#borderline fanfiction

[nanfrost]

A dive into Vertin's core aspect of her character and it's impact through the story: Part 1

This would be a character analysis with mix of speculations, headcannons and eventually just straight up heading to fanfiction levels territory, so if you were expecting a more cannon analysis, you have been warned.

With that said however, for those who are still interested, welcome to my insanity! This was something that I have been working with a friend of mine who you may or may not know as @acesw for the past week, and we are finally satisfied with it enough to post it! A lot of the ideas that are present in this came from them, while I offer my own interpretations and expanding on those very ideas through my writing. Without them, this analysis likely will have never come to fruition, so I can't be thankful enough for having them go on this journey with me, and also to just have as a good friend. Go check them out, they have really neat ideas and is a genuinely creative and artful person!

Now with that outta the way, time for the main event you are have been waiting for, our one and only beloved Timekeeper herself, and the emotional roller coaster that we have prepared for her. Please do enjoy.

Background context:

Vertin is an incredibly interesting and compelling character in many ways. Her ability to care for other people to a great extent whether she knows them for long or not. Her compassion for everyone around her, her empathy, her willingness to open her heart and listen to others when it matters. All these traits make up who Vertin is as a character and is a large part of why so many people fall in love with her and the story; to not only see more of her but to see where her story will go.

However, there is one part of her character that stands out the most to us, a core aspect of her character that makes up most, if not all her major decisions in the story up until this point, and will be the main subject of this entire analysis.

And that is Vertin's incredible sense of selflessness.

From going out of her way to save Regulus and not let her be forced to be taken in by the Foundation. Her attempts at getting through to Schneider, to understanding and showing her immense compassion even in the heat of moments. Choosing to stay behind in the Walden to fend off the Manus while the others escaped, and most crucial of all, her conscious decision to bury all her trauma inside herself to prevent others from worrying about her. Hell, even her entire motive and drive to seek the truth about the Storm and a way to stop it stems from her desire for freedom and the future of everyone.

All of this is in some way driven by Vertin's selfless nature, always prioritizing the sake of others above herself, to the point of risking her own life if it means she could protect those around her.

She's someone who will go out of her way to connect with others, even when knowing that the pain of losing them will never fade away, to give them comfort and help them if she can no matter what.

It is an incredibly beautiful part of what makes Vertin such a compelling, lovable, and admirable character and person, but at the same time, it also represents Vertin's biggest issue about herself.

That Vertin isn’t just selfless, she is selfless to a fault.

Vertin will prioritize saving everyone above herself, or rather, she would prioritize and save everyone but herself. For Vertin intrinsically has no sense of self-value nor self-worth; in other words, she has no self identity, for her entire life is valued based on other people, not herself. This can bring a lot of self-conflict, as well as possibly even harming others when reaching a point where every step taken is crucial.

And this serious of posts will detail and explore this aspect of her, its ramifications upon the character, and to not only show the ugliest and most painful parts of it, but to also show a path that Vertin might possibly take in the story to confront this part of herself somehow. In other words: welcome to Vertin's suffering builds character arc.

What can we tell from canon?

Where do we start seeing the decision making? We already start seeing them in the first 2 chapters. In summary:

Chapter 1 - Vertin continuously is left with decisions that she has to make on the fly, starting from deciding to try to see if Regulus can survive the storm and choosing to stay behind the Walden and risk getting harmed by the Manus Vindictae for the sake of her team as well as helping Schneider.

Chapter 2 - Vertin finds herself having to choose between keeping her silence and “joining” the Manus, and when she initially refuses, Arcana has her answer questions that bring unsatisfactory answers, leading her to harm Schneider. But when she does say she’ll join, she is first tasked and eventually manipulated to “kill” her.

Now, that’s all fine and dandy and does communicate that she is a very altruistic person and a selfless individual, but how is any of that bad or problematic? How does that correlate to her not having any sense of self-worth? Chapter 1’s ending is the first instance we get to see just how far Vertin’s selflessness goes, by her decision of staying behind to grant Sonetto and the others time to escape. Because of Vertin’s sacrificial play, Druvis and the majority of Manus didn’t pursue Sonetto's crew as aggressive as they would have, giving them time to properly make their runaway. Not only that, but both her and Schneider were kept alive, albeit captive. 

There, Vertin’s selflessness is shown in a good light, being an admirable trait of hers that was crucial in progressing the story. This is the only instance in the story so far that has highlighted this trait of hers in a positive light, which is then contrasted by what happens in chapter 2.

Here, that aspect of hers that so far has been so boldly displayed as a good thing; saving Regulus and her team, is now flipped on its head, showing us that sometimes, being selfless simply isn't enough.

Vertin was put into a situation where she needed to make a choice, to either join Manus or reject their offer. When she chose the latter, Schneider was put into danger. And as each question Arcana asked piled on to her and the pressure started to rise further, Vertin went back on her words, choosing to stay with them. 

This is so she could ensure Schneider’s survival, a selfless choice she makes for the sake of a person she had barely known. It was also here where Vertin’s naivety blinds her of the situation she was in.

That no matter what she chose, Schneider wasn't going to make it out of this.

Schneider had already betrayed them, but even before that, she never truly believed in them in the first place, only soaking up to them for her own personal goals. She was the one who lied to Manus about her identity, to pretend to play along with them until she bided her time, and now she was captured right in their hands. 

It doesn’t take much for one to come to the conclusion that Schneider was a dead woman walking.

Yet, Vertin did not see this. For her view of the world even at this point was too naive, warped by her own perception and belief. A belief that by giving herself up, by throwing her own agency away will somehow lead to other people’s lives improving. That somehow, someway, by disregarding her own safety, the safety of others will be secured.

Vertin is living in a highly warped perception of the world, thinking and believing that if she alone suffers, no one else has to. 

Green Oranges serves as a reality check to Vertin, albeit one that Vertin was unfortunately in too much emotional distress to properly realised.

However, it’s important to note that the game was rigged from the start. Regardless of what Vertin would have chosen, Schneider was going to “die” there either way. So although we witnessed the consequences of Vertin’s selfless choice, it would be unfair to call it her fault. So for now, this chapter only serves as a warning to Vertin.

That even if her selflessness is admirable and has paid the way to many good results, her complete lack of care for herself is not, and is leading her to believe in a false image of the world. A flaw that she will continue to neglect until it becomes far too late to remedy.

Chapter 3 and 4 are the harder ones to allocate, mostly because Vertin isn’t the main focus and rarely appears in the story at all except for flashbacks or dreams. But it still serves a very important role in giving us another facet of this character trait that Vertin exhibits.

That this selflessness of hers doesn’t just affect her, but also the relationships she has with the people around her, and specifically, her crew and Sonetto.

We were told that before Vertin was put to sleep, she had acted relatively the same as she always was, carrying out her duties until she was forced to be sedated and put into the coma we saw her at the start of Chapter 3. We knew that Vertin had set up plans in the form of Lilya and the bill she made with Madam Z, but this was something that wouldn’t be known by us or the other characters until much later.

For the entirety of her time spent before the events of 3 and 4, Vertin kept herself closed off, ensuring that she wouldn’t worry her new friends and even more so, Sonetto. But as a consequence, this results in nobody truly knowing what Vertin was thinking or trying to do prior to going comatose.

Sonetto, Vertin’s closest companion, someone who knows Vertin the longest and has been with her the most, wasn’t even privy to what Vertin’s plans were. She was left struggling to figure out what she should do to help Vertin, while also battling her own inner turmoil.

Druvis, Sotheby, Regulus, APPle, all of them were also victims of this. They had no idea what Vertin was planning, nor was even given any hints; they were left to their own devices and in turn, the influence of the Foundation. Vertin may have tried to help them by not getting them involved with the Foundation matters, but this ironically only led to them being drawn into the organisation because of their desire of wanting to help Vertin.

If Madam Z hadn’t come in to give Druvis the push she needed, Constantine likely would have gotten things to go her way. If it wasn’t for the collective efforts of Z and Vertin’s crew and so many others, Vertin likely wouldn’t have been freed. 

These two chapters showcase the loyalty and trust that her friends have in Vertin, but it also highlights the issue of Vertin always trying to hide things away, to always keep herself emotionally closed. Even if she had good intentions, it still led to less than favourable outcomes that could have very well ended badly for all of them had things gone differently.

With that, we have gotten a rough understanding of Vertin’s character up until this point. Vertin’s selflessness can be an good thing to posses, but because of her disregard of her own well-being and her naive belief that only she needs to make sacrifices for the good of everyone, it is ultimately an unhealthy outlet for Vertin’s way of coping with her trauma. Not just internally, but externally as well.

From here on, I will be diving into my own personal headcanon of where the direction of the story might go, with the purpose of having Vertin’s character be pushed slowly towards a breaking point that will force her to confront this very part of herself, and perhaps, come out learning something from it all.

Speculation: Vertin’s breaking point

Before we get into it however, there is one thing that must be noted here so that the events that will transpire would make more sense.

That being how exactly could the story push Vertin’s character to her limit, when she herself is a naturally strong and composed person? It’s quite simple really, in fact, the answer was already given to us all the way back in Chapter 2.

Vertin’s one crucial weakness that even she might not even realise, that being her overwhelming compassion for those she cares about.

Throughout chapter 1 and 2, we have seen how Vertin deals with stress. How she is able to mentally process the situation around her in a logical and composed manner, allowing her to come to the best possible solution in a short time without letting her emotions run rampant.

And during her confrontation with Arcana, she continues to showcase her composure when faced with a difficult situation and choices. That is until Arcana began to shift her hostility towards Schneider, and we start to see the cracks forming at her surface. 

Vertin is capable of dealing with high stress situations, however, when that situation involves other people, especially those she has come to know or care about, this mask of calmness starts to slip as she reveals how she truly feels.

That Vertin cares too much to see other people get hurt, knowing she can do something about it.

But this wasn’t enough, Vertin might be faltering, but she still tries to keep a calm level head, even when each question gets more and more personal for her. But it was okay, so long as she answered truthfully and picked their side, things will “somehow” work out.

This dream is then shattered by Arcana’s mission given to her; to kill the girl she had chosen to save by throwing her agency away. 

Here, the mask falters even more as Vertin slips further into emotional distress. This is the rare time, and really one of the only times you get to see Vertin raise her voice, far from her monotone voice she always has. It was getting to her.

This is then exacerbated from her shooting Schneider. Even if it was not by choice, Vertin was still the one who pulled the trigger, the one that held the gun against Schneider, and the one that killed her; a girl who she had come to care a great deal about in such a short time.

Here, the mask completely falls as Vertin expresses just how much this breaks her heart. The only instance in the game where Vertin ever shed a tear for something or someone.

So it’s clear now that the biggest strength to her character that Vertin has; her love and compassion for others, is also her biggest weakness. A weakness that can be exploited and used to push Vertin past and even beyond her breaking point.

So let’s do just that.

The narrative will go like this: Vertin and her crew are tasked on an important mission of some kind, where they are given more control and permission to decide and do more so long as Vertin is the one making those choices. This puts Vertin into a position of power much higher than she usually assumes, which will first add a layer of stress over her as she carries out her mission.

Then, the story will sprinkle in a variety of different decisions that Vertin has to make, some big and some small. All of them have some kind of effect on the people around her or their situation. This further adds stress to the girl, now having to juggle the responsibilities of making the difficult choices and decisions that no one else can, because she was their leader, the one assigned to do the job.

At first, things do start to look better as her crew tries their best to assist her, and the situation starts to look more promising. It would be here where a wrench would be thrown, completely sending the whole mission into disarray.

Something completely unexpected occurs, causing chaos and mayhem to follow suit. Vertin tries to assert the situation and find a way to stabilise the people, her crew doing their best to help. However, in their task of ensuring the situation doesn’t derail any further, her crew subsequently split off from her, leaving the girl alone to her own devices.

Here, we begin the start of Vertin’s downfall.

Now without her crew or Sonetto’s help, Vertin is now forced into a situation where she needs to continuously make quick and decisive actions on the fly, all to ensure that things are kept as stable as possible. This leads to her going out and helping as many people as she can, trying to resolve as many issues as possible by herself so that others can focus on their safety. 

However, not every situation can be resolved peacefully nor gracefully.

Gradually, Vertin is faced with more and more difficult choices, ones that require her to choose one side or the other with escalating stakes and tension. No matter what she chooses however, people still get hurt, lives are still put in danger. And Vertin, being the girl that she is, can’t bear to see it happen.

So she tries to find ways to choose both, to save both parties so long as she can help it. Even if it meant having to risk her own safety, Vertin cannot bear to choose one and let the others perish. She can’t allow that to happen.

So she gives herself up to the task of saving people. To abandon her own safety and subsequently her own agency in order to ensure that others will live. So that everyone can make it out even if she doesn’t.

If only she is the casualty in all this, it is the result that Vertin can accept, a result that Vertin can be at peace with.

What she doesn’t realise, or perhaps she isn’t willing to see is that she’s forcing herself into a corner. By placing so much emphasis on saving, by abandoning her own safety and subsequently her own position of power, Vertin has left a chain of command with no real leader, and the situation starts falling into chaos. 

But she can’t see it, Vertin isn’t able to recognize this because she’s so intensely focused on the people around her who are suffering right that moment. Her composure is slipping, as she watches as people’s lives are being destroyed and perished rapidly before her eyes, and she can’t seem to make it better no matter how far she keeps going. This only furthers her careless act of selflessness, forgoing more and more of her own life until it was the last thing on her mind.

Eventually, things reach a boiling point where Vertin, alone, is faced with an obstacle that directly threatens her life and countless others. She now faces a choice, whether to prioritise her own safety over the lives of dozens of people, some strangers, some whose faces have grown familiar to her, or throw her life away again with the blinding hope that things will work out.

If she chooses to run, choose to save herself, Vertin can never live with herself. For a girl like her, who has made it her life to save anyone she can, and so running away can never be an option for her. So naturally, without a second thought, Vertin chooses to throw her life away in exchange of saving everyone’s lives.

A decision that will haunt the girl for the rest of her life.

By the time Vertin awakes, she finds that she is still alive, unscathed at that. But only a moment passes before Vertin notices the countless bodies of those that died, and the destruction that was wrought about around her. At first, she was confused, then the memories started to flood in. 

The memories of the moment she chose to throw her life away, chose to give herself up for the sake of others. And in that instance, someone did the same for her, pushing her out of death’s way as they sacrificed themselves for her. Someone she personally knew and cared about.

In the end, Vertin faces the result of her sacrifice; nothing but lifeless corpses, an utter wasteland filled with bodies with no souls left in them; and she alone survives.

But she might as well be dead, life completely leaving her quickly dulling eyes, a single thought consuming her mind.

This was her fault.

She chose to give her life away, to disregard her own leadership, her role and her worth all for the sake of others.

Because she was too selfless, too kind to ever let herself bear the guilt and burden of letting innocent people die when she could have saved them. And she thought that by sacrificing herself, she can do just that.

She never accounted for the fact that someone would save her.

That someone would prioritise her life over countless others, to choose to sacrifice themselves for someone like her. To give their life for Vertin.

Vertin kneels, her arms and hands shaking as her eyes froze still. She can’t bear to look at the scene before her, her stomach rising to her chest.

For she has finally seen the reality of the world around her, finally acknowledges something she has willingly and selfishly ignored for all this time.

Vertin has always had some level of survivor's guilt within her. Starting from the breakaway incident, Vertin had likely always felt how unfair and cruel it was that only she got to live, when she was the one that was responsible for leading them here.

Sure, the kids went with her because they desired the same thing, but it was she who led them, she who gave them the spark of desire to want to venture out, and because of her, they were all gone. 

Vertin has been carrying that guilt ever since, always masking it under layers and layers of self-imposed composure; a way to protect herself from the pain of the past, but as a way to stop people from getting too close to her, because she is afraid that something similar might happen again if that was the case. That if she were to let people know her, to get to care about her, that they too will suffer because of their involvements with her.

But Vertin was too kind, too good, too compassionate. Even when she emotionally distances herself from others, people still flock to her because they see just how kind she is.

Because even when she doesn’t show it, the girl cared enough to go out of her way to save them, so of course they would be grateful to her, of course they would feel immense gratitude and appreciation for her. Of course they would choose her as their leader and follow her. 

And of course, one of them would throw their life away to save hers. 

Vertin had abandoned all self-importance or self-value, believing that she, the lone survivor of a terrible tragedy, the one who shouldn’t have lived for the sins that she had committed; deserved no such thing. That someone like her should not dare to believe she had value, when all she had done was cause death to those she cared about. That was what she had believed in, what she had convinced herself to believe in.

Because of that, she ignored the signs. She ignored the warnings given to her by others, the warning that if she keeps going down this path of self-annihilation, that eventually she will be met with a fate much worse than death.

In her selfless attempt to save everyone and everything, she had selfishly taken away the people’s chance to save her. To save the girl who had suffered far too much and who had helped even more, even when she can’t see past her own warped perception of herself.

And now she is facing the consequences of that. She is now looking at the results of her blindness, the carnage that was her willful ignorance to herself and to others, and the irony of being the only one left alive through it all once more.

In the past, she was an unwilling player on a chess board designed for her to lose. Now, she was the girl who gave up her own King for the all her pieces, and in return, she lost everything.

Vertin facing this, her composure long since lost, finally breaks.

She slumps onto the floor, her body and mind utterly overwhelmed with every facet of emotions she could conjure within the darkest pit of her stomach, all while drenched in the blood of the people she was supposed to save.

The blood of people who knew her, who admired and respected her, who cared for her, who saw her as a friend, who saw her as family. All of them suffered at her hands, at her own selfish choice to forsake her life because she saw no other way; because she perceived that there was no other way.

And she can't bear all that guilt. All the pain and unprocessed trauma she had buried inside her now finally comes bubbling out of her, completely suffocating the girl. That lack of self-value that she harbours now replaced with unending resentment and pure unbridled self-hatred. Something she had always carried inside her that only got worse over time, and now, it finally had an excuse to be let out.

An existence that had done nothing but wrought pain and death to everyone it ever cared about. An existence that so readily throws its life away at the slightest of inconvenience, never caring about what others think about them, for they were too blinded in their own suicidal nature to ever think that they deserved to be cared about.

Vertin truly believes that she does not deserve to be cared about. She truly believes that she is the worst of the worst, an willfully ignorant murderer, so blinded by their own vision of the world that they refuse to see the reality as what it is. And now, they're paying their just price for it, a price they should have paid long ago.

Vertin knew better than anyone, that she was nothing but a murderer.

Part 2

[crazy56u]

Warning: I'm on my Fanfiction Shit again. You are about to see more of my bullshit thought processes:

Well, given how at least a couple of people liked the previous post I did about that picture I commissioned (shout out to @thenovika), I figured you’d like to know I have theory-crafted an AU off of it (I already had some of the details in mind when coming up with the image to begin with, but I finally came up with the incident that kicks it off).

And while I admit some of this might be a stretch, and might need fleshing out, this is the basic conceit I have for what I guess I am going to be calling the “Burnout” AU, if only because given how I have things play out, I can’t help but be cute with the name.

And spoilers, this is technically a “Bad End” scenario born out of a lucky break.

If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, then a tragedy is formed out of a silver lining.

The main linchpin to start off?

Mimic dies during “Bad Guys”.

When Starline is busting everyone out of prison, offering to let them in on, instead of a team, but a “business partnership”, rather than out and out agree, Mimic pretends to agree, but at the first opportunity after getting let out of his cell, Mimic jumps Starline, causing a struggle. Since Starline would’ve expected something like this happening, he cuts his losses.

He kills Mimic then and there, and leaves his body behind as a warning: “I mean business, do not underestimate me.”

The rest of the mini-series plays out more or less as before, minus one player. Starline's Plan A failed, so he decides to kidnap two people and play Frankenstein with them.

(This analogy might come back later, as an aside; besides, literally, Starline was basically Frankenstein, and Surge and Kit are both the Creature. I am not wrong.)

Word of this funnels back to those at the Restoration, and in particular, Whisper.

If you recall, she left after she found out Mimic escaped, as she felt her still being there was now a liability; as such, while she would have trouble fully processing the fact he was dead (even knowing there was a physical body left behind), she would eventually, eventually feel comfortable enough to start moving on, and stay. Her staying means Tangle stays.

Fast forward to the aftermath of “Battle for the Empire”: Starline is fucking dead, Sonic, Tails and Belle have left with Kit, and Surge is in the wild with the Dynamo Cage, and has made it to Central City.

Since Whisper and Tangle haven’t left, they are off doing a different mission for the Restoration, so Whisper is nowhere near Central City to take Surge on, and Jewel hasn’t gotten in contact yet with Sonic and Tails.

However, Blaze is close by (due to wanting to explore more of Sonic’s world while on her vacation), so she goes up to bat.

And… well, I already explained the next bit. Surge realizes she can use the Dynamo Cage to steal her opponent’s powers, albeit more so because this time, Blaze decided to strike her head on early into the fight with a fireball, and the cage sucked it up, something both opponents were shocked to see was possible.

It’s touch and go for a while, but then Surge manages to get her hands onto Blaze directly, and more or less rips the fire straight out of Blaze’s soul.

(This gives me the excuse to share the picture again, shout out to @thenovika once more.)

Now, because Surge is full of fire instead of Wisp energy, things wind up taking a more drastic turn when Sonic and Tails show up; think that boss fight from Sonic Rush on hardcore mode, borderline Dark Phoenix saga shit. Surge isn’t just overcharged with energy, she has been exposed to some borderline next level otherworldly shit.

Tails’ plan in the original issue to knock her out isn’t able to work this time. Not even Kit showing up can change anything, Surge is too far gone, and is seemingly determined to burn down Central City, all while Blaze is clinging on to consciousness in the corner somewhere.

Eventually, Kit manages to get through to Surge, and the two escape to Starline’s base; Sonic and Tails go after. They need to get that cage off in order to save Blaze, even if it means teaming with Eggman.

But, something goes wrong.

During the final struggle to stop Surge, the same thing plays out: she overloads the cage in an attempt at landing the killing blow… and it explodes.

She’s engulfed in flames… and then isn’t. She’s dead.

Kit grabs her, opts to let the others drown, and leaves; Sonic, Tails, Eggman and Metal make it out alive.

Back at Sonic’s house, Blaze snaps back awake… but is still grey. She feels something break inside her.

What none of them realize yet is that, because of the catastrophic failure of the Dynamo Cage, that power had not left Surge. When she died, it died with her.

Frankenstein's monster has died in a fire.

The keeper of the flame has just smoke left to her name.

And all of this is because the biggest asshole around got what was coming to him from the jump.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

〄 BORDERLINE

⤷ Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader

{ CHAPTER I ; LOST & FOUND. }

You save a man from drowning and he claims he's Prince Aemond Targaryen who you know died in 130AC, surely he's just crazy, right?

Warnings: f&b spoilers, nothing too triggering really, reader thinks he's gone bonkers, fake dates, 1024 is basically 2024 + not proof read.

masterlist ; next >>

He felt Vhagars body giving up beneath him, her poor wings too exhausted to hold up her own weight to fly anymore as they battled, her croaks as she struggled to breathe fire onto the enemy before him.

His uncle, Daemon targaryen.

Aemond is sweating, he had been waiting all his life for this moment- to fight his uncle and at last his dream came true because of the witch he had taken in.

It was an open trap.

She envisioned that he'd win the battle, that he'd be alive.

That was a lie.

“Dracarys!” Daemon yelled distantly the fire being spit out by Caraxes, Vhagar— in a final attempt at protecting her rider, shielded Aemond with her wings, but that sudden movement caused Aemond to lose hold on her reins, His body falling down from the dragon's.

He only realised the lie as he fell through the skies, piercing through the wind at an intense speed as the dragons continued to fight before him.

Nonetheless he had no other choice but to accept his death, and so he did.

The waters welcomed him as if they had been waiting for him, he felt his life slowly slip away just like his sister had predicted that he would die, he closed his eye, just accepting his own fate, hoping that at least he'd find peace in the after life, or maybe he wouldn't; maybe he'd suffer in hell, after all he hurt many innocent people.

“You were swallowed up in God's eye, never to be seen again.” Helaena's words rung through his head, voice clear as day, feeling more suffocating than the water he's drowning in.

Just as Aemond's mind was reeling through the possibility, he felt a gust of air which made him breathe on reflex as he was pulled up by someone. He opened his eye in surprise.

He was… alive?

Someone saved him? Was it Alys? Was her prophecy right?

Many questions ran through his mind as he adjusted to his vision, but it was then he realised that he didn't recognise this place. Neither did he recognize you.

“Sir! Are you okay?!” You ask in a panic at the man who almost drowned before you. You were just taking a walk nearby the lake when you saw bubbles floating up to the surface with a silhouette of a man below, you immediately jumped in; knowing how to swim and ended up saving this man's life.

You took a note of his attire, noting that it might be very old fashioned style, perhaps he liked the medieval aesthetic? His shiny locks clung onto his clothes.

He coughed, water spurting out from his mouth and nose as his body desperately tried to get rid of the liquid that he drowned in. Aemond stared at the ground in shock.

His careful eye took note of the surroundings that were around him. Tall buildings that had square openings that shone brightly, even during what was supposed to be called a nighttime.

Quite frankly, it hurt his eye, the lights blaring into his cornea. He shut in reflex, not adjusted to whatever place he was at. You watched in silence as he sat up completely. His clothes were sticking to his body in an uncomforting manner.

“Where am I?” He asks, his face and tone sharp, behavior notwithstanding someone that was just drowning mere moments ago. “Uh? We're currently at God's eye lake.” You reply, not wanting to be too judgemental.

“God's eye? Where's Harrenhal?” He asks and you laugh at the mention of that place. “You mean the old castle? Yeah that was towed down years ago, they tried reconstructing it but weird incidents occurred, now that area is nothing but a memory.” You inform him.

“This doesn't look like God's eye.” He states out loud, taking in the difference in sight, a few boats floating on top of the waters, tied to a ledge, they did not look like the wooden boats.. They seem like they were made of steel. His eye widens. “Metal floats on water now? What is this sorcery?” He exclaims.

“Sorcery? Chill out with the medieval vocabulary, my guy. Aren't you too invested in your aesthetic?” You reply, shrugging his behavior off. “You mere— peasant, I am a Targaryen prince. Dragon blood runs through my veins, how dare you speak and mock me?” He grits his teeth, his voice low and dangerous.

You blink for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. “Oh gods! You're quite hilarious for a man that was drowning mere moments ago, say you didn't damage your brain did you?” You chuckle, checking his temperature.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he grabs you by your throat, pushing you onto the ground as he gets on top of you. “I will have your tongue, shall you speak any further mockery.” He whispers cruelly, his grip tightening around your neck. You gasp for air as you claw at his hands trying to pry them off, but he's too strong.

Great, is this how you're going to die? By the hands of a man who seems like is homeless or on drugs whom you saved? The seven are indeed cruel.

Your cursing to the God's was probably heard when you feel the oxygen rushing back in your lungs as he removes his hand away, but still straddling you. You look at him with doubt, wondering if he'd gone insane.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, what is the Lady's name?” He asks, referring to you while getting off you and you wanted to laugh once again but you decided not to.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen? Are you serious? If you're Prince Aemond Targaryen then I'm Alicent Hightower.” You roll your eyes at his words waiting for him to act embarrassed as you made fun of him, but he doesn't say anything. He squints his eye in disbelief.

“Seriously? Cosplaying a historic character is one thing but claiming you're them seems more of a mental illness.” You tell him, getting off the ground and standing before him, looking down at him from above.

You waited for him to drop the act, yet nothing came out of his mouth. “What year is this?” He asks and you blink in confusion. “Uhm 1024, why?” You reply and his mouth drops in shock.

He had been sent 894 years into the future. His heart begins to race as he takes in his surroundings once again, nothing looking the same way as it did before.

He looked at you, the one who pulled him into this world, was it magic? No, you were too much of an airhead for this to be magic. Aemond sighs.

He had nowhere to go in this world. All his family was likely dead. So he stares at you in thought, acknowledging that he probably looks like an insane person to you right now. A person from the future.

He gulps as anxiety eats away at the pit in his stomach. “You alright?” You ask, but he suddenly stands up grabbing you by your shoulders. He had only you now.

“Watch.” He tells you, one of his hands travelling to his eyepatch before pulling it off and revealing his eye. Hoping that it would convince you that he's not crazy.

“A sapphire.. in your eye like Aemond Targaryen, wow the dedication is indeed there.” You clap lightly but Aemond tuts, annoyed at your skepticism.

You couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by him, the subconscious of your mind seemed to know more than you did, for some reason, it believed him.

He didn't look like a crazy person while claiming those things, he looked you dead in the eye while claiming that he was a Prince, and Aemond Targaryen himself. So you couldn't help but wonder if it was really true.

“Can I touch your hair?” You ask, the question leaving your mouth unexpectedly and you cover your lips in shock. Fuck, you needed to hold your tongue. He tilts his head.

“Nobody except the Targaryens have platinum blonde hair, the hair colour now cannot be inherited genetically as they are long extinct. Every last one of them died. Now you can only see this hair color if you bleach your hair or wigs.. But they have weird textures so.. I need to see if you're telling the truth.” You explain yourself as fast as you can before he gets mad. He processes your words and gives you permission to touch his hair, and you touch it indeed.

Your eyes widen at the smoothness, his hair showing no signs of dye or bleach, it's way too healthy and non frizzy. Out of curiosity, you pluck one of the hair strands which makes him wince. “You wench how—” He begins to speak.

“Shh!” You shush him, holding the hair closer to your face, as you stare at the root part of the hair, platinum blonde just like the rest. Your heartbeat starts picking up its pace as you stare at the shiny hair intensely.

You turn your head to look at him, his features stoic, way too calm and collected. You ignored this before but he radiated off such a mightier energy, his posture was prim and perfect, his sapphire eye glinted and stayed snuggled up in his eye. His working eye just stared at you, the pupil shrinking and expanding, mimicking the turmoil of emotions within him.

Your gaze took in his features intently, the nose, the lips, the eyes, the face shape all were similar to the painting you had seen when you were in high school, studying history.

That's when your history teacher's lesson replayed in your memory, recalling the memory, pulling you into a flashback.

//

“Aemond Targaryen, fell into the Lake God's eye during the battle with his uncle.. His dragon, Vhagar, was found at the bottom—” You write down the notes as the teacher speaks, writing down the dates of the incident.

“However, eerily enough, his body was never found. Not at the bottom, nowhere. It was as if he just vanished. Never seen again.”

‘His body was never found.’ you scribbled.

‘As if he vanished, never seen again.’ you took out your highlighter and highlighted the point.

//

You stared at the man in front of you before you looked at the lake you guys were standing at the edge of, the water coming to your feet, pulled by the wind, towards you.

‘His body was never found.’

‘Never seen again.’

The words repeated in your mind as you look at him again.

“So you really.... are Aemond Targaryen?” You question, your body shaking with the realisation, the weight of it feeling heavy on your shoulders, you hoped it was a joke, that the man in front of you was playing a joke. But everything fell in place way too perfectly.

‘never found ; never seen again.’

“Hmm.” He hums.

[thinemoonshine]

THE GOOD BOY X BAD GIRL COLLECTION

in which hopelessly and desperately in love enhypen will do whatever it takes to get the girl—even when it means ruining themselves

BAMBI

LEE HEESEUNG — he hates being good. to him, good only meant bad. he only ever wants to be her bambi boy.

“somewhere, anywhere—as long as it means your attention’s on me. and only me.”

YOU, A LUCID DREAM

PARK JONGSEONG — to rewrite himself in ways he never even thought of, to reconstruct the foundation of his beliefs and understanding of perfection as he knows it—just for you? of course.

“well, dreams change. mine did the moment i fell for you.”

PUPPY BOY

SIM JAEYUN — the only one he wants and needs is her, and only her.

“just let me be…yours. yours, to you and let me love you. can i not?”

SKATER BOY

PARK SUNGHOON — his hands have tasted blood for the sake oh his love—and now he thirsts for it.

“give me a list of names, sweetheart. i’ll handle them for you. i promise you.”

FOXY... BABY

KIM SUNOO — without her to be his anchor and home, he doesn’t have to stay, he belongs nowhere.

“please don’t replace me. don’t leave me alone. not again. please.”

PRETTY KITTY

YANG JUNGWON — it’s not his fault. she left when they’re meant to be together. he just wants to keep their promise.

“promises aren’t meant to be broken. so you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

TEETH

NISHIMURA RIKI — he is not violent, no. he might look scary baring his teeth but he never bites—not until now.

“you said you love me. but if you did, you wouldn’t have done this. you wouldn’t have let me fall from grace.”

[retrosabers]

the way some of y’all write & describe age gap relationships in fics makes me want to play the law and order svu intro

[m00nchi16]

Maybe unpopular opinion: I’m tired of reading fics where they’re enemies to lovers or they’re casual about their feelings I want to read them feel so much for each other that they feel sick because they love each other so much like the gods intended!

(I have bpd and love so intensely and no fanfic has properly described how intense my love can be)

[youngyoo-apologist]

Henituses!

[fizzyykittyy]

i need a GOOD desert duo angst fic. like i mean its borderline toxic. i need scar to be so in love with grian yet he hates him so much. even just seeing grian makes scar nauseous, dizzy, he feels ill but yet he just—cant stop loving him. scar knows grian will never love him the way scar does, but scar just cant find himself to care.

one day he wants grian dead. hates his guts. at night scar misses grian like his lungs miss oxygen. the next day hes clinging to grian. but only being around grian makes him ill and makes him hate him. its an endless cycle. hes with grian at night only to remember—grians done the same thing with another man.

[welcometothemaraudersspam]

intoxicating

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word count: 4.1k

warnings: grinding, drinking, cussing, plz lemme know if i forgot anything else :3

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

the first thing people took notice of when they looked at you -

that mesmerizing smile.

the way you carried yourself was so profound, as if every bad thing thrown your way would just bounce right off.

your bubbly energy enraptured everybody around you, feeding off of your wide grins, and constant laughter bringing a sense of joy into their life.

earning your nickname; sweet girl.

everyone loved you from the moment they laid their eyes on you.

i mean... who wouldn't?

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

part 2 here!

"Sweetheart, you have got to get ahold of yourself."

"I do- I don't know what makes you think I don't."

A scoff left Garcia's stained lips, as she stared at your frantic fingers messing with your hair, trying to apply everything all at once. Reaching for your signature perfume, spraying a good dosage on to ensure it stays on the whole night. The blonde had come over to get ready for a night out in the town with her fellow co-workers, including a certain brunette that you had a soft spot for.

Your hair was not cooperating with you. Not. In. The. Slightest.

Does this dress make me look- too much?

Who the hell made this damn mousse-

"If you touch your hair one more time, I will personally make it my life's mission to get rid of your existence." She grabbed a hold of your arm, tugging you out of the bathroom despite your protests. "Spencer won't care what your hair looks like when he's got you underneath him."

A gasp left your lips, smacking Penelope's giggling behind as she ran away from you towards your front door. "Or above him- whatever you're into sweet cheeks."

"Oh! I'm going to get your ass, Pen."

"Run that by my boss first!"

Penelope ripped the front door open, revealing a startled Hotch who had just raised his fist to knock on your house door. A smug smirk graced the blonde's lips, sticking her tongue out at you as she ran towards the SUV where Morgan was waiting. You stood there with a pout on your lips, grabbing your purse from your entrance table. Hotch eyed your dressed up figure, feeling his heart rate pick up as you made your way over to him your perfume engulfing his senses.

"Hiya Hotch." Wrapping your arm around his waist, giving the older man a tight squeeze letting your free hand lock the door behind you stuffing your keys into your purse. You and Penelope might have had one too many shots, the constant cheesing on your face giving you away. 

"Hello sweet girl." Hotch had known you long enough to see you in every situation imaginable, including your drunk side. He chuckled as you left your arm around him, not minding it for a second as you guys walked down the steps to the car. "Are we sure this isn't the aftermath of the bar?"

You let out a small giggle, knowing he was partially right. Hotch opened up the car door for you, helping you into the lifted vehicle a small thank you leaving your lips as you scooted further in as he squeezed in behind you.

The car smelled like people who had were planning on getting laid.

Hotch’s cologne smelled of leather and cinnamon. Discretely trying to hide the fact that you were inching closer to him like a dog sniffing out a treat.

Whilst Morgans cologne smelled of coconut and sugar; not enough to be irritating to the nose.

Both you and Penelope's perfumes smelled nice and sweet, contrasting with the guys.

Penelope was blasting Kesha through the SUV, while Morgan attempted to turn it down without her noticing. Either she noticed or didn't care, allowing her voice to do the work for her as she embodied Kesha.

"We are just getting started, I promise. You should join us! Didn't Morgan draw the short stick for tonight? Leaves you perfectly able to get wasted with us,"

Morgan gave you a glare in the rearview mirror, not letting your mocking affect his driving as he tried his best to follow the law with his boss as his passenger. Hotch just shook his head as you unzipped your purse showing him the contents inside.

His eyebrow raised, he saw several colorful shooters clinking around in the small accessory adorning your body, a smile gracing your warming skin. You took out a bright green shooter, shoving it into his hands.

"What in the-"

"Pen. Catch." Penelope didn't even have to move, her hands expertly catching the pink shot you had picked out just for her. You opted for a blue one, knowing this flavor in specific masked the taste as best it could making it easier to down.

You raised your eyebrow back up at Hotch cracking your drink open, a soft sigh left his lips knowing you wouldn't back down. He proceeded to crack his open, whoops leaving the girls lips. Clinking your shot against his. Your arm moving to wrap around his bringing the cold glass to your lips, allowing the burning sensation to trickle down your throat. Hotch felt his breath hitch at your touch, downing the shooter back.

Hotch was used to harder liquor, but something about the neon colored vodka was already making him feel a little warm. Shaking his head at the taste, putting the lid back on the drink as he watched you reach for another.

"Woah, sweet girl... you sure you can handle another?"

Your rolled your eyes at his concerning words, easily tossing another shooter back as you opened your mouth to show it was gone. Hotch felt a small smirk tug at his lips at the sight, adjusting himself in his seat subtly.

"I almost flunked out of college my freshman year because I was getting drunk every weekend. I learned my handful of tricks- I would put Dr. Reid to shame." Morgan whistled, making Garcia laugh as she reminisced on some of the stories you had told her. An ever-growing smirk graced your lips, re-applying a generous amount of lip gloss to your lips. 

Hotch eyed the bubbly girl, as she made herself comfortable against the taller man. He spread his jean cladded legs as she plopped her purse on his lap, using him as a table rummaging through the contents. Choosing to ignore the sensation of her nimble fingers ghosting over his dark wash jeans, adjusting his position on the leather seat. She pulled out another shooter and mingled it into his hands, a small chuckle bubbling in his chest.

"You're going to have to show me one day, sweet cheeks.”

"Wouldn't you love to see that, sweet boy?"

Morgan smirked up at you as he pulled up to the valet who were excited to take the keys from your favorite Agent, sending a wink to the blushing girl holding the keys. You were about to open the door, almost jumping as you saw Hotch had already beaten you to it. Looking back and forth between the door and your now empty seat beside you, the grinning raven haired man made your heart skip a beat.

"How-"

"Your intoxicated state is making your reaction time slow," His deep voice hummed into your ear, his hands splaying across your back allowing his warmth to keep you from shivering. Hotch lent his arm out, grasping onto his bicep firmly as you made your way into the bar. The shooter you had given the tall man tucked away in his jeans, holding your body close to ensure you wouldn't run off.  His cologne smelled even stronger up close, allowing yourself to engulf the scent a soft sigh leaving your glossed lips.

It didn't take long for Hotch have to glare at the wandering eyes of plenty of men who were attempting to undress you with their nasty eyes. He knew men were absolute garbage as time had gone by, but he knew that he would never let these ones especially anywhere near you tonight. 

It didn't take long for you to find your other co-workers even in all of the chaos, the place bordering a club atmosphere. The bar was currently playing one of your favorite songs, allowing the music to guide your body. You let your grip loosen as you made a beeline towards JJ who was smiling widely up at you, a bright pink coating her cheeks. Your heels clicking mesmerizingly against the stone floor, having mastered the art in running in those strappy shoes.

"JJ!! I missed youuuu," You hurriedly wrapped your arms around her neck, pressing a sticky kiss onto her cheek. She let out a muffled laugh as she held you tighter. "Where is-"

"Spence? Right behind you, honey." The giggling girl whispered into your ear, you spun on your heel making eye contact with the man you had been thinking about all night. A smile made its way onto your lips, taking a seat beside the brunette. 

As if he couldn't get anymore attractive.

The sight of his dark green cardigan bringing out the green in his hazel eyes, hidden behind his god forsaken sexy ass glasses. His cologne wafted over to you, the soft scent of coffee and something sweet. The smell was enough to make your mouth water.

What kind of test do they have to pass to work at the BAU? It seemed like every man and woman had to make your knees buckle to work there.

"Hiya Spence."

The flustered boy tucked his hair behind his ear, turning in his seat to give you his undivided attention. Your perfume infiltrating his nostrils, before having heard your voice. A smell he was all too keen on knowing, wetting his bottom lip nervously. "Oh h-hi!"

The conscious part of your brain attempted to send signals to your body to be smart, your drunk limbs ignoring it as you allowed your legs to entwine with his slack cladded leg closest to you. His breath hitching the smallest of gasps leaving his pink lips. 

The sound of someone hollering behind you made you turn around in your seat, waving excitedly at the dark hair girl approaching. Elle feigned a dramatic hand over her chest, her dress showing off her curves in all the right places. The girl walked over to you, your smile having not left your lips since getting in the car. Smacking a wet kiss on your dark haired friends cheek who just wrapped an arm around your waist. "We were about to send out a search party. We thought Morgan got you guys lost again,"

"Oh he most definitely did, I think the aftershave has made him lose some brain cells over the years." You teased the burly man, who shot you a glare reaching over the table to flick your forehead a gasp leaving your lips. You detangled your legs from Spencers missing the warmth almost as soon as you detached, sending a harsh kick to Morgan who hissed at your heels.

"Son of a bitch. Watch your back, sweet cheeks."

"Want me to kiss it better?" A small twinkle shone in his eyes, his usual flirty smirk making its way onto his face. You turned on your charm, resting your face on your hands as you batted your eyelashes at the man your glossy lips parted open. Everyone at the table watched in amusement as Morgan practically melted at her doe eyes looking up at him, leaning closer to her face. 

"I would love nothing more-"

"I call dibs first, Chocolate Thunder." Penelope butted in, making her first appearance at the table a tray full of drinks. She handed you your signature drink, the vibrant color matching her outfit. Clapping your hands as you blew a kiss to the blonde, wrapping your lips around the straw humming happily at the cold liquid making its way down your throat. 

"No need to call dibs when I've already kissed you, baby cheeks."

"You're not special, Derek. We've all kissed, sweets." All the girls threw in their words of agreement, a chuckle leaving Spencers lips as he watched the look of disbelief on Morgan's face. "Sweet as her name, she is." 

"Don't make me kiss you on the mouth again, Pen."

"Maybe that's what I'm hinting at, sweet girl."

A burst of giggles left the girls mouths as they all grabbed ahold of the shots Garcia had bought everyone. 

Well, everyone except Morgan. 

Penelope had grabbed something strong; wanting to ensure it did what it was intended to do. You had seen Spencer had also proceeded to throw back a shot a small wince leaving his lips. "You would think after 9,006 years, that we would know how to mask the taste of alcohol."

"I like the pain. Gives a little thrill, don't you think?" Tilting your head at the doctor whose eyes widened a little, his cheeks flushing pink. A small giggle left your lips placing your hand dangerously close to his thigh, turning your attention to the raven haired man beside you.

"What are you nursing there, Hotch?" He turned to his left, eyeing the flustered girl a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he showed her his glass. "Mind if I have a sip?" 

"Of course. Go ahead." The girl gently took the glass from his hands, taking a small sip of the drink a soft hum leaving her lips. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of her lips on the same glass his were just on. She just grinned at the man, handing him back his jack and coke. "Not bad- too Hotch for me." 

Gently rising from your chair at the table, gaining the attention of everyone at the table a grin already plastered on your face. Spencer eyed your radiating body, his brain turning to mush as he tried to focus on the words leaving your pretty lips. Chugging the rest of your cocktail, the cold feeling nice on your warming face. "Time to dance!"

Penelope wasted no time, dragging a more than ready Morgan onto the swarm of people on the dance floor. JJ and Elle had already partnered up, their swaying bodies entwined together. Leaving you in between Spencer and Hotch. Both who looked absolutely delicious-

Hold on- what?

Delicious?

I mean... 

Hotch's black polo did absolute numbers for his muscular body. His biceps just about bulging out of the shirt, snug around his lean torso. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his waist. And don't even mention his gorgeous eyes, with their specks of green becoming visible the closer you got to him.

And then Spencer.

That boy looked like straight out of a rom com. His puppy eyes staring at you intently like nothing around you existed. His chiseled jaw and those puffy lips were all you could think about at work. His button ups fitting him just right, the cardigans about to swallow him whole wishing you were in them as well.

"Sweets?"

The sound of Hotchs raspy voice speaking broke you out of your trance, blinking away your borderline wet dream about your co-worker and superior. Taking notice of Spencers empty seat, turning to Hotch with a confused look on your face. "He went to the restroom. Everything okay? You were unresponsive there for a second."

"Y-yes. Sorry, I was- I don't even know. You guys both looked so good, my brain started short circuiting." The words were spewing out of your mouth like muscle memory, a shocked expression filtering over the usually furrowed mans face. "How about that dance?"

"Oh no, I don't-"

"Hotchner, don't start. I was promised a dance,"

"-I think that was you doing the promising." You grabbed ahold of his wrist, tugging the protesting man whose eyes had grown soft. "You're awfully strong when you're drunk. Did you know that?"

"I think it's similar to when crack heads do crack, except without the crack." You shouted into his ear, the music practically making it near impossible to hear. Hotch just let a laugh slip out, his hands having found their home on your hips barely touching you, afraid he would mess it all up.

Pitbull had begun to blast through the club, your body swinging to the beat having known the rhythm a little too well for your liking. The clubs lights had gotten dark, except for the strobe lights and stage lights lighting up the crowd every now and then. You could see Penelope shouting the words at Morgan who bared an amused stare at the blonde, dancing with her drunken form the pink spotlight lighting up her blonde hair perfectly.

A whine left your lips at the lack of contact with your dance partner, pressing your body against the towering man above you knowing this exact situation must be written somewhere on what not to do with your boss. He almost halted his movements if it weren't for your hands finding his and wrapping his arms further around your waist. Hands finding their home around his neck, chills going down his spine as he felt how close you were to him.

The music took ahold of your body. Every beat sending your hips to follow half a second later, memorizing the way Hotch followed your every move. As if your bodies were made just for one another; you moved in sync with each other, neither of you having to give cues as if you guys had been doing this for years.

Hotch felt this body growing hotter the longer you were grinding up against him, a small line of guilt bubbling inside but his body seemed to be doing all the thinking for him. His hands tightening their grip on your hips as he pulled you impossibly closer to him a soft gasp leaving your lips. Your body swaying and turning in his grasp pressing your ass against his growing member, Hotch's head leaning into your neck.

You rolled your head back leaning against Hotch's muscular body, trying to see if it was your mind playing tricks on your or if it truly was what you thought it was poking against your ass.

Every touch felt- electric.

The pawing at your body from Hotch made your body writhe in his grasp, feeling yourself getting drunk in his touch. Shaking hands reaching behind you to find his head full of hair and run your fingers through his gelled hair, enjoying the soft rumble against his chest. Turning back around to face him, wondering what was running through his head right now.

Hotch knew he must have looked as crazy as he felt. Scanning every inch of her face, cupping her face in his warm calloused hand tucking her hair away from her face.

He could see every tiny freckle, and scar on your face.

The sparkly gloss coating your lips enticing him the longer you mouthed the words close to his chest.

Every one of his senses was focused on you.

Your perfume.

Your body.

Your gorgeous eyes.

He couldn't look away-

"If you wanted to kiss me Hotch, you could have just asked,"

Before Hotch could lean down and press his awaiting lips on yours, you spotted a tall lanky figure looking around detaching your limbs from the man a giant grin gracing your features. Waving at the approaching figure, tugging the brunette closer to you. The older man almost rolled his eyes, keeping his hands tucked into his pocket his fingers knocking with the shooter you had gifted him earlier.

"Spence! I was about to send out a search party,"

The blushing boy tried to stammer out a response, his eyes locking with Hotch's.

His boss- correction. His friend was staring at him as if he had just came out and told him he was the unsub on a case. Wiping his clammy hands against his dark slacks, wondering what he had interrupted.

"The line to the bathroom was long. If it weren't for the fact that I had to-"

"Did you know that Aaron is a good dancer?" You shouted in Spencers direction, the name slipping off your tongue sweet like honey.

Hotch turned to face the girl replaying the sound of his name falling off of her lips over and over again, hoping she would say it again. Spencer raised a surprised eyebrow at the cheesing girl, whose hold on him hadn't faltered.

"I'm not too surprised. His stature and athleticism point him in the direction of having better coordination than the average person."

"I have no idea what you just said! Maybe Pitbull is having some affect on my hearing," 

"Maybe we should go sit down, hm?" Hotch whispered into your ear, his breath fanning over your face. Nodding along to his words, grabbing ahold of his unsuspecting hand tugging them over to the back corner table you were sitting at. A soft sigh left your lips, as you reached for Hotch's glass tossing the rest of the drink back. 

Spencer eyed your hand that was still holding onto Hotch's practically burning a hole into his much larger hand, a million thoughts coursing through his head. "Next one is on me, Aaron."

"Don't worry about it, sweet girl. Let me go buy another drink, I'll order you a water."

"What! I'm not even close to being done, please..." A pout found its way onto your face," Just one or two more."

Hotch couldn't say no to that face. "One more. Reid, want anything?"

"Can I just get a water, please?"

Hotch untangled your hand from his, his retreating figure hard to miss even with all the people surrounding him. Spencer took this chance to try to erase any progress Hotch had made, his figure seating itself right beside you. His shaking hand found its place on your thigh, a choked sound leaving your lips eyeing the nervous boy standing before you. Your heart just about dropped into your stomach, a fluttering in your stomach as the guy you had been crushing on had made a move.

Please move it higher-

"I wish we could have had our dance, Spence... I'm sure you've got some more tricks up your sleeve I haven't seen."

"I don't think I would have been able to keep it professional if I got my hands on you,"

Fuck.

"What if I didn't want you too?"

You were playing with fire. 

Knowing full well you had just basically had sex with your boss out on the dance floor, but your brain wanted them both. 

And bad. 

Spencers face heated up, his face leaning closer to yours feeling your chest tighten as he almost brushed his lips against yours his warm minty breath burning your eyes slightly. Holding your breath as you felt him pull back a confused look on your face, taking notice of a looming figure coming your way. The feeling of your blood rushing to your already burning face made you feel a little faint, fanning your face to try to cool off.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the pair of you a knowing look on his face, clapping Spencers shoulder with a smirk on his lips. "My man. I never knew you had it in you,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay. I didn't know it was a secret, sweet girl. Does this mean the nicknames are off limits now?"

You giggled at the reddening of Spencers face, nudging him playfully. "Not at all, baby. But, Spencer is right. We have no idea what you're talking about."

"What is Spencer right about again?"

"Oh, him and our sweets are-"

Spencer had read your mind, sending a swift kick towards Morgan who let out a yelp turning around and giving the brunette a harsh punch to the arm. Hotch felt his face tense at the words Morgan was insinuating, hoping Morgan was just playing a joke on him taking the seat closest to you leaving you sandwiched in between your two wet dreams once more.

"Don't tell me you're all out of dances, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten mine."

"Oh trust, I'm not. I was just waiting on a good song to come on-"

As if someone was listening in on your conversation, Club Can't Handle Me came on a fan favorite between you and Morgan. A loud laugh leaving both of your mouths as he made his way over to you dragging you over to the huge crowd that you had just escaped. Morgans hands expertly found their place on your hips, having danced with the famous flirt many times. 

The way he grinned against your body had you almost a mess, allowing your legs to slip around his thigh dancing on him as if your life depended on it. By this point there was a layer of sweat on both of your bodies, making you look pornographic on the dance floor. His tight v-neck showed off his muscles well in the dim lighting of the bar, his arms practically engulfing you. 

"You're too hot to be here by yourself,"

"Shut up, Morgan."

The pretty boy leaned into the cusp of your ear, his lips brushing up against you. "If looks could kill, your two lover boys would have killed me tenfold." 

Peeking over his shoulder, noticing the evident glares of Hotch and Spencer who looked like they were 2 seconds away from walking over. "Want to help me make them make the first move?”

"You're an absolute minx, you know that?"

You knew Morgan was right, but the alcohol in you just wanted them to walk over and make you theirs. The music had changed to a slow sexier song, knowing if you were to do anything it would have to be now when the music would show everything off.

Closing your eyes allowing the music to guide you, putting every ounce of your being into grinding against Morgan. It didn’t take long of Morgan putting his hands closer to your ass before a cough interrupted the pair of you.

“Mind if I but in, Morgan?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n: guys this came to me in the middle of the night and i did NOT stop writing until 5 am. it just kept coming out. and FUCK, i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure rn. this is my first criminals minds fic pookies.

a/n: GUYS WHAT THE HECK! i am literally writing part two right now, you guys have been so nice to me :,)

[gallaghersgal]

THE SPINS, lip gallagher.

c3 of BORDERLINE. lip x bsf!reader (nickname, MK)

character intros; adri & caro

TAGS & WARNINGS → MATURE 18+. mostly angst & hurt/comfort, some fluff. labor & birth mentions (karen), drinking & smoking (🚬+🍃), angry lip, tw for emetophobia; small scene w/ throwing up.

CHAPTER SUMMARY → karen jackson going into labor and stealing your best friend away on new years eve has to be the worst possible outcome of the day. right?

A/N → hi everyone!! thank u sm for keeping up with this little story of mine, i love it dearly!! enjoy the chapter, bc i know something u don't..... mwahahaha 😈

WC → 2.2k

You wait outside the corner store, Chicago winter wind chilling your fingers as you smoke the last cig from the pack of Marlboros Lip left in your car last week. He’s late. Not that Lip is often punctual, but he’s never twenty minutes late for a bagel sandwich and a hard cider. It’s New Year’s Eve. The two of you always pregame for the holiday when you wake up–often late in the day–and you always do it together. Torn between your fake ID for alcohol and your phone to call Lip, you stuff the plastic into your wallet, freeing your hand to dial his number.

New phone. You’d dropped your old one on Christmas. Into Lake fucking Michigan, of all places. You were trying to get a cool picture with your sister. Regardless of how it happened, all your contacts disappeared with your old phone. It’s a good thing you have his number memorized.

The line rings. It rings over, and over, and over again. Lip’s voicemail message plays. You redial. 

“Hey! MK, look I can’t—” he cuts himself off, and you hear muffled rushing behind him like he’s somewhere fluttering with activity.

“Where are you?” you ask. The other end is quiet. Not silent, though. There are muffled voices and a beeping that has your mind swimming. “Lip Gallagher, where the hell are you?” you ask again.

The receiver crackles like he’s shifting it around, followed by a plastic sound. “Listen, uh,” he starts, sounding frustrated. “Kar’s water broke, she’s goin’ into labor. So, I won’t be at Adri’s party t’night.”

You don’t answer at first, too stunned. You’ve been telling yourself there’s no way this is real. No fucking way you were going to watch your best friend throw away his life for a girl he knocked up at seventeen. A girl who treats him like shit.

A girl who isn’t you.

“Kind of a big fuckin’ deal, y’know,” he mutters. 

You hear the dejection in his voice and decide you won’t be the one to ruin his important day. “Go enjoy it, Lip,” you tell him, “I can’t wait to meet your son sometime.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he responds. “Yeah, thanks. I uh- gotta go, text’ya later,” he says quickly, then the line goes silent.

After hanging up the phone you stare across the street in silence. Eventually your feet guide you back to your car, and muscle memory drives you to Adri’s house. You blare music through your speakers, loud enough to drown out any thought. You’re not ready to process it, not until you get a second opinion, maybe a third. One shaking hand on the steering wheel, you dial your sister’s number.

Roughly an hour later you’re sprawled on Adri’s bed, halfway through a pint of your favorite ice cream. “What the fuck,” you complain for the millionth time, because apparently a second and third opinion on the situation didn’t soothe the uneasy feeling deep in your gut. 

“Hey uh, MK?” Adri asks, holding your phone out to you. “You have a text from Mandy.”

Caroline pauses the game she’s playing on Adri’s TV to whip her head around. “Mandy Milkovich?” she asks in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, “yeah it’s Mandy fuckin’ Milkovich, how many Mandys do we know huh?” Adri crowds behind you as you tap the notification, reading the words in silence. 

Mandy: micks said ian told him the babys asian Mandy: so, not lips kid Mandy: this is a shitshow

Adri mutters ‘oh shit’ and Caro clambers up into the bed, taking your phone to read for herself. You barely notice her, it’s like the world is silent as your mind spins. “I-I have to go, I have to–” you stumble over your words, but Adri grabs your arm. “I have to make sure he’s okay.”

Adri stares you down, keeping you in her grip. You try to pull away but shes strong. “He isn’t your responsibility, you don’t have to fix him.”

Caro giggles, and you glare, pushing her off the corner of Adri’s bed. You snatch your phone back from the mattress, but Adri takes it from your hand immediately. “No, you’re not letting a Gallagher boy ruin our new year’s eve.”

Lip doesn’t remember how he ended up at Adri’s. He downed two shots in the kitchen with a girl in a sparkly skirt, her hand kept landing on his chest but he didn’t respond to her advances. He’s not sure how he got outside either, he just knows his fingers are ice cold in spite of the whiskey coursing through his veins. He’s not sure when you came outside either, stumbling a little down your own stairs as you rush to him with a coat. All he knows is that he wants a smoke.

“It’s freezing! What the fuck are you doing out here?” You hurry to his side and wrap his bare arms in the coat. His fingers shake, and you attempt to take both of his hands in your own.

“Havin’ a smoke,” he explains, jerking his hands away in favor of the pack of Marlboros in his pocket. “Y’got a light?”

You’re worried, seeing the way his fingers fumble with the pack. He’s so far gone. Feeling a wave of protectiveness and pity wash over you, you nod. You remove one glove to flick your lighter, lighting the cigarette that hangs from his lips. He takes a deep drag, blowing the smoke out before passing it to you. Pursed lips make room for the filtered end, and warm smoke fills your lungs. Fuck, you can taste the whiskey on it. You’re doubtful he’ll even remember where he is in the morning. 

You smoke down half of the cig while Lip stands next to you, shaky hands shoved in his pockets and neck craned toward the sky. It’s not like he can see anything, not with the lights of the city. You’re not sure why he’s doing it at all. You nudge him gently, passing back the cigarette.

He takes the thing between his fingers, gesturing towards the sky. Worried hands hover near his sides but he keeps his balance. “No fuckin’ stars,” he grumbles, “who’d want to grow up like that, huh?”

“We grew up like that,” you remind him cynically. Your stomach twists, not  “Lip, look at me. What happened?”

Teary blue eyes meet your gaze. One shaking hand brings the cig to his lips, inhaling a slow drag. He blows the smoke away from your face, then drops it on the ground. 

“‘S almost midnight,” Lip slurs, hooking an arm around your waist and pointing to the large bay window looking in on your living room. The TV shows the times square ball starting it’s descent. Sixty seconds. “I-I was gonna kiss m’son… at midnight. Fuck—“ he stumbles, tugging you with him. 

You plant your feet down, hands gripping his sides to keep him steady. “How much did you drink?”

“As much as I fucking wanted,” he snaps. Forty-five. “Thought I was havin’ a baby with a girl I love, a-an’ she let some other fuckin’ guy knock her up.” He looks at you with teary eyes, and you realize you’ve never seen him this upset. 

A worse friend would’ve said I told you so.

“Hey, hey,” you urge, one hand grasping his chin. He still clings to you, arm locked on your middle to keep himself up. “Lip, in a year she won’t even cross your mind. It’ll b-“

You’re silenced when he shouts at you. “Don’t! Don’t start with the ‘it’ll pass’ bullshit.” Thirty. His arm circles you closer, getting in your face to prove a point. Maybe he’s trying to scare you, defending his heart how he’s been taught. “It all comes an’ fuckin’ goes, I get it!” Twenty.

“I’m not going anywhere Lip. Okay?” Your hands move to grip his shoulders, keeping his attention on you. Ten. You repeat yourself, softer this time. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, and you’ve got a future. Forget her.”

Five. Four. Three. Two. 

Lip looks at you with hazy blue eyes. Before you know what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

One.

His arm curls around your back, fingers clutching the fabric of your dress. He tastes like whiskey and smoke, his features etched with regret when he pulls back for air. “Don’t you ever leave me,” he pleads against your lips, voice a low growl.

Maybe it’s the seltzers you’ve downed tonight, maybe it’s the desperate sound of his voice, but you find yourself kissing Lip Gallagher again. It’s a messy affair, his teeth knocking against your own. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it before, of course you have. You spend nearly every day with him, your friendship always teetering on the edge of something more but never quite tipping.

Happy fucking New Year.

You should’ve seen it coming. His knees buckling, body bending over as he falls onto the concrete. “Fuck! What the fuck!?” His eyes are barely open, looking up at you for a quick second before he’s spewing god knows how many drinks into the bushes. “Okay, okay. Alright, sleeves up buddy,” you tell him, forcing down the churn in your own stomach to kneel beside him.

His brow shines with sweat, and between gags he manages, “‘m s-so fuckin’ hot,” in a hoarse grumble. You remove the same jacket you’d placed so carefully on his shoulders minutes before. While his body cools down, the nausea subsides enough for Lip to stand with your aid. 

“Come on, inside. Now,” you urge. He has the presence of mind not to protest. Not now, not after everything he’s just put you through. His body remains pliant as you lead him into the now empty kitchen. You bend him over the sink, one hand holds his curls to keep him steady over the basin as you pull out the spray nozzle.

“What’re y’-” he grumbles, but you shush him.

“Gotta rinse y’mouth out,” you murmur. Lip seems barely coherent as he nods. With one finger you test the water temperature, making sure it’s cool enough to maybe wake him up a little. Water spills from the corners of his mouth as you spray it at him, annoyed noises bubbling up from his throat. 

Adri appears at your side, her brow furrowed slightly at the situation. “Fuck, MK, he’s like. Not okay,” she says, teeth worrying her lower lip. 

You shut the water off, helping him stand back up. A simple shake of your head lets Adri know not to push it, and she understands. One of her arms wraps around Lip’s middle, steadying him further. “You’re gonna go upstairs and get some rest,” you tell him.

In his drunken state Lip can barely walk, let alone haul himself up the stairs. When you finally get him to the game room you notice the wet, grass stained knees of his grey sweatpants. The long sleeve tee he’s wearing can’t be comfortable either, the front practically soaked with alcohol. “Need to get you out of these clothes.”

“Don’ got anything,” he responds.

“Fuck,” you curse, leaving Adri to support him so you can dig through your overnight bag. You find your old, loose tee and black sweats, then turn back to Lip. “Okay, well, you’re wearing mine then.”

Adri makes sure he’s standing fine on his own two feet before moving to give you two some privacy. Before leaving she comes to your side, pulling you in for a quick hug. “Gonna go kick everyone out, it’s nearly one. But I’ll be up. Come talk,” she whispers. She steps back to look at you clearly, concern evident on her face. 

“I’m okay AJ,” you whisper back. The tears in your eyes betray you, but she doesn’t say anything.

As you step to his side Lip doesn’t move but he mumbles, “I c’n do it m’self,” when you begin to remove his shirt. You huff in response, rolling your eyes and continuing the motion.

“Yeah, right.” Your knuckles brush his toned stomach, you must be imagining the way he shivers under your touch. It’s like dressing a toddler, but you manage to pull the tee over his head, the fabric clinging to his chest and arms. You keep your gaze towards his face, attempting to be respectful as you untie his sweats. As if you’ve never seen him naked before. But of course that was years ago, when you were kids. Regardless, grey fabric falls to the floor and you use an arm around his waist to keep him steady as he steps into your sweatpants. 

Lip drops his head to your shoulder as you tie the strings for him. Your heart nearly stops. “Tired?” you murmur, hand coming to rub his back instinctively. You can feel his fingers curl into your sides to hold you close. Again, you think how you’ve never seen him like this. Vulnerable, his heart aching. If karma was real, Karen Jackson would have ceased to exist already, from all the shit she’s done to him. But the powers that be are cruel, you know that by now. 

What you don’t know is that your best friend will wake up in the morning with a headache, and no recollection of the night before…

THX 4 READING → this chapter is dedicated to my lovely @carmybrainworms. beta'd by @tinyphantomsalad

[alatusprinz]

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!Reader

warnings: reader wears a dress, and well, he rips that dress. swearing.

genre: jealousy / word count : 983.

scenario: Scara won't let you off the hook so easily when he sees you preparing to go on "a date".

You don’t remember him looking this livid before, at least never to you. His firm grip on your wrist made you wince in pain, even when you tugged on his hand to let go, it merely encouraged him to squeeze tighter. As if telling, demanding you to stand still, he warningly tightened his hold. 

“What is your problem? Let go” You muttered irritatedly, attempting to drag your hand away once again. Wanderer’s violet eyes narrowed, his anger threatening to burst if he didn’t make sure you were joking when you said “you were going on a date”.

“A date? A fucking date, you said?” He mumbled under his breath. Before you could respond, he forcefully yanked his hold on your hand inwards, making your body crash into him. With a slight struggle to hold your balance, you returned your sharp gaze to him. 

“Tell me you’re joking.” He demanded, his voice dropping venomously, yet he knew from your attire, your dolled up look that you unfortunately weren’t. 

“Let me go, I’m running late because of you.” His fury deepened when you refused to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

“You think I will let you go on a date in that skimpy piece of fabric any weak mortal could tear off in less than a minute?” As if emphasising his words, he let go of your wrist and instead directed his hands to the back of your dress, gripping the sides of the zipper. Your eyes widened when you realised his hand positioning- he was going to rip it.

“No-, what the-” Your words went unheard as he tore the top part of the dress in one effortless pull, the thin fabric tearing with no more than a lift of his finger. You yelped from his aggressiveness and thrashed in his unyielding grip, giving up on escaping his embrace but at least to stop him from completely peeling the only means of covering your body off of you. Though deep inside, you would be lying if his desperation and possessiveness didn’t send a wave of arousal in between your legs. 

His sharp eyes shamelessly travelled over your half exposed upper body, greedily drinking up the alluring sight despite your figure pressed firmly to him. This is it, yes. This is how you looked the prettiest, in his arms. Not getting all dolled up to meet another wimpy lowlife who could never dare hope to compare to how well he could treat you. In fact, give him the word and he would bring the entire world at your feet, burn down nations, cast down Celestia to the inferno of hell if that was what you wished. 

Could he fucking compare? That’s what he thought- nobody could. Nobody could ever treat you as well as he could, and he would let you know that. 

“Have I not made it clear? Do you not see how you have me wrapped around your finger?” He pulled you in closer almost like he intended on suffocating you with his embrace, and finally dropped the malicious edge of his voice. Just before you could respond, your heart skipped a beat as his hold slightly loosened, his embrace turning surprisingly gentle and almost affectionate- a sharp contrast to his earlier words and behaviour. 

“...What?” You managed to reply, your voice barely higher than a whisper from the sudden shift in his actions. 

“I would move mountains, tear my own body limb by limb if need be. I would stop at nothing for you. To have you by my side, to see your stupid smile that makes me feel like my thousand years of suffering had a purpose.” 

“I want you, (name). I want everything about you, I want you by my side.” Stay with me, please- he longed to plead, beg at your feet if that’s what you wanted. 

Before he could do anything to add on, you found your arms hesitantly snaking around his slender waist. You couldn’t find the words to say, nothing came to your mind except the need to hold him close, to feel the sincerity of his devotion you never knew he held for you. 

He swore he tries to be patient with you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he was worthy of pursuing your affection, didn’t you deserve to be with someone who was worthy? Someone genuine, someone who hasn't massacred innocents in pursuit of his own selfish greed? And yet all of such apprehension burned away with the rage he felt when his only joy was threatened to belong to someone else, he couldn't bear to see you besides someone else.

“...Say something… anything” His voice weakly shivered, alarmed by your silence in spite of your positive implications of stopping to escape his embrace. Your arms held him so gently, he had never felt such softness, such warmth before. He had been betrayed, tortured, tormented and faced fate worse than death too many times to count- he would have died hundreds if not thousands of times over from the pain he went through in his porcelain body. Heck, Wanderer was sure kindness didn’t even exist before he met you. And your tender embrace was proof that life could for once be good to him, that this cruel world held a place where he could find home in. Never in his never-ending nightmare of a life did he even dare dream of finding someone like you. That’s exactly why held onto you so tight, he would rather perish, disappear this very instant than go back to life without you again. The hollow, the cold and grey world he knew- it all faded when you brought colour to his life. As long as the sun shines, as long as the water runs in the river and as long as the winds blow- he would dedicate his all to you. Fuck, he wouldn’t stop even if all of those ceased to exist, that’s how fierce and unyielding his love was. 

He just hoped you wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

Your heart thumped almost uncomfortably fast in your chest, then leaned closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

[justaz]

i desperately crave full power merlin. he was messing with time when he didn't even know one (1) spell, imagine what he could do at his peak bc i genuinely believe we never saw that. a man said to be the embodiment of magic?? said not to have magic but to be magic?? god just imagine it, wielding power like an extension of himself, taking down armies with a wave of his hand, not uttering a single word, traveling through the wind, carried by the elemental magic and reappearing halfway around the world in a single moment, traveling the same through time, reappearing in greece centuries before the romans invade, reappearing in the aztec empire before colonizers landed on their shores, reappearing in new york as cars fly past him and buildings reach up to the heavens.

[natalievoncatte]

Spookycorp

Kara’s heart was racing as she stepped out of the elevator. She *knew* something was wrong when Lena sent her a single, clipped text message:

Come now. Need to talk.

The elevator opened directly into Lena’s penthouse, into her elegant, minimalist foyer. The room was dark, as was the rest of the penthouse, except for the light of a single candle. Lena sat on the expansive sofa in her living room, a box resting on her lap. Kara didn’t need to use her x-ray vision to know that it was lined with lead. Her heart sank.

“Come in,” said Lena.

Kara walked inside, waiting at a respectful distance. Lena was beautiful in candlelight, her hair so dark it dark it could drink midnight under the table, eyes sparing like chips of emerald and sapphire, chipped with gold. The light caressed her sharp jawline and made her expression severe and smoldering at the same time.

Kara had fantasies like this. Most of them involved more candlelight and more pale skin.

“I know what you are,” said Lena.

Kara’s heart skipped. She fumbled with her hands.

“You can drop the aw shucks, I’m a farm girl from Vaguely Canada routine, Supergirl.”

Kara’s heart dropped through her stomach.

“I can explain,” she began. “If you give me a chance. Lena, please, I’m your best friend.”

Lena’s eyes hardened. Very softly she said, “am I?”

“How did you find out?”

Lena reached over to her side table, swirled a glass of wine, and took a sip.

“Lex told me. After I killed him. For you.”

Kara swallowed, and took a step forward. “Oh my God. Lena, what happened? What did he do?”

“Stop,” said Lena. “No closer.”

Kara stopped, her chest tightening, tears starting to well in her eyes.

Lena looked down, then up.

“He was going to kill you, and I couldn’t let that happen, because I thought I was in love with you. Before I knew what you are.”

The words hit Kara harder than anything she’d felt before, punching through her heart like the Kryptonite stake that was probably resting in that box. No, it wasn’t possible. She’s been so careful, Kal has been so careful.

“Lex had proof, but I didn’t trust it. I had to find corroboration. That’s why I talked you into taking me to the Fortress, so I could download the records I needed and examine them.”

Kara swallowed. “I would have given you what you wanted if you’d asked.”

“No, you wouldn’t, because you cover your tracks. You tell everyone that your powers come from the sun, but you’re lying.”

Kara wrung her hands, looking out at the moon. It hung full, heavy and huge in the National City sky.

“Not exactly. We have our powers here because Sol affects us differently. It doesn’t…”

“It doesn’t destroy Kryptonian vampires like you and your cousin,” Lena finished. “It doesn’t weaken your powers in sunlight or burn your skin, so you have nothing to fear here but Kryptonite.”

Kara licked her lips, feeling her fangs aching in her gums as they often did when Lena Luthor was in the room.

“Have you ever fed on me? I know about the other powers, Kara. The ones you and your cousin haven’t told everyone one about. Like modifying memories.”

Kara started. “What? No. I don’t feed directly on humans. When I was younger, my human family took turns giving me a unit of whole blood a month. That’s all I need. We don’t need as much on Earth. I’ve never bitten anyone on Earth. Kal-El trained me not to when I arrived here. Lena, I promise, I’m not some kind of predator.”

Kara edged closer, and Lena put her hand on the box. Kara froze.

“Liar.”

“Lena, please.”

“Your cousin has been feeding on Lois Lane for years. Lex had proof. Very thorough proof. He’s not as slick as he thinks, your Clark.”

Kara looked down.

“It was her choice. It’s tradition for my people. When one of us falls in love, we…”

“What, start seeing your ‘lover’ as a glorified bag of cheeze-its?”

Kara shifted on her feet. “No, we turn them. Clark is going to turn her after they marry. She’ll be like us.”

Lena’s gaze bored into her.

“I had to know, and now I do.”

“Lena, I would never hurt you, or feed on you against your will. I never feed on anyone against their will.”

“You’re lying.”

“Lena.”

“Lex had proof of that, too,” said Lena. “You do feed. On criminals, on people you think won’t be missed, and on James.”

“James was willing,” said Kara. “The others… it hurts, Lena. Clark’s path is hard. Too hard. I’m not perfect. You can’t imagine what the thirst is like. It’s like a hot railroad spike in my gut. I need it.”

“I thought about this for a long time,” said Lena. “I had to look you in the eye and hear it from you. I didn’t know what to do. You feed on people’s blood, but the city… the world needs Supergirl. So what do I do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said Kara. “I can just go, or… I don’t want to go, Lena. I know you’re upset, I know you’re mad, but you asked me here for a reason. I know you want to give me a chance. What we have, our friendship, it’s bigger than this. It can survive this. I want it to.”

Lena sighed. “Kara, I killed my brother for you, in cold blood.”

Kara swallowed. “I know. I know you loved him. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have helped you somehow. Maybe if I’d told you my identity earlier, we could have saved him.”

Lena opened the box.

Kara jolted back, expecting sickly pustulant light to sear the flesh from her bones, but there was no Kryptonite in the box.

Instead there was a pair of silvery bracelets, resting on black velvet.

“I had to make sure you couldn’t see inside,” said Lena. “No peeking.”

Kara swallowed, hard. “Those are binding bracelets. Do you know what those are for?”

Lena nodded slowly.

“You can come closer now. Sit.”

Kara stepped around the coffee table and sat primly near Lena, at a respectful distance, hands folded in her lap.

Lena leaned back against the arm rest and pulled her inky black hair back from her neck, tilting her chin back. Offering.

Kara could smell her, the scent exploding in her nostrils. She could feel Lena’s pulse and her own began to throb in time with it, the aching in her gums exceeded by the pleasant ache between her legs.

“What are you doing?” Kara murmured.

“Offering.”

“Why?”

Lena reached out and caressed her bare foot along Kara’s calf. Kara couldn’t help it. Her fangs popped out against her will for the first time in ages.

“Does it feel good for Lois? When he feeds on her?”

“So I’m told. Our fangs secret a mild neurotoxin that has some pleasant effects.”

“How long have you been thinking about tasting me?”

Kara shuddered. “It’s not like that. You’re my best friend.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “You know, I used to think you were just oblivious, or very, very closeted. Now I get it.”

“Lena,” Kara said, more urgently.

Lena’s foot slid higher up Kara’s leg. “It must be hard holding back all that hunger. Surrounded by food you can never taste. Is that why you’re always stuffing yourself with potstickers? You’d rather be eating me?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Maybe. Yes.”

“I’m right here.”

“I won’t. Not unless you say it, Lena. Not unless you offer it. Explicitly.”

“Kara, do it. Take me.”

Kara lunged across the sofa, pulling Lena to her so she lay flat on the cushions, and drove her fangs into Lena’s throat as she ground her thigh between Lena’s legs. She knew what Lena planned and she didn’t care.

Lena yelped in pain from the puncture wounds, but her cry quickly melted into a pleasurable moan as she writhed beneath Kara, driving her nails into Kara’s back.

Kara drank slowly, gently, taking only a trickle and feeling Lena’s pulse in her throat. She’d wanted this for so long, she started to weep from the sheer release of it, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lena’s blood sang with magic, the taste of her more intense than the most exotic spices, more flavorful than the sweetest wine. It was better than sex, although now that she had Lena’s blood on her tongue, she was hoping that was on the menu, too.

She heard the click and felt the cold metal close around her wrist and sighed.

“So that’s your solution,” Kara whispered.

“Lex couldn’t make it work,” said Lena. “I always loved how much it pissed him off that his bastard sister has magic and he doesn’t.”

Lena closed the other bonding bracelet around her own wrist, and Kara instantly felt the weight of the connection, the power in it, and knew she was helpless. She didn’t care.

“Kneel,” said Lena.

Kara slid off of Lena and onto her knees, head bowed.

“There,” said Lena. “Now I know. I know the world gets to keep Supergirl and I know you’re not a threat.”

“I knew what you were going to do,” said Kara. “I let you. If this is what you need to trust me, I’m okay with it.”

Lena took Kara’s chin in her fingers and tilted her head up, leaning forward to meet her gaze.

“I could do whatever I want with you now. With a Kryptonian vampire under my control, I could rule the world.”

“You could,” Kara whispered. “You can make me do it whatever you please. You never needed magic for that. I would do it willingly.”

“I know,” said Lena, “but this is going to be a lot of fun.”

“I was a little worried you’d tell me never to see you again,” said Kara. “Or you’d demand I turn you.”

Lena laughed. “Darling, do you have any idea how much power I’d have to give up to become a vampire?”

Lena ran a hand down Kara’s arm, squeezing her bicep.

“Now, carry me to the bedroom and let’s see what you can do.”

Kara didn’t need to be ordered to do that.

[leviraaaaaa]

"Levi?"

"Hm?"

"I think you're cute."

"Shut up." He mumbled as he looked away, a blush spreading all the way his neck.

"What? I just said you're pretty."

"Stop. Don't do that."

[clowningcrows]

if i were to say that, hypothetically, i may have an idea for a multi-chapter agathario fic with some au expansions on certain scenes (specifically in episodes 4 and 5 *cough*), so many thousands of words of lowkey very filthy smut with needy, vulnerable yet bratty bottom!agatha and gentle, dominating possessive top!rio smut, AND extremely angsty flashbacks to agatha's backstory with her mother as well as rio with a lotttt of hurt/comfort... is that something that anyone at all would want to read perchance. hypothetically of course.

[crrrybaby-ao3]

Theo and Daphne were together during their time at Hogwarts. Their relationship lasted about two years and ended badly. Despite this, they remained in contact and had an on-and-off relationship for another year until it completely fell apart. Theo then went no contact with Daphne for a year, during which time she became engaged to Graham Montague. Although both Daphne and Theo still have feelings for each other, Theo’s love has significantly diminished. But she still remains a dear person to him.

Daphne is toxic, manic, and selfish, but she might change for the better—if she loves Theo enough. This will become clearer in chapter 8, where Daphne makes a difficult decision.