you walking me home.” You kept your eyes on Ponyboy’s, reaching for a handful of popcorn to hide your flustered state. Ponyboy mirrored your movements, his hand clamping down on a few kernels. Your hand brushed against his inside the bucket as if the world was encouraging you to confess your feelings already.

Ponyboy snorted, squeezing your fingers back playfully. “Well,” he drawled quietly, bringing his voice to a gentle whisper. “I sort of wanted to talk to you too.”

That nervousness came right back just as soon as it left. Your legs crossed in preparation for whatever it may be that he had to say. Was he going to inform you of a girl he fancied? Was he going to drop it on you that it was your best friend?

Ponyboy took another sip of his soda, fiddling with the drink in hand. “You see, I really… really wanted to spend some time with you tonight. You’re a great friend. But- I don’t think I would want to keep you as just a friend,” he cringed, feeling his ears turn to a shade of burning red.

Your lips parted, shock written all over your face. For a moment, you couldn’t even think of how to respond. Ponyboy had thrown a total curveball at you by snatching your own words right from your mouth. “Are you serious?”

He nodded slowly, his cheeks rising as that same dorky smile overcame all fear and embarrassment he felt. “I really like you.”

“I was going to say the same thing-! Pony!” you squealed, wrapping both arms around his neck as your body hovered over the popcorn bucket.

Ponyboy smiled to himself, subtly leaning into your touch. “Should’ve said something sooner. This could’ve been a real date if you did,” he mumbled into your hair.

“What’s stopping this from being a real date?” you asked.

“I didn’t get to ask you out properly. That’s why,” he sighed, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck as you sat back down. “I was nervous.”

“Oh, Pony, I didn’t even know you felt that way about me. I don’t blame you. Not at all.”

He hung his head, flustered by your reassurance. “Thanks. I guess I was just scared that you’d turn me down, you know?”

“Will you kids hush?” a man behind the two of you hissed. His finger pressed against his lips as a wrinkle formed between his brows. The man took a second to glare at each of you. “Get all mushy somewhere else, damnit!” he whisper-shouted.

An immediate smile formed along your cheeks, though you quickly brought a hand upwards to cover it. Your eyes were locked onto the projector ahead, noticing that Ponyboy had just about the same reaction to the scolding. He snorted, bending over his lap to let it all out. You giggled, sinking into your seat. His smile bought a crinkle to your eyes, and a rush of pure joy to your heart. Ponyboy reached for your side, trying to get you to settle down, though he wasn’t setting a good example himself.

The man behind you huffed, shaking his head in disapproval. “Damn kids.”

Getting ‘mushy’ was an understatement. The swell of your heart every time Ponyboy smiled at you in the hallway, the witty jokes he made to cheer you up, and the kind words he always cast your way weren’t him being ‘mushy’. It was subtle hints he hoped you’d pick up on. Months and months of mutual interest, yet mutual fear of rejection were something you both shared. You weren’t just ‘mushy’ about Ponyboy, and neither was he about you.

You were simply smitten.

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING, I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS ONE AHH

-Sophia 🫶🏼

[greenbuns]

SOULBOND | e.w

written by greenbuns

° . Pairings : Ellie Williams × Fem!Reader (as Agatha Spade - OC)

° . Contains : fantasy, romance-comedy, enemies to lovers trope, magic academy, swearing, bickering, banters, reader despise ellie and vice versa (but that'll slowly change <3), denial, slow burn, eventual confession

Synopsis & Full Chapters [HERE]

CHAPTER 02 ; 冷熱

"Cold and Heat"

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

° ⋇⋆✧⋆⋇ °

☆— THE academy stands tall as a beacon of arcane excellence and elemental mastery, constructed in grand Victorian style, its architecture is both majestic and palatial. The main academy grounds are divided into several key buildings and outdoor areas, each serving a unique function in shaping the elemental mages.

The heart of the institution lies within the Astrarion Main Building, a four-story marvel that hosts most of the academy’s educational and ceremonial functions.

Nearby stands the cozy yet well-organized Academy Dorm, a two-floor residence split by elemental house affiliation. House Ignis and House Bumi filled the first floor, House Tides and House Aero in the upper floor. Each house’s quarters are decorated in their respective elemental motifs, encouraging unity and pride within their ranks.

A short distance away is the secluded Arcbind Quarters, this is a single-story building that used exclusively during the upper-year students’ final evaluations. It serves as temporary housing for student pairings undergoing intense elemental bonding trials.

And it is where Ellie and Agatha will be staying for the next six months.

The door to Room 13 slammed open with the force of a minor hurricane. "Dibs on the left side," Ellie barked, tossing her bag across the threshold without even stepping in.

Agatha, standing directly behind her with a stack of perfectly arranged labeled storage boxes, did not even blink. "I don't believe in 'dibs.' That's not a legal claim."

Ellie turned and gave her a flat look. "You're no fun."

"I'm organized," Agatha replied, "And punctual. Two things you clearly are not."

The room itself was surprisingly nice—for a forced cohabitation cell.

Two desks sat across from each other like dueling stations. A fireplace enchanted with ever-burning coals crackled softly between twin velvet chairs. Shelves curved into the corners, already humming with protective enchantments and dust-repelling charms. There was even a shared alchemical sink with twin copper faucets enchanted to dispense heated or chilled water.

At the center of the back wall, a tall window framed the sprawling peaks of Mount Sapphire, mist trailing its ridges like breath. And to either side of it stood two beds-perfectly symmetrical, dangerously unclaimed.

"I said left," Ellie repeated, striding in and flinging herself dramatically onto the left bed.

Agatha remained by the door, "And I'm saying you only said it after hurling your belongings like a wild boar with luggage."

Ellie smirked from the mattress. "Don't be jealous of my efficiency."

"I'm jealous of whoever doesn't have to live with you."

"Wow. Already flirting."

Agatha's brow twitched, but she set her boxes down with careful precision anyway. One, two, three-stacked and aligned like they belonged in a museum. Ellie watched her with mild horror.

"You cataloged your potions by viscosity?"

"Yes. And aroma index. Some of us care about not poisoning ourselves."

"I like to live dangerously."

"You like to be a walking insurance hazard."

⋆ ✦ ⋆ ✦ ⋆

Magical dorms, especially the older ones, tended to take on the energy of their inhabitants. And this one was old—the walls themselves had personality. Built before the Elemental Concord was even signed, Room 13 had seen more inter-house feuds than a season of Royal Court Scandals.

Which meant it noticed everything.

By the third argument—this one over whether Ellie's firestones were a safety hazard or Agatha's glass potion vials were "pretentiously over-labeled"—the room had begun reacting.

A ceiling sconce flickered whenever Agatha raised her voice.

A rug tried to trip Ellie every time she muttered "ice princess."

Their twin wardrobes kept swapping clothing drawers just to mess with them.

By the fifth passive-aggressive insult, the enchanted mirror between their desks offered a helpful suggestion;

"Have you tried NOT being hostile? Just a thought."

They both threw socks at it.

Agatha groaned frustratedly, "Let's just pack our things up," she spoke with a loud sigh at the end, and Ellie agreed for once.

The auburn girl unpacked like a whirlwind, tossing items into drawers without looking. Her firestones clinked into a metal box. Loose spell scrolls fluttered onto her desk. A small stuffed red dragon—a charm from her childhood—was placed gently beside her pillow.

Agatha, meanwhile, laid out every object with surgical precision. Potion vials in order of volatility. A lineup of quills sharpened to a military standard and organized books by colors. She placed a framed photo of her and her older sister—both in matching House Tides robes—at the center of her desk.

Ellie caught sight of it and tilted her head. "She looks like you, but taller. Less... icy."

Agatha didn't look up. "She graduated top of her class. Specializes in oceanic wards."

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "Parental pressure much?"

"No. Personal excellence." Agatha snapped the final lid shut on a drawer. "You wouldn't recognize it."

"Burn."

"You'd enjoy it."

Ellie grinned despite herself. "Okay, that one was good."

By the time their trunks were empty and every shared surface had been silently claimed through sheer territorial energy, the sun had dipped below the spires of the college. A heavy hush settled in, broken only by the occasional distant hoot of a campus owl or the sputtering flicker of the enchanted fireplace. Neither Ellie nor Agatha spoke as they moved through the evening routine like reluctant shadows—brush teeth, ward windows, pretend the other wasn't there.

But the air between them was thick with something unspoken; not quite tension, not quite curiosity. A strange static lingered. And when they finally crawled into their beds—backs turned, walls mentally raised—neither could shake the sense that the room itself was waiting. Watching. Holding its breath.

That night, as they each lay in their beds trying to pretend the other didn't exist, the dorm hummed softly with residual tension.

Agatha turned to face the window. "Do not snore."

Ellie, already halfway asleep, mumbled, "Do not be so boring it echoes."

Silence stretched between them, brittle and charged.

"I'm not soulbonded to you," Agatha muttered after a long silence.

"Please. I'd soulbond with a gorgon before I'd link with you," Ellie replied.

The lamp between them fizzed slightly.

The fireplace flared higher.

And from somewhere inside the stone walls, the dorm gave a tiny, magical giggle.

⋆ ✦ ⋆ ✦ ⋆

The next day, by the following afternoon, Ellie had already contemplated five different ways to fake a stomach hex to skip their first lab session together.

Unfortunately, none of them passed Agatha's "plausibility" test.

"You don't get intestinal curse symptoms from eating toast," Agatha said flatly, not even glancing up from her neat lab packet as they walked through the long and huge corridor toward the east wing of the academy's main building.

Ellie scowled. "It was blackened toast. There's a difference."

"Not to your intestines. Just your dignity."

The sun filtering through the high glass-paneled hallway made the school look almost serene, if not for the crackling tension pulsing between the two girls like the aftermath of a thunderclap. Students passed them on either side, whispering about new lab pairings, upcoming assessments, and the rumor that two third-years in House Bumi had accidentally reverse-polarized an elemental stream and turned their professor's robe into living ivy.

Ellie tried to focus on that ridiculous mental image, but her mood soured again as they reached the double doors of CR 202: Advanced Elemental Fusion Lab—a classroom that looked more like a cathedral greenhouse than a place of learning. Sunlight cascaded through glass domes overhead, casting prismatic colors on the lab tables, racks of reagents, and—at the center—a glowing convergence stone thrumming with quiet power.

Half the class was already settled in. Fire and water pairs, air and earth. Some were smiling politely. Some already looked ready to brawl.

And standing in the center like the conductor of a chaos symphony was Professor Miller, draped in violet robes embroidered with sigils that pulsed faintly in rhythm with the convergence stone.

"Ah, Williams and Spade," he said as they entered. "Back row, left. Try not to annihilate anything today."

Agatha offered a curt nod. Ellie gave her best slouch and muttered something that could've been "Sure, Professor" or "Save me, gods." No one cared to clarify.

They moved to their table, an ornate crystalline surface etched with magic channels that glittered faintly under the light. As they sat, the surface pulsed once in response. Or perhaps in warning.

Agatha unrolled the class packet without ceremony. "We're starting with a Harmonized Spark Pulse."

Ellie groaned, "Great. Baby magic."

"It's a tier-two elemental reaction spell designed to test fusion. Which, clearly, we lack."

"Speak for yourself. I'm delightful."

"You're unpredictable."

Ellie smirked, "Same thing."

Agatha ignored her and skimmed the spell instructions again. The exercise required them to simultaneously channel opposing elements—Ellie, fire; Agatha, water—so their spells would meet at the table's center and form a stable spark pulse. If executed in harmony, it would create a warm, glowing sphere of neutralized energy.

If not... well, reactions varied.

On their first attempt, they got a reaction all right.

"Three, two, now!"

Agatha's mist spell launched like a precise arrow. Ellie's flame, however, veered left and struck a containment beaker. The resulting blast sent steam, glass shards, and the scent of toasted lemongrass into the air.

Agatha calmly wiped ash from her cheek.

"Okay," Ellie said, coughing, "that one's on me."

"Shocking."

They tried again.

Ellie adjusted her timing. Agatha hesitated a fraction longer to match. This time, Ellie's flame arced perfectly, but Agatha's mist was colder than expected. The collision froze midair and shattered into sparkling frost.

The entire lab turned to stare.

Professor Miller didn't say a word, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. Disappointment? Amusement? Hard to tell.

Ellie leaned forward with a sigh. "What if we just pretend that we were dating last semester and fake a phenomenal breakup?"

Agatha didn't smile. But her quill paused for half a second. "We'd have to fake the part where we liked each other."

"Ouch. You wound me."

"Not yet. But we're only on week one."

They reset the spell circle in silence.

Something shifted.

No countdown this time. No sarcasm.

Just eye contact. Sharp. Focused. Charged.

Ellie lifted her wand. A steady, controlled flame sparked to life.

Agatha mirrored her, releasing a ribbon of condensed mist that flowed from her wand like river silk.

They cast.

The elements collided in the center—not with a bang, but with a breath.

A golden orb shimmered into existence between them, floating serenely. The hum it emitted was soft and constant, resonating through the table and into their fingertips. The energy spiraled slowly, like a heartbeat made of light.

The room fell quiet.

Even the convergence stone glowed brighter.

Ellie and Agatha sat frozen, watching the orb flicker in the air-balanced, stable, impossibly warm.

Then—pop.

The orb exploded in a harmless but bright burst of light, sending a ripple of heat and mist outward. Students gasped. One table yelped as their papers caught the breeze.

"That was not supposed to happen," Agatha muttered, shielding her eyes.

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. "Did that orb purr?"

"It hummed," Agatha corrected. "Light magic reacts that way when—" She stopped. Blinked. "—when the casters are in sync."

Ellie turned slowly to her. "You mean like... soulbond sync?"

"No." Agatha stood up too fast, smoothing her robes. "Absolutely not. It's probably just a fluke. Anomalous readings happen all the time. Magic's inherently unstable."

Ellie grinned. "You're babbling."

"I am reasoning. There's a difference."

"You're blushing."

"I am warm. Because someone keeps setting the table on fire."

"You're welcome."

Professor Miller was already striding toward them, his footsteps sharp against the crystal floor.

"Well," he said, stopping in front of their scorched table. "Either you've accidentally accessed a previously undocumented fusion tier... or you're hiding a magical conduit link neither of you understand."

Ellie blinked. "...Is that a compliment?"

"It's a warning," Miller replied, tone clipped but intrigued. "Convergent anomalies like that can be dangerous if left unchecked. If it happens again, report it immediately."

Agatha was already scribbling on her parchment. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," Miller said with a glance between them. "Because if it does, you'll both be reassigned to Spell Synchronization Observations. And those involve long-term testing. Together."

The word together hung in the air like an actual curse.

Ellie and Agatha exchanged a look. Neither said what they were thinking.

They didn't have to.

Hours passed as they finally left the classroom. The walk back to their dorm was quieter than usual.

The late afternoon sun glinted off the roofs of the academy's elemental towers, casting long golden highlight across the reflecting ponds. A breeze tugged at their robes. The grass underfoot was still dewy.

Ellie kicked a pebble down the path back to the pairing dorm. "So.. that thing. The orb."

"A misfire," Agatha said too quickly.

"A misfire that purred."

"It hummed."

"Fine, sorry."

"It was an anomaly," Agatha insisted. "These things happen in labs. Magic is unpredictable. Particularly when... the casters are opposites."

Ellie tilted her head. "It reacted like we were in sync."

"We're not."

"Tell that to the convergence stone."

Agatha didn't answer.

The dorm door loomed ahead, ivy climbing the side like veins of stone. The building felt warmer than usual when they reached for the handle-warmer, and somehow aware.

Their hands brushed the doorknob at the same time.

It sparked.

Not sharply. Just a little spark. A tingling shock that traveled from finger to wrist like magic recognizing magic.

They pulled their hands back.

Stared at each other.

"I'm not soulbonded to you," Agatha said immediately.

Ellie folded her arms. "You said that last night."

"Well, it's still true."

"Keep saying it. Eventually the universe might believe you."

The door opened by itself, as if tired of waiting.

Inside, the fireplace was already lit—though neither of them remembered starting it—and two mugs of tea steamed on the desk. Identical. Perfectly centered. No note, no spell trace.

They didn't ask.

They just stood there, silent in the middle of a dorm that was clearly beginning to form opinions.

"I'm taking first shower," Ellie muttered.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Fine. But hurry."

"Try not to ice over the plumbing."

"Not making promises."

Ellie paused at the bathroom door and threw a glance over her shoulder.

"That orb thing... you think it could happen again?"

Agatha hesitated. "No."

Ellie nodded slowly. "Okay."

She stepped into the bathroom.

Behind her, Agatha whispered, too softly to be heard, "I hope not."

But the dorm heard. And the walls? They hummed again.

⋆ ✦ ⋆ ✦ ⋆

It began with thunder.

A low, growling rumble that rolled through the dark mountains surrounding the academy just past midnight. The kind that vibrated in your ribs and stirred the air like a warning. Rain followed minutes later-sharp, cold needles pelting the dormitory windows with rising force.

The candlelight flickered in Dorm 13. The enchanted fireplace hissed as the elemental wards crackled to life, casting protective runes across the stonework. Normally, that would've been enough to keep the storm at bay.

Normally.

But tonight, the sky had teeth.

A bolt of lightning slammed into one of the tower's sky runes with a sound like a gods-damned war drum. Magic flared in retaliation, and the warding system across academy spasmed in a strobe of wild energy.

In their dorm, every spell-triggered charm blinked red.

And then the ceiling began to leak.

"What the hell?" Ellie shot upright in bed, blanket tangled around one ankle. She blinked into the dark, squinting as water dripped steadily from the glowing rune panel above her dresser. "Spade?"

A muffled groan came from across the room. "If this is another prank illusion-"

"It's not!" Ellie snapped, hopping down barefoot onto cold tile. "The dorm's leaking. The wards are flaring!"

Agatha sat up fully now, her braid half-undone and sleep creasing her cheek. She caught the shimmer of blue light flashing along the walls, sigils sputtering like they were glitching through a spell loop.

"No," she said, voice sharp with recognition. "It's not just leaking. The elemental warding's destabilized."

"Great," Ellie muttered. "Love a midnight magical system failure."

A new crack of thunder sent another surge of magic rattling through the stone. A burst of cold wind whooshed down the chimney, extinguishing the fireplace in a hiss of steam. The sudden temperature drop made both girls shiver.

Then came the alarm.

A shrill, high-pitched ringing from the corridor—a dorm-wide enchantment meant to signal elemental imbalance. Ellie turned in a slow circle, watching steam rise from the floor vents and condensation bead along the windows.

"We need to redirect the overload," Agatha said, already grabbing her wand from the nightstand. "If the system can't stabilize itself—"

"It'll blow out the whole dorm," Ellie finished grimly, wand in hand. "Water damage and fire hazard. Delightful."

"No time to change. Let's go."

The two scrambled into the center of the room. The air sparked faintly around them, humidity clinging to their skin like charged silk. They dropped into mirrored stances instinctively, backs angled away from each other.

"Anchor the vents," Agatha instructed. "If I can freeze the upper wards, you can rebalance the heat."

"You giving me orders, Spade?"

"Do you want to drown?"

Ellie sighed, "...Proceed."

They moved fast. Agatha shot a sequence of precise sigils toward the ceiling, layering condensation spells with freeze anchors.

"Fuck, I need to pee."

"Don't you dare, pyromaniac!"

Ellie grumbled but then followed with bursts of controlled flame—not hot enough to ignite, but warm enough to equalize the pressure and prevent another vent burst.

It was working. For a moment.

Until a wave of rogue storm energy surged through the central hearth rune.

A blinding blue-white pulse exploded across the floor.

"Shit–Williams, behind you!"

She whirled—but not fast enough. The magic collided with her flame mid-cast, forcing her backward.

Agatha reached for her instinctively, grabbing Ellie's wrist before she hit the wall.

That's when it happened.

The world tilted.

Not physically. Not magically, not entirely. But something clicked in the space between them. A thread pulled taut. Cold and heat, met each other not in opposition—but in equilibrium.

Agatha gasped.

Ellie hang tight.

Their spells flared (again) but this time, they didn't burst or cancel out.

They merged.

A spherical field of golden-blue energy spiraled out from where their hands touched. It hovered in the center of the room like a heartbeat. The alarms silenced. The steam vanished. The temperature normalized.

The chaos ended.

Breathing hard, soaked with sweat and rain and residual panic, they stood in the center of a dorm that now glowed with faintly pulsing harmony.

"Wh... what did we just-" Ellie's voice was barely above a whisper.

Agatha's hand was still on her wrist. Her eyes wide. Her pulse erratic.

"That shouldn't have worked," she murmured. "We didn't cast any structured convergence sigils. We didn't speak. We didn't sync-"

"But we did," Ellie said. "Didn't we?"

Agatha looked at her.

Ellie looked back.

The magical field gently dissolved around them, like snow melting into still water.

Silence pressed in, thicker than before. The kind of silence that held questions no textbook could answer.

"I didn't mean to-" Ellie started, stepping back.

"No," Agatha said quickly. "I know. Neither did I."

They stood there, dripping, trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from something stranger.

Familiarity. Recognition. Like something old had woken up between them.

Ellie broke eye contact first. "I'm gonna relight the fire.. And use the bathroom."

Agatha huffed but nodded quickly. "I'll check the ceiling rune."

Finally, they turned away at the same time.

Ellie whispered to the fireplace. Agatha traced cooling sigils above the window. Neither spoke again for the rest of the night.

The dorm, for its part, stayed very, very quiet.

Almost like it was listening.

Understood. [✧]

✦ TO BE CONTINUED ✦

[altocat]

For your prompt ask:

Sephiroth and a remnant(s) of your choosing have a Bonding Moment

The boy was thin. Frighteningly so. That was the first thing Sephiroth really noticed about him. Thin and gangly, limbs still halfway grown, silver hair tumbling into wide blue eyes. Sephiroth dimly wondered if he had ever been that small. Of course, he'd already forgotten. He'd discarded those unwanted memories long ago. The boy--Kadaj, was it?--raised his eyes to meet Sephiroth's own, cold resentment still sparking in his challenging glare, chin raised, bony shoulders arched. Sephiroth could swat this irksome creature like a fly, smite him from this cruel world just as quickly as the brat had entered. He only stared back, passive, mildly amused. The boy grunted, turning his attention back towards the void, that makeshift limbo that they shared together between bouts of oblivion. Somewhere, down in the dark, two other shapes were waiting for them, their shared serpentine eyes glowing in that blackness, calling out from somewhere just beyond the descent. Sephiroth only grunted, scanning the empty black sky. "Does Mother hear us here?" The boy had spoken, head lowered, body bowed. Sephiroth turned to face him, eyes narrow, cold possession icing across his heart. As if the boy had ANY right to ask about HER. As if he dared to believe she was ever his to begin with. "She hears me." "Where is she?" "Around us. Away from us. Inside. And gone." "That doesn't make sense." "You will understand someday." "I want to see her. Please, can't you call her?" "No." The boy's expression grew fierce again, that rising challenge tinting his irises. He scoffed, cheeks reddening, the fire steadily building before dying away again. He lowered his head once more, watching the sliding abyss, counting the gray grains of sand that coated the desolate peaks, the ashen earth beneath his palms. Sephiroth watched him, cold, formerly final. ".....She doesn't want us. Does she?" "You are a part of her. That is all." "And a part of you." "...Yes." They watched the crimson moon, the lidless eye that drifted, drank the dark. The boy shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. Sephiroth's air was barren, a hollow, empty void. He cast his withering gaze into the long, ever winding dark. There was nothing, of course. Nothing but the bitter passing of seasons, the gloomy coffin that nursed and stitched him together. The boy was part of that collective whole, though he didn't entirely realize it. A pitiful reminder of bygone days. Of old, dead things, long rotting. ".....I want to go home," the boy whispered. "All of us. I want to go back." The tunnel expanded, wailing out at them. Frosty plumes in the shadows. Lonely, frigid air. Sephiroth closed his eyes and felt nothing. It was all the same. "...We can never go back. None of us. There is nothing left to return to. It is finished." "Please. I want her. I NEED her. Please." But the request remained unanswered, twin shapes of a shared, solemn grief. The scarlet moon hung full around them, the single spherical measure of Jenova's isolated, ever watchful eye. It winked out once. The boy faded again. And Sephiroth slept.

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 1

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erik's chest is heaving as he arrives at the door step almost stumbling to the already in need of a clean mansion. he frowns. charles had been so fastidious about keeping the place clean once they arrived. perhaps he wasn't home.

one of the children, the whitish-silver haired one- oh, yes, pietro that was it, tugs on his sleeve, "is this an orphanage?" the names of these children still didn't seem real to him. everything felt like a nightmare.

"it's a school," he corrects, "an old friend of mind runs it."

"is it a boarding school?" the girl (wanda, he reminds himself, wanda. his daughter. not just a girl. not just any child.) asks.

"of a sort," he replies and knocks again, louder this time, tempted to just throw open the door.

pietro stamps his foot, "you're gonna leave us here aren't you?" before erik can respond, his young son slams his heel on erik's toes, "fucker!"

erik hisses, "pietro-"

"peter. i don't like pietro. it's a stupid name!"

pietro had been the name he picked out when magda had once teased the idea of having children. it had been his grandfather's name. wanda was the once she had chosen, a name she had always been fond of since she was a girl. now those children were real and one was yelling at him.

erik begins to raise his voice again when the door cracks open. from the crack, he sees hank's eyes and nose peak out. a second later, he's opened the door a bit more, keeping his body between the inside and erik.

"what are you doing here?" he snaps, "who are they?"

"why aren't you blue?" erik asks, genuinely, "how did you reverse-?"

"i'm asking the questions," hank growls and erik watches a ripple of blue skin and yellow eyes appear. ah. not so reversed then.

"i need to see charles," erik explains, "to talk about them."

"there's no school. charles closed it. he can't help them," hank replies, "go somewhere else."

"hank, they're my children."

hank blinks in surprise and looks at the two of them, pietro trying desperately to tug away from his father's hold on his wrist while wanda stands next to him with her chin high. he sighs, "what do you expect charles to do?"

"i- i don't know," he admits, hating the glare pietro gave him at the words, "their mother is gone. i don't know how to raise children. i didn't know where else to go."

hanks shakes his head, "charles won't be of any help."

At that exact moment, pietro decides to vibrate his hand so fast, he burns erik's palm causing him to hiss and let go. normally, he's prepared for this trick. it's one of his son's favorites . being caught up in the conversation with hank took just enough attention away from erik to not prepare himself for the burn.

his son is about to bolt when wanda placidly says, "i've got him."

with a single lift of her hand, pietro freezes and falls face first in the grass, wriggling there like an earthworm. wanda was in an agreeable mood then. that was good. hank stared at them with a slightly stunned expression. erik gave him a withering look.

finally, he steps aside, "you're not gonna like what you see." a pit of dread grows in erik's stomach as he picks up pietro like an american football to carry him inside.

american football... he remembers better days. he remembers sean and alex always teasing him for calling it that. for calling "soccer" any number of colorful variants of football: football, piłka nożna, fussball. it was almost a game in it of itself. this place had far too many tainted memories.

"is he in his study?" he asks.

"he's barely gone in there in over a year. he's probably in his bedroom."

"is he asleep? it's two in the afternoon." charles only slept in when he was hungover. and it was tuesday.

"i don't know," hank shrugs, activating no small amount of annoyance.

"well if he isn't alseep, then he would know i'm here by now. he probably needs help," erik tries not to wince, memories of the beach still fresh as he recalls pulling the bullet out of charles' spine, "go fetch him."

hank gives him a tired glance that's partially pity and partially screaming, i'm not a butler.

"hank?" he hears the call from upstairs, "is someone here?"

hank winces as erik immediately bounds up the stairs with only a terse 'wait' to his children. both promptly ignore him, the boy zipping to catch up and the girl bounding along as best she could. he sighs, rushing after them. maybe he can bribe them with cookies he bought. they're just from the grocery store bakery, but kids hardly cared about such things.

erik flings open charles' door, feeling like a man possessed. charles was so close. he could fix this— or at least help erik. this man adored children far more than he ever could. not to mention, his old friend lived a much safer life. he could only go so long ignoring contacts from azazel, emma, and mystique before they came to investigate his sudden no-contact. charles always had answers. charles had started a school. charles—

looks like a mess.

the charles of erik's mind, when not the nightmare of a man in pain on a beach, was polished and coiffed to perfection. his fluffy hair was always styled, always dressed to the casual nines (or just the nines), oceanic blue eyes brightened by his clothes, two perfect ruddy lips that dipped into a heart shape at the top.

this was not the charles of his mind. before him stands a haggard man, eyes dull, lips pale, wearing nothing more than dirty sweats and a dirtier robe. he smells, reeks even. days old sweat, vomit, and the distinct, overbearing scent of alcohol wafts off charles. his hair hangs long in greasy strands. those pale lips quiver.

"charles?"

and then he is being punched. faster than he can comprehend, a fist connects with his cheek, sending him careening back into the wall until he hit it. unable to get his balance, he falls rather unceremoniously onto his ass, grasping at his chin. pietro’s chorus of mocking laughter shrieks directly into his ear.

"he got decked!!!" the child squeals in delight, "good hit!"

erik rubs his chin, "pietro, i told you to wait."

"you're not the boss of me."

"i," erik grimaces as he tries to ease his aching jaw. he didn't know charles could punch that hard. by the sight of charles shaking his hand out, he suspects charles didn't either, "i very much am."

"you shouldn't be here," snarls charles but his attention is clearly caught by pietro who is rocking back and forth on his heels.

"good to see you too, old friend," erik grunts out and then watches as charles steps towards and bends get a better look at pietro, "and walking."

charles snaps his head toward him, glaring, "no thanks to you."

truer words had never been spoken. erik attempts to brace himself against the wall. all his thoughts jumble in his mind worse than normal, fighting a brain fog from charles' outburst.

"papa!"

wanda's little hands clutch his arm as she tries with futility to help him up. a very agreeable mood then. good. keeping wanda agreeable was top priority. her eyes narrow at charles, though, which make erik cup her face gently.

"i'm fine. my friend was just surprised to see me," erik assures her. red sparks at her clenched fists, "wanda, deep breaths."

his daughter nods and does so, with no small amount of panic on erik's part. this is why he needed charles. he was a calm in a storm. usually.

hank finally catches up to them, "why don't you two come with me to the kitchen to get some cookies and leave your dad and professor xavier to talk?"

"cookies?" asks pietro before taking off, leaving both charles' and wanda's hair swinging in the breeze he left.

hank sighes and looks to wanda. wanda looks instead to erik with big pleading eyes. he nods at her as she moves, taking hank's hand, smiling at him.

"what kind of cookies?" she asks, rather sweetly as hank leads her down to the kitchen.

erik looks at charles, "we need to talk."

"my study, then."

[chiefdirector]

Staging | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act Two| Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34

27 Years Ago:

The dull flickering of the cheap lightbulb was the only source of light in the small living room of the rundown apartment. The tv, which had previously been the main output of light, had turned itself off hours ago. Normally, the light would have been turned off when the last person went to bed, the power bill was always far too high, so lights and appliances were always shut off.

The small apartment only housed four, the Matthews family. Thomas, Diane, and their eight-year-old twins, (Y/N) and Theo.. Both Thomas and Diane worked tirelessly, both taking a rotation of night-shifts so as to not leave the twins alone at night, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped, leaving one of the neighbours to check in on the young children.

(Y/N) had thought it to be one of those nights, she was alone, Theo had a sleepover. It was only twenty minutes prior that she heard rustling in the living room. It was the crashing against countertops and the clattering of metal that had woken her. Mrs Newman from across the hall was half-blind, so when she heard the banging around, (Y/N) had tried to go back to sleep but her attempts didn’t last long.

She could see the light creeping in from around her bedroom door. Her mother was always scolding her for leaving it on, so teddy-bear in hand, the young girl shuffled out of bed towards her door. Cracking it open, she peaked her head around to see if Mrs Newman had left only to find her father crumpled on the floor.

Teddy-bear still in hand, she moved over to her dad, trying to wake him up. She shook his shoulder, hoping the motion would bring him round. “Daddy. Daddy wake up!”

Pulling back from the still man, (Y/N) finally noticed that her hand had been touching something red and somewhat sticky. She tried to wipe it down her pyjama pants but the red stained her hand. Tears welling in her eyes, she tried waking her dad again. “Daddy, please. This isn't funny. Wake up!”

Her tear-filled pleas rippled through the room until the sound of the front door creaked open. Quickly, (Y/N) moved throughout the room to wrap her arms around her mother. Burying her head in her chest, (Y/N) hiccuped her words out. “Momma. It's dad. He won’t wake up.”

“What do you mean sweethe-” Diane Matthews said, her focus solely on her daughter until she looked up to see her husband’s bloodstained body crumpled on the floor. “Oh. Oh sweetheart. Go to your room. Stay there”

Without room to argue, Diane dropped her handbag and ushered the young girl back into her bedroom. The second the door closed, Diane rushed towards her husband, trying to find a pulse on his cold body. She knew that he was dead from the second she saw him, but she just had to check, just in case. 

Fighting back tears, Diane moved to grab the phone and call the police when she heard (Y/N)’s door open again. 

“(Y/N), I told you to stay.”

“I thought dad could use Teddy,” The girl looked down at the bear she was still clutching. “It makes me feel better when I'm sleeping.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl,” Diane moved to take the bear from her daughter, wiping the tears forming in the young girl's eyes. “Now back to bed, I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

“Okay, Momma. I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” She replied but the bedroom door had already shut behind the girl.

—-

Now:

Nolan shuffled the papers between his hands, as he watched (Y/N) and Tim talk in the briefing room, trying to bide his time. Deep down he knew that he had to be truthful with her, and he knew that he would be, but he couldn't in good nature tell her what he had found without fact-checking it first.

The second (Y/N) left, he swooped in, speed walking to catch up with Tim. “Bradford, wait!”

Tim crossed his arms as he turned, not wanting to deal with whatever nonsense had sprouted from the bad luck charm which was the over-aged rookie. “Yes, Nolan. Be quick, me and Chen are hitting the streets soon.”

“I just need you to double-check this. I’m pretty sure I got it right but-”

“Give it here,” Tim snatched the paperwork from Nolan, cutting him off as he spoke. Quickly, he skimmed through the old case file, a cold case from the early 90’s. “What am I checking because clearly you didn’t write this?”

“Lopez asked me and Harper to run Sullivan’s post mortem injuries through the system. See if it was related to… anything. There was one match, this case. Someone broke into a home, murdered the victim and left without taking anything. Wounds match perfectly.” 

Tim looked up to the other man. “Right, so how is this correlated?”

Instead of responding, Nolan pointed to the name adorning the top of the file, before then directing Tim’s gaze to the relative’s and the witnesses. Quickly he read, and then reread the name. 

Tim swallowed as he processed the information. “It’s her. If that is what you were implying.”

“I thought as much. I wanted it vetted before I told the others. Just in case.”

“Good call Nolan. Grab Harper and tell Grey, I’ll call (Y/N) back to the station. Her and Lopez just left so they shouldn’t have made it far.”

“Will do.” Nolan nodded, turning on his heel to go find Harper. He didn’t make it far before he heard Bradford call him back.

“Nolan,” he said, voice steady and sincere, “thank you. You did the right thing.”

_

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Masterlist

[papathe5th]

Papa V Perpetua x GN!Reader x Frater Imperator

Rating: E (explicit)

Status: WIP (Work In Progress)

You’ve been supervising the renovations for Frater Imperator’s office for the past five months.

“Here, dolce,” He’s been repeating the same line the entire time, an excuse to get you to come to his temporary working space. “My final notes.”

The final note was passed to you by a Siblings of Sin working under you: Frater Imperator wanted you to return to him office tonight. Alone.

Tonight, you came to him alone. But he already had company.

Papa V Perpetua was wearing his clerical robe, the same black silk garments you’d admired during Black Mass this evening.

He filled them well, yet you found yourself undressing him in your mind as you had every night since his return from preaching the Skeleta psalm around the globe.

You found yourself in the chapel every night after his sermon, enjoying the silence alongside him.

This evening, Papa sat in the pew next to you like he had in your fantasies. Like he had seen himself in your fantasies.

And he asked you “Is there something you wanted to tell me?” It didn’t sound like a question, his voice didn’t raise on the last word and his left eye never let you look away

“Yes, Your Unholiness” you confessed and watched the eye twinkle like the Evening Star. “I’ve been dreaming of you.”

“What am I doing in your dreams?”

“You’re at the pulpit. Your psalms inspire me. Your voice follows me in my sleep.”

“Is preaching all I do in your dreams?” The eye shot into yours, and entered the orbit like a burning comet. He had made it inside and could see what has been hiding in the back of your mind.

“No, Papa.”

You couldn’t lie to him, but you couldn’t come clean about impure thoughts. He wasn’t the only one starring in them and you doubt that it would please him you hear it. And you wanted to please him.

His arm was perched on the back of the pulpit, and you felt its head behind you. He turned up the heat when he slipped his gloved hand on your clothed shoulder and slid you closer.

“Was I doing this?”

His mouth caught yours before words could be formed on the tongue. Not that you had the words for the experience of exhaling your very soul into Papa’s hungry maw.

When he breathed life back into you, he had yet to grant you back all of your senses. Or your sense. The words you tried to swallow down your throat then tumbled out of your tongue:

“Yes, Frater.”

“What was that?”

Papa peered into you, pushing through and threading to strip you to the bone. And you feared what he’d find underneath, so you slid to the edge of the pew and escaped his embrace.

“Forgive me, Papa,” you bowed, barely able to hold yourself straight. “Please forgive me.” Your head was down as you watched your feet speed out the chapel door.

Tonight, there were two twin stars shining upon you in the office you’ve dedicated almost half of the year to.

Frater Imperator welcomed you in for the first time instead of you doing it for him. He bowed down and held the door open for you. When he opened it, Papa V Perpetua was sitting when on the sofa you and his brother had picked the night he invited you to look at the catalogue with him while sitting in his lap.

Tonight, Papa’s lap looked inviting, his legs spread like his twin’s had been, stretching his satin skirt and giving you a peak at his ankles. The mitre was missing, but the mask was strapped on as it always seemed to be. The sliver of skin you spotted under the loosened clerical collar got you hot under yours.

“After you, dolce.” Frater followed you to the sofa and sat on the oposite side leaving you with the spot in between him and his brother.

“Is there something wrong, Your Dark Eminences?” You swallowed, your mouth watering with their scent surrounding you. “Is the room not to your liking?”

Papa ripped your attention away from his brother and rival. “You’ve done a great job with the place,” he smiled ever so slightly, his black lips twitching to uncover his teeth. “I saw the sad state C’s office was in—”

“We’re not here to talk about your lack of artistic eye, V,” Frater fired past you and towards Papa.

“We’re here to talk about your jealousy, C,” he fired back.

“I am not jealous.”

With his own lips pressed together so they wouldn’t stretch into a scowl, Frater caught your attention again.

With his hand on your thigh, he squeezed your flesh and made your skin burn like he had earlier this evening, while you were perched on his lap.

You never wanted the fondling or the feeling to stop, but his brother’s title came out of your mouth when he made contact with your sex through your formal dress.

“We wanted to talk about what’s been going on between the two…the three of us.”

“I apologise for any offence, Your Dark Eminences,” you started reciting the script you’ve written and rewritten in your head.

Papa placed a hand on your should like he had back when it was just the two of you in the pews.

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

His thumb circled the cramping muscles and you surrendered to the sensation, sitting back in the sofa, into the pillows. And, when he pulled himself closer, you fell against his satin chest.

“You want my touch, cara, that much is obvious.” Frater’s fingers reached the intersection of your thighs for the second time tonight. And, this time, they fell wide open for him. “But you want my brother’s, too.”

“Such a greedy little thing.”

You felt Papa’s words before he spoke them into your ear and they shot like lightning down your spine. His chest moved under your head as he inhaled , his nose digging into your hair.

“What are we going to do with you?”

“What do you want us to do with you, cara?”

They were making you beg, that’s what they were doing. You didn’t want their touch. You needed their touch.

“Please,” you whined, your spine winding as your back became a bow ready to break at any second.

If it weren’t for Papa’s metal talons around your throat and Frater’s fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, you would’ve tumbled off of the couch. They saved you from slipping off, but they also trapped you between the two of them, stretching your body on the length of the sofa.

Frater Imperator held your hips high up his leg, his knee between your own thighs, while Papa pressed his chest into your back and held you in place by your throat.

“Thank you.” You rubbed yourself against Frater’s tailored trousers, slowly as to not disrupt the descent of his fingers into your own trousers. “Thank you, Frater,” you stuttered. “Papa, thank you.”

CONTINUED HERE: LINK