#hi!! ty for the patience my dear<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bitternace]

my wonderful friend!!! may i request 48 and aqua for the spotify asks? love your art as always i hope youre having a nice day :)

lost in a labyrinth and left with no way out

[ID: a cleaned up sketch of aqua from kingdom hearts'. she is shown from the chest up, the colors are slightly muted as light from an opening above her head hits her back. her expression is slightly worried as she reaches a hand, hair flaring out away from her face. /End ID.]

[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

© onyxstyx tumblr 2025

[ollie-lolly]

How they react when you blindfold them

Obey me brothers x gender neutral reader

Note: HIT 100+ FOLLOWERS RECENTLY??? I AM VERY GRATEFUL THANK YOU <3. Constructive criticism and reblogs are always appreciated!

Word count: 697

Warnings: suggestive, i accidently added knife play at Belphegor's part oops

The two of you are just working in silence. A nice and calm working environment. Well it is too calm for you! You undo your silk scarf and sneak up to him, tying the silk material around his head. You are surprised when he doesn't stand up.

Lucifer

-His luxurious pen drops on the table 

-"Mc if you know what is good for you, you will remove it right now. I have work to do"

-You decided to ignore his protest and spin the chair around and climb on his lap

-He is desperately trying to keep his composure and patience

-Much to your frustration, he removes the silk scarf

-Before you could take the scarf he takes a hold of your wrist

-"Now let's take care of those bratty actions of yours"

Mammon

-Low-key wants to film it for 'personal reasons'

-You walk around him and lightly lift the hem of his shirt. 

-You start tracing his abdomen with the tips of your fingers

-"Mc what has gotten into ya?"

-You falter "Do you want me to stop?"

-"NO, i mean uh shit" he really did not want to seem that eager

-Your other hand gently pulls at his hair

-"That is all the permission i needed pretty boy"

-He whimpers. A reply to your gentle praise

-He bucks his hips. Desperate for some friction

Leviathan

-He may or may not have a boner rn

-THIS MAN IS CAUGHT OF GUARD

-Already predicting his movements, you hold the gaming chair down to prevent him from falling

-"A- are sure that you want to do this with me?"

-You give your answer by softly kissing his lips, then you start leaving a trail hickeys and bites on his exposed shoulders and neck

-"I can really tell that you are enjoying this Levi"

-Your hands travel to his rising erection, causing him to whimper

-"That's my pervy little Levi"

Satan

-He has 100% read this in a book before

-I swear he reads porn

-You lower yourself to your knees and softly kiss his bare stomach

-He groans as your kisses go lower, you put your hands on his and shift them to the top of your head

-He tries to remain patient

-He finds it embarrassing, but god does it feel good

-He pulls at your hair in frustration

Asmodeus

-"Mc you never cease to amaze me dear!"

-It's safe to say he is more then just pleased

-He whines completely unashamed when you bite the soft skin of his neck

-He quickly starts to get handsy 

-You were expecting this predicament, you grab a small clean handkerchief. 

-You firmly tie his wrists together

-"Let's see how long you'll last Asmo"

Beelzebub

-He has no idea of what to do in this situation

-You notice his stiffness in posture

-When you try to back off, he gently puts his hands on your back

-"Please don't leave, i like it" he uttered

-You make yourself comfortable and put one hand on the back of his neck 

-The other pulls out a small bottle of syrup 

-You put some in your mouth the sweet taste melts on your tongue

-While a large part of the sweet liquid is in your mouth you kiss him 

-His tongue quickly takes over

-He softly wimpers as he feels a heat rise down south

Belphegor

-Wants to do this again for sure

-I can't decide if it's because he doesn't have to do much or if it's the other way around, that he likes to see you helpless. respectfully?

-You pull out a small pocket knife and you gently trace the sharp tip on his collarbones and shoulders

-His breathing starts to become heavy as he starts to realize what the object might be

-He has dreamt about this, with help from his dream manipulation, but had no idea how to bring it up due to 'the incident'

-When a small pool of blood began to drip, you leaned in and licked it off 

-He shivers but also groans when he feels the sensation

Bonus!

Barbatos Barbie

-Wil be surprised at first 

-"We are lucky that we are alone for once, my love"

-His hands gently reach for yours and he gently presses a kiss to your hand

-You take a seat on his leg and start kissing his neck 

-He puts his hand around your frame

-"I would love to do something like this again"

-"That is if you don't mind being tied up for me"

Date began: 27th of march 2023

Date finished: 28th of march 2023

[mingi-s-dimples]

Scented Shadows - Wooyoung

KINKTOBER DAY 14 - REQ. BY @la-undercover-latina

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DEAR LOVE AND READERRRRR IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAYYY HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY ^^ (on 26th october, idk if it's still 26th for you or not 😞)

~"Werewolf!Wooyoung can smell your heat coming before you know. And he doesn’t have any plans of you leaving his side during your heat."

pairing: werewolf!wooyoung x half human/half werewolf fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth, werewolf au

summary: I don't even know what to write bro.. let's just say that your boyfriend senses your heat moments before you do and well... he fucks you *senselessly*.

wc: 4.4k

warnings: pureblood werewolf!wooyoung, cocky wooyoung, he kinda teases the hell out of reader, fingering, finger-fucking, tying up her hands to the headboard, manhandling at it's finest, did I say he's cocky?, monster cock wooyoung agenda (obvi, he's a werewolf), lots of cummm, two rounds and *def* implied multiple next rounds, fucking against the wall, ass slapping & squeezing, overstim, orgasms (both m&f), slight possessiveness, at first he's really sweet and all about her first heat around him but uhm he's Wooyoung so expected the unexpected, making out, biting, marking, breast fondling, slight nipple sucking, he's so damn talkative I'm going insane, unprotected, completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: *wooyoung brainrot* please. I went *insane* writing this. I don't even have words to explain how many *horny* breaks I had to take because it turned me the fuck on while writing? Anyways, @woolysium , you might enjoy this too ^^ you'll see it when you'll wake up 😭😭 I can't wait to see your reaction (3:24am for me, 8:24 am for her as we speak). As for you, my dear love, @la-undercover-latina , I hope you'll enjoy this lil fic for your birthday ^^. I had fun writing it, hihi 🤍 Happy birthday once again and.. enjoy !!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The dim glow from the TV cast flickering shadows across Woooyoung's sharp features, his warm hand resting on yours, and his other draped over the back of the couch. You felt so safe beside him, nestled in a cocoon of blankets, his heat and presence a comfort. The movie played on, though you hadn’t been paying much attention to it, stealing glances at him every few minutes. It felt like you’d finally found a moment of peace, a moment that felt untouched by the usual chaos that came with being half-werewolf, half-human. With Woooyoung, you could forget that you were anything but his.

You settled in closer, the cozy room filled with nothing but the hum of the TV and his occasional laugh or quiet, whispered comment, always managing to bring a smile to your face. It was so effortless, so natural, being around him. As much as Woooyoung had a reputation for his playful mischief, there was a seriousness, a depth in the way he cared for you that caught you off-guard sometimes. He had always been protective, a pureblood with instincts that ran deep, strong and unmistakable—yet he’d shown nothing but patience and care for your half-blood nature, never letting it matter more than the person you were. He was your haven in ways no one else could be.

But then, all of a sudden, you felt the shift. Woooyoung's hand tightened around yours, his thumb slowing as it traced gentle circles on your knuckles. His gaze, once relaxed and lazy as he watched the movie, suddenly sharpened, an intense focus clouding over his usually warm eyes. You blinked, unsure if you were imagining it, but you felt the change ripple through him—a silent charge in the air that prickled over your skin, setting your pulse racing before you even understood why.

“Woo?” you murmured, nudging his shoulder lightly, hoping to bring him back to the moment.

He turned to you, his eyes holding a glint that hadn’t been there before, something deep, primal, and entirely possessive. You felt his gaze sweep over you, an almost hungry intensity that seemed to unnerve him just as much as it did you. It was then that you realized the warmth spreading through you, a heat unfurling from somewhere deep inside, slowly overtaking your senses. It was subtle, creeping up on you like the steady build of a storm on the horizon. The realization struck hard, a mixture of shock and nerves that made your cheeks burn.

Your heat.

This was the first time it had happened around Woooyoung, and you weren’t even sure how to process it. As a half-werewolf, your cycles had always been unpredictable, never quite like those of full-blooded wolves, but now there was no denying the signs—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled, and every sense seemed to be dialed up to ten. It was unmistakable, and judging by Woooyoung’s expression, he had picked up on it before you even had.

“Woooyoung, it’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady, though you could hear the tremor in it. “Really. I can handle this.”

But he didn’t move, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your flustered expression. “Can you?” he asked softly, his voice a rougher, deeper rumble than usual. “Because from where I’m sitting… it doesn’t seem like you should be handling this alone.”

There was no mistaking the edge in his voice, an unmistakable possession, a fierceness that seemed to run far deeper than his usual protectiveness. He was close now, his hand moving from yours to gently cup your jaw, his thumb brushing along your cheek in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was warm, grounding, but you could feel the restraint there, the careful control that kept him from holding you tighter, pulling you closer.

“Woooyoung,” you whispered, trying to keep the tension at bay. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think I’d be… around you when it happened.” Your voice faltered, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” He tilted your chin up, his gaze unrelenting, filled with a determination that made your heart skip a beat. “This is your first heat with me around, isn’t it?” he asked, though it was more a statement than a question. His jaw clenched, a glint of possessiveness flashing in his gaze that made your breath catch.

“Yes…” you managed, the word barely a whisper.

He nodded, a satisfied sound rumbling from him as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. “I thought so. I could tell something was different tonight.” His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair in a way that was as much comfort as it was claim. “And you think I’d just leave you to handle this on your own?” he asked, his voice laced with a quiet intensity that sent warmth pooling through you.

“No, but…” You tried to hold onto some semblance of control, to keep things from spiraling into uncharted territory. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He let out a low chuckle, a sound so full of warmth and affection that it sent a shiver through you. “Trust me, the only thing that makes me uncomfortable is the idea of you feeling like you have to hide this from me.” His hand found yours again, and he held it tightly, his thumb brushing over your skin in soothing, grounding strokes. “You’re mine. All of you—everything you are, everything you feel. I want to be here with you, for all of it. So don’t try to push me away, especially not now.”

His words left no room for argument, each one infused with a strength that was as reassuring as it was intoxicating. The intensity in his gaze softened slightly as he watched you, his expression warm, protective, and so full of care that you felt your guard slip, the tension easing from your shoulders.

“Alright,” you breathed, giving in to the pull of his words, the comfort of his presence. “I just… I didn’t want this to change things between us.”

Woooyoung let out a quiet sigh, pulling you into his arms, his embrace warm and solid, a barrier against all your worries. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said firmly, his lips brushing your forehead. “If anything, it just means I get to be here for you in a way I haven’t before. I want to be here, *need* to be here.”

You could feel the depth of his emotions, the fierceness of his resolve, and it made something in your chest tighten, warmth spreading through you as you sank into his hold, letting him steady you.

As he held you, his hands gentle yet possessive, you realized that there was nothing to fear, nothing to hide. Woooyoung was here, steadfast and unflinching, a presence as constant as the stars outside the window. And for the first time, you felt truly safe in the knowledge that this was something you didn’t have to face alone.

---

The room felt suddenly warmer, the soft glow from the TV screen casting a low, intimate light over the two of you. Woooyoung’s hands lingered where they held you, one hand cradling your face with a tenderness that sent tingles down your spine, while his other hand traced slow, deliberate circles against the small of your back, his thumb grazing over the thin fabric of your shirt. His gaze, dark and intent, held yours, and you felt your breath catch as his eyes dipped to your lips.

“You don’t have to hold back,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his breath fanning across your face as he leaned closer. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently through your hair as he tilted your head up, his thumb stroking along your jaw in a way that left you feeling dizzy, each touch grounding you and yet sparking something electric, something that was growing impossible to ignore.

You couldn’t deny the fire that was building inside, the heat that seemed to flare each time he touched you, each time his gaze lingered on you. Your heart raced, your pulse hammering in your ears as you felt yourself leaning into him, drawn to the warmth of his skin, the steady, grounding presence of him against you.

“Woo,” you whispered, though it came out breathier than you intended, your voice thick with the intensity of your own need. You felt yourself slipping, your usual control slipping with it as his fingers trailed down your neck, pausing at the delicate line of your collarbone before slowly moving down your arm, igniting every inch of skin beneath his touch.

Woooyoung’s breath hitched as he drew closer, his face only a whisper away from yours, his gaze flickering over every detail, taking you in like he was memorizing you, savoring the moment. The possessiveness in his expression was unmistakable, mingling with the tenderness in his touch as his thumb brushed over the curve of your cheek, a small, reverent gesture that somehow left you feeling even more breathless.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he murmured, his voice thick, a little rough around the edges, his breath warm against your skin. “But God, I can’t stand the thought of letting you go through this alone. Not when I’m right here, not when I can be here for you.”

His words sent a shiver through you, your heart racing as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw, soft and barely there, but enough to send warmth pooling in your chest, spreading through you in waves. You felt your own breath hitch, the sensation of his closeness, his warmth and touch, intoxicating in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He pulled back just slightly, his gaze finding yours, his hand still at the back of your neck as he ran his thumb over your skin, the gesture gentle, grounding. “Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he whispered, though you could see the way his eyes darkened as he watched you, his own control beginning to slip. “But if you don’t… let me be here for you.”

Your voice caught in your throat, the words escaping you as you looked up at him, feeling the full force of his gaze. The restraint, the tension in his muscles as he held himself back, all for you, all for your sake, made something in you ache. But it was his tenderness, the care in his eyes, that undid you.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, the words barely a breath as you met his gaze, your cheeks flushed, heart pounding as you gave in to the pull between you. His eyes softened, a look of relief crossing his features before he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft and gentle at first, but that quickly deepened, his hand tightening at the back of your neck as he pulled you closer.

Your heat flared, the intensity of your need rising with each kiss, each gentle brush of his lips, each time his hands roamed over your skin with a reverence that left you breathless. Woooyoung’s hands moved to your waist, his touch warm, possessive as he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours, his breath mingling with yours as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more fervent.

Your own hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling as you pressed yourself closer, losing yourself in the warmth of him, the steady, grounding presence that kept you anchored even as the heat within you burned brighter, hotter with each passing second. Woooyoung’s breath hitched as your hands traced over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, his pulse quickening in sync with yours.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still at the small of your back, keeping you close, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles that only served to make your heart race faster.

Woooyoung’s fingers grazed the hem of your shirt, hesitating just a second before he tugged it up, his eyes never leaving yours as he carefully pulled it over your head. The shirt fell away, leaving you feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze, his eyes taking in every detail, a mix of admiration and possession reflected in the warmth of his gaze. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing strokes that sent shivers down your spine, grounding you in the tenderness of his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a reverence that made your heart stutter. His hands moved with a deliberate gentleness as he traced along your collarbone, the warmth of his fingers making you melt under his touch, every movement sending waves of warmth through you. His hand drifted lower, coming to rest at your waist, fingers curling around you with a possessiveness that left you breathless.

Your own hands moved to his shirt, the need to feel him, to be closer, urging you forward as you tugged at the fabric, pulling it up and over his shoulders. His skin was warm, the muscles beneath tensing slightly as you traced your fingers over his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, the way his breath hitched under your touch. He watched you intently, a softness in his gaze as he let you explore, his hands never leaving your skin, holding you close as he soaked in every moment, every reaction.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice gentle, his thumb tracing small, grounding circles against your waist as he watched you with a concern that left you feeling safe, even as the intensity between you continued to build.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely audible as you met his gaze, your own cheeks flushed, heart racing as you leaned into him. There was a vulnerability in this closeness, a sense of connection that went beyond words, beyond touch, and as he held you, every ounce of doubt faded, replaced by the warmth of his presence, his tenderness.

Woooyoung’s fingers moved to the waistband of your pants, his gaze flicking back to meet yours, seeking silent permission. When you nodded, he carefully slid them down, his touch gentle and reverent, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. His breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, his gaze filled with awe and something deeper, a need that was matched by his control, his dedication to being there for you in every way you needed.

“You’re everything,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you, his hands resting at your waist, pulling you close, grounding you in the warmth, the safety of his embrace. The two of you sank back onto the couch, the world outside fading away as you let yourself fall into the warmth of his touch, the steady, grounding presence of him there beside you, as if he was your world, and you his.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—just you, Woooyoung, and the warmth that blossomed between you, a connection that went beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he murmured, his voice rough, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth, a tenderness that left you breathless.

You felt yourself melt into him, the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips grounding you as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more. His kiss was tender, reverent, filled with a care and devotion that left you feeling weightless, swept up in the warmth and safety of him.

For now, nothing else mattered.

"H-haven't been like this before" your breath hitched, barely above a whisper.

"Neither did I see you like this.. but who am I to complain? How I'd love to fuck you right now until you can't walk tomorrow.." he smiled playfully, eyes wandering all over you.

Your attitude suddenly changes, feeling provoked by his words. "Hah, if you can even compete with my heat, baby".

"Jokes on you... I'm sometimes able to coordinate my heat to other werewolfs... but you weren't aware of that, were you, my love?"

You gulped.

"What do you mean..?" you muffled, barely above a whisper. Did you have any reason to be.. scared? No, he wouldn't hurt you, never. But.. his heats were *intense*.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. "It means," he murmured, "that tonight, you're not getting away from me." His fingers trailed along your arm, igniting sparks that made your skin prickle. "You’re right to be nervous... but not for the reasons you think."

Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with a thrill you couldn’t deny. Every inch of you felt hyperaware of his presence, the primal energy simmering just beneath the surface. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you struggle with your composure.

"Tell me to stop," he dared, his gaze locked onto yours, a playful challenge lingering in his eyes. "Or... surrender."

His words hung in the air, a tantalizing choice dangling between the two of you, "you also clearly...need it" he peeked between your legs, arousal already dripping from your panties.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, the gravity of his challenge sinking in. The weight of his gaze held you there, pulling you deeper into the intensity of the moment. You tried to form words, but they tangled on your tongue, every coherent thought slipping through your grasp as his presence consumed your senses.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as you whispered, "I... I don’t want you to stop."

A triumphant glint sparked in his eyes, and he moved closer, his hand reaching up to gently cradle your face. His thumb brushed along your cheek, a delicate touch in stark contrast to the fire blazing behind his gaze. "Then surrender to me completely," he murmured, his voice like velvet, dark and alluring.

With a slight tilt of his head, he pressed his lips to yours, slow and intoxicating. The kiss was a promise, a claim, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You melted against him, feeling the strength and warmth of his hold. The tension between you shifted, giving way to a raw, undeniable pull that neither of you could ignore.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Tonight, you’re mine." His words hung in the air, sealing the promise of a night you would never forget.

From the tender, sweet guy he was at first when he first sensed your heat... he became the primal instinct-driven man you'd always see and.. feel, on your own, whenever Wooyoung was in heat.

He suddenly lifted you in his embrace and threw you on the mattress in your shared bedroom. You slightlt got up on your elbows but were soon pushed down by Wooyoung, his right hand holding you eagerly by your throat. He undressed himself and smirked at you. That *damned* smirk... the one that was telling you that you're basically.. done for.

"Let's see if you keep yourself true to your words, baby." and as soon as he finished his words, he leaned in for a kiss. At first it was a slow, deliberate kiss, then it deepened and became more needy, lustful, craved. His tongue interlocking with yours, sloppy and playful sounds could be heard.

You loved that Wooyoung was so.. talkative, and loud whenever he was in a heat. It actually turned you the fuck on.

He took his belt from the pants he threw on the floor a moment ago and tied up your hands thighly, right above your head to the headboard. He then spread out your legs forcefully, your body arching against the linen. He ripped off your soaked panties and threw them somewhere. He got rid of his briefs, too, his huge girthy and lengthy cock springing out angrily, waiting for any kind of action. He then slightly positioned himself closer to you, one hand going between your legs, one on his cock.

"Nhh-, please.." you mumbled.

"*Please* what, darling? I can't quite.." he pushed 2 of his fingers right inde your cunt, receiving a soft moan from you, "hear you" he pushed another one, making it 3 fingers. Your back arched against his touch as he started finger-fucking your rapidly, the hand on his cock moving, too. As he started stroking his length, you tried moving up and down on his fingers, trying to get to feel him way more and deeper.

"Try to stay quiet if you can.. I dare you"

"Huh? I- Wooyoung-ah!" you moaned his name loudly as he positioned himself to your cunt and fully thrusted in, no warning before he started fucking you rapidly and roughly. ""I want to see how far I can push you.. see where your limits really are."

As Woooyoung was senselessly ramming into you, his hands roamed in your body, his lips too. They went from your thighs which he kissed and, at first, softly bite, to your belly where he harshly sucked your skin and left marks all over, then to your collarbones and breasts where his lips found their way to your now-hardener nipples. He suck them off for a long minute at the same time he was fucking you, sending shivers through your whole body.

"I love the way you react to me. All those little shivers... I could do this all night" he cockily said, thrusting even more rapidly, breath hitching in his throat as he leaned in for a soft kiss. As he pulled back and saliva dripped from your lips, he looked down at his cock going in and out of you rapidly. He saw your face flushed, not being able to look in his eyes. "Keep your eyes on me. Don’t you dare look away—I want to see every second you lose control."

He flipped you over. Yes, his cock was still inches deep inside you, but he flipped you over and one hand went over to the nape of your neck, pushing your face in the mattress. His left hand, the free one, went to your ass and squeezed it once, then he slappped you hard, leaving a rosy mark on your fair skin. You whined at the rough touch, sound barely above a whisper, face buried in the linen. The same hand from your ass went to rest on the curve of your back, softly pushing himself in way better. He started rapidly fucking you again, but this time with a twist. You could feel him in all your sweets spots, back arching and legs already starting to tremble as you felt your high coming closer and closer.

"Wooyoung, ngh-I'm cl-close...!" you shouted, barely being able to form coherent words. As soon as he understood what you meant, you could basically feel the smirk he gave you a second before his hand travelled between your legs from over your legs and waist, aiming for your cunt. His dick inches in you and ppunding into you, 2 of his fingers circled your swollen clit. You quietly moaned at his touch. As soon as he combined those two motions, ramming and circling your clit, you came down from your high beautifully, creaming on his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm and he for sure didn't plan on stopping.

"I know exactly where to touch you, where to push you… look at you coming undone just like I knew you would. Good girl, princess." Woo confidently and cockily said, drops of sweat falling off his head on your chest. "Let's try one.. more. Shall we? I’m going to make sure you feel me in every breath you take."

"Wooyoung wait-!"

"What." he said, confused.

"Slow d-down !" you whispered.

""I'm not stopping until I have you exactly how I want you" he flipped you over on your back again and lifted you up. He pushed you to the uncluttered wall in the room, the headboard behind you slightly breaking when he forced the belt off. Your hands fell to his shoulders, holding onto him thightly. He held you by your ass and pulled you close, making you jump on his cock.

"I love fucking you against a wall so damn much.. and I'm so sad your heat is irregular.. really fucks up my mood. But now? I will make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow, as I said." and he started kissing your collarbone. He bit you again, this time leaving teeth marks all over.

"You feel so good.. sweetie. I'm so close-" his breath caught up in his throat as he released his load in your cunt, pounding it all up in you. He took his sweet time until he felt satisfied with the amount of thrusts he did and pushed you over the edge, legs trembling around him and hands barely holding onto him. You came down from your high the 2nd time for the night.. and it was not about to be even close to the last one.

"See? This is what you joined in for. How do you feel about it, sweetie?"

"Please just... don't ever stop" you muffled, with teary eyes and a smirk on your face.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze flickering with that unmistakable spark. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "we’re nowhere near done. I warned you, didn’t I? Once you’re in, there’s no stopping. And tonight? We’re just getting started."

He tilted his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek, taking in the way your breath hitched at his touch. "Think you can keep up with me?" he asked, letting a confident chuckle slip through as he traced his fingertips along your skin. His expression softened for a moment, but that mischievous glint in his eyes stayed strong, hinting at the intensity yet to come.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium

[luffyvace]

Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons pt2

Pt2 of my Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons

(cuz I ran out of characters 😭) it’s the post before this but I’ll link here: Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons

⚠️(whole cake spoiler but you can read over it)⚠️

Dating Sanji Includes respect.

this man respects you more than he respect nearly everyone. And I mean it! Your up there with Zeff! And that’s the man that saved his life!!

Dating Sanji includes boundaries.

Going into what I just said Sanji respects you, which means he respects your boundaries! Now he finds you very alluring so he might push them but he won’t EVER cross them! Especially since that dude is on cloud simp 😭🤦‍♀️

Dating Sanji includes forgiveness.

Tying into that Sanji might push your boundaries..so forgiveness with him is essential! Hopefully your not stubborn! 💓

⚠️(whole cake spoiler)⚠️

you’ll also need to forgive him for leaving the crew at whole cake- and for almost MARRYING someone else- despite the fact that he always proclaims his love for you and says he wants to marry you. 😐

Dating Sanji includes comprising.

As said, this guy is pushy! So compromising can help strengthen your bond! “Dearest darlinggg~ could we take a bath together??~” *nose bleed*

it’s simply much to early for this sort of thing and you know Sanji’s a pervert 😵‍💫

”how about you prepare me a bath and make me some food while I’m in it? I’m really craving some (fav food :3) right now :)”

”right awayyyyy my scenic beloved~ you know I love doing anything for youuu~ especially cooking~ 😍🧑‍🍳”

compromise :)

by the way when i say Sanji is pushy I don’t mean it in the overly annoying way I mean it in the negotiation way, like that thing where you go:

‘50 dollars!’ ‘20!’ ‘30!’ ‘35!’ ‘Deal!’ 🤝

Like that type you know? He wouldn’t never actually cross your boundaries….it’s more like (harmless) loopholes ☝️🤓

Dating Sanji includes loyalty

very very very very very very obvious.

this man wouldn’t trade you for the world, and take that in because I mean that literally. Now if ykyk but whole cake was to protect you!! If it’s to protect you Sanji will find a way to minimize the damages instead.

anyhow- on a lighter note, you undoubtedly believe he will be faithful to you because you know it’s true and for that your grateful.

he’s always thinking about you 24/7- he doesn’t even have time to think about himself sometimes!! (He needs to)

Dating Sanji Includes active listening

top notch listener! As I said in part 1 he loves your voice so he could listen to you all day

he never gets bored or tunes out and you can tell! He consistently asks questions and maintains eye contact even if he’s doing something! :) it makes you feel so loved and heard 💗

Dating Sanji includes affection

only if you want it tho!! He has all love languages really (😭) but has no problem adapting to yours! So if this isn’t your forte, not to worry! He will never force this on you!

that’s talking about physical affection tho.

And there are many different types!…For the record- you get them all. 😊 he will emphasize on whatever’s your favorite to ensure maximum comfort <3

but this is where the communication from part 1 comes in!! You’ve gotta tell him what you like dear!! He’s not a mind reader 😃

Dating Sanji includes support

definitely this!!

he’s one of those guys who goes broke to support your dreams! (Remember the time Sanji almost sold Luffy out to the marines to buy Nami some PAPER?? Yeah..that’s you now)

everything is yours at the drop of the hat! Supplies?! He’s on it! (If you sell something) low sales?! He’s putting on one of those goofy mascots and twirling the sign around :) Karen Kustomer? Call security! (It’s Sanji- could you guess?!)

Dating Sanji Includes patience

this goes both ways truly..if your a bit more hot headed then you’ll definitely need this when it comes to him. He isn’t a idiot he just argues with Zoro too much…and Simps a lot too.. 👍

as for you I mean this in the sense that he already has plenty of it for youuuu!

he never gets angry at you for any reason.

I stand on that.

no matter how many of your shenanigans him and the crew have to go through, or how much chaos you’ve caused he’ll defend you to the end of it

”Oi! Why’d you have to go and do that?!”

”SHADDUP SHABBY SWORDSMAN!! my picturesque partner~ HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG!!”

😆

- You

(after causing chaos)

Dating Sanji Includes acceptance

self explanatory :3 he accepts you no matter who, how, where, what you are and he loves you through and through. From the highest point of your hair to the bottom of your feet 🤓😱

all that jazz~ 💖👌

Happy b day Sanji!! I’m totally not late for this!

:3

[gwalch-mei]

1. Who is the better cook?

15. Who's the first to cry during movies that don't seem sad?

29. First date? (Give as much or little detail)

30. Pet names? Yes or no?

31. How do they spend their anniversary?

40. Who is the skilled shopper for holidays? Who always waits 'til the last minute to get all of their gifts? (Which one gets stressed out easily)?

^ for remarkable. answer as many or as few of those as you'd like...i just picked my favourites from the list!

!!!!!!! ty for the ask jay!!! <33 1. who is the better cook? oh theyre both terrible at it but lancelot is SLIGHTLY better bc hes got more patience (gawains the type of guy to crank the heat up and burn everything bc he doesnt wanna wait that long)

15. whos the first to cry during movies that dont seem sad? oh we all know this is lancelot lmao like kdsjfijodsk he can and WILL cry at anything its his talent <3 hes the guy who would cry at the opening scene of something kdjfghodfjk (projecting) 29. First Date? id like to think their first date was after sgatgk not too long after gawain gets back <3 what with his brush with death gawain is A LOT more confident and doesnt want to waste any more time bc who knows what could happen! and lancelot is in a similar position, having spent the whole year gawain was gone in a nervous tizzy bc he didnt get to tell gawain he loved him </3 so as SOON as hes back and rested they both ask each other out at the same time and its very sweet since they get flustered fjdksiosdk but the actual date is a nice private horse ride along the beach, punctuated by a little picnic on the shore where they just talk for HOURS<3 30. pet names yes or no? YES. YES TO PET NAMES gawain uses them more than lancelot does but TRUST ME they both love them and some of them are just. nonsense so without further ado. remarkable petname list in order of normalcy kdsljfuoijdskl; gawain petnames for lancelot darling babe sweetheart/sweet thing hottie hun sexy knight in shining armor (lance is confused bc theyre both knights) bastard (affectionate) otter (lancelot doesnt understand this one and gawain wont explain) Big Man lancelot petnames for gawain (a lot more normal) dear angel honey sunshine my love feral beast (affectionate) my favorite twink <3 (who taught him this) manlet (hes only ever called gawain this once and it DID NOT go well) 31. how do they spend their anniversary? a very quiet and peaceful celebration out in nature! they spend the whole day together from sunrise to sunset riding their horses together and seeing where the day takes them <3 being in each others company is enough and once it starts to get dark theyll find a place to stay for the night, have a nice meal and some wine (and dessert) before having the sweetest most tender sex youve ever seen and then going to sleep <3 40. who is the skilled shopper for holidays? who waits till the last minute to get all their gifts? gawain has holiday shopping down to a SCIENCE hes literally the type of person who will start prepping AT THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR. hes out here with a whiteboard going absolutely feral calculating "ok hes really into x y z so i can get him this this this and this, but i have to get it NOW-" meanwhile theres like. a good few months before the actual holiday skdfjhdusojik its safe to say gawain is the one to get stressed just bc hes a little bit high strung and wants everything to be perfect!!!! he does always have really good gifts tho so his insanity pays off <3 lancelot unfortunately doesnt have a great memory so will inevitably forget theres even a holiday or birthday coming up until like. the day before. cue him calling ALL of gawains brothers crying bc he doesnt know what to get him or make him and hes panicking (everyone but gareth hangs up after laughing at him jdshfuojdsk) cue him and gareth speedshopping the night before and gareth helping make sure everythings all set up <3 he does this every year and despite his lack of planning he picks FANTASTIC gifts and gawain loves them bc lancelot did all that!! for him!!!!!! its a real heart eyes moment <33 wrow i did not mean to write this much dsjfhudosjik ty sm for the ask jay!!! <333

[anarchistfrogposting]

hey, i’m seeing your posts about mental health and wondering if i can ask a question. my partner is currently struggling a lot w their mental health, and while i have experience with that, i don’t have much experience /being there/ for someone else. where is the line between helping & being there versus being overbearing or trying to “force” him to do things? if you don’t feel that you can advise me, ty for reading anyways <3

First off, I want to say thankyou and well done for reaching out. I’m sure it would mean a lot to him if he knew that you were concerned enough to reach out for help in helping him.

I’m not going to mince words; it’s a difficult line to straddle. If they’re doing really bad, you’re going to need to have lots of patience, energy and love for them. It’s not easy to help someone when they’re really struggling, and with something like depression, it can take a long time before things start to get better. It’s incredibly painful to see someone you love suffer.

When I was deep in a depression, it felt like people’s attempts to help me out, at least in a structural sense, were unnecessary and cajoling. Part of this was that it felt like I didn’t deserve the help- that I didn’t ask for it. Another part of this was that it took a lot of energy to do anything, so when people put lots of energy into having me around and keeping me involved in things, it felt like they were asking a lot.

But, and I have to be emphatic about this, if you helping him recover and get better is going to work, it is absolutely essential that if he feels the same way as I did, he recognises that is a cognitive distortion, that he works hard to show you love and appreciation for the love he puts into you, and, most importantly, shows you the love and kindness you deserve from a relationship. This might be hard to hear, but I did not do this, and it cost me a relationship that was deeply dear to me. If it’s too much and you really can’t handle it, that’s ok, and it’s not your fault. It is always ok to break up with someone if you don’t see a future with them.

Just like any relationship advice ever, though, the key is communicating. He is not always going to be able to do everything that you think is good for him, nor everything that you might like him to do for you. It’s important he pushes himself to do better for you, but it’s also important he totally understands that it’s completely ok if he needs to set a boundary as to the extent of what he feels capable of achieving on a given day.

Depression is an intensely lonely experience, and most people with depression also struggle with some sort of guilt that they aren’t happier and healthier for the people in their life. I sure did, and do. He needs to understand that you just want to help, that you aren’t upset if he can’t do what you ask, and you need to have the patience to commit to that. It’s important that you tell him if there’s something specific that is really important to you; say if you really value quality time, asking him for regular dates. Sometimes you can end up super stuck in your own brain when you’re depressed, and it can be difficult to sense exactly what people are missing from you.

The long thrust of helping someone through a depression is a couple of things.

• He needs to get therapy.

Bad mental health is a maze of cognitive distortions and confusion. Your brain stops working like normal, and sometimes it even changes structurally. You can’t help him through that alone. He needs an impartial and unattached professional who can help him work through the stuff he’s struggling. He needs someone to vent to with whom he doesn’t need to worry about his relationship with.

• He needs an outlet

This is longer term. But he needs not to rot inside all day, or if he works, he needs something to help him unwind afterwards. I don’t know your boyfriend, but it’s worth talking to him about starting a hobby or activity he enjoys. This can be really anything, but it’s important the idea comes from him.

• If there’s an unnecessary stressor, figure out a way to help him away from it.

You need to talk to him and ask if there’s anything in his life which is making his depression worse. For me, one of these things was my relationship with my parents, who I would eventually cut off. This was extremely difficult and stressful for me, but in the long term, it made me feel a lot better. My depression came from trauma, so removing myself from that trauma was almost certainly the biggest thing that dragged me out of it.

These are just a couple of suggestions. There’s lots of other ways to be of material support to someone with depression, but there is also a frustrating lack of serious and workable advice on how to do so. This is something you can talk to and ask advice from a councillor though, if you feel like you’re really shooting in the dark.

I appreciate you and I wish you and your boyfriend good luck. I hope he can get better. And I’m here if you need to talk.

[direwombat]

💭

Aaahhhh went with syb and Grace for this! I hope I did her justice <3

Sybille’s gotta say, she’s getting real sick and tired of being kidnapped. What is it with the Seeds and tying people to chairs? She wonders. Faith is the only one who hasn’t, which leads her to the absurd conclusion that it must be a genetic thing.

Or shared trauma.

She awakens with coarse hempen rope chafing her wrists and ankles, securing her to a sturdy wooden chair. Nothing about it is comfortable. It’s too heavy for her to move and worse still, it has no wheels.

Smarter than John, she thinks. Not that it’s a particularly high bar.

A pleasant humming sounds from behind her, but it stops when she lets out a groan. Whoever brained her left a throbbing goose egg to remember them by. Not that she has long to focus on it because Grace Seed, living up to her name, glides into view, her skirts flowing in some mysterious breeze that only seems to be affecting her.

She drags a chair with her and she takes a seat far closer than Sybille would like. The toes of her heeled shoes bumping up against Sybille’s combat boots.

She crosses her legs at the knee, and although she leans forward to rest her chin on her hand, her posture is nothing short of prim and poised. When she smiles, Sybille is struck by how much she resembles her twin: dark hair, blue eyes, and blindingly white teeth.

“Seems my snare has caught itself a jackrabbit,” she says.

Sybille scoffs and rolls her eyes. The last thing she wants is for that condescending nickname to catch on amongst the rest of the Seed siblings. “You been talkin’ with Jacob?”

“His little pet name for you is quite apt. You’re very fast. It’s difficult to catch you,” she muses. Her smile widens and she rises from her chair to lean over her captive, supporting her weight on the armrests next to Sybille’s arms. She’s so close that Sybille can smell her perfume -- floral, but light. Nowhere near as cloying as the Bliss.

Invasion of personal space? Yup. She’s a Seed for sure.

Grace draws her lower lip between her teeth and her hand comes to slide teasingly over Sybille’s thigh.

“Such long, powerful legs,” she hums, and she huffs a small laugh at Sybille’s barely suppressed shudder. Her gaze flicks back to her captive’s, cold blue eyes swimming with delighted malice. “It’d be such a shame if something happened to them. There are so many unattended bear traps in the county. I’m amazed you haven’t been caught in one yet. You must be the kind of woman who’s every step is a careful decision.”

Sybille narrows her eyes. “You threatenin’ me, Miss Seed?”

Grace leans back, gathering her skirts and perches herself back on her chair. “Of course not, my dear Deputy. I’m just stating my observations. If I were threatening you, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

The fact that you’ve tied me to a chair leads me to believe otherwise. But Sybille sees where this is going. Grace has a subtlety most of her siblings seem to lack. John’s charisma paired with Joseph and Jacob’s patience? Grace Seed is damn fucking dangerous.

“What do you want?” Sybille asks through gritted teeth.

Grace heaves a tired sigh. An exaggerated performance, Sybille is sure. She’s enjoying toying with her far too much for it to be anything else. “Your cooperation, of course, Deputy,” she says. “So are you going to behave? Or will I have to do something unpleasant?”

She doesn’t need to explain what that “something unpleasant” might be. She made it very clear what will happen if Sybille says “no.”

A broken leg would be a death sentence for the Resistance. She can’t afford to let that happen.

“Guess I don’t got no choice,” Sybille says.

Grace’s smile widens, dark and predatory. Too many teeth. “A careful decision, indeed,” she says. Then, she rises to her feet and smooths her skirt. “Wait here, lovely. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she departs, letting the solid metal of the bunker slam shut behind her.

Thank Christ she’s just a Herald, is all Sybille can think. I’d hate to go up against her if she were in Joseph’s position.

[devil-doll13]

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

And

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

For my dear Ciarán? 👉🏼👈🏼

- Sol

Hi Sol! Ty for asking for him <3

From This

Under the cut because it’s yandere:

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

While he probably watched you from afar for a time in order to learn more about you, Ciarán won’t really ‘pine,’ because he has absolutely no problem with acting on his feelings. If he wants you, he’ll take you. That said, he much prefers if you can return his love ‘willingly,’ and he has the patience to wait. He’ll steadily court you and present gifts to you in person, and he greatly enjoys now being able to behold your beauty face to… Well, even when you’re scared of him he manages to find you fascinating to watch. He dearly hopes you will eventually acclimatise to his presence, so that he can know you more intimately.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Even when you become his lover, the headless horseman never quite loses his mystique. He’s something of a guardian angel towards you, watching over you from afar even during the day at times. When you’re together he’s nothing but calm and gentle towards you, and it seems that he’s careful to show you that he means no harm. It may feel like you’re being pursued by some errant knight, receiving gifts and allowing yourself to be adored at a safe distance until you give yourself to him, and swear to become completely and wholly his. At least, this seems to be what he hopes you will do.

[infinitenthq]

hi, its kang yeosangs (namkyus mun) my laptop broke last night so i think i’ll have to leave for now ): i dont have a backup so i cant really do much. ty for the patience and hopefully ill be back 🤞

awe so so sorry to hear that, dear !! but understandable, thanks for being here when you could<3

everyone, please unfollow.

[iamlittlelostsoul]

Part 2: Which is which...

TRIGGER WARNING!

and if you'd like to check more of my stuffs here's my masterlist! ty ><

Mentions of Rape, abuse, self-harm, blood, trauma, cringe(?), angst, self-loathing, suicidal thoughts & suicide, yandere, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Author's Note: Sooo...Here is part 2 but if you haven't seen the first part here is Part 1!. It was kinda too long and would be so hard to read so I separated it into 2 different parts I still couldn't post as often as I could because I've been really busy since I'm a graduating high schooler and am overwhelmed with projects and requirements but I'll update as often as I can. Do forgive me and thank you for your patience and all of your support!

Let's get the 2nd shitty part started...

______________________________________________________________

summary: The first years were taking their alchemy exams yet an accident happened which resulted in terrible stuff happening.

After everything Mc said Grim still tried coming closer and tried talking to them yet they pulled out a knife from the pockets of their oversized hoodie and pointed it at them.

"Don't you fucking dare come any closer to me! You-you monster!" They shouted eyes full of hatred, fear, and so much pain.

"Hey- Mc no need to call Grim like that! Please calm down!" Kalim nervously said raising both his hands as he try to come closer as if trying to tame a wild beast.

"DON'T YOU DARE! YOU FAKE BITCH!!" They said as they pointed it towards him.

Shocked and hurt them so much. Mc would never say such words towards them nor would they threaten Kalim or Grim! They love and adored them so much!

"Mc! What's the fuck is your problem stop this now!" Ace shouted.

"Ace! Don't be too rough on them! They might be going through something. Mc please put the knife down and let's talk this out, please." Deuce said as he pulls Ace back.

"..."

"There! Now put the knife down, please." He continued.

Mc stared at them all from head to toe then bursted out laughing out of spite.

"Oh, my Sevens! I see what you're doing-AHAHAHAHAHA! So we're playing the 'you can trust me' thing once again!" They said with a sadistic grin.

"What do you mean Mc?! We missed you so so much! You went missing in the accident that occurred when we were 1st year!" Epel asked.

"Ohhh~! You sweet lying bitches! hehehe~! You want me to pretend that all the shit you did to ME never happened! Sooo ya'll are using the incident I grew plants on my head as an excuse to do you shit again~" They said while cackling while waving the knife like a mad man/woman.

"What do you mean?! Group 3 accidentally made the wrong potion and made a transportation potion instead!"

"Lies, lies, lies. Can't you all stop lying?! I only had a week of freedom and yet I am finally back in this hellhole!"

"Mc language! What they said is true."Vil commented.

"Oh! Oh! Okay then hahaha! Then should I act like how I'm finally happy reuniting with you all? Oh! right, how foolish of me! Horray! Horray! I am finally back in NCR! And will soon be locked up in a pretty little room A.K.A dungeon thanks to dear Tsunotaro, tied up with really expensive chains courtesy of Kalim~! And get Mothafucking fucked non-stop without my consent by my dear friends~!

Yep yep this really calls for a celebration! Get some grape juice, and start a party in Scarabia! Don't forget the fancy revealing clothes and drugs you all will force onto me!" They said with a sardonic smile.

"Child of man, I do not understand what you meant, none of us has yet to touch you yet. Do please breathe and relax, We do not know what you went through but I assure you it wasn't us who do these horrid things unto you." Malleus said as he went closer.

"Oh yes, sure! All of you were innocent! I forgot all of you did those out of love~! That was love, pardon me for my misconceptions!."

"HUMAN! THAT IS NOT HOW YOU TALK TO WAKA-SAMA!"

" Mon chéri, please do not fret! What occurred onto thee was horrible but this huntsman assures you no lie comes out of thy friend's mouth! Mon amour has been transported to a different place and based on thy statement I could only speculate that thy was brought to a different dimension similar to ours!"

"AHAHAHAHAHA! I would say your lies have become far more creative and soooo believable! I commend you all for it!"

"Oy, Herbivore stop this right now. Why don't you calm down so we could go take you to Crewel-sensei, so we can finally understand what's happening."

"I see! Sure let's go to our beloved teachers that watched me suffer and didn't even do a thing to help me!"

The situation was getting far worse, and all of them were at a loss of words at everything Mc was saying to them. They knew full well that they went missing! It happened right in front of Crewel-sensei, the Adeuce duo, and Grim! How could they even rape or do something terrible to someone like them, and it was all in the name of love!

Grim still tried coming closer along with Lilia and the rest.

"Don't you dare come any closer! Or else- Wait I have a better idea!" Mc then pulled a gun out of their pocket once again the pointed it at their head while they other hand still held firm on the knife pointing it towards them.

"Wait WAIT WAIT! MC do not shoot! Put that gun away this instant!"

"Oh pleasee! I should have done this as soon as I escaped! Don't you even dare use snake whisper or Laugh with me! I'm...too tired already."

They all continued to shout and beg them to dispose of the gun, Ruggie and Jamil were choosing whether to use their unique magic so they'll avoid the death of their beloved but if they do wouldn't they hurt them further?

"I'm too tired already...I trusted every single one of you and loved you with all my heart. Did my all to avoid death and even offered my heart to all of you! I stayed cause I love you fully knowing I'll be abandoning everything my pet, family, friends, life, everything! Yet you repaid me by loving me in the most twisted and sick way. Removing my rights and treating me like I am nothing but a doll you can use for your comfort! I don't mind having sex, kissing, etc. but what you all did was too much already!" They said as tears poured down their eyes.

"If what you all did was done by ALL OF YOU but from a different dimension then tell me please. How? How do I know which is which? That you won't do the same thing THEY did? They were exactly how I knew them my friend group, the vice and dorm leaders, the teachers, everyone! How will I know that all of you would not stop being my good friends and lovers? That I could trust you?! Please tell me! I'm scared, tired, and I just...just want to die." They said their whole body trembled as they rub their tears using their hand that was firmly held on their gun.

Ruggie quickly made his move, deciding to use his Unique magic, and quickly made Mc move to let go of the gun and knife they were holding, while Malleus used a light sleeping spell to avoid more issues.

Luckily Cater moved quickly and called for the staff, earlier on when Mc pointed them their knife so the staff came right when Malleus casts a sleeping spell on them.

Yet they still felt...so much guilty, especially the final statement they said.

Will doing this help them believe that they did not do such horrible things to them?

Will this help them trust them once again?

Will...this help cure their trauma?

But...They won't know till they try so...

Great Seven, please give us some strength, and guide us so we could hopefully help our friend, lover, and student...

It really hurts knowing that another version of them did such things to them, and the fact that THEY could and might highly do this too...

Hopefully, no one would overblot AGAIN...

FIN(?)...

UPDATE! here is part 3!

[aesopsbaby]

may i requests hcs for yandere dottore with his s/o trying to escape him ? :) thx in advance

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: Il Dottore

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You should've known that he will always catch you,no matter where you ran nor where you hid.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Dottore,,,,our beloved.. ANYWAYS,this might be badly written as I feel that I didn't portray his character correctly...<\3 Dottore might be ooc

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Kidnapping,use of profanity,non-con touching, reader is kinda idiotic and sort of weak-,Manipulation/gaslighting,degrading

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 🌹Cat and Mouse

Surprisingly,Dottore wouldn't be pissed off about it. Nor would he be annoyed/irritated AT FIRST. To be frank,he would find it amusing,seeing you scatter around,tiptoeing towards the door thinking you're so close to freedom,thinking you're oh so smart!

Oh he absolutely adores the expression you wear when he creeps up behind you,bending down to whisper a soft "Boo" next to your ear. Seeing that look of terror and hopelessness just riles him up.

Back to the topic of him not getting irritated by this behaviour,,,, If you weren't his soulmate,and if he didn't love you so much,you would've been dead within seconds. However,Dottore has a soft spot for his darling and he genuinely thinks it's cute that you think you have a chance at escaping.

Your little stunts keep him so entertained. But,we are talking about Dottore here,he's incredibly intelligent so he would've predicted your every move and every escape route.

Although he finds it endearing,Dottore's patience runs on a thin line. He may love you oh so much but your constant hope for freedom would definitely make him a little bit pissed off. He's a really busy man and he needs to focus on his experiments,he can't keep babying you and preventing you from leaving!

You should be thankful for even being kept alive this long so why were you being such a brat! Dottore is frustrated sometimes with your behaviour,but it's usually when he's running on a tight schedule.

We know Dottore is a perfectionist as seen that he doesn't favor repeated mistakes. Dottore would keep a small note and count how many times you have tried to escape. And when he's finally had it,he would grip your chin roughly,forcing your gaze to meet his as he has a menacing smile.

"Oh darling oh..how much of a fucking MORON can you be??"

"22 times. 22 god damn times that you've tried escaping within just this week."

"Honestly Love, this is getting pathetic by the moment."

He would let out a raspy laughter when he sees you wincing from the pain from his harsh grip on your cheeks. He will roughly pull you towards his face,his fingers gradually pressing into your jaw to cause you even more pain.

"What's this? Where did all your fight go? Huh?"

"Come on,don't tell me you're gonna cry just from this!"

"I've told you a thousand times,my dear,just how dangerous it is out there."

"God. How pathetic. You can't even handle something as small as this,what makes you think you'll be able to survive in the outside world?? I'm keeping you safe,so stop being so ungrateful."

It always makes him want to laugh whenever he sees that look of fear in your eyes and the tears clouding your vision as you fight to force those pesky tears to stay in.

Dottore would surprisingly never get tired of you nor your behaviour. Although he sometimes gets pissed off but that's because he was busy! He could never get tired of you.

However,if you persist with this attitude,Dottore will genuinely feel a little bit hurt. However, he doesn't show it,nor does he want to admit to it because he thinks of it as a vulnerability.

Dottore,although adores you,he wouldn't hesitate to punish you. He has multiple techniques but I won't elaborate on them so much here,,,

Isolation,with no human interaction and only minimum food supply(Probably one meal a day)

Tying each of your limbs to each ends of the bed and leaving you there with no food/water/human contact.

Forcing a shock collar onto your neck to keep you in place.

Threatening you(Probably to be his next test subject)

He wants you to come to him for forgiveness after all your escape attempts. He adores the look of embarrassment on your face as you're forced onto your knees as you beg for him to forgive you. The apologies that spew from your lips are like sweet, sweet honey to his ears.

Dottore would definitely be really smug when you have the shock collar on. He would have a small smirk tugging on his lips as he sees you tense up and back away from the door when he presses the button on the controller.

"Oh? Where do you think you're going,love?"

Dottore absolutely enjoys tormenting you whenever you tried to escape. He would wave the controller infront of your face while he has a huge smile on his face. He would also probably force you to beg for him not to press the button.

Dottore has a huge ego,all this begging just fuels into his ego even more-

Anyways,,,,Dottore would actually feel hurt from seeing how desperate you're trying to escape. He doesn't show it,but when he's alone,he will sigh and just think about what he's done for you to have so much fear towards him.

Dottore would try to be more affectionate with you. Keyword:TRY. It's more of him forcing you onto his lap as he's doing his paperwork. Don't even try moving,Dottore would grumble and probably insult you for moving-

Dottore would drag you around to just force you into his hold. He would hold you "affectionately" against your will.

Hes still soft for you though- Even though it's horribly hard to tell,Dottore just really wants to love you and for you to love him as well :((

[pa-panda-heroes]

heya! how about a scenario where shiggy accidentally hurts the reader with his quirk and like, freak tf out? angsts with lots and lots of fluff, please! ty! ♥︎

Okokok imma do my best for my first angst!! Also I added Dabi because I got a request for him a while back and I’ve wanted to write him for a bit, now <3 hope that’s okay!

I think this was a bit longer for a scenario but... I enjoyed writing it so :>

Warnings: language, mentions of violence(? Eh...)

Tomura/Dabi accidentally hurt reader with their quirks!

Tomura:

It happened accidentally. You knew that. Right? It wasn’t his fault, but his damn quirk’s fault, the one that he never asked for and the one that never allowed anyone to get close. Rather, he never let anyone get close because of it. He’ll admit he was always proud of its destructive capability as a villain, but now that it had hurt you, he wish he’d never boasted to a soul.

Twenty-three times. He had called you twenty-three times. And twenty-three times you didn’t answer. What was he to do, now? There was no stopping the decay borne from his fingertips once it had set in, and considering you wouldn’t answer your phone... it didn’t look good. Kurogiri had whisked you away before Tomura could even utter an apology, which looked to him as though Kurogiri did so in order for him not to witness your death. Kurogiri told him something about a doctor, but Tomura figured him a liar.

He couldn’t breathe. You shouldn’t have been hurt. Literally. Tomura hadn’t so much as touched you with a single finger; if anything, he was trying to protect you from the stranger grabbing you. It happened so fast, all he remembered was his quirk activating and the stranger vanishing before he heard your cry of pain and saw the skin of your arm drying out, much like he had done to that hero at U.S.J. He couldn’t tell, but it somewhat looked as though the decay was limited to just your bicep. That could’ve been hopeful thinking, of course, and he knew it.

So he sat there, all alone and hunched over on the couch in the bar, with misery and dread coursing his veins, accelerating his blood pressure to concerning levels. He had nothing to look at but his shaking palms and red shoes as he tried to even out his breathing - to no avail. Then, he felt the weight of someone sitting next to him, and instantly recognized how far the cushion next to him sunk in. And yet, he couldn’t look at you.

“Thanks for that back there,” you say quietly, afraid to startle him, but you recieve no response. “Y’know, I’m not sure what would’ve happened if my knight in shining armor hadn’t showed up!” You knew he felt guilty. Why wouldn’t he? But he shouldn’t. You wanted to convince him of that.

“Didn’t go far, huh,” you hear him mumble, nodding his head to your bandaged left arm next to him. There was no life to his voice and before you can say anything, he speaks again. “It won’t happen again. You’re not coming around anymore.”

“Hey, wait! That’s not your-“

“I’m the leader, and I say so! You can stay in the League, but you can’t... be close to me. You’ll get hurt.”

You stand up in defiance and put your hands on your hips in defense. “I’m not leaving you! First of all, I can take care of myself. Second, look at the League. We have a bloodthirsty serial killer and a cynical pyromaniac constantly lounging about, and you’re worried about some one-in-a-million freak accident happening again?” Patience was key with Tomura, and you knew that, but he could be stubborn and unreasonable, and when it came to you, stubbornly, unreasonably protective. “Besides, with the world as it is, I could get hurt doing something as mundane as taking out the trash, like I was when I was attacked!”

He finally looked at you, the look of a whipped pup on his face and while you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, you felt guilty for raising your voice at him. You sigh quietly and sit back down next to him, reaching for his hand and settling for his knee when he yanked it away. You snuck your arm around his shoulders and plopped your cheek on his shoulder, knowing all too well he would welcome it despite his standoffishness - and he did. Tomura didn’t pull away or push you off. But he hid his face. Your fingers on his left shoulder rubbed at it, his clavicle prominent enough you almost cringed at how thin he was. Your other hand on his leg idly toyed with the seam of his jeans, not having anything better to do.

“I’m sorry.” It was unclear as to whether he was apologizing for hurting you, or for demanding you keep your distance from him. Either way, it was undoubtedly genuine and soft.

You sat up straight and hugged your leader and lover from the side, gliding your fingers through his hair as you gently guided it to you. He hesitated slightly before burying his head into your chest and latching onto your ribcage for dear life, muttering the weakest “Don’t go, please,” anyone has ever heard. The desperation and vulnerability in his voice elicited your arms to wrap around him in a tight, warm embrace, your chin digging into his hair when you peck it, again and again and again. You stifled a giggle at how soft and ticklish his hair felt, electing to gently shush him.

“I just told you, didn’t I? I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to. I love you, silly.”

Dabi:

Dabi let out every curse known to mankind - and then some - as he rushed over to you, the bastard thugs the two of you had been after now burning alive and falling to the street. He would have sworn on his life you were not within range of his flames, and yet here you were, on the ground clutching your burnt leg and cringing away the searing tears of pain. Maybe you didn’t see him readying the attack and charged in? Maybe one of those thugs diverted his attack? He wasn’t sure.

“Y/n-“

What little color he had in his face drains completely, and his fingertips are already trembling.

“Dabi, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him. “It’s not that bad! I’ll just need a little first aid.” It hurt like hell, a white-hot, pulsating pain, you couldn’t lie. You just weren’t going to tell him that. It stretched from just below your knee to a hand’s length above your ankle and covered only the side of your leg, thankfully. The affected area was an awfully dark pink and honestly, it was hard to look at.

He practically scoffed at you. “Y/n, you’re fucking burnt. Don’t tell me that shit.” From the look on his face, it seemed bad.

That was the most cross he’d ever been with you, despite his brash and vulgar nature, and you couldn’t help but retreat a little as he knelt down to you and pulled his phone out of his pocket to make a call. “Y/n’s hurt, get us to the bar or something.” He grabbed your leg - surprisingly gently - and seemed to examine it. He paused as if to listen to the other end. “She’s burnt, does it matter? Just get us the hell out of here.” He must’ve called Kurogiri, as the next thing you know there’s a warp tunnel summoned next to you.

You tried standing on your own to leave, but the burn decided it didn’t want you to do so, and so you dropped back to the ground and bit your lip at the shockwaves of pain crawling up your leg. Dabi said nothing and helped you up himself, grabbing your arm and side to help you walk through the warp. Once through, he set you down on the couch, still eerily quiet, and left you there. The pain was so bad at this point, you began to think you’d faint, your head feeling fuzzy as tears run down your cheeks.

The stapeled villain returns with a bucket of ice water, towels, and what looks to be a first aid kit. But he stops for a second when he sees you hunched over with a death grip on your knee and the seat beneath you, and it takes all he has to hold it the fuck together. He’s unreasonably angry, and he’s not sure why. He wants to tell and scream, maybe at you, maybe not, he’s not sure. His quirk’s only quality was destructiveness. It was damaging not only to his enemies but also to his own body - and now, you.

He hurt you. Accident or not, he hurt you. The lump in his throat was suffocating.

Dabi knelt down and soaked a towel in the cold water before wringing it wordlessly, then gently tapping it to your leg and pulling back when you hiss. He seemed to notice it but didn’t outwardly acknowledge it and contintued to use the cold towel on your burn. As more time passed, the more convinced he became that it was a second-degree burn, meaning the second layer of your skin, the dermis, was badly burnt. He had no doubt it would scar, and at the thought the breath was pulled from his lungs. Dabi muttered a curse and suddenly rested his forehead against your knee, his right hand holding the cool towel to your leg.

“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, fuck.” His voice was low, and if you looked hard enough, you could hear that it was forced out through a tense throat. He was nearly in tears, wasn’t he? He wasn’t an overly emotional person by any means, but the fact that his quirk hurt you, with its history, it hurt worse than if you would’ve left him for a hero. He hated himself. His quirk didn’t have a single redeeming quality, and he began to think the same of himself.

“Dabi, don’t, okay? I’ll be fine, really.” You can’t help how weak your voice sounds, being in so much pain, but you nonetheless plant a hand in his hair and rub his scalp.

Dabi lifts his head to look at you, and the look in his eyes isn’t something you’ve seen before. His free hand comes up to rest on your thigh, and you can feel it shaking. “It might scar, y/n. Don’t you get that?”

You huff. “So? If it does, I’d be pretty cool with that, all puns intended,” you try to giggle at your own pun and can practically feel him rolling his eyes, “Besides, I’d kinda match you, wouldn’t I? It’ll be like a couple’s tattoo sort of thing!”

He rests his chin atop your knee and a look that only be described as a pout crosses his features, but he says nothing and you can only smile. Dabi deadpans when you say nothing, forcing yourself to beam at him with bright eyes and a smile. “You’re a weird one, ya know that?” he muttered.

“You’re even weird for falling in love with me,” you teased after he began to work on your leg again.

“Pfft.”

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bards Sister  Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

[supercorpkid]

Mind Controlled – The Series.

Part 3 – Make it stop, please.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Lex Luthor x Niece!Reader, Lillian Luthor x Granddaughter!Reader.

Word count: 2340.

Warning: Injuries, violence, pain, angst. Very graphic.

Previously on the series - part 1, part 2

You don’t know for how long you’re shut out from the world. Probably a few hours, but there’s no way to know for sure. Your body aches for destruction. Lex asked you to show National City your worst side, but you haven’t shown them all. You only showed your family, so you can’t calm down.

There’s a relentless inhumane feeling cursing through your veins. You keep hearing Lex’s voice saying ‘my bösewicht’, like he is calling you back to the world. You don’t know how it’s possible, but it is.

The glass turns back to translucent again, and you look at Alex on the other side. You tilt your head at her, trying to look scary. She laughs.

“You can stop the madwoman act.” Alex types something on the screen next to the door, and goes inside, putting you back in the handcuffs that strips you off of your powers. “Don’t try anything funny, I’m very low on patience when it comes to you, dear niece.”

“I can tell you the same.” You sass back.

“Oh.” Alex takes something from her pocket. “That reminds me.” She puts a metal thing over your mouth, that immediately turns into a gag, covering half of your face. “No more talking back. We’re full of your shit.”

Alex places her hand on your arm, cuffed in front of your body, gripping strongly and guiding you through a few corridors and rooms. You finally arrive at where Lena and Brainy are, and she sits you on a chair, tying you in it with leather strips over your ribcage. A red sun lamp is quickly turned on, and if you weren’t gagged you would laugh. That’s a lot of precaution for someone she claims not being scared of.

Lena comes closer and studies you for a second. She cups your face and gives you a soft smile. It makes you sick.

“This is for your own good, babygirl.” She connects some wires to your head. Looks back at Brainy with an affirmative nod. He presses a few buttons, types some things, you feel an electric current cursing through your veins and you’re out.

When you wake up, you’re still tied to the chair. Same wires on your head, no more gag on. It takes you a while to focus your eyes back, but you look at Lena in front of you.

“Who’s behind this?” She asks and you blink twice slowly. “We know you’re being mind controlled, tell us by whom.”

“Never.” You growl. “I’m not being controlled, I’m free from your leash. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Because it’s simply not true.” Lena mutters. “It doesn’t matter who did it, we know how to stop it.” She says looking at Brainy, Alex and Kara on the other side of the room. “But if you tell us who did it, Supergirl can go pay them a visit.”

“You say you love me every night, mom.” You look at Kara right after, daring her to come closer. “You too, momma.”

“We love you, baby.” Kara answers, coming closer, and you give a side smile at that.

“How can you love me, when you only love the good side of me?” You look at them both, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “How can you claim this is true love when you can’t love my bad side?”

“This isn’t your bad side, my love.” Is Kara’s hand that goes to your shoulder first, but Lena’s hand follows right after, on the other side.

“Do you actually believe none of this is me?” You scoff when they agree with their head. “You’re very naïve to believe this is all Lex.”

“Lex!” Kara barks, and you bite your tongue angry with yourself. Oh no, things are actually starting to look bad for you.

“Do it, Alex.” Lena turns back to your aunt. “NOW!”

There’s a stronger shock wave hitting your brain this time. Everything becomes loud, and confusing and painful. It’s excruciating.

“MOMMY, THIS IS HURTING ME. PLEASE STOP. PLEASE!” You yell, trying to get out from your cuffs. Struggling out of the chair with all the strength left in you. Why are they doing this? “Mommy, make it stop.”

It does. The pain and the noise stop. All messy thoughts overpowered by someone else.

“Kid, can you hear me?” Kara asks, holding your face with both hands. You whimper snapping your eyes wide open.

“Get your hands off me, Supergirl.” You add a scorn to her name. She lets go of your face.

“Alex, one more time.” Lena says again, and your eyes widen at the thought of that.

“I’ve always known you hated me.” You yell at her, and before there’s any answer another shock wave hits your brain again.

And if you thought the first one was bad, this one makes your eyes roll back into your skull, tears fall from your face without your control. Your scream is so loud, the entire DEO probably heard you.

“YOU’RE KILLING ME! WHY ARE YOU KILLING ME?” You yell, with whatever voice you have left. Fully sobbing, twisting and turning in your seat, neck veins about to explode.

“STOP! STOP!” Kara yells for Alex behind her. “You’re gonna kill her!”

The pain stops. You grunt, and growl, saliva dripping from your mouth like an angry dog. Your palms are full of blood again, nails digging in the same open cuts from hours ago. You gasp for air, eyes unable to focus on anything.

“Mommy, they’re hurting me.” You manage to say, throat hurting from all the scream. Black spots are consuming your sight and it feels like you’re going to pass out. You feel light-headed from the blinding pain. “Make it stop, please.”

“You’re ok, baby. Mommy is here. I’ve got you.” You hear Kara’s words, and you feel the leather strips easing up from your raw flesh.

“Kara, wait.” Lena asks, and you close your eyes. Vision goes dark, and the pain goes away.

“NO, NO, NO!” You yell more to yourself than to anyone else.

All messy thoughts overpowered by someone else.

“GO ON.” You try to yell, but your voice doesn’t get loud anymore. It’s just a very high-pitched whisper. “Give in, Lena. Kill a kryptonian. Give in to your Luthor side, we’ve always known you would.”

“Shit!” Lena slaps her hands on her tights and stands up.

“Go ahead, kill me.” You raise an eyebrow defiant.

“One more time.” She looks at Alex and Brainy.

“LENA!” Kara yells, and you see Alex getting away from the lever she was pulling.

“I can’t, Lena. I won’t.” Alex raises her hands, and shakes her head in denial. “It’s too much, we don’t know the possible outcome.”

“I know!” Lena screams. “It will bring my daughter back! You saw her, she was here. I need to get her back!”

“I won’t do it.” Alex walks out of the room, Brainy leaving right behind her.

“Fine! I’ll do it myself!” Lena walks to where they were, but Kara yells before she pulls the lever.

“You're hurting her!” Kara studies your expression. You might have a bitchy grin on your face, but you know you probably look like a wreck. “You’re not hurting Lex! You’re hurting my daughter.”

“She’s my daughter too!” Lena yells back.

“I can’t let you do that again.” Kara pulls the wires connected to your head, all at once. And that leaves a sting everywhere. “I can’t let you pull that lever again.”

“Kara, I know what I’m doing.”

Kara turns off the red sun lamp, she looks at Lena.

“That might be true, but I can’t risk my daughter’s life while you fight your brother and your old demons.” Kara pulls the chair off the floor, picking it and you up, and walking towards the direction of your cell. “I can’t let you near her, Lena. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You can’t do that!” Lena growls following you both. You grin, satisfied with them tearing each other apart without you having to say a word. “I didn’t do that when you hurt her, or did you forget?”

“I will never forget that!” Kara yells, her voice stronger than you’ve ever heard. Like thunder shaking the whole place. “But I was exposed to red kryptonite! What is your excuse for this destructive behavior?”

“Kara.” Lena uses her most serious tone. “I know what I’m doing. I would never hurt my child. If you can’t believe me, then we have a serious problem.”

“I believe your judgment is clouded by the anger you’re feeling towards your brother.” Kara breathes deep, still walking. “I believe you want to do good. But it’s my daughter’s life and I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it. We have to find another way.”

“Stop saying she is your daughter! She’s my daughter too!” Lena’s voice also rumbles throughout the place. “You have no right to do this.”

“I’m sorry.” Kara repeats carrying you away.

“If you keep me away from her-” Lena stops walking, falling a little behind. Kara stops moving and she looks behind to where Lena is. “You’re keeping me away from you too.”

There’s no answer. At least not a verbal one. But when your chair keeps moving farther away from Lena, you know what Kara’s answer is. And Lena knows it too.

And you can’t help but feel like you’ve won.

You’re back at your cell, but they haven’t shut you off again. You hear Kara and Alex talking on the other side. You feel a shiver down your spine when you hear Lex’s name, and that Lena and Lillian are paying him a visit.

And paying a visit to you, is J’onn J’onzz himself. Examining you from the other side of the glass.

“Kara, I can’t confirm to you this won’t erase all of her memories from this episode.” You hear his strong voice. “If she’s being controlled, none of the thoughts were hers in the first place. Which means she can’t retain them.”

“Let it.” Kara crosses her arms and looks at Alex nodding once, like telling her to open the cell. “I rather have her forget all the pain she has lived today, anyway.”

“Very well.” He sits in front of you. You’re still cuffed, tied to the chair Kara so gently broke off from the floor. “Excuse me, Superkid.”

It feels strange having two people fighting for space inside your mind. Actually, three. Because you’re still there somewhere. But you’re not fighting them. You’re just letting them do whatever they want, as a weak-minded person would.

You open your eyes and you don’t see the DEO cell you were in, but rather a prison cell. Lena and Lillian on the other side, two guns pointed at your head.

“Mother, you rather defend an alien than your son?” You hear words, like they’ve left your mouth, but it isn’t your voice, it’s Lex’s.

“She is family, Lex.”

“She is kryptonian.” You/Lex spits with disgust in his voice.

“She is my granddaughter!” Lillian speaks louder, the closest thing to a scream you’ve ever heard leaving her mouth. “Stop this nonsense, or I’ll put a bullet through your head. And if you come back to life, I’ll do it again. I’ll pull the trigger as many times as I have to, to protect her.”

“You’ve fallen for her charm too.” You/Lex hisses. “Pathetic.”

“Stop this now!” It’s Lena’s voice that comes louder. “Let her go, or I’ll kill you again with no regrets.”

And then nothing. Not a single thought. No voice. Nothing aside from an empty void in your head.

You blink your eyes slowly, raising your head, that falls back to the chair behind you without your control. You try to scratch your eyes, but you can’t move. You whimper and finally open your eyes.

“What is going on?” You look down on yourself and around to where you are. J’onn is in front of you, Kara and Alex on your left side. There’s a strong feeling that something is wrong, when you realize you’re in a DEO cell, but you don’t know what’s going on. “Mommy, what did I do?”

“Baby.” Kara unties the strips that were holding you still in the chair. Your body collapses forward, no strength left in you to stop it. Kara holds you before you fall face first on the floor, and Alex lets you out of your cuffs. “You’re ok.”

“Why was I tied up?” You ask, scratching your eyes, like you wanted so much, to help you focus, but all you see is red, so you look at your hands and see blood everywhere. “Oh no, please tell me this is mine. Please tell me this is my blood!”

“It’s yours, it’s yours, baby.” Kara rushes to reassure you. She sits on the floor and pulls you into her lap, holding you gently. Alex and J’onn quickly disappear, and you’re left alone with her. She cleans your face; her hand becomes bloody after it. She kisses your forehead and whispers. “It’s over, it’s over baby. Mommy is here.”

“I’m sorry.” You beg, eyes full of tears. “Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry.”

“I know, my baby. I know.” Kara keeps kissing your head. You look at the cuts on your wrist where the handcuff was, and the blood staining your super suit, still leaving from the open cuts you feel on your ribcage. You look around, at the blood marks on the glass, and you weep.

“Mommy, please tell me I didn’t-Did I-Did I kill someone?” You stutter, scared of her answer.

“You didn’t kill anyone, little one.” She kisses your forehead. “It’s over. Stop thinking about it, ok? Let’s get you home so you can clean up, and rest a little.” She sighs, like she’s painfully tired. “It’s been a really long night.”

You don’t remember anything from your night, but your body aches so hard and your heart feels so heavy in your chest; you believe her. It was a long night, indeed.